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doctorbitchcrxft · 6 months

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Phantom Traveler | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, namecalling, typical Dean and reader

Word Count: 8289

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You were sound asleep, curled up into yourself when a knock on the door brought you out of your slumber.

“(Y/N)?”

‘Sam.’

“I got coffee, thought you could use some,” he called through the door.

You pushed yourself up out of the bed as you yawned, and walked over to the door of your motel room to open it for Sam.

“Dude, you realize it’s six in the morning, right?” You scratched your head as you let Sam into the room.

“You sound like my brother.”

You playfully glared at him. “Don’t compare me to him.”

“Here.” He handed you a coffee and a bag of what you assumed was a pastry.

“Thanks,” you replied, sitting on your bed with your stuff in hand.

Sam sat on the chair across from you. “Still haven’t warmed up to Dean, huh?”

“Well, he hasn’t exactly warmed up to me,” you reminded him, thinking of the fight you got into yesterday over his reckless driving.

“Guess that’s true,” he conceded. “It’s weird, though, you guys are so much more alike than you let on.”

“Tell that to him. He started it.” You took a big bite of your pastry.

“Seriously?” Sam laughed, “ ‘He started it’?”

You shrugged, smirking.

He seemed to remember his original intention behind disturbing your slumber. “Hey, he found a case, though.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s up?” You licked the pastry cream off your thumb.

“We don’t know. The guy on the phone didn’t say.” Sam raised his coffee cup to his lips.

“Guy on the phone?” You took a sip of your coffee as you let Sam answer.

“Yeah. Some guy my dad and Dean worked a case for a while back’s got another one for us. He called Dean.”

“Ah—” you nodded, “—gotcha. So, where’s he live?”

“Pennsylvania,” Sam responded.

“Okay, not too far,” you noted. “I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

***

“Thanks for making the trip so quick,” a short older man named Jerry told you and the boys. “I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out.”

You were walking beside Sam as you followed behind the man who was having you do this job. You were being led through a warehouse past planes as well as their parts and people hard at work.

“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?” Sam asked the older man.

Someone walking in front of your group was eavesdropping on you. “Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.”

“Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking,” Jerry stated authoritatively to the man. He turned his attention back to the conversation. “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart.” He addressed Dean. “Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?” He’d turned to Sam.

“Yeah, I was. I'm— taking some time off,” Sam explained.

“Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.”

“He did?” Knowing what you knew about Sam’s relationship with his dad, you found this surprising, too.

“Yeah, you bet he did,” Jerry nodded. “Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?”

“He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now,” Dean lied.

“Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and— what’s your name again?” he asked you.

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N). Even trade, huh?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that,” you laughed.

“Say, (Y/N), how’d you get wrapped up with these two?” Jerry asked.

“Oh, uh—” you began, searching for an abridged version of the truth, “—I met them on a hunt in California. They decided to drag me along with them.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. The guys are gonna need backup with this one,” Jerry said.

“Why?”

He did not give a direct answer to your question. “I got something I want you guys to hear.”

He led you to his office where you and Sam took the two chairs and Dean stood behind his brother.

”I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley,” Jerry stated, putting a CD into a drive. “Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

A frantic voice immediately rang out from the speaker as soon as the recording started. “Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britannia 2485—” the recording cut out with a static sound, “—immediate instruction help! United Britannia 2485, I copy your message—” and cut out again, “—May be experiencing some mechanical failure—” and then cut out one last time. The man’s voice was completely drowned out by static, whooshing, and growling sounds.

“Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south,” Jerry continued. “Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh… well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.”

“You don't think it was?” Sam questioned him.

“No, I don't.”

“Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors,” Sam listed.

“Alright,” the man replied.

“And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?” Dean inquired.

“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage… guys— and gal— the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance.” Jerry shook his head.

You frowned.

“No problem,” Dean declared.

You gave him a questioning look to which he shrugged off.

***

“How fucking long does it take to make a fake ID?” you groaned, falling back across the backseat of the Impala. You and Sam had found a way to isolate the EVP on Sam’s computer, having gotten a copy of the tape from Jerry.

“I don’t know,” Sam responded. “But I’m gonna lose it if it’s much longer.”

“Same here.” At that moment, Dean walked out of the Copy Jack the Impala was sitting in front of as a pretty woman walked into the store. They greeted each other before Dean walked over to you and his brother.

“Dude,” you started, “You’ve been in there forever.”

“Wah-wah,” he whined, mocking you. “You can’t rush perfection.” He held up three IDs.

“Homeland Security?” Sam questioned as he took one of the IDs. “That's pretty illegal, even for us.”

“Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times,” Dean pointed out as he got into the car.

“Alright, so, what do you got?” Dean asked his brother as he flicked your ID back at you. It hit you square in the side of the head.

“Dude, really?” you hissed, aggravation clear in your tone.

“Shh,” the older Winchester hushed you as he waited for Sam to answer.

“Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder,” Sam explained.

“Yeah?”

“Listen.”

The isolated voice of what you were dealing with came through the recording scratchy and backed by demonic growling sounds. “No survivors!”

“ ’No survivors’?” Dean asked. “What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.”

You shrugged.

Dean let out a sigh. “So, what are we thinking? A haunted flight?”

“There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers,” Sam began.

Dean hummed in affirmation. “Or remember flight 401?”

“Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.”

“I don’t know, guys,” you stated skeptically. “Ghost just doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, thanks for your optimism, sunshine,” Dean quipped.

“It’s not about optimism, you asshole, it’s about being right and dealing with whatever we’re up against properly,” you pushed back.

“Know-it-all,” the older Winchester replied.

“Fuck off, Winchester.”

He let out a breath and turned his attention back to the case.“Alright, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?”

"Third on the list: Max Jaffey,” you said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, but why him?”

You glared at Dean. “Because if anybody saw something weird, he did. I talked to his mom while you were spending forever in the store. She said some pretty weird shit and told me where to find him. He was so screwed up, he checked himself into the hospital.”

***

You and the Winchesters walked beside Max Jaffey, who hobbled on a cane, through the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital’s garden.

“I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security,” Max told your trio.

“Right. Some new information has come up,” Dean lied. “So if you could just answer a couple questions...”

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything… unusual?” Sam questioned.

Max looked confused. “Like what?”

“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices,” Dean offered.

“No, nothing.”

Seeing as no one was getting anywhere with this investigation, you tried your hand at it. “Mr. Jaffey, you checked yourself in here, right?”

He nodded at you.

“Why?”

“Uh, I was a little stressed,” he said sarcastically. “I survived a plane crash.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded. “And that’s what scared you? That’s what screwed you up so badly?”

You could tell you were close to the answers you were after as he swallowed uncomfortably. “I— I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“I know, but I also know you saw something up there,” you continued. “We need to know what.”

“No.” Max shook his head. “No, I was… delusional. Seeing things.”

“He was seeing things,” Dean half-mocked him.

You shot a warning glance at Dean, hoping to get him to shut up.

“It's okay,” you coaxed. “Just tell us what you thought you saw, please.”

“There was… this—man. And, uh, he had these… eyes—these, uh, black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him...” he trailed off, stopping as he recounted the events.

“What?” Dean asked.

“He opened the emergency exit,” Max explained. “But that's— that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door.”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, clearly confused.

“This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?” Sam asked.

Max quirked his head at the younger Winchester. “What are you, nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

***

“I think we can rule out phantom traveler,” you noted as you got out of the car in front of the Phelps’s house. You were going to visit the wife of George Phelps, the man who opened the emergency exit.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“You heard Jaffey. He said the dude had black eyes. Opened a fucking emergency exit on his own. ‘Black eyes’ points me to demon.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Demons?”

“I mean, it makes sense,” Sam shrugged. “He could be a demon. He might be some kind of a creature, too, in human form.”

“Does that look like a creature's lair to you?” Dean questioned as he gestured toward the house that was representative of the essence of suburban houses. From its beautiful garden to the cobblestone steps to the beige paint coating the outside of the two-story building.

Sam shrugged and began leading your trio up the steps of the house.

Once inside, you three sat across from Mrs. Phelps on the couch while she sat in an armchair.

Sam picked a picture of Mrs. Phelps and an older man up off of the side table. “This is your late husband?” he asked.

“Yes, that was my George.”

“And you said he was a dentist?” Dean questioned.

She hummed in affirmation. “He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that...”

Sam asked another question. “How long were you married?”

“Thirteen years.”

You could tell Sam was contemplating how to ask his next question. “In all that time, did you ever notice anything… strange about him; anything out of the ordinary?”

She paused for a moment. “Well, uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean.”

You nodded, clicking your tongue. “I think that’s all we have for you, Mrs. Phelps. Thank you for your time.”

She showed all of you out, and you piped up as you walked down the stairs outside of the house.

“Demon’s sounding more and more correct all the time,” you smiled, trying to joke around.

“Jesus, you’re annoying,” Dean groaned.

“And you’re a misogynistic dick that can’t handle women with brains,” you responded.

“What, are we gonna duke this out now?” Dean stopped by the door of the car, facing you.

You stood by the backseat’s door. “You started it,” you taunted childishly, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared back at him.

“Really?” he leered. “You’re gonna pull that card? Mature.”

“You act like you’re any better.”

“Guys—” Sam tried to cut in, but Dean continued to fight with you.

“You’re such a bitch.”

“Wow, haven’t heard that one before,” you drawled.

“Guys! You can fight later. Wrong place, wrong time to sort this out,” Sam chastised you and Dean like you were children.

You got in the car and slammed the door behind you.

“Don’t hurt my baby ‘cause you’re pissed,” Dean scolded you as he started to pull the car away.

“Just drive, asshole,” you grumbled in frustration as you slumped down in your seat. The rest of the car ride to the local outlet mall was silent.

***

You had never felt more confident. Despite the fact that you could have worn the one dress you already had to pose as homeland security, you decided to treat yourself to a new outfit to distract from your aggravation with Dean.

The boys had gone to a suit shop called “Mort’s for Style,” and you went into a dress shop called “Betsy’s.” It was a cute little shop with a lot of great dress and pantsuit options.

You had picked out a navy blue pantsuit. You wore a white button-up underneath the blazer with the top two buttons undone to accentuate your breasts. The blazer was unbuttoned, and the high-waisted, straight-legged pants you wore matched the black color of your blazer. With the white button-up tucked into your pants and the small amount of makeup you threw on to draw attention to your eyes and lips, you felt good.

Once you had paid for your clothing, you walked out of the shop and back to the Impala. Surprisingly, the boys were not there waiting for you.

You leaned your back against the car, picking out the grit from under your nails.

You looked up when you heard Dean’s voice. “Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers.”

Both of the boys were dressed in sharp, black suits. You almost lost your breath at the sight of Dean, but fought yourself to keep your composure. You would not give him the satisfaction of knowing you found him attractive.

“No, you don't,” Sam told him. “You look more like a seventh-grader at his first dance.”

You laughed at the younger brother’s jeer. “What took you girls so long?” you asked once you got in the Impala. “I thought you two would’ve beat me out the store by a long shot.”

“Dean wouldn’t leave the dressing room,” Sam said dryly.

“Seriously?” you droned.

You and Sam both looked to Dean, who did not answer immediately. When he finally spoke, he complained, “I hate this thing.”

“Hey,” Sam stared. “You want into that warehouse or not?”

Dean rolled his eyes as he continued to drive along.

You steeled your nerves as your black, pointed-toe pumps clicked across the warehouse floor. Your trio was headed to the security guard that would allow you in to see the wreckage.

You held the clipboard you had stowed in your bag close to your chest, acting as some sort of a recorder for the boys. The three of you flashed your badges at the security guard, who nodded and allowed you into the hangar where the wreckage was being kept.

There was a large map of what the plane should look like painted onto the floor, and the parts that corresponded to the different portions of the map were laid in their proper spots. There were wires hung on fences and broken interior parts of the plane laid on tables. The most heartbreaking things for you to look at were the torn passengers’ seats because most of the people who had been in them were now dead.

You looked over at Dean, who had earbuds in and was moving a small box over the tops of the wreckage.

“What’s that?” you asked him.

“It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies.”

You got closer to him, noticing what the object appeared to be. “I know what an EMF meter is; I’m not stupid. But why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?”

“ 'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade,” he grinned.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you quipped.

His grin disappeared. “Bitch.”

“Dick.”

You once again fought the pain in your chest when he called you a bitch. In all honesty, you thought his homemade EMF meter was cute. However, you were too far gone in your war with him to surrender now.

Dean ran the Walkman over a piece of the wreckage with black spores and yellow dust on it. You could hear the faint sound of a spike on the meter through Dean’s headphones.

“Check out the emergency door handle,” Dean called to Sam.

Sam came over to where you and Dean stood as the older brother scratched at the dust to get some on his hand.

“What is this stuff?” Dean asked.

One way to find out.” You saw the younger of the two brothers start scraping some of the dust into a small bag.

“We need to go,” you told the boys. You weren’t sure what told you that, but you just suddenly felt unsettled. The hairs on the back of your neck stood at attention, and every muscle in your body tensed. You started off toward the exit in the back of the warehouse.

“Wait, (Y/N), what if we’re missin’ something?” Dean questioned, clearly aggravated you were ready to ditch already.

“Too bad, we gotta go.” You kept walking toward the exit, making it out of the door and around the backside of the building.

At that moment, an alarm started blaring through the area surrounding the warehouse.

You turned around to look at the boys as you gloated, “I’m not gonna say, ‘I told you so’!“ Not bothering to rip your shoes off of your feet, you took off running to the gated exit.

Sam and Dean were quick to follow you and soon passed you up. The older brother took off his suit jacket and threw it over the barbed wire at the top of the fence. You did the same with your blazer. After quickly taking off your pumps to avoid hurting yourself when you jumped from the top of the gate, you threw yourself over the fence. The other two did the same.

Sam grabbed your blazer that you were too small to reach from the top of the fence as Dean found it within himself to remark, “Well, these monkey suits do come in handy.”

You ran after the two boys, heels and blazer in hand as the jagged rocks in the cement cut into your feet. As soon as you shut the door to the car, Dean slammed on the gas pedal.

He tore out of the warehouse’s parking lot, speeding down the road to head toward Jerry’s workplace.

"(Y/N),” Sam started, turning in his seat to face you with a curious expression on his face, “how did you know that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. My intuition’s just always been pretty sharp.” You were being honest; there had been a few times on hunts previously when you’d known it was time to get the hell out of dodge.

“Hm.” You could tell Dean still didn’t trust you.

“Dude, I don’t know what else to tell you. That’s the truth,” you countered. “I’ve been helping you guys with your dad for almost two months now, and you still don’t trust me. I don’t know what more to do for you.”

“Maybe because I don’t know you,” he responded, never taking his eyes off the road.

“Maybe if you tried to know me, you’d find it a little easier to trust me,” you answered.

“Not interested,” came Dean’s grumbled response.

You tried your best to ignore the pang that went through your chest once more. “Of course not.”

***

You refused to speak to or even look at Dean; your frustration with the fact that he had no desire to know you and his general existence boiling to the surface. You could feel his stare burning into the side of your head as you focused on Jerry, who sat in front of you. He was looking through a microscope on his desk at the yellow dust Sam had collected.

“Huh,” Jerry remarked. “This stuff is covered in sulfur.”

“You're sure?” Sam asked.

“Take a look for yourself,” Jerry offered, getting up from behind the desk so Sam could take his place.

Banging sounds along with a string of curse words caught your ear as Jerry sighed.

“If you guys will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire,” he dryly stated, walking out of the office.

You got up from the chair you were sitting in next to Dean. “See?” you started excitedly, gesturing toward the sulfur, “Demons.”

“That would explain how one guy had the strength to open up the emergency exit,” Sam added.

“This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?” Dean put his hands on his hips as he stood. “You ever heard of something like this before?”

Sam looked over at his brother, who responded, “Never.”

“Well, I have,” you said simply.

They both looked to you to continue.

“In NYC a couple years back. Some cabbies had gotten possessed and were takin’ girls left and right.”

“Those were demons?” Sam asked, standing up from behind Jerry’s desk. “That was a huge deal on the news while I was at Stanford. Police thought it was a serial killer. You took ‘em on all by yourself?”

“I’m a big girl, Sam,” you chuckled. “I can handle a few demons. But, yeah, that was me. That was probably the toughest case I’ve ever been on. Finding where those demons had taken those girls after they drugged them in the cabs... where they were raped and murdered...” You shook your head, your cheery expression gone.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Sam told you gently.

Your eyes were glued to the floor, hands on your hips with not a bit of life in your voice as you muttered, “All in a day’s work.”

Sam had asked you to tell him and Dean everything you knew about demons once you got back to the Winchesters’ motel room. Sam sat at the table close to the window while Dean sat on the bed closest to his brother. You stood in front of the two as you spoke.

“Demons exist in every religion in every world culture. With the ones that I was dealing with up in New York, they were most similar to Incubi from early Christian religion. Incubi raped sleeping girls. These demons drugged the girls to put them to sleep, then they raped them, and then they murdered them. What I’m thinking for these demons is that they’re most similar to certain Japanese demons. I had to look into these when I was trying to figure out how to kill the NYC demons. The Japanese believe demons cause certain disasters, whether it be natural or man-made. Some cause earthquakes, others cause disease—”

“And this one causes plane crashes?” Dean deadpanned, cutting you off.

You ignored him. “Demons are having to find new ways to ratchet up the body count. Like with me in New York, Incubi can’t go about their old methods anymore. This demon probably evolved with the times like the Incubi did, and so it figured plane crashes were the best way to get its job done.”

Dean snorted, getting up from. the bed and turning away from you and his brother.

“What?” Sam asked.

He turned around, scratching the back of his neck. “I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death, and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here.”

“Yeah. Me too,” the younger Winchester admitted.

Dean’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Hello?... Oh, hey, Jerry… Wha— Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?... Where'd this happen?... I'll try to ignore the irony in that… Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon.”

He hung up the phone.

“Another crash?” Sam questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. Let's go.”

“Where?”

“Nazareth.”

‘Ah, there’s the irony.’

***

After leaving the horrendous scene of Chuck’s plane crash, you and the boys went back to Jerry’s office. Once again, Jerry confirmed that the dust you had taken from the steering wheel of Chuck’s plane was, in fact, sulfur.

“Well, that's great,” Dean sassed. “Alright, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.”

“If that's the case, that would be the good news,” you chimed in. You looked up to the sky, addressing the pilot. “No offense, Chuck.”

“What's the bad news?” Jerry asked you.

“Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight, just like 2485,” you informed the older man.

“Forty minutes?” Chuck inquired. “What does that mean?”

“It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death,” Dean said.

“I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in,” Sam explained.

"Any survivors?” the older Winchester questioned his brother.

“No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason.” Sam turned to you after thinking for a moment. “On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?”

“ ‘No survivors,’ “ you realized. “It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job.”

Dean drove the Impala down an empty highway.

Sam was on the phone with one of the survivors from the plane crash, the conversation almost over. “Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon.”

“That leaves the flight attendant, Amanda Walker,” you commented.

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight P.M. It's her first night back on the job,” Sam told you and his brother.

“That sounds like just our luck,” Dean grumbled.

“Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel,” Sam said worriedly.

“Call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass,” Dean tried.

“I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off.”

“God, we're never gonna make it,” you shook your head, leaning back in the seat as you scrubbed a hand through your hair.

“We'll make it,” the older brother countered, slamming his foot on the gas.

Somehow, someway, Dean had managed to get to the airport at ten minutes to seven.

You jumped up out of the car, taking your gun out of your pants and stashing it under the backseat.

“What are you doing?”

You still did not feel like talking to Dean but answered him shortly nonetheless. “We’re going into an airport.”

Dean finally caught onto what you meant and took all of his weapons off of him, too. “I feel naked.”

You fought the smile threatening to creep up your face.

You rushed into the airport just behind the boys, squeezing your way through the crowd of people to get to the departure board.

“Right there,” Sam pointed out. “They're boarding in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. We still have some cards to play,” Dean paused, thinking for a moment. “We need to find a phone.”

He found a courtesy phonw on the wall, picking it up. “Hi. Gate thirteen… I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um… flight 4-2-4.”

He waited impatiently for Amanda to pick up the phone. When she finally did, he began speaking again.

“Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here… Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—” His face fell, his eyes widening a touch. “You what?... Uh, well… there must be some mistake—”

Sam went around his brother to try to get a closer listen.

After a longer pause, Dean let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “...Guilty as charged… He's really sorry… Yeah, but… he really needs to see you tonight, so—... Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic… Oh, yeah… No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda!” Dean slammed the phone back onto the receiver. “Damn it! So close.”

"Alright, time for plan B. We're getting on that plane,” you stated firmly.

“Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second.” For the first time since you met him, Dean looked scared.

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash,” Sam argued.

“I know.” He looked conflicted.

“Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You and (Y/N) get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

Dean looked at Sam blankly, evidently a little anxious.

“Are you okay?” the younger Winchester asked.

Dean hesitated. “No, not really.”

“What? What's wrong?”

“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh...”

“Flying?” you cut in.

“It's never really been an issue until now,” he told you.

“You're joking, right?” Sam huffed.

“Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?” he spat.

For the first time since you met him, you didn’t feel like mocking him about his fear of planes.

“Okay, then (Y/N) and I’ll go,” Sam proposed.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

“We’ll handle this one.”

“What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash.”

“Dean, we can do it together, or I can do this one with (Y/N). I'm not seeing a third option, here.”

Dean scratched his head. “Come on! Really? Man...”

Dean walked much faster than you did toward the car to get supplies, clearly trying to leave you in his dust.

“Would you slow down a bit, please?” you asked.

“Why should I?”

“Because even if you get to the car before me, you’re not gonna have a fucking clue what to use to deal with a demon,” you reminded him, your words a bit more venomous than need-be.

He stopped, turning to face you. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“No,” you told him. You truly weren’t.

“Definitely sounds like you are.”

You walked past him to the trunk of the Impala. “I wasn’t, I’m simply pointing out the fact that I’m the one who knows how to deal with demons, and you don’t.”

“There you go again. Acting like you know so much better than I do.” His attitude was truly exhausting.

Your voice rose as you defended yourself. “Because I do! In this case, at least!”

“But it’s not just this one time that you acted like you’re better than me,” he argued. “Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with your smart ass?”

“Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with yours?” you threw back. You sighed, putting aside your anger for now. “Look, we don’t have time to talk about this.” You shoved holy water, a rosary, and the EMF Walkman into Dean’s hands. “Now, let’s go.”

You shoved past Dean and headed back to the airport.

***

You sat between Sam and Dean, completely at ease. Dean, however, was losing his mind.

"Just try to relax,” Sam whispered from the window seat

Dean’s voice came back harder and slightly louder. “Just try to shut up.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” you scolded playfully.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Dean clapped back using the same tone with you that he had with Sam. He took in a sharp breath when the plane began moving a second later.

You gathered your courage and grabbed his hand. He jerked away from you and looked at you in surprise. When the plane took off, though, his hand rejoined yours, squeezing tightly. You giggled to yourself.

“I’m so glad this is funny to you,” Dean hissed.

“It’s not,” you answered simply.

“Then why are you laughing?” His grip tightened once again.

“It’s just,” you considered your next words carefully. “It’s kind of cute, that’s all.”

Dean was caught off-guard by your response. He eyed you quizzically, unsure of what to say. You just shrugged, settling the back of your head against your seat with your hand still in Dean’s. It was much larger than yours, and you fought the urge to run your fingers along the calloused ridges.

Moments passed in a bit of an uncomfortable silence before Dean spoke again, not a trace of bite in his tone. “Why are you doing this?”

You rolled your head toward him. “Everybody’s scared of something,” you quietly replied. “It helps me to know I’m helping you. Even if you do hate my guts.”

“I don’t hate your guts.” He spoke so softly you almost couldn’t hear him.

“Pfft, could’ve fooled me,” you answered.

“You just…” he started, “...get on my nerves. ‘S all.”

You giggled.

A few minutes later when the plane had fully gotten up in the air, you heard the familiar sound of a song you had heard many times before in the Impala coming from the man next to you.

“You're humming Metallica?” Sam asked Dean monotonously.

“Calms me down,” the older brother replied.

“ ‘Some Kind of Monster’? Really?“ You raised a brow at him.

Dean did not respond to you.

“Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused,” the younger Winchester reminded his brother.

“Yup,” you chimed in. “We only have thirty-two minutes to track the bitch down and full-on exorcise it.”

“Yeah, on a crowded plane,” Dean commented. “That's gonna be easy.”

“Just take it one step at a time, alright?” Sam said calmly. “Now, who is it possessing?”

“It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress,” Dean stated.

“Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up,” Sam told Dean, who hummed in response.

Dean sat up stiffly, his body still tense as he turned to the blonde flight attendant walking past.

“Excuse me. Are you Amanda?” he asked her.

“No, I'm not,” she answered with a smile.

"Oh, my mistake.”

The flight attendant hummed in agreement.

He peered into the back of the plane, finding the other blonde flight attendant. “All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state.”

“What if she's already possessed, genius?” Sam asked.

“There's ways to test that,” Dean responded, pulling the holy water out of his jacket. “I brought holy water.”

“Correction, I brought holy water—” you leaned forward, gently taking the bottle, “—And that’s for when we try to exorcise the demon. She’ll flinch at the name of god if she’s possessed.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean replied, getting up from his chair. You could tell he had not. You already missed the feeling of his hand in yours.

He turned to go, but you stopped him.

“Dean!” you whispered.

“What?” The annoyance in Dean’s voice was back.

“Say it in Latin.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then what is it?” you smirked, quirking a brow.

“ ‘Christo!’ I’m not an idiot!” he hissed back. Dean turned away from you and headed to the back of the plane.

You slumped down in your seat, closing your eyes as the copilot began speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your first officer speaking...” you tuned out the rest of his message.

A few minutes went by before the older brother returned.

“Alright, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet,” he sighed as he flopped back into his seat.

“You said ‘Christo’?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her.”

“So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere,” Sam explained.

The plane shook, causing Dean to tense up. He grabbed your hand once more. “Come on!” he whined. “That can't be normal!”

“Hey, hey, it's just turbulence,” you coaxed.

“Sweetheart, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm fucking four.” He went to drop your hand, but you tightened your grip.

“Okay,” you started, changing tactics. Your tone became harsh. “You need to calm down.”

“Well, I'm sorry, I can't,” Dean sassed.

“You didn’t want to be treated like you’re four, so stop acting like it,” you commanded. “Be a man, Winchester. If you’re a basketcase, you’re wide open to possession. Get your shit together. Right now.”

Dean took a deep breath.

You smiled. “Great. Onto the Rituale Romanum.”

“The what?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

“The exorcism ritual,” you elaborated. “It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful.”

“More powerful?” Dean questioned, his voice strained and eyes wide.

“Yup.”

“How?” He was starting to get panicky again.

“It’d just be able to wreak havoc on its own without a vessel,” you informed.

“Oh. And why is that a good thing?”

“ 'Cause the second part of that sends the bitch back to hell once and for all.”

“First things first, we got to find it.”

“There ya go,” you chuckled.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, getting up from his chair with the EMF Walkman.

You and Sam let him walk down the aisle by himself for a few minutes before the two of you got up to go talk to him.

You tapped his shoulder.

“Ah!” Dean jumped back, wheeling around to face you. “Don’t do that!”

“Anything?” Sam asked.

The older brother shook his head. “No, nothing. How much time we got?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Sam told you and his brother. “Maybe we missed somebody.”

“Maybe the thing's just not on the plane,” Dean shrugged.

“No way. Dean, it’s gonna be here,” you protested. Just as you spoke, the EMF meter spiked.

You looked up to see the copilot coming out of the bathroom.

“What?” Sam asked. “What is it?”

You stared at the copilot. “Christo.”

The man’s head slowly turned toward you and the boys, his eyes black.

You wheeled around to face Sam. “We gotta talk to Amanda.”

“She's not gonna believe this,” Sam contested.

“You’re probably right, but we only got twelve minutes,” you reminded the younger brother. You walked ahead of the boys into the concessions area where Amanda busied herself.

“Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope,” she smiled politely, clearly caught off-guard by your presence.

“Actually—” Dean began, “—that's kind of what we need to talk to you about.”

Sam closed the curtains behind you as Amanda answered Dean. “Um, okay. What can I do for you?”

“Alright, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole ‘the truth is out there’ speech right now,” Dean rushed out.

She looked confused but kept her smile painted on her face.

“Alright, look, we know you were on flight 2485,” Sam continued for Dean.

Her grin disappeared. “Who are you guys?”

Sam ignored her question. “Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure.”

“We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now,” the older brother told her.

“I'm sorry—” she started, attempting to move past you, “I— I'm very busy. I have to go back—”

“Chuck Lambert’s dead, Amanda,” you cut in, effectively stopping her from leaving. “The pilot from 2485.”

“Wait. What?” She turned to face you, her eyebrows furrowed. “Chuck is dead?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “He died in a plane crash. That’s the second plane crash in two months. Doesn’t that strike you as weird?”

She shook her head in complete disbelief.

“Look, there was something wrong with 2485,” Sam added. “Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too.”

Dean made a last attempt to drive the point home. “Amanda, you have to believe us.”

The blonde looked to the ground. “On… on 2485, there was this man. He… had these eyes.”

“Black eyes?” you asked.

She nodded.

“That’s exactly what we’re talking about,” Sam clarified.

“I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?”

Dean answered before you got the chance to. “Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here.”

Amanda looked between the three of you, confused. “Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

“Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?”

“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—” You could practically see her mind running a mile a minute.

Even Sam was getting impatient. “Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.”

“Do you know that I could lose my job if you—”

“Babe, you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't go get him right now,” you remarked.

She looked at you and nodded, turning to leave for the cockpit.

As soon as Amanda made it out of the curtains, you fished the holy water out of your hoodie’s pocket, moving to press your back against the wall next to the closed blue curtains.

A few moments later, you heard the copilot say to Amanda, “Yeah, what's the problem?” Just outside the curtains. As soon as the demon ducked into the small room, Dean punched him in the face. He then shoved the demon to the ground and slapped duct tape over his mouth.

“Wait,” Amanda protested as you got down on the ground beside Dean, “What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him.”

“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean replied simply as you splashed the copilot with holy water.

The demon groaned under the duct tape, his skin sizzling and burning holes through his shirt.

“Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?” Amanda cried.

“Look,” Sam started calmly, “We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.”

Amanda’s breath quickened. “Well, I don't underst— I don't know—”

“Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?”

She gave herself a pep talk before heading outside of the curtains.

“Hurry up, Sam,” Dean groaned. “I don't know how much longer I can hold him.”

The demon went to kick the older Winchester in the back, but you dove to grab his legs.

Sam began reciting the Latin ritual written in his father’s journal. “Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—”

The demon kneed you in the forehead, causing you to fall back and got a few good swings at the boys in as well. You clambered on top of the copilot, sitting on his stomach with his arms pinned by his sides under your legs.

Sam continued with the ritual before the demon threw you off of him. He ripped the tape off of his mouth and turned to Sam. “I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!”

You attempted to recover from getting slammed into the wall while Dean focused on attacking the demon.

Sam sat there in shock, so you grabbed the journal and tried to finish the ritual.

The demon hit Dean again, effectively getting the young man off of him and knocking Dean into you. The book fell from your hand, and the demon kicked it out into the passenger’s cabin.

A cloud of black smoke flew out from the copilot’s body and into a vent while Sam went out into the aisle to find the journal.

Suddenly, the plane shook violently and took a nosedive. The lights in the plane flickered and you and Dean were thrown to the back wall of the concession’s area.

You and Dean screamed as the plane went down. Dean held onto the emergency exit door for dear life as you pressed yourself into the corner opposite from the older Winchester.

Your yelps were cut off when the plane leveled out following a surge of electricity coursing through the aircraft. You assumed Sam was able to finish the ritual and the pilot was able to regain control of the plane.

You shakily stood up from the ground and dusted yourself off, tugging on the sleeves of your large hoodie.

You stepped out into the passenger’s cabin, heading to Sam as people began asking their neighbors if they were okay.

You wrapped Sam in a short, tight hug as you thanked him for keeping his head level enough to finish the ritual and trying to comfort him after what the demon had said. When you had made your way back to your seats, a slight rumble went through the aircraft. Dean grabbed your hand once again, and kept it there for the rest of the flight. A small smile tugged at your lips.

After landing back at your original airport, you stood beside Sam and Dean as you watched the swarms of EMTs, FBI agents, and FAA agents go from person to person. They questioned or looked over each one, and your focus bounced between them.

You found Amanda in the crowd talking to an FBI agent, and she turned to the side to mouth “thank you” to you and the Winchesters.

“Let's get out of here,” Dean said firmly.

You began to head to the exit when Dean asked Sam, “You okay?”

You turned back to Sam, who reminded you and his brother, “Dean, it knew about Jessica.”

“Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. Alright? That's all it was.” The older brother attempted to brush Sam’s concerns off.

“Yeah.” The brunet didn’t sound convinced.

“Come on.”

***

The next day, you and the Winchesters visited Jerry at his workplace to give him the final mission report. Jerry showed you and the boys out and escorted you to the Impala parked outside of the warehouse.

“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed,” he acknowledged. He shook your hand before turning to the boys. “Your dad's gonna be real proud.”

Sam gave him an awkward, tight-lipped smile. “We'll see you around, Jerry.”

You turned to the car, as did Dean before he turned back to the older man.

“You know, Jerry—" he began.

“Yeah.”

“I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway?” the young man continued. “I've only had it for like six months.”

“Your dad gave it to me,” Jerry explained simply.

“What?” Sam exclaimed in shock.

“When did you talk to him?” Dean questioned.

“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call.” He took a pause. “Thanks again, guys— and gal,” he grinned.

“Bye, Jerry!” you called after him as he headed off.

“This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service,” Sam told his brother.

Dean dials what you assumed was his father’s number. However, instead of the out-of-service message Sam had described, a voicemail began to play.

The two boys leaned into the phone so they could hear it better.

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, the voice hard to hear, but you were still able to make out the words. “This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.”

Sam fumed, shaking his head in frustration as he got in the car. He slammed the door behind him. You looked over to Dean, who did not meet your gaze. He got in the car following his brother. You took one last look at the setting sun as a plane flew over your head.

“I fuckin’ hate flying,” you muttered.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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slytherinshua · 3 months

Text

TWS AS BOYFRIENDS

genre. fluff. headcanons. warnings. not proofread. pairing. tws x fem!reader. wc. 2.2k. (around 350-400 per member). request. requested by anon. a/n. whoo these were so fun to write but also hard lmao i hope you all like them and hopefully they're accurate.... I TRIED MY BEST!!

SHIN JUNGHWAN

junghwan is your own personal baby

because he’s the oldest in tws and the leader he can get tired of having those responsibilities all the time

he loves that with you he can be himself without having to worry about being responsible for anything

he’s so clingy he basically turns into a koala the second he gets home to you

back hugs all the time, you have to learn how to walk around with him attached

he loves to rest his head in your lap omg if you play with his hair he would melt

and don’t you dare stop once you start cause he will complain :(

he’s so soft for forehead kisses, he gives them to you all the time

with little whispered compliments as well sdksjdksfjs

he’s so attentive LIKE IT’S HOT HOW ATTENTIVE HE IS

he always knows your schedule and what you’re doing for the day

he always checks up on you and he can read you so effortlessly

it’s almost telepathic you are so connected with him

if you tend to misplace your stuff a lot, he will always know where it is

your phone, you lip gloss, you keys, your wallet, your jewelry

he keeps track of anything and everything just for you <3

he makes little playlists for you and sends you pics of anything that reminded him of you

you’re just always on his mind no matter what he is doing

omg his morning voice is insane

like his voice is already deep imagine how much deeper it is in the morning

drives you absolutely crazy and he catches on to how much you like it

uses it to tease you in the morning, junghwan thinks it’s so cute how you get all shy

but this man can also get quite shy from things you do

if you say you love him randomly he’ll blush maybe even stutter he just can’t handle it when he doesn’t expect it

and also his neck is pretty sensitive so if you kiss it his brain is gonna malfunction

you’ve made him buffer in real time if you do that he literally becomes frozen in his spot

you really are the best balance to each other, equally affecting the other and always having the other on your mind

KIM DOHOON

dohoon always knows how to make things fun and exciting

he’s always looking for new things to try out and make new memories with you

whenever he has a day off he’ll go out with you whether it’s to a board game cafe, bowling, shopping, or even ice skating, he’s ready to try everything with you!!

you laugh all the time with him, it’s like there’s not a dull moment

he takes fashion so seriously so he’d definitely love to style you

shopping dates are his favourite!!

would beg you to try on different dresses and tops, anything he saw that he thinks would look good on you

of course you oblige him

he loves matching outfits the most

he’ll take so many pictures of you two together with your couple outfits

he makes sure to not miss any of the accessories either

matching rings, matching bracelets, matching necklaces, he has everything

cause even though he doesn’t say it, he gets jealous easily and matching with you is a way for him to tell the world that you’re his

we all know he’s so shy and introverted, so while he loves to try new things, he also has a limit to it

if you wanted to do multiple things in a day outside he’d probably get so tired at the end

he also hates taking pictures outside he just feels so shy about it

he will take pictures of you, though, but you’d have to convince him a lot to take pics together :(

so you usually just take pics before you leave 💔

he’s so good at cheering you up as well

he’ll talk to you softly about anything that’s concerning you and he really gives the best advice in the world

he’ll offer hugs or kisses or whatever you need

will also sing for you whenever you want, even if he’s a little shy about it at first

he loves how you’re his biggest cheerleader and he tries to be your biggest fan as well

you’re both supporting each other all the time and sticking by each other’s side through anything

when you’re with him, it feels like the world was made for just you two

CHOI YOUNGJAE

he is the most caring boyfriend on the planet!!!

he always knows exactly how you feel and exactly what you need when you’re not at your best

even just a few encouraging words and a kiss from youngjae can make everything feel better

he can get so sassy out of nowhere— he’s not afraid to judge everything and everyone around him

even if he doesn’t say anything you can see it on his face

and he likes to gossip with you too he can’t help it

so you share all your girl tea with him and he gets so immersed in it

loves drama just as long as it’s not happening to him or anyone he’s close to

he can’t stand it when things are stressful because of unnecessary drama, it just gives him a headache

if you ever got into an argument with youngjae it wouldn’t last long

he hates conflict so he’d admit he was in the wrong pretty fast

he’s the mom of tws and he’s pretty mature, he definitely knows when a fight is worth it or not

it’s peaceful with youngjae 99% of the time

plus he already has to deal with his 3 children in tws

but even though he’s not as outwardly chaotic as the other members of tws, he’s still a lot of fun

he’s like that unintentionally funny type

he says whatever comes to his head and he’s quite witty with it

never fails to make you laugh, he’s just comfort in a person <33

he likes reading so he loves to exchange book recommendations with you or read books together

he’d annotate your favourite books and give it to you for you to read KSDKS HE’S SO ROMANTIC IN SUCH A SUBTLE WAY

he also loves to go on casual or more chill dates

if it’s a picnic he’d make food for you, or if it’s an at-home date he’d make sure to create the best setup for you to cuddle together

his subtlety and attitude towards dating makes you feel so at ease

it always feels like you’re enough for him, he’s never asking for anything else from you

you fit together so perfectly, you would never get bored of each other’s company

youngjae is just comfort to you, he’s your home

HAN ZHEN

hanjin makes life feel exciting for you

it’s not even an exaggeration in the slightest, when you’re with him you are always creating the most precious memories that you will remember years to come

he’s quite smart and responsible as he’s the oldest child in his family

he knows a bunch of random knowledge that you wouldn’t even expect from him

but i feel like he is quite chronically online so he learns a lot lol

he knows the best ways to cure headaches, he gives really good massages, i feel like he even studied how to kiss or flirt ksdksjs

we know he loves taking pictures but his camera roll is literally only you

he’s always taking pictures every single day, he just loves documenting everything!!

sometimes he’ll tell you to pose and he always gets the best angles and lighting

other times he’s taking candids which might be his favourite

he has pictures of you sleeping, he loves to tease you about how cute you look

whenever he compliments you he’ll fish for one back jokingly

but if you don’t give him one back he’ll get pouty and sassy too

but you just think it’s super cute

he sends you daily ootd’s and always asks for your opinion on them

of course he looks so fine in everything and you tell him that

if you specify that something looks good on him he will wear it again because you like it skdjks

he loves watching dramas with you and talking about them

you always have the same favourite characters

if there’s a plot twist (ay ay ay ay ay) you’ll both be shocked in sync

he loves to hate on the bad guys with you like you’ll be cussing them out together for real

you help him study korean as well!!

and by that i mean motivating him with kisses even if you don’t know how to speak it yourself

seeing how much he improves everyday is just 💔 you're so proud of him

and knowing someone is proud of him makes him work twice as hard :(

you’re always there cheering him on and sharing the best moments of your life with him by your side

HAN JIHOON

hyperactive playful boyfriend #1

he literally has two moods either he’s the sweetest most romantic or he’s trying to annoy you in any way he can

probably become a little bit too addicted to pulling pranks on you or teasing you in any way he can

seeing your reaction when he stole one of your lip glosses or scrunchies was a little too good because he started to step it up a bit further

but he took a little too far because he went for your food and that was where you drew the line

had to pay for all your food for a week after that but the boy learned his lesson

you still both enjoy a little harmless prank and you’ll think of ways to top him as well <3

and you both tease each other about everything

you’re always laughing together and are the brightest and most energetic when you’re around him

when he’s tired he gets so clingy

even though he’s usually the vitamin and the energy for other people, he needs someone to give him energy as well

and he just loves you so much he’d never stop hugging you if he could

he’s always so sweet when he’s not being mischievous

and he’ll always listen to your concerns and problems and take them seriously

he gives the best advice that he can and communication with him is so key!!

he gets excited about the smallest things as well which is adorable

your successes are his successes, and he is always celebrating you however he can

he’s dancing 24/7, doing tiktok trends, group choreo, or random tutting that he learned recently

he forces you to do it as well lol

probably laughs if you get it wrong but is also the best teacher

biggest cheerleader for you when you do it perfectly

he has so many videos on his phone of you and him dancing together

also some other videos that he took either of both of you together or just you :(

obsessed with candids like he just loves you when you’re the most comfortable and he’s obsessed with capturing it on his phone so he can look at it whenever he wants

jihoon is the sun for other people but you are the sun for him

LEE KYUNGMIN

hyperactive playful boyfriend #2

kyungmin always knows how to make things fun

he’s such a cute and lovable person omg he gives me cuteness aggression

he’s kinda possessive of you lol

he’s always taking your side of any argument and clinging to you

cause he’s so young he’s pretty feisty too

and he takes great pride in being able to call himself your boyfriend so if anyone dares to question him or you he’ll take care of it

he has so many little hobbies and interests, he enjoys practically everything

especially when you’re there doing it with him

he will teach you a bunch of different games and compete with you

rubik’s cube solving competitions, chess tournaments, basketball shooting competitions, bowling (he’s surprisingly good), even water bottle flipping

he really loves competing, he thinks it’s so fun

he loves playing on your team even more than competing with you, though

if you play any game with the other tws members kyungmin will fight to be on your team

he’s also a cheater in games against the other members skdjks

he’ll scheme with you on how to cheat and celebrate with you when it works

kyungmin always talks so highly of you and boasts about you to his friends

because he’s so proud of you he wants everyone to know that you’re his

he’s a bit shy when it comes to affection

hugs and holding hands are all good but any kind of kissing will get him blushing and flustered

he has to build up his confidence by starting with cheek kisses

eventually he’ll get confident enough to kiss you properly

it’s so sweet because you’re experiencing so many firsts together

he asks the other members for relationship advice and what he receives is a bit… questionable

he’s probably left with more questions than answers

but he always tries his hardest to be the best boyfriend ever

and in your mind he really is the best, there’s nothing about him that you would ever want to change

his youthful energy is so infectious you’re never bored when you’re around him

he’s just your adorable cinnamon roll of a boyfriend and he loves you so much 💔

↳ tws taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @talkingsaxy,, @talking-saxy

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steddieas-shegoes · 6 months

Note

hiii not sure if you’re still taking requests but

no upside down au where teen single dad steve approaches eddie after hellfire bc every parenting stuff keeps mentioning how reading to babies is super important for their development but his dyslexia makes reading so hard let alone be expressive w it too and the kids keep mentioning how eddie is amazing on dnd. eddie is skeptical cause how come no ones has heard of king steve’s one year old ? but he accepts when steve offers paying but after seeing steve w his baby and understanding how he changed he refuses the money and cue them slowly falling in love and becoming a family <333

Sorry this took *checks watch* like 9 months to finish! I kinda took some creative turns, but it's done!

read on ao3

rated t | 5,182 words | no cw | tags: mostly fluff, single parent steve, not canon compliant, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions

📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚

Early August 1985

“Steve, it’s not like he’s gonna fuckin’ bite, dude,” Dustin said from the passenger seat.

“Language.”

“She’s not even awake,” Dustin whisper yelled. “I promise he’s cool. The worst he’ll say is no. It’s not like he’s gonna bully you.”

“No one else knows I’m asking him this, right?” Steve was suddenly worried that all the kids knew about Steve’s learning disability and they’d think he was actually stupid and-

“No, it’s just me. But if you don’t hurry up and go in before everyone else gets here, they’ll find out.”

Steve glanced in the backseat, smiling to himself at his sleeping daughter. She’d been out for nearly the entire drive from his house to Dustin’s to the high school, so she’d probably be waking up within the next 20 minutes and she’d be ready to stretch her legs.

She was a squirmy thing from the moment she figured out how to scoot around the floor, and it only got worse when she learned to walk at 11 months. The only time she was still and staying out of trouble was when she was asleep.

“If she starts crying, just sit back there with her. She just likes having company,” Steve reminded him as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Yep. I’ve literally babysat for you before. I can handle her for 5 minutes.”

“Attitude.” Steve shook his head and opened the door, getting out and only closing the door most of the way so it wouldn’t wake her up.

Eddie always showed up 30 minutes early for Hellfire Club to set up according to Dustin. He took this club very seriously, even as a third year senior. He kept it running all summer so that incoming freshmen would have time to get acquainted with his style of DMing or whatever.

Steve respected the dedication, though he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that dedication were put into his homework, he would’ve graduated in May with Steve.

But Steve couldn’t actually judge. Not with the fact that he was pretty close to not graduating himself. He had a pretty good reason, but still.

The auditorium door closed loudly behind him, making him jump and clench his jaw painfully.

“Door’s broken. You gotta hold it while it closes so it doesn’t slam,” a voice said from the door to the backstage area.

Steve squinted through the semi-darkness and felt his stomach turn. Eddie.

“I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had to open it. Figured they would have fixed it by now,” Steve replied, walking closer to the guy he needed to talk to.

“No shit! Is that King Steve? In the flesh?” Eddie’s dramatics were endearing, even if it was slightly annoying that he pulled out the stupid high school nickname he’d lost well before he graduated.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. This wasn’t gonna go well.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but none of your precious kiddos have made it yet. It’s still early.”

Steve nodded. “One of them’s sitting in my car in the parking lot. Um, Henderson? He’s an incoming freshman.”

“Ah. Dustin’s got a place in Hellfire if you’re worried. I don’t turn anyone away who wants to be here.”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Steve needed to just spit it out. “He said you’re like, great at storytelling or whatever. Like you’re the best DM he’s ever seen and he knows I could use those skills for something.”

“Oh? What could Steve Harrington need DM skills for?”

“My daughter.”

The silence following his confession was louder than the door slamming only a minute ago.

He probably could’ve revealed his motives a little better, work up to the fact that he even had a daughter maybe. Very few people actually knew, and he had to keep it that way until he could leave his parent’s house.

“Your…daughter.”

“Yes. She’s just turned one and the doctors said reading to her is like, super important for learning words and helping her learn how to have an imagination and stuff. And I do read to her!” Steve suddenly felt worried that Eddie would think he was a bad parent. “I try to. But I’m, well, Nancy says it’s dyslexia? So words are kinda hard and it gives me a headache if I try to read for more than a few minutes and I’m so busy focusing on the words I don’t think I’m making it very fun for her-“

“Woah. Steve. Slow down.” Eddie braced his hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezed. “I didn’t even know you had a daughter. Does anyone know you have a daughter?”

“The kids do, yeah. My parents do because they kinda helped cover it all up and made sure I still graduated so I didn’t embarrass them or whatever.” Steve looked down at the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn’t really want to go through the whole thing with this guy. “Robin Buckley knows? She’s my best friend. The Byers and Wheelers, Hopper. Some teachers know but were sworn to secrecy.”

“Huh.”

Steve looked up to see Eddie stepping closer to him, soft smile on his face.

“So what do you need me for exactly?”

“Dustin said you’re really good at telling stories and I figured maybe you would be willing to read to her? Not every day, like I can work with your schedule or whatever. Evening would be best for me, but it’s not really a big deal if it has to be other times. She comes to work with me so if it had to be during the day, you could sit in the office or something, I dunno.” Steve shrugged. He hated asking for help. But Dustin insisted Eddie was actually a good guy and would keep his secret. No one who saw her at work assumed Steve Harrington was a single parent at 18. That would just be absurd. “I just don’t want her to miss out.”

Eddie’s hand drifted down his arm, holding his hand for a moment before he stepped back.

“My schedule is kinda random. But I’m sure we can work something out.”

Steve’s shoulders fell as his body relaxed. “Yeah? I can pay you. Not much. My parents mostly cut me off.” Steve was scrambling. “I can give you gas money and stuff for having to come to us. And like, food? I can cook.”

Eddie’s eyes were intense, watching his every move, making him nervous.

“How ‘bout a free trial? I’ll do it for a couple weeks and then we can see about payment.”

Steve nodded eagerly. “Yeah, yeah. Cool.” Jesus, he was embarrassing. What happened to his charm? “Would you be able to start soon?”

“Normally, I’d say I can come by after Hellfire, but I have an…appointment right after tonight. I can come by tomorrow?”

Steve smiled. “Tomorrow’s good. I work until five.”

“I can be at your house by seven.”

“Great! I have plenty of books. Right now, she’s really into Old Macdonald, but I think it’s just because it sorta sounds like her name and we get to make silly noises,” Steve smiled to himself, not seeing the way Eddie was smiling too. “I think she’ll probably like whatever you read to her, though.”

“What’s her name?”

“Mackenzie. Robin read it in a book and said it meant fire-born or something? It sounded cool. We call her Mac or Kenzie for short so she hears Macdonald and thinks we’re giving her another nickname,” Steve laughed. “Anyway, I better get back to the car. If she’s awake and Dustin has to deal with her crying for too long, he gets an attitude.”

“Mackenzie. I like it.” Eddie nodded once. “See you tomorrow, Stevie.”

Steve agreed and waved, turning around to leave. By the time he realized Eddie’s nickname for him, Eddie was already backstage.

****

Steve was nervous.

He nearly burnt the chicken he was cooking for dinner just from getting distracted by thoughts of Eddie being in his home.

He didn’t even know why. Maybe it was the fact that he’d always thought Eddie was kinda rough around the edges and was surprised he’d agreed so easily. Maybe it was bringing someone new into the small group he’d had around for a couple years. Maybe it was the way Eddie’s hand on his shoulder seemed to leave a permanent mark despite being one of the softest touches he’d felt from another adult in a while.

Mackenzie was in her high chair already, eating some of the noodles he’d made as a side. She’d been practicing using a fork, so quite a few had fallen on the floor, but Steve still smiled and told her she did a great job any time she managed to get one to her mouth.

The doorbell rang and Steve felt his heart stop.

“Daddy!” Mackenzie squealed when the bell rang. She knew that usually meant Hopper was here. Everyone else just came inside on their own. “Hop!”

“No, baby, not Hop. Not tonight. It’s my friend, Eddie. He’s gonna tell you a fun story, okay?” Steve ran his hands through her hair as he walked by to get the door.

When he opened the door, Eddie was standing there with a handful of books, a box of crayons, and what looked like a hairbow.

“I’m here to entertain the princess!” Eddie exclaimed. “Lead me to her highness!”

Steve couldn’t hide the grin on his face if he wanted to. “She’s currently trying to stab noodles to death. I’m sure you’ll be entertained.”

“Ah, they must have wronged her. I’ll assist,” Eddie made his way past Steve, walking towards the kitchen.

Steve knew he’d been to a couple of the parties he threw to sell, but had no idea he remembered the layout of his house. Maybe he had one of those picture minds.

As Steve entered the kitchen, he noticed that Eddie had set down the pile of books on the counter before he sat down in front of Mackenzie.

There were a few books he recognized: an ABC book that he was pretty sure he’d had when he was a kid but had since lost, a book of fairy tales with Rapunzel on the cover, something by Beatrix Potter, and a couple of coloring books that featured princesses and dragons and horses.

“She isn’t really old enough to color, is she?” Steve asked, interrupting what must have been a very amusing conversation of mostly babbling. “I don’t have any coloring stuff.”

“Coloring with skill? No. She definitely doesn’t have the motor skills to color in the lines or even use the right colors for the right things. But it does help her learn how to hold a crayon. My uncle couldn’t really afford much when I was a baby, so for every Christmas until I was in school he would get me new crayons and coloring books. I don’t really remember how I did, but I do remember having fun.” Eddie turned back to Mackenzie. “And sometimes it’s fun to just make a mess, right?”

Mackenzie clapped her hands together, sending the toddler fork she’d been using to the floor with a noodle attached to it. Steve wordlessly grabbed one of her spoons from the drawer and gave it to her, kissing the top of her head before he knelt down to pick up the fork.

Eddie watched silently, something soft about the way he didn’t interrupt anything even though he could’ve kept talking.

“I made chicken and pasta. It’s probably not my best work, but I made enough for you if you haven’t eaten yet,” Steve offered as he walked to the stove to start plating the food for himself.

“I wouldn’t turn it down. Wayne’s not exactly known for serving five star meals,” Eddie joked. “He believes in the power of fried bologna and cheese sandwiches with a bag of chips.”

Steve grimaced. “Okay, well I made enough for you to bring home some leftovers too.”

“You don’t have to-”

“You’re taking home leftovers.”

Steve turned to see Eddie’s widened eyes and open mouth that slowly formed into a smile.

“I guess I’m taking home some leftovers.” He turned to Mackenzie and tickled her neck. “Your daddy is pushy isn’t he?”

Steve blushed, but continued making up a plate for Eddie.

As they sat and ate, Eddie talked about all of his favorite books for little kids, and how he remembered sneaking into the library after school for years because he knew he didn’t wanna go home. He talked about the first time a teacher wrote a positive letter home, an English teacher who said his fictional essay was the best in the class and he should consider writing as a career. He even talked about his plans for the school year campaigns, but made Steve swear not to mention anything to the kids.

“I’ll know if you tell them,” Eddie winked.

Steve believed him.

When they were done, Steve grabbed Mackenzie from her chair.

“I’m gonna give her a quick bath if you wanna bring all that stuff to her room. Second floor, third door on the right. It’s a little messy right now. Someone decided to pull all her toys from her box yesterday and I haven’t had time to clean it up,” Steve tickled Mackenzie’s side, making her giggle and turn her head into his shoulder.

“You need me to clean this up?” Eddie asked, gesturing to the table.

“Nah, I’ll do it while you read to her.”

Despite his efforts, bath time was never truly quick. Mackenzie loved to splash around and play with her toys, and if he tried to wash her hair too quickly, she would be grumpy for the rest of the night. He definitely didn’t want that for Eddie.

He set a timer for 10 minutes and tried to explain to a very excited Mackenzie that when the timer went off, it would be time to wash her hair and get out.

“You wanna have time to play with Eddie, so we can’t play for too long in the water.”

She didn’t seem to pay any attention to him, already too busy making her rubber duck fight with her mermaid Barbie.

He observed while she played, bringing in the rubber car she liked to pretend to drive on the side of the tub.

When the timer went off, she let him wash her hair without a fuss, and he quickly wrapped her up in a towel to get her into pajamas.

Eddie was waiting in her room when he got there, coloring books spread out on the floor. He smiled up at them from where he sat, legs crossed, hands in his lap.

“Squeaky clean?” He asked, waving at Mackenzie.

“Definitely lacking noodles in places noodles shouldn’t be at least,” Steve said, making his way to her changing table to get her dressed. “She must be pretty excited about you being here. Usually bath time takes at least 30 minutes and I have to bribe her with chocolate milk to get out.”

“She knows we’re gonna have a lot of fun. I think I’m gonna read Goodnight Moon first. That’s one of my favorites.”

“She’ll love that,” he said as he buttoned the snaps of her onesie.

As soon as he set her on the floor next to Eddie, she reached for a coloring book with a mermaid on it.

“Daddy! Muh!”

“Yeah, baby, it’s a mermaid! Just like your doll in the bath.” Steve pointed to the fish next to the mermaid. “And that’s a fish. Fish swim in the ocean.”

He felt Eddie’s eyes on him while he pointed to some other sea creatures and told Mackenzie what they were.

Eventually, he looked over at Eddie, blushing at the soft smile on his face. “What?”

“You’re a really good dad, Steve.”

“Oh. Uh. Thanks,” Steve felt heat flood his body.

It’s not that no one had ever said that to him. Robin had told him plenty of times, Joyce had whispered it to him when no one else was paying attention, even Hopper had given him a handshake and said he was doing a good job once. But hearing it from Eddie, in this situation, when he’d been feeling like such a failure lately, was enough to make him want to cry.

He had to get out of this room.

“I should go clean up and leave you to it.”

“Sure, yeah. We’ll be right here.”

Steve booked it out of the room, rushing down the stairs to try to get busy with cleaning before his brain settled on crying over a compliment.

But the table was cleared. The high chair was wiped down. When he turned to the sink, the dishes were stacked up to dry in the rack. The counters were wiped, the dish towel had been put back on the handle of the oven to dry, and leftovers had been put in a container to finish cooling down.

Steve let the tears fall.

Fuck it, if Eddie was going to be this nice, he could have a little cry.

He walked quietly to the bathroom to put all the bath toys in the basket, but stopped outside Mackenzie’s bedroom when he heard giggling.

He’d closed the door halfway, just so she wouldn’t get too distracted if he walked by the room, but he couldn’t help looking in.

He felt like crying again when he saw Mackenzie sitting on Eddie’s lap, pointing at something in the book.

“Where’s the moon?” Eddie asked.

“Moo!” Mackenzie said, smacking at a place in the book.

“There’s the moon! Good job, little one.” Mackenzie leaned back against Eddie’s chest. “And where’s the…toys?”

She pointed again, but slightly less enthusiastically. Steve could see her energy dropping quickly.

He watched as Eddie told her she did a good job again and then continued reading.

Her eyes drooped more with every page. Eddie’s voice got closer to a whisper with every sentence.

Steve fell just a little bit more with every second that passed.

*****

October 1985

Eddie came every day. Despite the fact that Steve insisted he didn’t need to, that he didn’t want to ruin his schedule, Eddie showed up like clockwork at seven every single evening.

Steve learned to expect him, always made enough dinner for all of them to enjoy before Mackenzie had her bath and then got to read with Steve.

Every night, Eddie would clean up while she took a bath, and every night, he’d let her pick a page to color while he read something to her, switching to a bedtime story when she started crawling into his lap.

Steve would watch them often, laying down on the carpet and smiling as he listened to Eddie use different voices for characters, asking her questions so she was involved, and whispering when she started to drift off.

Other times, he’d try to get something done he’d been putting off, like cleaning the bathroom or folding laundry.

Eddie never accepted payment.

Steve tried bringing it up once school started, certain that this time spent here could’ve been better spent on homework or a part-time job that paid better than what Steve could offer. Eddie just shook his head and insisted that other than Hellfire every Thursday, he would be there for free.

They got to know each other over dinner, and Steve found that he was right to have butterflies every time Eddie smiled at him, every time he would touch his hand as he walked by to say hi to Mackenzie.

“Halloween costume ideas?” Eddie asked with his mouth full. Steve had given up long ago on trying to get him to wait until he was done chewing. It wasn’t that big of a deal. “What did this little miss go as last year?”

“Oh. She was a bumblebee.” Steve smiled at the memory. “Cutest costume I saw all night.”

“I bet.” Eddie took a sip of his water. “And you?”

“Oh, I didn’t dress up.”

“What? Why not?” Eddie sounded genuinely upset.

“Just got away from me, I guess? By the time I thought about it, nothing good was left at the store,” Steve shrugged, unbothered. He’d never been that into Halloween. His focus was making sure Mackenzie had fun.

“And no one offered to help you make something?” Eddie was no longer eating and Mackenzie had turned her attention to him when his tone became serious.

“I didn’t ask.”

“But no one offered.” Eddie stood up and walked over to his backpack. “Okay, we’ve gotta plan. Did you already pick something for her?”

He came back holding a notebook and a pencil, brows set in a straight line. Steve had never seen him look so serious.

“I had a few ideas, but I wanted to let her pick something at the store,” Steve said.

“Lay them on me.”

They discussed costumes for the next 30 minutes, but after only 10, Mackenzie whined to get out of her chair. Eddie wordlessly stood up and picked her up, setting her in his lap and letting her poke and prod at him and his notebook.

Steve watched them both, accepting for the first time that this wasn’t just a crush that was gonna go away.

He’d fallen completely head over heels for Eddie, and he had no clue what to do about it.

*****

November 1985

Steve was the only one who had space to host Thanksgiving.

He became manic a week before, realizing that his work schedule would not allow him to have much time to clean unless he did it at night. The problem was that he would get a migraine if he didn’t sleep.

“So let’s work on it together. I can come right after school. Cancel Hellfire this week,” Eddie offered.

“But you already won’t have it next week because of Thanksgiving. I can’t ask you to-”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. If I’m gonna be eating here, I should probably help clean up at least.”

So they worked on a little at a time.

Eddie wasn’t always helpful, getting distracted by some of the smallest things. But his company was appreciated all the same.

“You could invite Wayne, ya know,” Steve offered while he dusted the shelves in the living room. “Plenty of room and food.”

“Thanks, but he always works Thanksgiving day for the double pay. We usually do something the day after,” Eddie answered while he cleaned up all of Mackenzie’s toys.

“If he decides not to work, just let him know.”

“Will do, Stevie.”

He didn’t just help clean, he helped him do the shopping, too.

“I know it’s way harder with a baby, so if you give me a list, I can handle the shopping,” Eddie said while Steve plated their dinners.

“You don’t-”

“Have to, I know. But I can and will.” Eddie’s hand brushed against Steve’s lower back. “Let me help.”

Steve could barely resist the shiver that took over his entire body.

“Okay. Sure.”

Some of the brands were wrong, and he forgot the apples for the apple pie, but Steve still felt immense relief knowing that he had someone to help.

And without it, Thanksgiving would’ve been a disaster.

It was still a bit of a mess, but that was mostly because the kid’s table turned into a food fight that Max started and Mackenzie, of course, continued, until everyone was involved.

But the picture Jonathan took would get framed and hang up near the fireplace in the living room anyway.

******

December 1985

“I cannot believe you waited until Christmas Eve to wrap gifts. That’s not what parents actually do, is it?” Eddie asked as he fought with the tape dispenser for the fifth time in less than an hour.

“I don’t know if I’m the best judge of what parents do. Mine weren’t around much and probably didn’t even wrap my gifts themselves.” Steve took the tape from him, pulled some loose from the roll, and handed it back. “But I kinda always pictured it like this.”

Robin made him swear he’d talk to Eddie about his feelings before the end of the year. The end of the year was soon, real soon.

What better shot did he have than while Mackenzie was asleep and they were wrapping presents together?

“You pictured last minute wrapping with bribed help in your living room?” Eddie asked, amusement in his tone.

“Not exactly,” Steve huffed out a laugh. “More like spoiling my kid with someone I care about.”

Steve watched Eddie’s hands freeze against the clothes box full of new finger puppets they’d both gotten her. He looked over and felt his stomach swoop as Eddie’s eyes found his.

“Stevie-” Eddie set the box down and turned to face Steve.

“Wait, I just. Before you break my heart, hear me out.” Steve already felt his world shrinking, his heart rabbiting in his chest at the thought of losing Eddie entirely. “I’ve spent a lot of time with you for months. Like, more than almost anyone else. I’ve watched you with Kenzie, and how much she loves you and always asks for ‘Ed’ even when it’s way before when you’re gonna be here. You make me smile and laugh and that’s not always easy to do these days. You helped me when you didn’t have to, when you had absolutely no reason to trust that King Steve was a better person. You’re there for all the other kids even though you’re trying to get through school for real this time. I didn’t really plan a big speech, sorry. This is just rambling, I’m doing what Robin does.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie placed his hand on the side of Steve’s neck. “I get what you’re saying.”

“You do?”

“I think so.” Eddie stepped in closer. “But I think you might just be lonely.”

It stung. It wasn’t inaccurate, but it still hurt to think Eddie thought so little of him.

“I think I know how I feel.”

Eddie’s hand dropped from his neck and he took a step back. “I don’t wanna argue, Stevie. I just think you might need to separate yourself from the situation. I’m just always around, ya know?”

“You’re always around because I want you around!” Steve was just a bit too loud, but he knew Mackenzie was a heavy sleeper. “When you aren’t here, I check the clock to know when you will be. I get excited to leave work now because I’m not coming home to do the same thing I always did before. I get to see you and hear about your day and talk to you about mine and see you with my daughter, who probably loves you as much as I do.”

“You…love me?”

“Yes. I do. And I promise it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I still want you here, reading to Kenzie. But I know how I feel. I know why I feel the way I do. You can’t tell me how to feel.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to.” Eddie sighed. “I’m just kinda surprised. Didn’t expect you to be into guys, let alone me. I’m not exactly good boyfriend material. Or stepparent material, either.”

“Oh, fuck that. You’re more her other parent than her mom ever was. She gave her to me the moment she had her and wished me luck before her entire family moved across the country.” Steve felt tears in his eyes. “I trust you. I want you around. I love you.”

Eddie swallowed, eyes pointed towards the carpet.

A minute passed, two. It was rapidly approaching awkward when finally Eddie spoke.

“But I’m so bad at wrapping presents.”

Steve snorted, but felt relief wash over him. “I can do the wrapping. This Christmas, next Christmas, as many Christmases as you’ll stay.”

“All of them?”

“Sounds good to me.” Steve leaned in slowly, let his hands grasp at the front of Eddie’s shirt to pull him closer. “How many Christmases do kids usually believe in Santa?”

“I dunno. I stopped believing when I caught my dad stealing the two presents under our tree when I was four.” Eddie let his hands fall to Steve’s hips. “But something tells me the little princess will be a believer for a while. Better get used to me ripping holes in the paper and using too much tape.”

“Think I can handle it.”

Every time Steve had pictured kissing Eddie before this, he’d thought it would be like any other first kiss, maybe a little awkward since it was his first with a guy.

Instead, it was soft, sweet, slow, perfect. He’d kissed a lot of girls in high school, had kissed them well. Not all of them were great, but even a less than good kiss was still decent.

This was more than any other kiss he’d ever had.

Eddie held him like he would never let go, like this kiss would last forever.

It couldn’t, but that’s how it felt.

When they finally pulled apart, Steve rested his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“You wanna stay tonight? We can both do the Santa gifts with Kenzie before all the kids bother us,” Steve asked.

“I should call Wayne. I told him I’d be home by midnight.”

“He can come over in the morning, too,” Steve said. “If you want.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for Wayne? He can be a little…gruff.”

“I’m not worried,” Steve kissed Eddie’s cheek. “Hopper’s basically my dad. Plus, Mac’s got a way of breaking the tough old men down.”

“Bets?”

Steve pulled away and started wrapping another present before he got too distracted. “I give it ten minutes.”

“Oh, how generous. I’m giving it five.”

They both laughed as Eddie decided he’d be more help putting already wrapped presents in her stocking and under the tree and making sure everything was put away when Steve was done.

And for the first time, Eddie stayed the night, holding Steve against his chest while they slept.

They both cried when Mackenzie opened her presents excitedly. She was too little to do it herself last year, so seeing her tear through the paper and find joy in throwing it around the room was like a dream come true for Steve.

Eddie admitted he felt like he was intruding for some of it, but Steve quickly reminded him that he was the first person she toddled over to with her new set of princess books and said “Ed, read.”

She sat in his lap right then, even though she still had quite a few presents to open, and he read every single book to her, making her giggle with his high-pitched voices for the princesses and silly accent for the prince.

By the time the kids were coming through the front door, Steve was rushing to shush them, pointing at the couch where Eddie was passed out with Mackenzie curled up against his side.

Steve was never happier than in this moment.

Until the next one, and the one after that.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #anon request #fluff #domestic fluff #single parent steve harrington #getting together #love confessions

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sturniozo · 10 months

Text

Tutor

Chris x reader

Summary - Chris needs to get his grades up to be able to stay on his schools hockey team, and who better to tutor him than his brothers best friend, who he also has a little crush on.

AN: I want this to be a series but that all depends on how this first part goes over. I didn’t want to write something really long just for it to flop lol so that’s why this is so short lol. But please tell me if you like it so I know whether or not to put out more of it! Xoxo-Angel

masterlist

NOT PROOFREAD

Y/n’s pov

I’ve known Nick for 5 years, and Chris only 4. I never did hang around Chris one on one, I just mostly hung out with Nick. But I knew enough about Chris to know I liked him.

I was always too nervous to hang around Chris one on one. Just being in a room with him at all made my heart race. I could barely think around him sometimes.

I knew his grades weren’t the best either. So it came to no surprise to me when Nick was begging me to tutor Chris so he’d shut up about not being able to play hockey anymore. I still don’t know why I agreed.

I don’t want to sound conceded, but I understand why Nick went to me. I know I’m smart, I have perfect grades, I’m in AP classes, as well as having skipped a grade and I’m on track to graduate two years earlier than most people do. But I was still stupid enough to agree to tutor a guy I could barely even form words around. How am I supposed to tutor Chris if I can’t even breathe near him?

So here I am, pacing in my room. Going over my notes for the classes Chris is failing, which is basically all of them. He’s going to be here any minute. I made sure my bedroom was nice and neatly cleaned, and that my notes were organized and readable. Then I hear the dreaded knock on my door.

I walk down the stairs and to my front door. I open the door and am greeted by Chris. Butterflies flood my stomach. Chris smiles at me and holds up a flower. Butterflies part two.

“What’s this for?” I ask, trying to suppress the blush creeping up on my cheeks. Chris shrugs.

“It’s a thank you. For tutoring me.” He says. I step to the side so he can come into my home and I close the door behind him.

“It’s mostly for Nick. He kept begging me.” I reply and lead him upstairs to my bedroom. I sit down at my desk and motion him to sit in the seat next to me. Once he does I pull out the notes. “Okay, what class do you want to start with?” I ask. Chris shrugs. I look at him, and notice he didn’t bring any notes or textbooks of his own. “Where’s your stuff?” I ask.

“What stuff?”

“Your school stuff. Your notes, your textbooks.”

“I don’t have any.”

“What?” I ask, shocked. “Why don’t you have any?”

Chris shrugs again. “I never needed them.”

“I think we just found out how you’re failing.” I pull out the notes from our algebra class. “Okay so the next algebra test is on Friday, which means we have about a week to get you prepared for- are you even listing?” I look over at Chris and he’s smiling at his phone. “Chris did you hear anything I said?”

Chris looks up at me. “Sorry I got distracted, what did you say?”

“This isn’t going to work if you don’t pay attention.”

“I’m trying to. This is just boring.”

“You aren’t trying very hard.”

“No, you’re right I’m not. Let’s blow this off and go do something else.” Chris looks at me and smiles, waiting for my answer.

“What, are you serious?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“You want to leave?”

“Yeah. Can you drive? I walked here.” Chris starts to stand up.

“Chris you can’t go, you’re failing almost all your classes. You’ll be off the hockey team.” I remind him.

“I’ll get the test answers from a kid at school. C’mon let’s go. I want Subway.” He ushers me to get up.

“You can’t cheat, Chris!”

“Sure I can, let’s go! Isn’t subway your favorite?”

How did he know that? “Well… it is but Chris we-“

“How about, we go get subway, then we come back and study?”

“Subway, then you’ll definitely study?” I ask. Chris nods. I bite my lip and sigh. “Fine. Let’s go.”

#chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris x reader #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo

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anon1nn1t · 1 year

Note

please give me everything u can fit in a post about Mr snapchat NSFW and SFW I am DESPERATE it is so hard to find genuine hcs about him he's so over looked >;((

also just found ur account and am in love with everything u have written so far mate can't wait to see more from you, take care of yourself today!!

Stop this is so kind. 🥹🫶 And you’re so right about Sapnap being over looked !! But don’t worry, I’ve got your back. :) Just like my George hcs, I wil add more to this over time. * Also, to the person who sent the ask about Dream, I’m working on it !! *

Feel free to request !

SFW:

He’s actually such a sleepyhead.

He’s always hunting you down to ask you to cuddle with him so he can take a nap, falling asleep against your shoulder/knee whenever you’re busy.

Sure, he can sleep without you, but if he has the choice, he will always choose to sleep with you in his presence, since it helps him sleep better.

Secretly has so many pictures of you sleeping.

He’s sooo clingy

Constantly kissing you, hugging you, touching you in every way he possibly can.

But as clingy as he is, he knows when he needs to give you some space.

He has some major jealousy issues.

If any man other than him simply looks at you, he will give him a death stare, squeezing your thigh, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

It’s not that he doesn't trust you; of course he does; he’s just possessive. You’re his and his only, and he wants everybody to know it.

Constant fake fighting between the two of you.

But if he ever accidentally actually hurt you? He would be an apologizing mess, begging for your forgiveness, when in reality, you were holding back laughter from how hard he was trying when in reality you didn’t care as much as he thought you did.

As we know, Sapnap has a few insecurities, so I feel like he would need a bit of reassurance sometimes.

He would just randomly ask you questions that you always answered the same

"What’s your favorite thing about me?"

"How much do you love me on scale from 1-10?"

"Why are you with me?"

Please just remind him how much you love him.

Hate to break it to you, but he’s definitely a little bitch during fights.

And if you ever tried to kiss him or hug him mid-argument? Ohhh man.

If y’all were to ever get in a fight, just leave him alone. Literally, just walk off; it’s for the best.

He gets angered pretty easily, as we know, so basically just don’t piss him off.

He doesn’t mind pda at all. He doesn't even realize it’s something that some people don't like because it feels so normal to him.

He bases his mood off of yours. Not even on purpose; it just comes naturally.

You’re having a bad day? He’s having a bad day. You’re having the best day of your life? He’s having the best day of his life.

He spoils you so much, maybe even too much.

Anything and everything you want, he will get for you. It eventually gets to the point where you have to stop pointing out stuff you want because he buys it every. time.

He loves loves loves when you wear his clothes.

"Is that my hoodie?"

"Yes, when is it not."

"Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

"It’s just you."

He also loves when you wear dresses/skirts.

He absolutely adores showering with you. Every time you shower together, he’s wishing he could stay in that moment forever and ever.

Late night drives with blasting music ?!?! Instant yes.

Speaking of music, it’s definitely a huge green flag for him if you like his music taste.

He will do everything in his power to protect you and keep you safe.

NSFW:

Do I even need to say he’s dominant ?!

If you ever seriously wanted to try being dominant, he would let you, but it would be followed up right after with him taking over.

I feel like he has a lottt of kinks.

Dirty talk, discipline, humiliation, teasing, overstimulation, daddy kink, orgasm control/denial, etc.

Ass guy 100%

Loves loves loves eating you out.

He loves your thighs so much oh my god 😵‍💫

Continuing off that, he loves to cum on your thighs or inside of you.

Gives you so many markings just to remind you you’re all his.

He’s so rough with you, he just has to give you the sweetest aftercare. :)

I feel like the only times he’d be gentle are early in the morning, late at night, or if one of you needed some comfort.

He totally kisses you the whole time, sloppy kisses, but still kisses.

He would much rather focus on your pleasure than his. You being pleasured brings him pleasure.

His favorite position is either doggy style or reverse cowgirl.

PUBLIC SEX HOLY SHIT …

Every time before he’s about to do something new he will ask you if it’s okay. Ex: Moving from giving you hickeys to eating you out, moving from eating you out to fucking you, etc.

I actually don’t think he’s that experienced…

When you’re not around, he will totally jack off to pictures of you. He has no shame about it.

I feel like he only goes for one or two rounds.

Oh, how he loves to get his hair pulled.

He also loves to be praised so much oh my god.

Overall, he is pretty dominant, but focuses on you more than himself. <3

#dreamsmp #sapnap #sapnap smut #sapnap x reader smut #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #mcyt smut #mcyt x reader smut #sapnap hcs #sapnap headcanons #dsmp smut

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pervspace · 1 year

Note

This is my last Leon req i swear!! Perverted Leon who cannot get enough of m!readers thighss!! He can't help but dream of squishing them and fuckin in between them. It's not as good as the real deal tho ♡

warnings: nsfw, m.reader, pervert!leon, he’s like a desperate puppy :((, somnophila, kinda cliffhanger ending cause i lowkey wanna make a pt2 cause i love this sm aaaaa

word count: 797

note: aaaa i loved writing this please keep sending requests!!!

—

he felt ashamed of himself, he really was just a pervert. you and leon have been friends for years, you two shared a home, shared a bed, shared practically everything. you two were just friends though, that’s what was driving him almost mad. how was he supposed to act normal when his cock was threatening to jump out of his jeans whenever he saw your thighs, the way they would expand whenever you sat down, how they jiggled when you walked, how they would spill over the fabric of your thigh highs. he even got to take a picture of you where your thighs were clear and visible, he’s found himself doing perverted stuff when thinking to your thighs.

constantly fucking into any object that reminded him of your thighs, he felt so ashamed fucking into one of your pillows like a dog in heat. humping the soft fabric until his cock started to hurt, he was overstimulating himself before he even came. he couldn’t help it, it was your fault! how could you walk around in such slutty shorts and not expect him to get hard? you had to be doing it on purpose is what he tried to tell himself, it had to be you teasing him on purpose. he was driving himself insane, his cock was begging for him to stop the relentless abuse but he just couldn’t. he came onto every polaroid of you, the bottom of his shirt stuffed into his mouth to prevent the whimpers and moans that spilled from his pretty pink lips. he decided he was going to take a step up tonight, he was going to try something new.

“leon…get it together, this is so fucked.” he was absolutely right, he shouldn’t be in your room at 2am watching you sleep, he shouldn’t be gently taking the covers off your sleeping frame to see your body. his cock jumped at the sight of your sleeping body, the way you looked so peaceful and beautiful like this. “fuck…can’t help it m’sorry…it hurts if i don’t touch it…” he pulled your thighs together and just stared like a deer in headlights, tugging his sweatpants down he palmed his cock through his boxers. he had already soaked through the fabric with his pre cum, it was a pathetic sight to see…him desperately pumping into his hands while staring at your thighs, he even stole a pair of your boxers to shove in his mouth to keep him quiet.

he was suffocated in your scent, you lingered in every one of his senses. he brushed his palm against his angry red tip and let out a choked out moan, he really should stop. you could wake up at any minute and catch him being a filthy perv! he couldn’t stop his hips from moving up to meet his hand, his eyes were wet and glossy with tears. everything felt so good when it was influenced by you, he had never felt this good touching himself when he was just watching porn. it was you, all he wanted was you, but there’s no way you would have him. not after the sinful acts he’s committing in your room at the moment, you would definitely move out and never speak to him.

“m’sorry…’m such a bad boy…please fo-forgive me.”he was begging for you, he wasn’t quite sure what he was begging for but he needed it. his balance was unsteady as he fucked his hand faster, his palm twtisting all around his tip. he felt the knot in his stomach tighten uncomfortably, he wanted to cum on you, but he knows he couldn’t.

cum on his thighs, you can clean it up later.

n-no that’s not-

you deserve it, you’ve worked hard and you’ve held back from bending him over and fucking him raw.

don’t wanna it-its bad if i-

you’ll never get this opportunity again, just cum.

he tried to hold back, he really did. he just couldn’t behave himself around you, he was just a gross pervert. “m’sorrysorrysorry…pleaaasseee forgive me baby i-i’m gonna cu-cum…!” he let out a final drawn out whine before cumming all over your thighs, he pumped himself through his orgasm. his body was ruined with aftershocks of his sinful actions, his cum was spread so beautifully across your thighs. he was a bad boy, the absolute worst boy ever. how could he do something like that? he quickly left the room out of pure embarrassment. he came on his best friend's thighs while he was sleeping, he laid in his own bed thinking over and over about what he just did.

he was woken up by the bright sun peaking through his blinds and a warm wet breath against his ear, “what a pervert you are, kennedy.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x male reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x male reader #resident evil #smut #kennedyslvr #leon x reader

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itwasthereaminuteago · 9 months

Note

I come bearing slutty thoughts.

Imagine Rumlow coming home from a mission where he got hurt and in that moment, all he could think about is not returning to you.

And ehm... when he gets home, he shows you just how much he loves/needs you 😜

(I hope this won't get flagged 🤣)

Alrighty sweet stuff, it's finally here (so sorry about the wait)! Good god he's a beast isn't he? Happy Sunday to you I hope 😁

|| Kissed by Death ||

Brock Rumlow x female reader

Tags/warnings: just love and (unprotected but on BC) smutty appreciation.

He didn't call, didn't think to let you know he would be back today, tonight. His mind was solely on a single track, focused on his own one mission.

With the water running over your ears when you're washing your hair you don't hear him come in, only gasping as you suddenly feel hands on your waist and the press of his body against your back.

“Brock!” You turn in his arms, not only surprised to see him home but also still almost fully clothed under the spray of water. “You're back, I wasn't expecting-” your warm smile only lasts a moment as you take in the pained look on his face, excitement turning to concern. “Oh my god, what's wrong? Are you hurt?” You ask, scanning his form for anything obvious, your worry only increasing at his continued silence. “Brock, please tell me.”

Out in the field that day he'd almost fucked up. A literal gnats ball hair away from getting his head blown off because he had been too cocky, too sure of himself in a dangerous situation that the near brush with death had knocked sense back into him with the force of a blow from a sledgehammer. It was the sense that he might not be able to come back home to you again if he acted that way again. That vile feeling had twisted in his guts, gripped him hard and mercilessly, the singular thought that he could lose you driving him to you as fast as possible once the mission was over. No other members of his STRIKE team had witnessed what had happened and so didn't question him bursting straight out of the briefing room after giving the absolute bare minimum communication necessary. He felt like he'd taken you for granted up until now. Felt like a failure. He needed you now. Craved your grounding touch, the feel of your soft skin against him, your mouth on his to remind himself how lucky he was to still be alive.

He lifts a hand to your face, cupping the side of it as his bourbon-brown eyes rake slowly over your nakedness as if he's seeing you for the first time. You let out a muffled whimper as he leans in, kissing your lips with such fierce desperation that you're panting hard when he eventually lets you surface for air and guides you both out of the spray of water. You help him when he begins to strip, your fingers slipping over the buckles and snaps as you both work in-between breathless clashes of your mouths to rid him of his tactical gear that is eventually flung into a wet heap in the corner of the bathroom. He's sucking possessive marks into the skin of your neck up with you pinned against the wall as you palm his thick length through his sodden boxers, trying to tug them down at the same time as he's reaching between your thighs with eagerness making you moan at his sure touch.

You touch him too, your hands skimming over his wet skin feeling him flinch slightly as you explore and find the inevitable fresh bruises and cuts with dismay.

“Brock,” you gasp out as his lips cover your face with kisses and he carefully slides his fingers between your folds, gathering your slick arousal and dragging it up and over your sensitive bud. The words almost catch in your throat as you question him.

“Brock, talk to me! What happened? You're scaring me…please!” you grab hold of his wrist to stop him.

He’s gruff but quiet as he finally answers, eyes dark, almost black and you recognise the deep need in that gaze. “Sorry I scared ya baby, don't you worry. I just had to see you, couldn't wait.”

You nod and slowly release him, knowing that he'll tell you when he's ready, and instead of pushing any further you arch your body into him as he drops down to his knees propping your leg over his shoulder as he puts his mouth on you. Your fingers grasp to hold on to something, anything for balance as his tongue delves between your folds, lapping and licking, curling up inside to savour your sweet taste. He's never going to let you fall, supporting your ass with his big hands as you lose yourself in the feel of his mouth working you up and up, the sensation only made more intense by the shower steam slicking your bodies. Your head thunks back against the wall as Brock flicks the firm tip of his tongue over and around your throbbing clit taking you higher and closer to a crescendo, your thighs quivering around his face. He's looking up at when you open your eyes and look down at him, listening to your moans and whines and watching your mouth drop open when he pushes two fingers up inside your tight walls and fucks you with them.

“Baby you gotta come for me, please, please baby you're so fucking good to me… I wanna make you feel so good-” his mouth is back on you, thick fingers curling gently as he draws them back out of your cunt and then straight back in. Each thrust of them almost punches the air out of your lungs as he takes you right up to that sweet edge.

He groans loud with you against your core as you let go, feeling you squeezing and creaming around his fingers, licking it all up as you pant and shake with the intensity. When he carefully lets you down, you circle your arms around his neck, pulling him in and holding yourself up on wobbly legs at the same time as you taste yourself on his lips. He's still hard and heavy against your stomach, swearing under his breath as your fingers then wrap around his length and slowly start to move your hand up and down.

“Let me take care of you, now.” your soothing voice melts into his ears. But that's not how it's supposed to go. He's the one that's gotta show you what you mean to him, how you're the only damn thing on his fucked up brain when it comes down to the dirt and blood of it all. He stops you, scoops you up in his arms and out of the bathroom into the bedroom, fuck the fact you're both dripping wet he doesn't give a shit about the sheets all he cares about is you.

“You need to know,” Brock's tone is level and serious as he lays you down on the bed. “you got to know you're everything to me, yeah? Everything.”

You gently rake your hand through the top of his hair where it's longer, curling your hand around the back of his head and lightly scratching your nails at the shorter shaved parts. He's not yet admitted to you how he really feels, that he has this love for you, it's raw and new, but it's definitely real.

“I know, baby.” you assure him, pulling him closer. You're so sweet for him, better than he deserves as you lay back and guide him inside you.

“Brock-” the warmth of your breath brushes his neck and he dips his head down to kiss your shoulder, listening to the way your breathing hitches as he sheathes himself all the way to the hilt.

“Oh fuck doll, feels so-” Brock makes a sound you've never heard him make before, almost a whimper as you move your hips up to meet his slow thrust. You clasp your arms around his broad shoulders, holding him close to you as you move as one, your skin still damp from the shower. You hum in agreement, your parted lips slotting perfectly together, still tasting yourself on his tongue as it tangles lazily with your own.

The muscles of his arm are obvious as he holds most of his weight above you, his free hand caressing it's way up the side of your body, the rough pad of his thumb rolling over your peaked nipple. Your back arches and you hike your leg up higher and lock it around him as he keeps on rolling into you at a steady pace that's already got you well on your way to seeing fireworks. It's not a rare thing that he's so tender with you, far from it, but the Brock you see at work is the completely opposite side of the coin and every time you're together this way you can't help but feel special. He bares himself to you, makes you feel like a goddess, gives you more than you could ever ask for. And he feels exactly the same way. He must have had some dumb luck that you fell for him just as he did for you. He's always been seen as a bit of an asshole, most weren't quick to trust him, but not you. You trusted him with your life and that's why he was home this instant with you. You kept him on track, had seen something in him that must have been worth sticking around for, and he was intending on spending all the time he could making sure that was true.

“Thought I was a fucking goner today,” he grits out, “I was a fucking idiot.”

Your eyes snap back open at his confession, searching him for more.

“Brock, you're here, you're okay, that's all that matters.”

“But I need you doll, need to be with ya and that can't happen if I wind up dead.”

You grab his face in your hands, focusing his attention again. “Then don't die.” You tell him, giving him a smile before you kiss him deeply.

He shakes with a burst of laughter and then as you lean up and graze your teeth over his jaw hisses with pleasure. He grins, his hand cupping your jaw, watching as your eyes flutter closed when he fits his hand around your neck with a tiny amount of pressure, just the way you like it.

“Mm, that's my good girl.” Brock praises with a husky whisper, moving his hips faster now pushing a desperate mewl of his name from your lips. “So good for me, don't deserve you…”

You can feel your second orgasm building, moaning out as Brock shifts his hand down your body to reach between you and rub his slick fingers over your clit.

The sound of you purring his name under him and the telltale twitch of your thighs draws him right along with you, pulling his cock almost all the way out of your pussy before plunging back deep inside. As you start falling apart around him he snaps his hips faster, shallower until you're clenching and squeezing over and over and he gives you everything he's got, releasing inside your soft heat with a deep moan of your name.

You're both panting as he carefully withdraws and rolls to your side, and as you half drape yourself over his spent body, you can't help smiling as you peck his cheek, turning his face towards you and kissing him over and over.

“Thanks for coming back to me.”

He lets go of a relieved sigh, like the weight of his guilt has been lifted by you saying that.

“I'll keep comin’ back, baby. Don't you worry.”

#brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow x female reader #brock rumlow smut #brock rumlow fluff

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lilbitdepressed27 · 8 months

Note

Hi, I was thinking Tara Carpenter x Reader. Where Reader and Sam coming home from work. They are at Sam’s car going to her house till, she saw 2 kittens in the alley way. Reader told Sam to stop but Sam wants to know why till she pointed out the kittens. Sam sighed because she knows you love kittens. Reader went outside and pick up 2 kittens. One of them is a Scottish cat with brown eyes just like Tara. And the other one is a orange cat with blue eyes. Reader took them back to Sam’s car and Sam look at the kittens and she stared at them with awe’s. On the way reader has to tell Tara someway that she brought two kittens in and she doesn’t know that if Tara likes kittens but Sam tells the reader that she does. When they made it back to the house, Reader saw Mindy, Chad, and Anika in the living room but doesn’t see Tara. Mindy told Reader that Tara is in her room. Reader opened the door and see Tara, Reader is hiding the kittens behind her back till Tara hears a meow and she actually went towards her. Tara ask what is behind her back, & Reader shows her the kitten.

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader

WC: 1.0k

Authors Note: hope you like it dude. Sorry for any mistakes in advance.

It had been a long shift. You were tired, but you did enjoy the extra money you got. You loved spoiling Tara and sometimes your friends. So you had begged Sam to get you a job at the restaurant she worked at. Now that you worked with Sam, it was convenient that you both to ride together.

The drive back home was quiet. With the streets mostly empty. At a stop light you looked to your right, seeing the some people walking but what really caught your eye was something in the alley way. What looked to be two tiny ears sticking out of a box.

"Wait Sam!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"Stop the car." You quickly unbuckled your seat belt. Moving to exit the car.

"Wow Y/n wait! Why?" She reached over to stop you, she didn't want you running out there at night. If something were to happen to you, even if it's the smallest scratch. Tara would kill her. Tara had become so protective of you after what happened last year. Even though Tara was also attached. You had been the one on the verge of death. Amber had attacked you, stabbing you a total of five times. You had been a state of a coma for two weeks. It had been a hard time for Tara.

"I think I saw a kitten! In a box!" You looked back at Sam with a beaming smile before exiting the car. Sam was quick to park the car and follow you. There was no keeping you away from any kittens. The love you had for kittens could rival with your love for Tara.

Seeing you coming out of the alley way with two kittens bundled up in your jacket. "Sam look! This once kinda reminds me of Tara. The brown eyes are crazy similar. I'm gonna call this little girl Jenna. And this orange little cutie, you could name her." You excitedly explained. Making sure to keep your voice down. Not wanting to scare the little kittens that had quickly cuddled up into your jacket.

"They are cute. But we don't even know if-" Sam didn't understand, well she could cause most times when you pulled the look she was receiving at moment. You always got your way. It was no wonder Tara was wrapped around your finger. But it wasn't like Tara didn't also have you wrapped around her finger. "Ugh fine. Come on. If we're gonna keep them. Let's go buy them stuff they need."

"Wait, Tara likes cats right? I mean, she's never said anything about kittens, but then again I've never asked-Y/n stop. Tara likes cats. And even if she didn't she loves you too much to say no." Sam lead you back to the car. She could already imagine her sister now, the amount of times Tara would do just about anything to see you happy. To see you smiling. And if that meant keeping kittens. Than Tara would allow it.

"Okay. Well what's your cats name?"

They had gotten home a lot later than they usually would. You had Jenna and Lexi in your arms while Sam brought all the things a cat could need.

"Oh my god are those kittens?" Anika was the first to spring up from where she was sitting on the couch. Gushing over the kittens in your arms.

"Yea this one is Jenna. And this one is Lexi. The newest family members." You looked around the apartment hoping to see your girlfriend. You couldn't wait for her to meet the kittens. "Where's Tara?"

"She's in your room. Went in there to focus on her homework.” Mindy said as she helped Sam unpack all the shopping bags.

With a nod, you made your way to your shared room. Peaking your head in when you opened the door. There she was sat on the desk chair. At the sound of the door opened had her turning around. A smile forming on the her lips at the sight of you.

“Hey baby-” Tara had stopped when she saw how you didn’t make a move to get in the room. Her eyes narrowed, from the smile on your face she knew you were hiding something. If hiding most of your body behind the door was saying anything. “What are you hiding?”

“I-*Meow*” You stepped in side of the room. The two kittens still in your jacket. Tara stepped closer to you, looking down at the bundle you had on your arms. “I found them coming back from work. Look this one kinda reminds me of you. This one is Jenna. And this one is Lexi. Can we keep them, please.”

Tara chuckled as one of the kittens licked her finger. She had already been convinced as soon as she heard the first meow. But seeing your pout would have convinced her if she hadn’t. “Of course we can.” At the sight of your smile she leaned up bringing your lips down to hers for a kiss.

Quickly pulling away when she had remembered something. “Wait a minute. Did you name the cat after that one actress? The same actress that flirted with you when we met her?”

“Oh my gosh! Yea! That actress looks exactly like you. But she wasn’t flirting with me. She was just being friendly with a fan .” You leaned down to kiss the top of Jenna’s head. The kitten meowed a return, purring as you gently ran your finger under the kittens chin.

“No she doesn’t and yes she was!” She lightly pushed you away. It hadn’t been a few weeks ago when you both had ran into the actress. The actress had been nice but then she had realized that the actress was flirting with you.

“Oh come on, I’m only teasing. Now come on help give these little cuties a bath. Gotta make sure they don’t have any fleas.”

Tara rolled her eyes half heartedly. The smile you had on your face as you spoke to the kittens had her swooning. The smile was a reminder that you were still with her. You were happy and alive.

#tara carpenter x reader #scream #tara carpenter #fem!reader #x reader

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simpjaes · 9 months

Note

speaking of hoon edging himself for days when you're not available, can you write a quick prompt about how he'd fill up and overflow all your holes when you get back. fuck, he'd be the type to go for ages even after you're all fucked out and overstimulated

reminder that I don't do requests but since you asked for a prompt, i'll write a lil somethin' somethin'.

christmas setting woohoo!

warnings: major edging, a billion orgasms, reader is smaller than him and can be lifted and held up.

wc: 1.4k

Sunghoon, your busy, busy boyfriend. Sunghoon, you're amazingly sweet, loving, and careful boyfriend. Sunghoon, your very, very horny boyfriend.

Honestly, he hates himself every time he does it. Sometimes it's intentional, but this time it wasn't entirely his fault.

It's the first time since you started dating him that you had to go home for a week during the holidays. Which is fine, you've only been dating him since the beginning of the year and it was somewhat expected that you wouldn't be spending christmas with him and him alone. After all, you expected him to go home too.

And he did, which arguably makes his situation worse.

Sunghoon, your needy, pathetic, and annoyed boyfriend.

What's worse is that edging is one thing, but this is just blatant torture. He thought it would be fun to be long-distance for a week. He wanted phone sex, he wanted to see you fuck yourself on camera for him, he wanted you to show him how much you missed him. And that's ultimately where he fucked up.

Because you can barely even respond to his text messages let alone call him for phone sex. Due to sharing a room with your cousin, due to constantly helping your family out with holiday preparations, due to-- doing stuff that doesn't involve helping him out.

You're entirely being distracted from him right now. Family, holiday tradition, and merry joy or whatever.

And you know, it wouldn't be that big of a deal if it weren't for the fact that his libido is far too high to have a girlfriend not on him every night. And by every night, it's really every night.

He's supposed to be distracted, though, with being home too and all. But he's entirely tuned into the fact that he's been so fucking hard since the day after you left. It's almost painful now, especially because something inside of him drives him to enjoy this torture. To try and hold off for the day you both eventually land back in the same city, and he can fuck all of this frustration out of himself and into you.

Plus, um, it's kind of hard to jerk off in his family home surrounded by said family. If anything, he should not be as horny as he is. He should be entirely turned off, and entirely tuned in to wrapping gifts and pretending santa is real.

Which, again, isn't working because with each day that passes, all he can think about is you and how you looked the last night you were together, all pretty with your lashes fluttering up at him. Pretty face, pretty mouth, pretty pussy.

Man, he's gonna fucking explode before this week is up.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Safe to say, Sunghoon did not explode.

But upon looking at him when he storms into your dorm room? He seems pretty fucking close to it. He looks sleepy, spent, and even exhausted.

You were half ready to offer your bed up for a nice little afternoon nap before he came up to you and immediately had his hand down your loose pajama shorts.

"Hoon?" You ask with a light chuckle.

"You couldn't even call me." He very nearly whined, which is kiiind of new to you.

Then it clicks. Right. Your boyfriend and his libido. His sex drive.

Oh my god, he must have been suffering.

"I'm so hard right now," He chokes out, rubbing himself against your thigh. "I've been so hard all week, babe, please."

And he doesn't really need to ask, but it's kind of cute that he does.

"Why didn't you take care of it?" You ask playfully, feeling his frantic fingers work you up so that you're ready to take whatever nightmare amount of cum he needs to give to you.

"Why didn't you take care of it?" He counters, fingers stopping for a moment before he shifts entirely, pulling his hand out of your pants and immediately shoving you back and against the small dorm kitchen counter.

You chuckle, because of course you do. You'll never get used to being needed or wanted so badly by someone, and it fills you with so much joy that he's really this desperate.

"I should maybe leave more often," You smile at him when he's slipping your pants off of you, hiking one of your legs up and against his waist before fumbling with his own pants. "Never seen you this horny--"

He shuts you up fast, your voice only working him up more and more with your stupid, stupid playful words. You're loving this, you must loooove to see him fucking suffer over you.

And then, the only sound that you can hear is the ringing in your ears as he plunges himself into you. Cock already hard and wet, pulsing with the need to fuck something. You, specifically.

It's like neither of you could speak if you wanted to, with his consistent groans and relieved sighs of feeling your pussy squeeze him like he missed so much.

"Missed you, fuck-" He manages to choke out, already nearing the point of orgasm before it slams into him without warning.

It's the first time he's ever come so fast, barely a full ten strokes into you before it happened, but you love it all the same. It felt somehow better than usual. After all, he could go for an hour or more when his sexual appetite is fed nearly every night by you.

Arguably, he appears to be able to go an hour or more now too, as your face falls into that of shock that his orgasm doesn't render him flaccid or spent.

He paused through his first orgasm, feeling it run through his body in a numbing way, only to immediately fuck up and into you harder once it's subsided. He knows he has more to give, so, so much more. A weeks worth of fucking you will be had now.

And man, you feel every inch of him, deeper and deeper until somehow he feels bigger than usual. Somehow he's splitting you open better than he ever has, and he's filling you up with orgasms that have never once lasted as long as the ones he's shaking through now.

A second orgasm comes in the form of him wrapping your other leg around his waist too, where he's essentially holding you up and against the counter absolutely railing your pussy until his legs nearly buckle.

And well, they do buckle. He's careful though, maintaining his balance before tapping your legs without a word and immediately pushing you to the floor. You stared in awe at how his cock is still working through the two orgasms, despite his brain clearly having gone blank the moment he said he missed you.

There, you give him a third orgasm with your throat. It took a little longer, and it only happened when he let it. Holding your head in place with both hands, fucking his hips into you just to feel your throat constrict and strangle his pathetic and still needy cock. You hear his brain start working again through this, and the only words he can mutter is, "it's like you're doing this on purpose, god, look at how you take it."

You take all of it and you taste all of it, again and again as he stumbled in front of you, angling his hips into your mouth to push it deeper, just to come to the point that you're choking. You wish you could have seen the way he chewed against his bottom lip and threw his head back as it happened.

You're so good to him though, letting him take it out on you like this. So, so good to him.

And it didn't stop. For hours he fucked himself into every part of you that you'd allow, offering you several orgasms in turn from sheer force and need alone. He didn't really even try, because for the first time with you, he was solely desperate to focus on himself. To empty his body of this buildup, and to fill you up with how frustrated he's managed to become.

By the next morning, you weren't the only one rendered unable to walk. His own legs felt weak, his head hurt, his eyes were strained at the morning light. But when he looked at you, smiling as if you really would leave more often just to have him lose his goddamn mind like that again, he immediately scolds.

"Why are you smiling like you're gonna do this shit to me again?"

And you'd just smile wider.

"Because I definitely will."

He rolls his strained eyes at you, thinking hard about the fact that as much as he hates not fucking you, he might kind of love the way you make it up to him.

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #hardthots #anon #ask

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wartakes · 3 months

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A Duty to Protect

Not gonna lie, I grappled with whether or not to do this one. I very nearly decided to trash it after having already written 99% of it. But, I've decided to share it anyway in an effort to talk about things going in Gaza (and elsewhere) right now while getting back to the roots of what I started doing War Takes content to begin with. Full essay under the cut.

Folks, I'm gonna be straight up and down with you: my heart hasn't fully been in it lately when its come to writing and posting and generally doing War Takes stuff.

That's not to say I didn't care at all about what I was writing about – whether its been in these essays, or in posts on social media, or what have you, but it definitely felt like ever since October 7th and the resulting Israeli War in Gaza, that I've been stuck in an ever deepening malaise (something that I'm sure many people who feel trapped watching events unfold feel). Obviously, what's going on in Gaza in particular and the Middle East in general not the only conflict I care about; I still feel very strongly about what's going on in Ukraine, Myanmar, Sudan, and on many other battlefields against fascism and brutally the world over, but what's going on in Gaza seems to specifically epitomize how the world feels right now. That there's a million fires burning, with innocents screaming in the middle of the flames, and the response of so many governments appears to be to hand gasoline to the person stoking the fire (if not pouring it on themselves) and then turning to you to say "actually, you're terrible for not thinking that this is okay" and yelling at you on Twitter for it.

The point of this long winded allegory is, I've been in a rut, the result of which is I've started to slip into becoming too focused on the here-and-now or the near-future in these essays, when one of the main reasons I started writing them is to try and think to the future, to a time when maybe, hopefully, we'll be in a better position to actually take action against the myriad of problems at home and abroad. Talking about the here and now is important, but you quickly become reminded of just how powerless we can be in the current moment, and then drive yourself insane by the perceived need for you to do something to fix all the world's problems right here, right now, when you quite simply cannot.

None of this means you should give up, nor give into apathy, despair, nihilism, doomerism, or whatever -isms you may be tempted with succumbing to. You can and should still do what you are able to make things better in the near term, but with the understanding that there are hard limits on what you can accomplish (barring massive, sudden, seismic shifts in society that you will probably only recognize once you're in the middle of them or on the other side). As one of my good online friends November Kelly recently said, you need to make your peace with powerlessness and keep your powder dry, while holding out hope and biding your time for the moment in the future when you and others will finally be able to make a substantive difference and change things for the better.

One of my ways I have always dealt with this feeling of powerlessness in the here and now, is thinking about how I would try to do things differently in my field in that hypothetical future where the United States tried to exercise its power in a more just, humane, and progressive manner. It was really the crux of why I started writing these essays, feeling that many on the Left were unprepared for a hypothetical, hopeful day when we'd be able to actually exercise power. Many of my first wave of essays dealt with thinking forward to that hypothetical better future, but I feel like in the last year or two I've gotten away from that for a number of reasons (the sheer hopelessness of some current events being one of them), so in this essay I'm going to try my best to try and get that mojo back.

In the hopes of tapping back into that original spirit of why I started writing War Takes essays, I'm going to try and link some thoughts for the future, to the ongoing event probably most responsible for my recent funk and lack of inspiration: the War in Gaza. In thinking closely about Israel's actions in Gaza since October 7th, and the response (or lack thereof, rather) of the Western world towards it, I managed to find some renewed vigor in considering how I would deal with the ongoing conflict and associated genocide if I was in a position of power.

Oh, but before we go any further, one quick housekeeping measure that probably doesn't matter but I'm going to do anyway just for the record because its been a while:

Hamas are not good and I don't support them.

I am focusing on Israel here because the scale and scope of what Israel is and has been doing to Palestinian civilians so utterly dwarfs the things that Hamas has done (which are also bad) and because the things Israel has been doing since long before October 7th set the conditions that caused October 7th to happen in the first place by making it inevitable.

Ok, that's out of the way. Let's get down to brass tacks.

Murderers Hate Him! Stop Genocide With This One WEIRD Trick!

After nine months of war in Gaza, I recently came to a realization.

I believe at this point, based on my own personal gut assessment, that even if the United States finally came to its senses and began to exert serious pressure on Israel – diplomatic, economic, and otherwise – that it wouldn't stop what its doing in Gaza and in Palestine and the Middle East in general.

I think even if the United States brought all manner of power to bear, enacting more stringent economic sanctions and arms embargoes, supporting prosecution of Israeli political and military leaders as war criminals in international venues, and so on, that Israel would not stop its actions.

Something in Israeli politics and society snapped on October 7th. To many of us who have looked upon the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict with clear eyes, we knew from the start what might happen and that what Israel is saying and doing now is not necessarily new. But while not new, Israel's actions against Palestinians and throughout the Middle East have reached new extremes, going into overdrive. The proverbial mask has truly come off, as the many videos and photos from Israeli soldiers documenting their numerous war crimes in Gaza have already demonstrated.

As a country that views any criticism what-so-ever as a borderline existential threat, if the United States and other countries actually chose to impose costs on Israel for its actions, it would go into absolute mental breakdown of derangement. After simply delaying one shipment of bombs (not canceling mind you, just “delaying”) while other arms have continued to flow, Israeli Prime Minister Bibi Netanyahu recorded a video temper tantrum lashing out at U.S. President Joe Biden for only giving him 99% of what he wanted. A country only used to doubling down on its bad actions would triple if not quadruple down, fully embracing official status as a rogue state. Even if cut off from its primary foreign weapons supplier in the United States, Israel would leverage its own domestic arms industry and other like-minded partners (like Modi's India, for example) to keep its war – and accompanying genocide – going. It would not stop, because it would be even more convinced that it could not afford to stop lest it risked the very existence of the Israeli political project (something that may not really be that far-fetched given how the way things may go in the mid to long term).

Now, none of this to say that the United States and other countries shouldn't undertake the actions I laid out regardless of Israeli actions. I strongly believe there is an absolute moral imperative to do so, like, yesterday. But that being said, as I looked back on the history of such actions in the face of various forms of state violence of both the intra- and inter-state fashion, that they'd likely do next to nothing to stop the slaughter. It was that reflection on the past that reminded me of the only thing that can stop a genocide, or any kind of armed aggression, in its tracks: armed intervention.

Maybe I'll be proven wrong on this, but so far we haven't been an opportunity to see otherwise, as the few actions leveled against Israel so far have been so minimal as to practically be non-existent (not that its stopped Israel and its boosters from screaming bloody murder about them). And I think the longer Israel is allowed to continue its actions without non-military forms of pressure being levied against them, the less likely such actions would actually stop them if they were used.

This state of affairs leaves only one option as the last resort to stop the violence: large-scale military intervention.

Historically speaking, the only thing that has ever actually, conclusively stopped a genocide is military intervention. This was pointed out very clearly by the non-governmental organization Doctors Without Borders during the 1994 Rwandan Genocide, when they called for military intervention based on one simple reality: doctors can't stop genocide. What can be said for doctors can be said other forms of aid or action short of military intervention. If Israel chose to continue its actions even in the face of sanctions and embargoes and arrest warrants, none of those actions would likely stop them. Even if the world decided to send in all the food and medicine and more that Gazans would need to survive for as long as they needed it, none of that would matter if the IDF would be preventing it from entering in order to perpetuate the genocide further than its weapons were doing directly.

Such a military intervention could not, by definition, be limited either. It would almost certainly need to be extensive, and involve actual boots on the ground. Past perpetrators of genocide have continue to carry out genocide in the face of military intervention, even at the expense of their own war effort. Nazi Germany continued its execution of the Holocaust in the face of Allied advances from both the East and West, taking personnel and resources away from the war effort to do so and continuing to do so right up until its final surrender in May of 1945. In Rwanda in 1994, the genocide of the Tutsi ethnic-minority by the majority Hutus took place even as the Hutu-dominated regime and its military were pushed back by a successful offensive into the country by rebel forces. Not only is military intervention required to stop genocide, overwhelming, fast, and – more likely than not – complete and total to put a stop to the killing as quickly and completely as possible.

I realize such an action would not be without significant costs and risks, as well as almost certainly violating my own strongly held beliefs that I've stated before that regime change should not be imposed from outside and must come from within. To address the latter issue first, I acknowledge this apparent contradiction, and my only answer would be that I continue to stand by that view – to a point; and that point is the case of genocide. Once you reach that point, I think imposition of regime change from the outside not only becomes acceptable, but morally and ethically necessary to ensure that all the apparatus of state power in that regime are no longer being used to carry out genocide. In that sense, I see it less as a contradiction, and more of an order of priority.

To the point of costs and risks, I have less good answers other than I simply acknowledge that they exist and are hefty. In terms of costs, a massive military operation to put an end to a genocide in Palestine by way of direct combat with the IDF would cost a great deal in blood and treasure and would result in a long-term occupation that could potentially go very badly if not planned and executed properly. In terms of risks, aside from the risks associated with conventional warfare with the IDF, the issue of it specifically being a (undeclared) nuclear-weapons state is a necessary specter to raise – one that has given many a U.S. and allied planner sleepless nights envisioning a conflict on the Korean Peninsula ever since North Korea acquired its first nuclear weapon. Again, I have no good answers here other than, the risks are high and the costs could be just as high if not higher. But, it if we are truly to stand by our principles and not simply pay them lip service as others have, we have no choice but to accept certain risks and incur certain costs in the name of our shared humanity. Additionally, there is an additional cost imposed by the absolute imperative to ensure that one genocide is not simply met with another in response – something that cannot and must never be acceptable. The invading forces would be duty bound to go to great lengths to ensure that it prevented such a response and did not engage in one itself, working to set the stage for some kind of workable reconciliation in the end state to follow.

Of course, sadly, all of this discussion is purely academic at this stage, as such an armed intervention is in large part, impossible under the current geopolitical circumstances. Such an intervention would require the acquiescence, if not the active support and involvement, of the United States of America. Such involvement is completely unimaginable, given the United States' unshakable "rock solid" and "ironclad" support of Israel, even as its violence against civilians has grown more blatant, wanton, and brutal since the war began. Even if intervention was attempted without the United States, it would almost certainly engage all levers of national power – including its own military force – to prevent such an intervention from being carried out, having already utilized military force to protect Israel from outside attack after its own actions threatened to expand the war in Gaza into a true regional war (something that still, unfortunately, remains a very real possibility in the weeks and months ahead).

So, we find ourselves once again in a low point due to unwelcome and harsh truths about the reality we currently face vis-a-vis the ongoing genocide and other acts of mass violence and aggression tossing cold water on what may be the only real route to put a conclusive end to it. But, as always, we can't give into despair and give up. So, what can we actually do? It is that topic that I will close us out on (and hopefully maybe pull you up out of any funk I may have dropped you down into – sorry).

Never Again (But This Time, For Real)

Right now, as powerless as we may all feel, we can and must still do everything we individually can to try and help the people of Gaza – to say nothing of all the other peoples suffering from aggression or the threat of genocide, be it in Ukraine, Sudan, or elsewhere. As much as it may feel like a single lonely drop of water in a very large ocean, our actions do mean something, even if they aren't directly silencing Israeli guns or stopping U.S. bombs from being shipped to them. But while I'm not admitting defeat, I'm accepting, grimly, those previously mentioned limits on what we can do now with the way things are in our current domestic political system in the United States and the current international system.

With those aforementioned limitations in mind, I turn my mind to the future, as I've tended to in previous essays and have in some ways gotten away from. I turn my mind to a day when we have a government and a society in this country that has a different view of the world and our role in it. I turn my mind to a day when we as a country and a people view the world through a more just, progressive, democratic socialist, humanitarian lens. Quite frankly: I look to the day when we take all the truisms and platitudes and cliches of liberalism at home and abroad and actually hold ourselves to them – because at the end of the day, how much of socialism is simply taking all the nice fluffy things that liberals say that they want to do (both at home and abroad) but then actually, in good faith, doing them?

When that day comes – and I have to believe in my heart of hearts of that it will come – even as the world is better, it won't be perfect. There will still be forces that seek to do harm and commit grievous acts in the name of any number of causes. As long we exist as people, there will be those with the intent and access to the means to do harm that will be able to motivate some to do that harm in their name. To be blunt: there will still be "Israels", even if there is not still an Israel, and to that end: there will still be “Palestines” that they wish to subjugate and "cleanse" through violence; and when the opportunity presents itself, those who wish to commit another genocide will take their chance to do so.

When that day comes, it won't be enough to simple condemn those who are committing genocide or working towards it; it won't be enough to sanction them, embargo them, isolate them and turn them into a rogue state (if they aren't already). Likewise, it won't be enough to offer our profound apologies for our past inaction towards or active enabling of past genocides; it won't be enough to commit to various material ways to try and offer penance for our past sins towards those we wronged in the past, working tirelessly to repay a debt we will never be able to fully to repay. All of these things won't be enough (though to be absolutely crystal clear, we should do all of them anyway).

No matter what else we do in response to genocide, it won't be enough in the face of a new one emerging, unless we take actual, direct action to stop it – preferably in its infancy; and as has already been established, the only way to do that will be by force of arms, on the battlefield. If we are not prepared to do that, we will quite simply fall into the same "say one thing, do nothing" patterns of behavior that have been the norm for decades. Despite coming out of World War II and the aftermath of the Holocaust with a proclamation of "Never Again", the geopolitical competition of the Cold War provided cover to an assortment of mass-murder campaigns that we now only retroactively and belatedly recognize as genocides. When these became impossible to ignore post-Cold War in places like Bosnia and Rwanda, the developed world doubled down on "Never Again" with the "Responsibility to Protect" - but functionally very little changed. While in some rare instances, great powers and developed nations may do the right thing and intervene to stop slaughter of civilians, the reality is that what gets to be called a genocide and require action has depended on how politically convenient (or not) it is for those with the power to take action. If we do not take actual steps to break with this broken and heartless system when we are in a position o do so, we will become everything we have ever hated. We have to go further than a "Responsibility to Protect"; it must become a "Duty to Protect," one that is impossible for us to ignore or shirk no matter what the circumstances.

This need to be able to actually stop genocide by force reinforces the need for the democratic socialist project to be serious about actually achieving and maintaining power and accountability. Protesting (and even posting) is admirable and indeed necessary, but in the long term we still have to be serious about actually engaging successfully in politics and eventually being in a position to make and enact policy that is in keeping with our ideology and its core ethical and moral beliefs. We have to eventually be in a position where when the time comes, we have the means at our disposal – military and otherwise – to ensure "Never Again" is no longer a sad and infuriating punchline in history that is only selectively applied (if at all), but has meaning; "Never Again" won't ever mean anything, unless it comes from the barrel of the rifle and we are in a position where we have the will and ability to order a person carrying that rifle into combat to do so. Likewise, “Never Again” won’t mean anything if we don’t take such action in a way consistent with the ethical, moral, and legal principles we claim to be upholding, working actively to prevent another genocide in response to a genocide.

Time and time and time again, whether its in these essays, or on social media, or just in conversation, I talk about how I resist doomerism and strongly believe that we can, must, and will make things better both in this country and in the world. There are many reasons for that. One small, but not insignificant reason for it, is admittedly: cope; it helps me from falling into total dysfunctional despair in the here and now when I feel powerless. But the biggest and most positive reason I maintain hope that we can make things better, is simply because we're all worth it. We as people, all of us – ourselves and our friends and families and more – have value and worth and are worth fighting for. But that comes with the understanding that sometimes that operative word of "fight" will need to be literal and not just figurative. When it comes to preventing and stopping genocide, the literal interpretation will be essential if we are to be true to everything we claim to believe.

It is with that, I leave you once again. I hope with everything going on at home and abroad that you all find your own ways of fighting through the morass of despair and hopelessness and fighting on in the good fight. Until next time, keep your chin up and stay safe. Photo credit: Mikhail Evstafiev

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ancha-aus · 8 days

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Ghosts & Medium AU Drabble - Sleepover

I am back with this little AU of mine :3 Becuase I had an idea and I of course have no self control.

What is the focus? Killer and Cross getting to see Dust's and Ash's apartment.

*-----------------*

Dust continues to stare through the front window. He is tired. And Not just physically.

"Come on Dusty! I want to explore my new body and I could use an extra set of hands~"

"It ISN'T your body!! Don't you fucking dare!"

Dust is way beyond his social quota. He has been for the last three weeks. With the last week being especially tiring.

Having Killer tag along as a ghost had been bad.

Killer now having a body?

Dust is used to waking up with a ghost hovering near. Ash does that all the time to wake him up. Seeing Killer instead had been a shock to his system and Dust had tried to hit the ghost. Not very effective because well, ghost. Even if a poltergeist is more physical than most ghosts he was still a ghost.

Well! Having an actual person near and hovering over him?! Yeah. Much more nerve wrecking and is ruining his already fragile and destroyed sleeping cycle.

It doesn't help that Cross is around. Pouting and grumbling all the time. Reminding Killer of what to do with his bdoy and what not to. Pestering Dust to solve it.

Dust doesn't even know what ritual Cross used! Dust had gone to Cross because he hadn't been able to get Killer to leave him. Yet now his problem is doubled.

Ash had offered that maybe they can go home. Get some rest and read some of his books for answers. Dust had figured it was fine. He still had some money from the last job. He would ahve to make every penny count and maybe just eat cheap rice for a while but he can make the money stretch a little longer.

So they got into his van and started going to his apartment.

Dust had considered leaving Killer in Cross's body behind somewhere. He got so close to just doing that. With Killer being stuck in Cross's body it would mean he would be free of him.

But well. Cross and him are still kinda friends. Cross is pretty much Dust's only kinda friend... even if Cross just treats him as any other customer.

Also it feels like a waiting disaster to leave a mobile Killer unsupervised.

So there are going back to his place. Even if Dust much prefers no one knowing where he lives but what can you do.

Ash floats by his shoulder "You sure you don't want to stop for coffee? You have been driving for seven hours now." Ash shoots him a disapproving look.

Dust shrugs "too expensive." he can get soo much rich for the price of one overpriced coffee.

God he misses coffee. Sadly it was one of the first things he stops buying once he gets into the lower amounts of money, same for cigarrettes. Which, with business being slow. He had been low on cash for the last seven months.

There is a reason he tried so hard with Killer's whole haunting thing. It had been the first job after anohter four months of no work or jobs. He needed the cash.

Not that it matters now. He got so many more problems now. At least Cross still has his own savings to keep his body alive while Killer inhibits it.

Dust remembers he should answer Ash "I am almost there." just two more hours. Maybe one and a half if he speeds a bit. That is one of the nice parts about having a ghost with you the whole time. Ash being near causes some electrics to shortcut.

Speedcameras count within those for some reason.

Works great for him.

Killer whines loudly "Dusty! Pay attention to me!"

"Don't distract him from driving Killer! YOu are going to get us killed!"

Killer gasps "OMG!"

Ash looks unimpressed "Did you just seriously say omg out loud? as just letters? as an actual reaction? In an actual conversation? seriously?"

Killer wiggles excited from side to side "We could be ghosts together! Haunt stuff together and-"

Ash rushes Killer and Killer yelps as Ash no doubt uses his own limited ghost ability power stuff to harm him now he is physical "If you ever even entertain the idea of my brother dying ever again I am killing you in this new host body myself. Am. I. understood?"

Cross looks panicked "Wait no! that is my body!"

Ash huffs "I am aware. But I am not risking Dust. Not for anything or anyone."

Killer pouts "Geez calm down. it was just an idea." he mutters unhappily "we wouldn't even be sure if it would work."

Dust just ignores the ghosts arguing. It is still a long drive.

Fuck he would kill for either a coffee or a cigarrette right about now. He would commit a war crime if he could get both.

It is late. Very late. But they are finally here!

Dust parks the van in an empty spot and grabs his bag as he walks towards the front door. He opens it with his key and has to hit it a few times before the door into the building opens.

Dust just nods to the door as he looks at Killer "Inside."

Killer has a hand on his, well cross's chest as he looks down at him. Damn Cross for being tall. "Oh? inviting me back home already? After just one date? I am scandalised and very interested." and he walks inside.

Ash makes a gaging sound and Dust rolls his eye lights before following after Killer. Once inside he pulls the door until it gets back stuck again and he locks it again. The doorhandle it broken so you need to force it in and out of place before keeping it shut with the lock itself.

Dust walks past the elevator that Killer is waiting by "don't use the elevator. it gets stuck and has the habit of dropping a few floors." and he walks towards the stairs. Fuck he hates the stairs.

Still he climbs the floors and eventually finally gets to floor eight and walks down the hallway. Door after door after door. There is his spot. 808.

He pulls out his key and tries it. Ugh. It is stuck again. He bonks his skull against the door "Ash?"

Ash floats through the door "on it."

a moment later he feels the key turn and he steps back as Ash forces the door open. He removes the key "Thanks." and he leads the other two inside as Ash closes the door and locks it again.

Dust stands in his room and ignores the very damning silence "Home sweet home." he throws the bag on the couch as he walks over to the window and opens it. Having to put the small wood board between some parts to keep it open.

Killer looks around the place as Cross looks a lot more alarmed "You live here?!"

Dust shrugs as he walks to his couch where he leavs a blanket and pillow "Euh. I live in my van. I only come here once in a while." Thinking that. He will probably need to get food. He never leaves food behind in his place. Makes the rats visit.

Cross looks so worried as he floats nearby "You enver said this was your place!"

Dust shrugs "It is fine."

Sure the enterance and living room and kitchen is one room... with the door hitting the couch... and the kitchen being one small fridge a counter and a electric little stove thing. and the place he eats is just one table with one chair. But it is a place! It has electricity kinda reliable and the water is mostly clean.

Dust blinks and shrugs "Rent is cheap." also the landlord does not pay attention to who pays and who doens't. Which is the only reason Dust still has this place and why he doesn't complain about everything being broken.

Dust looks at Killer and points at the couch "You can sleep here. That was Cross's body gets some rest. I will be in my room." and he turns and goes towards his own bedroom, after picking up his bag of course.

His room may have been an exaggeration. It is just his mattress on the floor with two different blankets and an old pillow. the room just barely fits the mattress and the small set of drawers for his clothes. He searches through it and finds a shirt some sweats and a beanie. This will have to do to sleep in.

He undressed and redresses. He will do all the stuff to clean up and stuff tomorrow. First sleep. It is like 4 am and he had been driving since they left Cross's chapel. at like 6ish... Dust thinks... maybe earlier?

It doesn't matter. Dust lets himself fall on his mattress and rolls up. Muttering a good night to Ash and getting one in return.

Someone is muttering stuff near him. Ugh. Can't he just sleep for a bit longer? He is tired.

He grumbles as he tries to curl more into his blanket but he is stuck. weird. did he get tangled with his blanket again? Would explain why it is so warm and... why... something... is moving...

Dust manages to open his sockets and freezes.

Cross, well Killer, is in bed with him. Killer pouts "You woke him-"

Dust just punched him in the face nad Killer rolls off the bed. Releasing him in the process. Dust glares at him "Why the fuck are you in my room." he rubs his sockets. no longer sleepy at all. what the actual fuck?!

Killer rubs his, well Cross's face "I wanted to get up close and comfortable. but then i realised that sleeping with you as very comfy. so i slept in your bed wiht you instead of the couch."

Dust looks around and spots Ash looking pissed. and Cross hiding his face nad looking beyond embarrassed "I am so sorry! I didn't know what to do and i thought he was asleep so i went to explore the building and when i came back he was well here and I couldn't convince him to leave as he was aslready asleep himself and well..."

Dust looks at Ash and Cross "wake me?!"

Ash grumbles unhappily "You need your sleep."

Cross sighs "also nothing we did could wake killer and it isn't like he listens."

...

What even is his life?

Okay. Fine.

Dust gets up and kicks Killer and he yelps. Dust just kicks him again "Out. I need to get dressed."

Killer grins and winks "I can assist-" Dust kicks him again. Killer pouts "okay fine fine fine!" and he leaves.

Dust gets dressed quickly and goes towards the living room. Time to look into some new options to get this situation wiht Killer and Cross sorted out.

First he needs to switch their places to get Cross his body back. And then a ritual to get Killer to leave him alone.

That is easy. That is just two rituals.

Dust grabs the first book and starts looking through the rituals.

There has to be something that can work... He could also try and summon something that can make the changes if he really needs to.

#utmv #ghosts & medium au #dust sans #killer sans #cross sans #dusttale papyrus #Dust continues to be struggling #on multiple fronts in matter of fact #But yeah! They made it to Dust's... home...#Look it is not the best and he does not have a secure job of any way and dropped out of school at like age ten.#What did you expect?#But yeah! The party at the moment is Dust Ash Killer and Cross :D #don't worry. the harem will keep growing lmao

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