If Anyone Out There Are Well Versed In Little Critters And You Can Tell Me What The FUCK These Things

Hey. Could you please do a Winchester!sister reader fic like the mystery spot episode where Dean dies over and over but can you have the reader be the one who dies over and over again while the boys watch

Groundhog Day

Note: Once again apologising for my lateness but here we are! I actually also wrote this yesterday but I thought it was only fitting to release this on a Tuesday.

warnings: death *and lots of it, It's mystery spot*, grief kinda, time loops, swearing.

Word count: 3.5k

⛤ SPN MASTERLIST ⛤

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room. After sitting up groggily and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he glanced at the clock, hardly noting the time before he turned to his brother who was surprisingly already up and raring to go, having made his bed which he was now perching on as he laced together his boots. He felt the blankets shift around him as you tried to bury yourself into the mattress, bringing the covers over your head to try and block out some of the noise and fall back to sleep.

“Rise and shine, Sammy.”

“Dude.” Sam blinked, swiping his hair from his eyes. “Asia?”

“Come on. You love this song and you know it.”

Sam rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, and if i hear it again, I’m going to kill myself.”

“Be quiet.” You murmured from behind the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut and rolling over. You knew it wasn’t going to happen but you were trying to cling onto the idea of getting more than 4 hours of sleep for once. 

Dean took a break from trying his shoes to reach over and turn the dial on the radio. The song blasted louder from the speakers. He raised his voice with a grin “What? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.”

Sam let out a light chuckle, still bleary with sleep as you sighed and sat up. Dean was still grinning at you before he began to mouth along to the words of the song. You shook your head at him before hauling yourself up and making your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

~

Dean had decided that he was going to be annoying today. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to go on the hunt and he was trying to delay it or something or if it was simply because he was being Dean. You decided on the latter because his keenness to be up and ready this morning was unusual. It started with the gurgling when he was brushing his teeth. Then, just as the three of you were about to leave, despite being up before either of you he had forgotten his pistol leaving you and your other brother standing impatiently by the door while he rooted around the motel room for it. He was irritating in the car too and you were itching to jump out of the Impala, praying for the day to end. 

The diner was hardly busy when Dean pulled into the driveway. There were only a few cars belonging to passers by occupying the spaces. After securing your pistol in the pocket of your jacket the three of you headed inside. You decided to stick close to Sam; you had an odd feeling about this hunt and weren’t entirely sure what it was but something just wasn’t sitting right with you. Your brothers entered one of the booths and you slid down beside Dean who let out a content sigh as he scanned the menu. 

“Hey, tuesday. Pig in a poke.” he read, gesturing to the sign.

“Do you even know what that is?” Sam raised an eyebrow. 

The eldest brother opened his mouth to answer only to fall short of his words. Sam gave him a smug look and then pair fell into some sort of childish bickering that you weren’t really paying attention to. You were too busy scanning every inch of the room still unable to shake that uneasy feeling from your mind. Something just wasn’t right. Everything seems so…perfect. It made your skin crawl and you bit your lip.

“Hey.” Sam nudged you under the table with his knee, he had noted the way that you had gone silent and that you were fiddling with your hands restlessly. He knew almost straight away that something was up. You twisted to face him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. yeah.” You muttered. “Sorry.”

You nearly let out a sigh of relief when the waitress came over and distracted your brother's attention away from you. You hated the way that they stared when they were concerned about you. The three of you rattled off your orders before Dean leaned back in the chair, stretching his arm back behind you to lounge about as you all discussed the plan, only interrupted once by the waitress bringing your food and accidentally spilling a bottle of hot sauce which tumbled to the floor and smashed into tiny pieces.

The rest of the day passed by quickly after that.

~

You did not like the look of the so-called ‘mystery spot’. It was all overly commercialised, filled to the brim with strange and amusing objects that stuck out at odd angles or were glued to the ceiling. The darkness of the room mixed with the obscurity of the place made it come across as quite disorientating. You supposed that was the point. Your strange feeling from this morning was still lingering. You and Dean moved around with flashlights as Sam waved around the EMF. But it was silent. 

“Find anything?” You asked.

Sam shook his head.

“Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?” Dean said rather loudly. He was still set on the idea that this hunt was a complete waste of time and had decided to make it everyone else's problem. 

“Uh… yeah.” Sam shrugged until you gave him a look and he dropped his shoulders. “No.”

It wasn’t long after you set off to explore again that Dean’s gun was being cocked. Somehow someone had managed to catch you off guard, causing the three of you to whip around alarmed when his shaky voice boomed through the room. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He demanded. The man was small and scrawny and would normally be no match against Winchesters, but he was wielding a gun that he didn’t seem to know how to use and his unstable finger was hovering dangerously close to the trigger. 

“Woah. We can explain.” Dean started, raising his gun in surrender and gesturing for the two of you to follow suit. 

The man moved his weapon uncertainly. “You robbing me?”

“No.” You told him. “Nobody’s robbing you, calm down.”

Dean began to lower his gun, but this only wound the man up more.

“Don’t move!” He demanded. “Don’t!”

“I’m just putting the gun down.” Dean tried to reassure him, but the man was having none of it. 

He raised his gun, but before he fired he spotted you moving out of the corner of his eye. 

Sam, as worrying of a brother as ever, gestured with a tilt of his head for you to move toward him. He knew that you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself, but it made him feel ten times better to know that you were hidden behind his lumbering frame, especially given the recent circumstances that had resulted in so much loss between the three of you. Your movement however, combined with Dean’s haste to put down his gun startled the man and with a fast flick of his arm he had pulled the trigger. 

No one had any time to think before your pained scream filled the room. It was quick and short as the bullet lodged itself within your chest and you collapsed to the ground, writhing with an agony so intense that it made white spots dance in your vision like little stars. 

“Y/N!” Sam cried out, moving quickly to bridge the short distance to your side where you lay in pain on the cold ground. Sam slid an arm around your back as your other brother dropped to his knees next to you, hovering his hand over your chest where blood had already begun to pool through and seep into your shirt. He was frozen with terror unsure what to do at the sight of your pained expression or the way that your hands clutched feebly at the hem of Sammy’s jacket. 

“Call 911.” Sam demanded, turning to face the man who stood there white as a sheet. 

“I-I didn’t mean-” 

“Now!” Dean yelled.

You whimpered at the yelling. It cuts through your already pounding head adding to the concoction of your agony. You couldn’t see straight, couldn’t hear properly, couldn’t feel anything besides the burning fire in your chest that spread through your lungs like a disease. Your head lolled back against Sam’s arm as you began to taste metallic copper in your mouth, slowly drowning on your own blood that had filled your lungs. 

“No. No” Sam said as you writhed in his arms, glancing up bleary eyed at him. Dean pressed down firmly on the wound, and it hurt more than anything but you couldn’t bring yourself to even whine at the contact.

“Come on sweetheart.” Dean pleaded. “Not like this.”

You could see his lips moving but it sounded like he was underwater as your body began to grow numb and your vision slowly faded. You tried to blink away the spots that consumed your vision, but it was no use and your eyes ended up fluttering shut just as your ragged breaths slowed before stopping altogether until you lay morbid limp in your big brother's arms.

~

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room. After sitting up groggily and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he glanced at the clock, hardly noting the time before he turned to his brother. He had been here before. He realised suddenly, but this time his older brother was not lacing his boots. Instead he was stood at the foot of the bed, staring at the space beside Sam. He felt the blankets shift around him as you tried to bury yourself into the mattress, bringing the covers over your head to try and block out some of the noise and fall back to sleep. Sam stared at you, startled. He could have sworn that just a moment ago you were-

“Rise and shine, Sammy.” Dean said, with much less enthusiasm as he had before. His little brother furrowed his brows.

“Dean…?”

“I know. Is it just me or are you getting a serious sense of deja-vu?”

He nodded in agreement. 

“Be quiet.” You murmured from behind the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut and rolling over. You knew it wasn’t going to happen but you were trying to cling onto the idea of getting more than 4 hours of sleep for once. 

The Winchesters shared a look. Man, something strange was happening and whatever it was, you clearly weren’t feeling the same thing they were. 

~

The diner was exactly the same as it had been the last time the two brothers were here. You were still looking around with the same uncertainty as you were before and you even ordered the same thing as you did before and so did Dean. Tuesday’s special. Pig in a poke.

“It’s tuesday?” He said uncertainly to himself.

You stared at him blankly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world “Yeah.”

Sam eyed you strangely and you raised a brow.

“You okay?” 

“Peachy.” He replied, leaning across the table. “Are you?”

Narrowing your eyes at the pair of boys you asked. “Okay. What’s going on with you two?”

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“You don’t…you don’t remember any of this?” Sam asked you 

“Remember what?”

“This. Today. Like it’s happened before.” Dean.

“You mean like Deja Vu?” You frowned.

“No like it’s really happened before.” Sam stressed. “If it feels like we’re living yesterday all over again.”

“Deja Vu.”

“No. Forget about that. Its-

The conversation was once again cut off by the waitress who was delivering the food. And once again she sent the hot sauce toppling. But this time, Sam caught it before it could hit the ground. 

You gave him a charismatic grin. “Nice reflexes.”

The rest of the day did not pass by quickly after that.

Your brothers were trying to explain the situation to you, while theorising themselves. It was safe to say that at first you were completely lost, but were halfway to believing them when it happened.  

The car came from nowhere, speeding around the corner. It collided harshly with your unsuspecting body sending you skidding across the asphalt. By the time your brothers had reached you, a trail of blood trickled down your face from the wounds that were opened as your skin ran across the floor. Dean nearly choked on the sight of your pained and bloodied face as he reached you but you were dead before he had even lifted you into his arms. 

And then, there it was again. That wretched song, screaming from the radio. 

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room and muttered one single phrase.

“Son of a bitch.”

The rest of the day did not pass by quickly after that. In fact, it never seemed to end. 

~

Sam was getting angry now. No. That's not really the right word to describe it. He was frustrated. Tired. Scared. Dean was angry. And growing impatient. But both of them could not bear to live another tuesday. They couldn’t bear to see you fine one second and then dying the next. They had lived through at least a hundred tuesdays, had scanned every inch of the diner, the town, the mystery spot, they had followed the people from the diner and had even tried to keep you in the motel room but no matter how hard they tried they were forced to watch you die again.

The worst part was that you were clueless.  Sam and Dean had to re-explain the ordeal to you everytime they woke up to that stupid song again, leaving you back at square one. They had lived through the day so many times that it had gotten to the point where they could both predict your sentences word for word and while it freaked you out, their patience was wearing thin. 

Until finally, something changed. Dean had asked the woman he kept bumping into to see her flyer. They finally had a lead. So, the next time Tuesday morning rolled around, they felt hopeful as they filed off the information to you. 

“When’d you get time to do all that research?” you asked through a mouthful of food.

Dean did not have the energy to answer, so he just stood, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go. We’re wasting time here.”

That was when Sam spotted it. The sticky, pink syrup sat in the dispenser next to the half eaten pancake. He frowned, stopping suddenly. When you noticed his absence you turned and asked him what was wrong.

Sam watched the man leave through the slats in the blinds. “That guy has maple syrup for the last 100 tuesdays, now all of a sudden he’s having strawberry?

“It’s a free country, Sammy. A man can’t choose his own syrup now? What have we become?”

“Not in this diner.” Sam shook his head. “Not today.”

“Nothing in this place ever changes. Ever. “ Dean told you. “Except us.”

~

The two brothers nearly lost their shit when they woke up again, but by the time they had suffered through the morning routine and had reached the diner they had come up with a plan. 

There were no conversations during breakfast. The pair left you to ponder over your own thoughts after mentioning the idea of a time loop. Any of your questions went unanswered as they stared down the man, jumping into action when he rose, pushing the stool out with an ear splitting squeal and making his way to the parking lot. 

Dean gripped the man firmly, forcing him against the fence by the scruff of his neck and silencing his protests. “We know who you are. Or should I say what?”

You watched very confused from the side.

“Oh my god-” the man begged, wide eyed. “Please don’t kill me!”

“Uh, Boys-”

“It took us a hell of a long time, but we got it.” Sam seethed. 

“What?!”

“It’s your M.O that gave you away.” He continued. “Going after pompous jerks, giving them their just deserts. Your kind loves that, don’t they?”

“Yeah. Sure. Okay! Just put the stake down!” He pleaded, side eyeing the weapon that Sam pressed to his neck. Sam refused to move.

“Sammy, maybe you should-”

“No!” He yelled at you. The tone of his voice was so unexpected for Sam that you recoiled. “There’s only one creature powerful enough to do what you’re doing. Making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops- In fact, you’d pretty much have to be a god.”

“You’d have to be a trickster.” Dean spat.

“Misters…” The man pleaded shakily with tears in his eyes “My name is Ed Coleman. My wife’s name is Amelia- I’ve got two kids! For crying out loud I sell ad space!”

“Don’t lie to me! I know what you are!” Sam shouted into his face. 

“We’ve killed one of your kind before.”

There was a heavy paused before the grey hair and wrinkles on the man before you morphed into the all familiar face of the trickster you and your brothers had run into not too long ago. 

He smirked and your brothers’ faces dropped. “Actually, you didn’t.”

“Why are you doing this? Why her!?” Sam pressed, digging the stake into his neck. 

“You’re kidding?” The trickster replied “You all tried to kill me last time. Why wouldn’t I do this? Why not make you three suffer.”

“So this is funny to you? Killing her over and over again?” Dean gritted his teeth.

“One- yes, it is fun. And two -this is so not about killing Y/N. This joke is on you two. I mean… come on. How great has it been to watch you to see her being torn apart again and again. Watching your sister die everyday. Forever.”

“You son of a bitch.”

The trickster smiled. “How long will it take you to realise you can’t save your sister, no matter what.”

“Oh yeah? We kill you, this ends now.” Sam growled.

“Woah. Okay, look. I was just playing around. You can’t take a joke, fine. You’re out of it. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and it’ll be wednesday. I swear.”

“You're lying. “

He shrugged. “If I am, you know where to find me.”

~

“But you better promise me, I’ll be back in time-”

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room. After sitting up groggily and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he glanced at the clock, hardly noting the time before he… made a double take. The small three letter panel now read ‘WED’

Sam couldn’t contain the gasp that fell from his lips. “It’s wednesday!”

“Yeah…?” You said from across the room where you were rummaging though your bag. “Which usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that crap off, would you?” you asked him.

“No. Leave it on.” Dean interjected. He agreed with Sam. If he heard Asia one more time he was going to kill himself. “Isn’t that the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard?”

“...No. Jesus, how many Tuesdays did you guys have?”

“You don’t wanna know.” Dean sighed. “Wait..what do you remember.”

“I remember you two being pretty whacked out yesterday. And then i remember running into the trickster. S’bout it really.”

“Right. Whatever. Lets get out of here.” Sam said as he pulled on a shirt.

“What? No breakfast?” You asked, slightly upset that you were going to miss out on the diner food you had quite enjoyed yesterday. 

“No breakfast.”

~

Sam and Dean were still inside when they heard it. The unmistakable pop of a gun being fired. You were outside loading the last of your things into Baby and-

Sam's heart sank.

“Y/N!” He cried, dropping what he was doing and racing down the stairs towards you.

The offender fled the moment the gunshot had sounded and your two brothers could see him rounding the corner, but their concern was on you, sprawled out across the floor in a pool of your own blood.

They shook you, crying out your name but you didn’t move. Your heart had stopped beating. 

“No. This isn’t supposed to happen today.” Sam squeezed his eyes shut tight, only to nearly cry when he opened them again and you were still lying lifelessly in his brothers clutch. “We’re supposed to wake up.”

And then, he began to cry.

Part 2 may be coming…I’ll add it to my to do list

Heheehehe I made a Sanji doodle

(Ignore how weird he looks I’m not the best at drawing)

Sylus: Know why I called you in here?

MC: Because I accidentally sent you an NSFW pic.

Sylus: *Stops pouring two glasses of wine* Accidentally?

my ass cant think of anything different

so why not poly141 x Reader squid game au

where either all 141 are VIP

or

Price is a frontman while the rest of the 141 could be his square soldiers?

Idk what reader could be tho, tell me ur thoughts!

PLEASE!!!! I AM BEGGING @consuming-karma, FOR THIS TO BE WRITTEN. THE CHARACTER DESIGNS AND THE WAY EVERYTHING IS WRITTEN FOR THE SUMMARY, IS JUST, MWAH (chefs kiss)

BACK IN TOWN - THE MASTERLIST.

[poly!lost boys + ex!Michael x asian!ex!reader.]

content warnings: angst, pining, enemies to lovers trope, vampirism, gore, etc. (tba).

Years after the Vampire incident in Santa Carla, the Emersons decide to take the lost boys under their wings. Everything was happy for a while, until year of 92’ where Lucy had planned for a trip back down to memory lane, literally. Now, Lucy and the boys are back in Phoenix, Arizona. How will Michael handle seeing his childhood home? Better yet, his old ex? What happens when Michael’s boys gets interested as well?

page one : Home, Bittersweet Home.

let’s meet our cast, shall we?

READER.

THE BOYS:

- MICHAEL EMERSON.

- DAVID.

- DWAYNE.

- MARKO.

- PAUL.

“I’m not cut out for your creepy antics, Michael! Your world isn’t mine, and I don’t want to make it mine.”

“You can’t say that, you can’t turn back. David’s already picked for you, and honestly, I don’t want to lose you, and the boys don’t either.”

(THE LOST BOYS 1987.)

the lost boys is not my original work, the only credit I will be taking is for Reader and any non-canon headcanons I’ve implemented into the story.

Sanji being loved by the entire kitchen is sooooo cute 🥰

Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays :)

Please enjoy these chilly lil’ guys :)))

Not a Drabble, just a funny little bit of dialog I’m not sure I will fit into a story.

[Michael, having stared at Dwayne for several minutes, clears his throat. Dwayne looks up from the book he is thumbing through on the couch.]

Dwayne: Spit it out.

Michael: Why don’t you ever wear a shirt?

[Dwayne gives Marko an accusatory once-over.]

Dwayne: A rat keeps eating them.

Better than nothing

Summary: You and Castiel work together to help make Deans birthday cake.

Word count: 1.1k

A/n: Not my favorite but I just needed something to work on. ENJOY :)

༺═────────────═༻

“So how do we do this?” Cas asked, the dough laid out flatly on the counter, three eggs rested on top of the mushy substance. 

Glancing over your shoulder from the mixing batter, you checked to see if the angel was correctly following your instructions. “Cassie, when you fold the eggs into the dough, you have to crack them.”

Cas furrowed his brows, facing the counter in front of him once more. “But, I don’t understand, you said we had to fold the eggs inside, you said nothing about cracking the eggs open.”

“Yes, I did tell you that, but we can’t eat eggshells, Cas.”

“Why not? Eggs are full of protein and nutrients for the human body.” He told you, slowly cracking each egg into the dough. 

You let out a sigh, wondering how your life had come to you teaching an angel of the Lord how to make a hand made birthday cake. “Cassie.” You mumbled, setting down your mixing bowl and making your way to the angel. “The chicken and the yolk have the protein, the shell just protects them.”

Cas let out a quiet hum, watching the way the yolk broke up into the sticky dough. Mixing into the other ingredients slowly, his hands continued to stick to the batter. “When would I know to stop mixing?” He asked, blue eyes meeting yours as he continued to mix. 

“When you can’t see the eggs by themselves anymore.”

He nodded slowly, hands kneading the dough until the eggs were deeply embedded into the batter. “What do we do with it now?”

“Now,” you began, quickly bringing over a pan to hold the cakes structure. “We place the dough in the pan, and let it bake for ‘bout thirty minutes.”

Cas lightly picked up the dough, placing it in the pan you held out for him. After that you placed it in the preheated oven, gently closing the door before setting the over timer. “What do we do while it’s baking?” He asked you, wiping his hands on his trench coat, any of the dough that stuck to his hands coming off on the poor jacket. 

“Well,” you began, making your way back to the mixing bowl, the whisk sitting upright in the homemade frosting. “I need to add the finishing touches to the frosting, but we do need to clean up the kitchen before the boys come back.”

“Right.” Cas muttered, picking up all the empty measuring cup that was laying around and placing them in the sink. “Would we also need to sweep up the flour on the floor?”

“Yes, Cassie, that would be just fine.”

As Cas cleaned the kitchen, you finished up the icing, placing it onto the countertop and helping out the angel with washing the dishes as he sweeps. 

Ding

“Y/n, I think the cake is done baking.” Cas told you bluntly, crouching down to sweep his dust pile into the dust pan. 

“I think your right, Cas.” You told him, wiping your wet hands onto a nearby rag as you went to retrieve the finished cake. 

The heat from the oven graced your face, the top layer of the cake a nice and warm bronze. “Perfect.” You hummed to yourself, using the rag to take the hot metal pan from the oven. 

“Hey, Cas?” You asked the angel, placing the pan on the counter to cool down. “Do you wanna swap? Me clean the rest and you ice the cake.”

Cas gave you a quick nod, swapping places with him, you watch out of the corner of your eye as the angel spread the blue icing across the now cooled down cake. Bits of the cake coming up with the small spatula he was using, an annoyed expression playing on his face the longer he tried to get the icing to stick. 

“Do you think Dean will like this?” He asked placing the spatula down and admiring yours and his work. “Because it looks a little…”

You walked over to his side, the rag you’d been using tossed over your shoulder as you looked over the cake. It was a dark blue, slight holes from where the icing wouldn’t fully cover the it, it also leaned on its right side. Though it shouldn’t since it was baked in a straight circle pan. 

“Funky looking?” You finished for him, both your and the angels head cocked to the side as you took in the celebratory dessert. 

The sound of doors opening suddenly caught your attention, “We’re back!” Sam called from the top of the stairwell, Dean behind him as he tried to look for any form of surprises for his birthday. 

“We’re in the kitchen!” You called back, placing one or two more dishes in the sink before you were met with the sight of the two Winchester boys. 

“Happy birthday.” You and Cas told Dean, bodies hiding the jacked up cake from the older man. “Why don’t you sit at the table and we will get started?”

Dean gave you and Cas a quick thank you before following your instructions, Sam made his way over to you. A shopping bag held tightly in both hands. He stopped momentarily in front of the cake, placing the bags onto the counter before facing you completely. 

“I thought you said, you and Cas were gonna make a pie?” Sam whispered to you, eyeing the lop-sided cake with curiosity. 

“We were,” you whispered back, placing a couple of candles on the cake. “But then we realized half way through that we didn’t know how to make a pie.”

Sam hummed at that, leaning over the counter as he slowly lifted the cake up and towards the table. “And clearly the cake looked a whole lot better than the pie.”

“Better than nothing.” 

Making your way to the kitchen table, you placed a small party hat on Deans head. Ruffling his hair briefly before taking a seat, Cas and Sam joining you after lighting the cake. 

“Well isn’t that a pretty cake.” Dean joked, swiping a bit of icing onto his finger and in his mouth. “Delicious too.”

“Yeah, well, it was either this or a box of Mac and cheese we’d be singing you happy birthday to.” You told him, swatting his hand back as he tries to get another taste. 

“It’s perfect.” He told you, giving a quick thanks to each of you as you all started to sing happy birthday to the older man. 

This is what he needed for his birthday, not a big party with some random people he barley knew. No, instead for his birthday he got a cake that was made by the people he loves and a day out with his brother, as Dean just pointed and said he wanted ‘this or that’ for his birthday. 

It was truly a day he would remember, for the rest of his life. How ever long or short that may be. 

Tour Mates (The Lost Boys X Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

(Hello, Hi, How ya goin. So I have been lurking in the Lost Boys fandom for over a year now and have been feral for these boys for far too long to not have an insane amount of ideas about them. So as if this movie didn't have a strong enough chokehold on me already, it led me to write my first ever fic. I have no idea if it's any good, but I hope someone out there at least enjoys the vision. This will be multiple chapters cause I can't shut up. Behold! Whatever this is!

P.S. I know Dwayne and his actor aren’t actually 6’7. But ya girl is 5’10 and may have a small size kink and this is my fic😤So let a girl live.)

Pairing: The Lost Boys x Fem!Reader (Poly Lost Boys implied)

Work count: 1208

Warnings: Darker Fic, misogyny, sexism, allusions to sex, allusions to murder, the boys being whores. Smut in future chapters.

Summary: You had always wanted nothing more than to be in a band and share your music with the world, and you were finally on your way to doing so. If only your band was big enough to do it alone.

You had always wanted to be a musician. Always. Ever since you could remember. From a child when you would sit and listen to whatever music your dad loved, making you guess titles and quiz you on the bands. From when you were a preteen and had the freedom to branch out to whole new styles of music you had never heard, buying records with what little money you could save. From when you got a guitar on your thirteenth birthday and played every moment you could after school and every chance on the weekends. From when you were fifteen and your friends made the choice to form a band. And from when you made the promise that very day that you would be the most legendary band in history.

While you were yet to be the most legendary band in history, for now, you were finally making moves. You were nowhere near Motely Crue, but you were getting somewhere. After years of writing, months upon months of being in studios, and all the savings you could muster. You finally had the money, the managers, and the following to go on tour. Your dream was coming true. If only there wasn’t one slight, incredibly frustrating, and immensely infuriating problem.

While you had the monetary ability to tour and quite the following, you weren’t quite big enough to tour on your OWN. Enter stage left the current bain of your existence—The Lost Boys. A Californian glam rock heavy metal band just starting to find their feet os so luckily at the same time as you. The band consisted of David the lead singer, a dominant man who truly embodied the idea of a frontman. Marko the bassist - the secondhand man to David as they had said themselves which had been proven multiple times with the way Marko seemed to wait on David hand and foot, never seeming to be too far behind him. Paul the lead guitarist, a wild chaotic lady’s man who always smelt of weed where it may be his erratic behavior took him. And last but DEFINITELY not least Dwayne. The drummer, an imposing 6’7 man who seemed to be made of muscle, with an intense gaze that could make anyone feel immense fear or simply melt depending on his mood.

At first, it had seemed perfect. They were nice, if not slightly flirty (aka clawing to get into your pants from the get go) and your bandmates got along brilliantly with them. You loved their music and it matched your sound really well. It was the ideal situation. That was until maybe a month into the tour. You could understand the excitement for a while, the booze, the drugs, the women, the partying. You’d be a hypocrite if you had blamed them for enjoying those things seeing as you had partaken in them yourself. But you thought that maybe after a little while that they would maybe calm down a bit. But they seemed pretty dead set on sticking to their band's slogan of sleeping all day and partying all night. Which you would respect if it wasn’t for the fact that it was impacting your ability to sleep at all, and in turn, your ability to play.

Now it was already hard being a woman in the rock industry, but being the only woman on an otherwise all-male tour? That came with a whole nother set of problems. You had been called every misogynistic name under the sun. Constantly told you couldn’t play, which your predicament was only adding fuel to the fire. Even more, you had your fair share of being told that the only reason that any of the boys kept you around on the tour, is so that they can have someone around as a backup to fuck on the nights they can't pull any groupies. A sleazy stand-in kept in reserve for desperate nights.

This is where the resentment began. You obviously didn’t care about anyone on tour sleeping around or bringing people back to the hotels, it came with the territory, and your boys did it pretty regularly. But the lost boys were seemingly insatiable. Bringing groups of fawning girls back to their (weirdly) shared hotel room every single night. Of course, this word spread and they inevitably got nothing but praise for their man whore behavior. As where you had been branded a slut for so much as picking up a guitar and being in a band. You had even only made out with one man on the entirety of the tour! The opportunity to go any further being ruined by the band in question themselves when they stumbled across you and refused to leave, glowering at the man till he took his hands off of you and left. A strange situation but nonetheless frustrating. The resentment only grew as the situation began to affect you in other ways than just your image and reputation.

When the boys would bring these girls back to their room it would always go the same. At some ridiculous hour of the morning you would hear the drunken love-struck giggles of the group of girls they had chosen for the night, followed by the strong voice of David beckoning them into the room, insisting for them to make themselves at home, to even shed a few layers to get comfortable, which would inevitably be followed by whooping and hollering from the other boys and then the music would start blaring. But no matter how loud they would blast the music you could always still hear the giggling, which would turn to moaning, which would turn to shrieking. You had to admit the first few nights, hell even to this day, it sometimes frightens you. Sometimes the screams just don’t seem as pleasurable as they should. Sometimes they are…almost blood-curdling. Like someone losing a fight for their life. But you know that’s just your imagination running wild, because just inevitably as the girls being there every night, the moaning would return. Always just the boys though, but you always imagined they had just fucked the girls out so much that they didn’t have the energy to make much noise.

These nightly occurrences would not bother you if it weren’t for the fact that while they were up and causing chaos, you were up and unable to sleep. Which for the first few weeks, was fine, but now nearing a month and a half of borderline sleepless nights due to the proclivities of your tour mates, you were starting to come undone. You didn’t have the luxury of sleeping all day, so naps in your dressing room were having to suffice and that would inevitably have an effect on your performance. You can't remember the last time you got through a show and didn’t mess up at least a segment or two from a few songs.

But after all of that what had been your final straw, was the boys being AWARE of the effects their actions had on you. They HAD to be from the way they had taunted you, teased you. The acts had become more frequent as the days went on. And ton your aggravation, harder to forget about.

What about Dae-Ho from squid game 2 and teen!reader? Like teen!reader is here for some abusive reason (maybe to pay her abusive father debts) and Dae-Ho is mostly like a big brother figure to reader? It's like during the game of the carrousel and reader as no one to go to and almost die until Dae-Ho save her. Then after the game, they eat and Dae-Ho ask her why did she join the game at such a young age so reader explain and Dae-Ho became very protective toward reader?

𝐵𝑟𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 [𝐾. 𝐷𝑎𝑒-𝐻𝑜]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴋᴀɴɢ ᴅᴀᴇ-ʜᴏ x ᴛᴇᴇɴ ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ғʟᴜғғ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ.

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇs, ᴅᴀᴇ-ʜᴏ sᴀᴠᴇs ᴀ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ, ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙʟᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇsᴛᴀɴᴛ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀɪʟᴏᴜs ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ, sᴛᴇᴘᴘɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ. ᴀs ᴛʜᴇʏ ʙᴏɴᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ sʜᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴍᴇᴀʟs ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ sᴛᴏʀʏ, ʜᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇs ʜᴇʀ ғɪᴇʀᴄᴇʟʏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ɢᴜᴀʀᴅɪᴀɴ, ᴅᴇᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʜᴇʀ sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴏᴅᴅs.

ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴀʙᴜsᴇ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

The carrousel loomed like a monstrous relic in the center of the arena, its rusted metal creaking as it began to spin. The ominous voice of the announcer echoed through the room, explaining the next pairing number:

"Two."

Panic rippled through the crowd of contestants as they scrambled to find someone to trust—or, at the very least, someone they could tolerate. Amid the chaos, you stood frozen, clutching the fraying edges of your jacket. Your small frame and young age made yoy an oddity among the hardened contestants, and no one seemed eager to approach you.

You took a tentative step forward, your voice trembling as you tried to speak to a nearby man. "Excuse me, can we—"

"Beat it, kid." He pushed past you, locking eyes with someone older and more capable.

Your heart sank, and you glanced around desperately. The crowd was thinning as people paired up, and the rooms began to flood.

"Five seconds remaining," the voice boomed.

Your breathing quickened, your limbs heavy as the realization hit—no one would pick you.

Just as the timer reached zero and the guards grabbed their guns, a hand yanked you back into a room with surprising strength. You stumbled, crashing into someone’s chest. Looking up, you saw a man with sharp features and tired eyes.

Dae-Ho.

“Hang on,” he muttered, gripping your arm as shooting became very loud. He held you steady, shielding you from the chaos around you both.

The survivors stumbled back into the main room, their faces pale and hollowed by exhaustion. The stark white walls felt oppressive, a stark contrast to the blood and marking on their bodies. Dae-Ho released his hold on you but stayed close, his gaze scanning the room as if calculating threats.

“Keep up,” he said curtly, glancing over his shoulder.

You nodded, your legs trembling as you followed him through the corridors. The silence between you was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the fluorescent lights.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you. His expression was unreadable, but his tone was softer. “Why didn’t you pair up sooner? You almost got yourself killed.”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. “No one wanted to.”

Dae-Ho’s jaw tightened. He looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Instead, he started walking again.

When you reached the main area, trays of food were waiting—a meager portion of rice, a hard-boiled egg, and a slice of bread. Dae-Ho grabbed his tray and sat at a corner bed, gesturing for you to join him. You hesitated, glancing around the room, but the hard stares of the other contestants made your choice clear.

As you sat on the bed besides from him, he pushed his egg toward you without a word.

“You need it more than I do,” he said, taking a bite of his bread.

Your eyes widened. “I—I can’t take this. You need it too.”

“Don’t argue.” His tone left no room for debate.

You nodded, peeling the egg carefully and taking small bites. The food felt heavy in your stomach, and for a moment, the knot of anxiety loosened.

Dae-Ho leaned back in from his seat, watching you closely. “What are you doing here?”

Your hands froze mid-bite. “What do you mean?”

“You’re a kid. These games… they’re not for someone like you.”

Your throat tightened, and you looked down at your tray. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Everyone says that,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But what’s your reason?”

The words spilled out before you could stop them. “My dad… he’s in debt. A lot of debt. He said it was my fault, that I had to fix it. So, I…” You trailed off, your hands trembling.

Dae-Ho’s expression darkened. “Your father sent you here?”

You nodded, tears threatening to spill over. “He said if I didn’t, the loan sharks would come for me anyway. This was my only chance. He gave me the card and told me to call.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, Dae-Ho reached across the table, placing a hand over yours.

“You shouldn’t have to do this,” he said, his voice firm. “But you’re here now, so you have to survive. No more freezing up, understand?”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Okay.”

“And stick with me. No one’s going to mess with you while I’m around.”

From that moment on, Dae-Ho rarely left your side. He became a constant presence, guiding you through the challenges and shielding you from the more ruthless players. He taught you how to read people, how to spot traps, and how to hide your fear.

In a world designed to break you, you found solace in each other.

But the games weren’t over, and Dae-Ho knew that your bond would be tested in ways neither of you could imagine.