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[smileskids]

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[sunni-stuff]

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

You had a support system, friends who joked about you having way too much fun, hence your predicament, others already offering to buy things for the baby and your parents who couldn't be happier to meet their grandchild.

But what about the father?

Well, it's not exactly like you could track him down. Fuck, you didn't even know the man's name, only how he made you feel, his filthy words strumming in your ear, big hands tight around your waist, hips slamming away in a desperate chase.

Let's forget how you leg-locked him.

When your daughter was born, everything changed, and time slowed down. She was a quiet baby, barely crying or having any outbursts like a normal child would but outspoken in her own little way. That chunky thing came out of the womb with a glare. Brown eyes staring down anyone and everyone but you.

That's something she definitely got from her father. You vividly remember how his umber eyes watching you from across the bar. He was like an eagle waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey. A perfect soldier.

So, you named your daughter Adira in memory of his strength. That's one thing he could have.

Adira loved to be by your side. Her chubby cheeks pressed into the nook of your neck, holding you close with strength of a thousand babies. Your clingy little thing was a koala, always by her mommy's side, never straying far no matter how curious she got. When she learned to walk, her favorite thing became to hug your leg, especially while in stores. She hated people, wearing a tiny scowl whenever customers passed by tucking herself closer to you.

Maybe it was a good thing her father wasn't around. Having to compete for her first words would've been a bloodbath.

You spent two years in bliss. The fact that you were a single mother an afterthought to raising what you considered a blessing.

With Adira's second Christmas coming up, you wanted to do something special. She loved trains and found them absolutely amusing, often mimicking the honk as she ran around your apartment. Thankfully, there was a train ride for kids around the park during this time of year.

Here, you stood in line, bundled up to the nines. Big poofy coat, warm gloves, and fuzzy boots. As the crowd moved, Adira clung close, arms wrapped around your leg, glowering at any passerby with an annoyed look on her rosy cheeks.

That one was new. Maybe something else she got from her father.

The two of you took steps in tow, keeping Adira close and comfortable as the train came into view. Her expression shifted, excitement palpable. "Twain!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Before you could respond to Adira's childlike joy, a man bumped into you by accident, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turns to look at you, blue eyes meeting yours, but you were too focused on the weird ass Mohawk on his head.

People wore still those?

"Sorry bout that lass." The man starts to apologize, a Scottish accent lacing his voice.

That breaks your stare, laughing awkwardly to mask your wandering gaze. "Oh no, it's fine. You should be careful. you might slip on ice."

He nods, giving you a kind smile. The Scottish man starts to leave, but the look your kid was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

Little Adira was giving him a fierce stare down from behind your leg before ultimately cutting her eyes at him as if he were merely a nuisance.

"Next in line! Mctavish!"

The man doesn't stay after that. You assume that it was him they were calling with the way he hurried off. Hope he doesn't fall, seemed like a nice guy.

Soap can't help but do a double take when be gets to the front. The little rascal was wearing his Lieutenants face, hawk eyeing anyone who dared got to close. It was like looking in a mirror.

He nudged Gaz, making a gesture to look back without making it obvious. "See the lass and her bairn in line?"

Gaz gives him a raised brow, looking back for a second before turning around. "There's a lot of kids with their mother's, Johnny."

Soap glances back, double checking to make sure you were still in line. “The lass with the wee one—she’s got the same wicked look as Lt. You cannae miss her.”

Gaz rolls his eyes but humors Soap by looking once more, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on a little girl already mean-mugging him from a distance. He swiftly turns around, blinking in surprise, trying to comprehend what he saw. "Uh..."

Soap only nods in agreement. That was Ghost's face, on a kid no less. He wastes no time, elbowing Roach and getting him to look back as well, leaving the other Sergeant in the same shock as Gaz. "That is not a face a kid should have."

"Agreed." Gaz added, shuddering at the thought.

"Where's the cap?" Soap asks, the train ride no longer feeling like fun now that he’s discovered the jackpot.

"Market place with Lt. for cigs," Gaz knowingly remarked, remembering that Price had run out on their way here.

"Well, let's go show them a Christmas miracle," Soap shot up from his seat all too eagerly.

The sergeants just got their Christmas present.

[midnightwriter21]

demon slayer hcs: the hashira men as boyfriends

characters: tengen, sanemi, giyuu, rengoku, muichiro, obanai

AN: i don’t write for gyomei srry

TENGEN

- this isn’t just a little fling

-mans doesn’t wanna be ur bf

-he wants to be your HUSBAND

- and he’s gonna make that happen ASAP

- and when y’all get married you’re not just getting a husband

- ur getting 3 wives too

- it’s a package deal

- overprotective!!

- the way he made his wives promise to prioritize their lives over the mission

- my heart was bursting

- carries u around

- when tengen is around ur feet hardly ever touch the floor

- doesn’t matter how big or tall u are

- he’s bigger and taller

-he's big all over if ykyk

-nicknames include: sweetheart, princess, baby

- and don’t think he’s saying those to be cute

- he’s absolutely mocking you

-which brings me to…

- this man teases the HELL out of you

- but with love

- he loves you just as much as he loves his wives

- in his mind ur alrdy married

- and he is NOT letting you go

- or letting any harm come to you as long as he can help it

- 4 lifer fr

- id marry him

SANEMI

-i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again

-he’d tear it UP

-and i’d let him

- loves you so much

- doesn’t show it in public

- but in private?

- clingy as fUck

- he’s like ur shadow fr

- will follow u around all day

- hands on ur waist

- arm around ur shoulder

- holding ur hand

- he will not let go of u when ur alone

- in public he’s a lot less touchy

- but he will still stand near you

- jealous af

- every slayer knows by now to stay tf away from you or face the wrath of the wind pillar

- you belong to him

- makes sure they know it

- makes sure you know it

-hickey MASTER

-no i will not elaborate

- everybody knows sanemi is a little rough around the edges

- so there are days when it’s hard for him to open up to you

- but he does try

- he’s got a reputation to keep up!

-gotta act tough

-no weaknesses!!

- except for u

-he’s so soft for u he can’t help it

- nicknames: dumbass, idiot, & feather (my personal favorite)

-like i said he is almost always physically connected to u in some way when ur alone

-ignore him? he's throwing u over his shoulder

-he's strong he can manhandle u all over the place

-sheeeeeshhhhh manhandle me however u want sir

-claims ur super light no matter ur size

-hence the nickname "feather"

-i love him

GIYUU

-ik damn well this man had EVERONE in a chokehold from the first second he showed up

-speaking of chokeholds... ;)

-put me in one pls sir

-anyways

-awkward as fuck

-but he tries for u

-terrible with physical affection

-but we all know he's SOOO touch starved

-you'll have to initiate any type of physical touch

-and make sure he's not uncomfortable

-but really there's nothing he wants more than to touch you

-takes a very long time to say "i love you"

-but can u blame him??

-every good thing the poor man has ever had has been ripped away from him :(

-because of this he's veryyyy protective

-cause he'll be damned if the last person he has that accepts him and loves him for all he is

-is hurt or killed

-100% will die for u without a second thought

-not really a nickname type of guy

-remember he's awkward as hell

-most you'll get is a "-chan" attached to ur name

-and even that is only when y'all are alone

-but still

-even if he doesn't always show it

-you are always on his mind

-he's on a mission and walking through a market?

-he's buying you a hairpin or som

-walking through a forest and sees some flowers?

-"i wonder if she'll like these"

-AND HE'S PICKING U A BOUQUET

-ugh soft for bf giyuu

RENGOKU

-sunshine boy!!!

- epitome of golden retriever boyfriend

-all smiles all the time

-follows u around like lost puppy

-shows off for u

-yk when ur around kids and they're like "watch this" and then they jump and spin a circle lmao

-thats him

-"did you see what i just did?!"

-if u didnt...

-he's doing it again

-wants to impress you so bad

-also you will never have to lift a finger in his presence

-service bf!!

-you need the dishes washed and the floor swept?

-he's on it

-you need help styling ur hair?

-welcome to rengoku's hair salon

-will attempt to dress you in the morning

-and by dress you, i mean he's tugging ur shirt over ur head

-zipping up ur pants

-and tying ur shoes

-brags about you to anyone and everyone

-the other hashira can't have a single conversation with him without him bringing you up somehow

-compliments compliments compliments!!!

-he loves you and isn't afraid to show it

-nicknames from him: my love, my beautiful girl, sweetheart

-constantly confessing his love

-also lowkey speaks poetry for u

-some shit like

-"my light in the darkness, the one who gives me strength, you set my heart ablaze just by allowing me the privilege of seeing your smile"

-ugh he's the sweetest baby

MUICHIRO

-my airheaded angel baby

-i love him sm stop

-baby boy has a terrible memory

-that we alrdy knew

-but!

-he tries so hard for you

-keeps a little journal with notes and information about you

-so if he forgets he can remind himself over and over

-when he's on missions away from you he reads it so he can think about you to pass the time

-can not and will not remember anniversaries

-unless they're written in that journal

-will pick u flowers

-hope ur not allergic cause he's not gonna remember that

-but it's the thought that counts

-the fact that he's thinking about you at all counts

-you wanna go on a date?

-your dates consist of watching the clouds and taking naps together

-maybe a picnic if ur lucky

-no nicknames from him

-he calls you by your name

-its all he can remember

-he's the cutest

OBANAI

-like sanemi, he's a lot less affectionate in public

-however, he's not afraid to express his thoughts about you

-at least not to the other hashira

-might not be glued to your side

-but he's got eyes on u at all times

-and someone is talking about you?

-the second he hears ur name leave somebodies mouth

-he's tuned in

-and they better not say anything negative either

-mans turns murderous

-they will wake up to a snake in their bed

-will prob threaten them within an inch of their life

-don't have to worry abt other people while he's around

-cause he's got everything

-and i mean EVERYTHING taken care of

-protective but not pushy

-i feel like obanai trusts you and your ability to handle yourself

-but thats not gonna stop him from watching over you

-you're not drinking enough water?

-here comes obanai with a cup and u better drink it all

-haven't had lunch yet?

-he's sharing his with you. and will force feed u if need be.

-on a mission with him?

-he's not gonna push u behind him or anything

-but nothing is gonna get the chance to bring any harm to you either

-he's got ur back

-he's pretty vanilla with the nicknames

-nothing too crazy

-especially in public

-mostly uses ur first name

-might add a "-chan" in there every once in a while

-when ur alone he'll call you "sweetie"

-acts like a hard ass

-but he's soft for u

[sinshiney]

G: .....I’ve never heard that expression before. H: Maybe it’s a generational thing? My aunts say it all the time.

(description under the cut)

[A four panel comic that takes place in a coffee shop. Harrow is a customer and Gideon and Camilla are baristas. Panel 1: Gideon hands Harrow a paper coffee cup and says, “Black coffee for Ha-- hey! Your earrings are really cute!”

Panel 2: Harrow has numerous piercings in her ears, left eyebrow, and lower lip. But the large, dangling skeletons that hang from her lobes are the most notable. She is flustered and says, “Oh! Well, you know what they say...” Gideon smiles politely.

Panel 3: The background is dark and Harrow’s face is half hidden in dramatic shadow. She says, “THERE IS A SKELETON IN EVERYONE, JUST WAITING TO COME OUT.”

Panel 4: Harrow walks away from the service counter, looking forlornly at the cup in her hands as she wonders, “Why did I buy this?” Gideon leans on the counter, watching her go, and Camilla leans on Gideon. Camilla asks, “Did that goth kid just threaten you?” Gideon smiles and says, “Yep!”]

[dcxdpdabbles]

The Summoned Demon Part 4

#Holiday Requests I would love updates to Child Support, The Summoned Demon, and Passion For Fashion

Danny had no idea where he was.

No one around him could understand what he was saying, and he couldn't read anything either. After running through the suburbs, Danny had made his way on foot into the large city. There was nothing familiar about where the cults had summoned him to.

Everything looked wrong. The clothes, the cars, the street ads, and even the people. He stood on the side of a corner, attempting to make heads or tails of his surroundings, but people passed by him like water in a river.

It must have been the fact he was covered in dirt.

Thankfully, a group of teens had been willing to stop his frantic shouting. One girl had snapped her fingers, then waved rectangular screens at him- What was that thing?- speaking into it.

The rectangular screen spoke in what he thinks is a different language, but not anything Danny could understand. Her face fell but she seemed determined to get him to talk into her rectangle. When he did, it gave her soft buz like the ones that are played on game shows where a constant gets a wrong answer.

The girl had looked at her companions, utterly lost, until one of them stepped forward and started playing charades. There were a lot of vague hand motions and desperate gestures when he attempted to explain his situation, and the children were able to direct him to the police station.

No one on staff was able to translate what he was saying. However, they did seem mighty alarmed by how he was covered in dirt and speaking a foreign language. They had given him some water and a change of clothes and sat him in a room with a two-way mirror. Danny felt safe knowing the authorities were on his side, sipping his water at the little table while he waited.

Time moved slowly when more and more police officers entered, attempting to establish communication with him. They placed a list of writing in front of him, each line a different symbol, and he knew they were meant to be a language.

The aging man with white streaks, dusting his red hair, adjusted his glasses, then pointed to the first sentence on the list. He said something slowly, patting his chest with an open palm, then pointing more determinedly at the line.

"Is that your language?" Danny asks, scanning the lines and realizing he can't read one. He shakes his head "I'm sorry I don't understand."

The old man frowns and then stands. He places a chocolate bar on the table- or what Danny thinks is one, but he can't read what it says, and it's quickly becoming frustrating how much that's happening- before heading out of the room. A few more minutes go by when a man wearing one of the police uniforms but a long, more outdated one walks through the door.

Danny blinks up at him as the man carefully considers his face. He avoids looking at the bullet holes decorating the cop's chest. "Wow, you seem pretty young. Wonder what you did to get old Gordon to personally question you?"

Danny chances a look at the two-way mirror before muttering. "I didn't do anything, sir. I got kidnapped."

The man turns around, arms still folded over his chest, but the second he realizes the door has remained firmly shut, he whirls around, gawking at Danny. "You can see me?"

"Yes, sir. I'm half ghost on my mother's side." He jokes but still maintains a level of respect. The Fentons joked around often, but they always respected those in service until the person proved unworthy of the uniform.

"Holy shit!" The policeman laughs. "I don't think you can pass something like that down the family tree, kid."

Danny cracks a smile. "You be surpirse."

"Guess I am. Who knew I would be shocked twice after my death?!" The man's jolly laugh makes Danny relax just a little. He doesn't even mind that the ghost's heaving chest is splatting a few drops of red on the table. "Haven't laughed like that in years. By the way, kid, my name is Alex. Alex Anderson."

"I'm Danny Fenton." Danny smiles, offering his hand for a shake. Alex hesitates, reaching out only to have his face brighten when he makes solid contact and eagerly pumps their joint limbs up and down. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Pleasure is all mine." Alex claps his hands, settling- somewhat as he goes slightly through the metal- in the chair opposite Danny. He laces his fingers under his chin and offers another impish grin. "So what's this about a kidnapping?"

Danny straightens, rapidly recapping his last few days. Alex doesn't interrupt, listening with an intensity that tells Danny he's being taken seriously even if he's still smiling like there is nothing wrong in the world. When Danny is done, he has to take a breath and top off his drink as Alex considers his words.

"That's a rough couple of days, Kid," Alex says at the end, leaning more on his hands. Danny nods sadly, feeling utterly exhausted. He's not sure where the nice older man went, but no one had come to check up on him for a while, and he's starting to feel cagy.

Alex considers him a little longer before throwing his head back with a sigh. "Alright. I guess I need to help you escape. I feel too guilty if I just let Gordon hand you over."

"What?"

Alex stands, pretending to stretch his arms over his head. He nods to the two-way mirror, clicking his tongue at it. "Yeah, Gordon called Batman a while ago when they were trying to figure out your language. This place will be swarming with vigilantes and their magic users any minute now."

"Batman?" Danny repeats, rising to his feet. "What's Batman?"

"The guy who put you in that cave cage." Alarm fills Danny's veins as he realizes that this whole time, the police were setting him up to be returned to the cultist. Was the entire city in on this!? "Normally, I wouldn't be making deals with people Gordon deems unsafe, but given that you're half ghost, I've chosen to ignore my morals in solitary."

"But why?! Why would they give me back to them!?" He demands, rising to his feet and backing away until his back hits a wall.

"I was Gordon's first partner," Alex tells him, gesturing at his chest. "I died to make sure the idiot got back to his wife and kids. Ever since he's done everything he could to make Gotham safe. As much as Batman makes me uneasy, he is doing a good job cleaning this place up and doing what I can't do anymore. I'm trapped inside this building, but I've seen the bats plenty of times, so I know they are not dangerous. I also know they will shoot first or ask questions later; this is your only chance to get away until you can establish communication. Take it."

Alex gestures to the wall behind Danny. "Can you faze through?"

Danny lets himself sink through the stone just as the door is kicked up, and three cops rush in with raised guns. He ends up in another interrogation room- because that's where he was. They had not placed him somewhere safe; they had set him up for capture- where a man handcuffed to the table screams. Danny apologizes desperately, trying to get the guy to stop yelling, as Alex yanks him by the collar of his shirt.

"No time for manners, Kid! You have to get out of the building. Bat's just landed on the roof!" Danny races through the walls, ignoring the people who shout and scatter at his sight until Alex leads him straight out of the building. The ghost stops behind a window, where chains had manifested and wrapped around him, preventing him from going forward.

Alex doesn't seem to pay them any mind as he points in a direction. "Head that way until you see a giant clown. The Joker is currently in custody, but his old hideout has thousands of ghosts. Someone is bound to know what to do. If that fails, follow the road with the white bricks to Old Gotham. Lots of Magic is rooted there. Maybe you'll find something."

"How do you know that?"

"My mom was a professional card reader. I inherited some of her ability to sense the paranormal, and trust me when I say Old Gotham always felt cursed." Alex pauses before tilting his head. "If you ever get to talk to Gordon, tell him I forgive him. And the key to our treasure is at our old hideout. Tell him I still love him even if he picked her."

Danny's eyes fill with water. "I promise."

"Good." There was a loud thump as a man in a trench coat raced down the hallway, aiming his glowing hands at Danny. Alex threw himself before the bright yellow beam, spreading his arms wide as he made a shield. For a second, Danny's vision overlaps with a similar image of Alex blocking a young redhead man in the same position. "Now go, Kid!"

Danny shifts into Phantom, flying at his top speed without further comment. Behind him, he hears someone with a British accent swear, and Alex's cries of pain nearly cause him to forget to turn intangible when he flies through traffic.

There had to be some way he could find a living person who understood him

_____________________________________________________

"What happened?" Bruce demands as John pushes something in a jar. Since it looks like an impressive mime trick, he's fairly sure it's actually a ghost causing problems for the Brit.

"Bloody demon had help from a human soul," The blond grunted, grabbing at the air. "Stubborn one that seemed convinced it was helping a child."

"Why?"

"Hmm?"

Bruce feels his eyebrow twitch but remains impassive overall. Right now, he's Batman, and Batman does not let emotions cloud his mind. "Why would a ghost think it was helping a child? Demons can't hide their nature from paranormals. John, are we chasing a child?"

"Normally, I would say, yeah, the thing is a child, but this one isn't your average spook. It's powerful. You saw it, right? The demon shifted forms, and I couldn't even see its second form until the two bright rings of light. If it could fool me into thinking the human flesh suit was its real form, it can easily fool a ghost."

"If it's so powerful," Tim cuts in, walking towards the pair with a floating hologram from his wrist. The integration room security camera plays on it, displaying the demon calmly sipping water. "Then why didn't it escape before? All it did for three hours before Gordon was alerted was wait."

John frowns at the camera, sealing the jar with a wax melt. "That is odd. Normally, things on that power level do everything, but be calm."

Bruce didn't like this. They had lost something powerful in his city; it had evaded detection only to waltz right into custody, where it had just as easily escaped. They had also confirmed that the demon was visiting the children previously offered to him as sacrifice.

First, there was young Jack, then Molly, who had attempted to help him with a translation app. The girl didn't seem to consider otherworldly language was untransltable. She behaved as if the demon with its harsh, raspy voice and chilling presence was not there to harm her.

In fact, when Steph interviewed her, the teenager insisted that the demon seemed lost and frightened.

Which one was the truth? His experts of the supernatural or the signs that the possible demon was dropping. That it was just a lost child terrified out of his mind?

Bruce had too many questions and not nearly enough to get any kind of answers. They needed to capture the boy again.

[morganbritton132]

Steve Has Older Siblings AU: Robin Edition

In an ideal world, Steve’s family life is completely separate from everything important. But in an ideal world, monsters don’t exist so, you know.

1. Technically the first of Steve’s siblings that Robin meets is Jason because he came into Scoops Ahoy to be an asshole. Robin liked to see King Steve knocked down a peg or two more than the next person but not by a forty year old (he’s 32) loser who has nothing better to do on a Tuesday afternoon. Robin sees him knock Steve’s hat off his head and then informs him that they had a zero tolerance harassment policy (they don’t) and they can and are denying him service. “So leave, now.”

2. The first time she is aware that she’s meeting one of Steve’s siblings is after Starcourt burns down. They were drugged, tired, and Russians took Steve’s car keys so it felt like a good idea to just lay back on the hood of the Beemer and watch the smoke swirl in the air until they come up with what to do.

They never think of anything, and she is startled awake the next morning hungover and dehydrated by someone laying on their horn. Robin looks at the car and then at Steve, and then asks, “Is that your dad?”

Steve - looking somehow worse than yesterday - just blinks in the direction of the car like, “Richie?”

“Get in the car,” Richie practically seethes, barely lets them get in before he starts asking questions like, what the fuck and are you high, right now?”

“I don’t dooo drugs, Dad,” Steve spat out annoyed and Robin, in the backseat, felt compelled to adds, “Drugs do me.”

They both start giggling and can’t stop even when Richie tries to lecture them.

3. Robin meets Jason again when he attacks her.

She doesn’t remember much about the car ride back to Loch Nora or how Steve convinced Richie not to take them to the hospital, but she remembers flopping face first onto Steve’s cloud of a bed. She remembers him taking her shoes off for her and pulling the covers up.

Then she is rudely woken up by a hand yanking her out of bed and big arms wrapping around her head. They’re barely there before Steve is shoving them off her like, “Fuck off, Jason.”

“Carver?” She asks but, no. It’s the dick from the mall. She is ignored while Jason prattles on about how it’s not his fault that Steve looks so much like a girl that he confused him with one. Then he’s whistling about how Steve has a girl in his bed and how surprising that is to them considering they all thought he was a queer.

Robin stiffens beside him. New queer ally, Steve Harrington, not wanting her to be uncomfortable, blurts out, “What if I am?”

And the room goes quiet. Steve’s quiet. Jason’s frozen. Richie, coming in through the door, wasn’t moving. This family doesn’t really paint a picture of unconditional love and acceptance so Robin throws her entire (unsuccessful) theater career into use and slugs Steve in the arm with a snort like, “Yeah, right. With all the girls you flirt with? Ha!”

And everything comes back to life. The hospital conversation comes up and morphs into an argument immediately. Robin is just happy to fade into the background and observe.

4. Robin probably should’ve met Claire that day too but the hospital was an apparent disaster. She actually meets Claire randomly at Family Video.

She sees a woman who’s kinda cute come in and peruse the shelves. She comes to the counter where Robin is on register and Steve is stocking candy right next to her.

She’s carrying The Muppet Movie and makes small talk about watching it with her kids, and never looks twice in Steve’s directly. She’s not in the system and just laughs, “It’s probably under my maiden name, Harrington.”

Robin gives her a tight smile and finishes the transaction. Claire leaves with barely a ‘bye’ to her brother and Robin decides right there that she hates them all.

[cyberm4n]

HI I LOVED UR HYPERSEXUAL FEM READER HEADCANONS UR WRITING IS SO GOOD

Soo I'm here to request the vees (mainly vox but idc) x hypersexual Fem reader pleasee 😭🙏

if not that's okay and I hope you have a nice day/night!! feel free to delete this lol

-xoxo, Ari

THANK YOU <3333 i love the vees and ive been looking for an excuse to write them so this is perfect

vees with hypersexul reader

going with the same scenario as last time- you've just finished a round and (char) is spent but you're already ready to go again

《— vox —》

■ he seems like a 2 rounds kinda guy so after that second round and yall are just laying there he is SPENT

■ so when you roll over to lay on his chest like "one more time?" with a little smile on your face, as if yall did not just violently fuck it takes him a moment

■ he's spent, so spent. but he really wants to please you

■ he'd get used to it tbh. like he's mentally prepared everytime now but maybe sometimes he can do a round 3

■ he'd resort to toys i think, only the best for his girl <3

■ there's also something he loves about getting to hold you and watch you writhe in pleasure and he just gets to watch

■ he'd always take your preferences into mind with toys too. like if you want smth specific he's got it for you

■ i feel like he might prefer if yall are spent at the same time so the foreplay goes CRAZY

■ like it's not just foreplay it's actual rounds of getting you to cum before the main event yk

■ or sometimes he'll just ask if it'd be okay to be done for the night when he is

■ he doesn't mind either way but he'd definitely want to communicate about it

■ so yeah it might take him a little bit to adjust bit he'd be just fine!

《— valentino —》

■ okay let's be real this man fucks A LOT so he can probably do like. 3 or 4 lengthy rounds before he's tapped out

■ it's making me giggle about it but like okay val is a kinky guy, and like especially if the first time yall do anything it's a little bit rougher he is SHOCKED when you're down for more

■ he's prly into something like overstim where normally you kinda gotta reel from it after so when he's done and it takes you like. a minute or two to be like "do you wanna do it again?" he judt looks down at you so confused

■ he takes a moment, blinking. he'd definitely ask if you're kidding or smth and then finding out you're not he has to take a moment

■ like, he finds it fucking awesome but jesus christ he's finally met hsi match

■ he might use toys on you or go down on you, depends how he's feeling tbh

■ i think he'd lean towards going down on you, idk he just seems like he'd be a bit of a munch.

■ and if you're okay with it when yall fuck in the future he's constantly just seeing how far you can go before you're spent

■ long story short he's totally chill abt it when he gets used to it and thinks it's fucking great

《— velvette —》

■ okay im literally giggling and kicking my feet while typing this

■ she seems like a 2 or 3 round kind of gal

■ idk femxfem sex doesn't really go in rounds ime but like. yk.

■ so after she's spent, she's like so ready to cuddle up and sleep. but then you're caressing her cheek, nuzzling into her neck. "again?" you murmur and she has to take a moment

■ cause like, she's just super surprised you're still ready for another.

■ she'd ask the most questions abt it. like she'd want to just know more so she can support you better

■ she'd go down on you tho! anytime! she definitely has toys but she seems like the type to be more inclined to eat you out

■ if she gets tired of that she'd use a toy on you. but she stays engaged the whole time, super attentive.

■ she's a service switch so like getting to keep you pleased like this makes her feel good and she doesn't mind at all

■ once again, all of them would embrace it and they do not mind at all!

■ if you guys with the poly hc for the vees i think it just makes it so much better for them to know it's really hard to burn you out

■ i loved this request ty <3

taglist: @reaper-of-light-12 @mxxny-lupin @wisteria-songs @t3llas @concentratedconcrete @pansexual-opera-house @dionysusismypatrongod

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[kiemiu]

𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝓞𝐍𝐄: 𝓑𝐞 𝓞𝐮𝐫 𝓖𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭

pairing kang sae-byeok x fem!reader | wc 1.9k

summary -> an unexpected arrival of a little boy and his sister has you working longer than you'd like. warnings -> trying to use y/n as least as possible.

( beneath the quiet masterlist )

8:52PM

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘 was finally coming to an end. A huff of relief escaped your mouth as you leaned against the cracked wooden door frame of the children's playroom. When you weren't working as a barista at Café Gippeum, you were a helpful extra set of hands around your adoptive mother's orphanage.

You had just gotten off of an early-morning shift, the day dragging on longer than you would've like it too. Usually when you work a few hours at the café it's later in the night, giving you enough time and freedom to handle your tips appropriately when you get off because of your lack of obligations, yet today was different.

Having minimal time to do anything with the tips you earned besides stuffing them in the pocket of your cardigan and gently patting the pocket every now and then to make sure it was still there.

Taking care of children who were in the same position you used to be was a bittersweet feeling. Growing an attachment to them by giving each other nicknames, comforting them in their hardest times, and cherishing the fleeting moments that brought them so much joy and excitement, only to feel like you were losing a sibling of your own when they undoubtedly got adopted. You were happy for them nonetheless, wanting every kid in the orphanage to find a home with caring parents with a cute scruffy animal to go along with it. That's what every kid deserved.

Even as someone who got adopted and wished for that life you couldn't help but envy those who had the full picture perfect family that wasn't simply just for show. Your "Mother" who was once sweet, caring, and attentive had turned vicious, and evil during your prepubescent years. Rarely giving you grace for the mistakes you made and scrutinizing your every move.

She wasn't always like this, nevertheless there were still certain episodes she had where it seemed like a switch flipped inside of her that filled her with visceral rage every time she set her gaze on you. She had become your own personal hellscape, never knowing if she wanted to hug and make amends with you or scream and shout until her voice went hoarse.

She never acted this way in front of the other children, always saving her anger for you behind the scenes and away from prying eyes.

The deep furrow in your brows and downward tug on your lips lifted at the feeling of a gentle tug on the bottom of your skirt. "Miss Kim, can you tuck me in?" a soft voice asked.

Eliana, a chubby little 4-year-old who knew nothing of life outside of the orphanage besides the occasional field trip had become one of your favorites, not that you were supposed to have any. She reminded you so much of yourself in ways your mother despised which is why you liked her so much.

You smiled down at her, holding your hand out for her to grab so she could lead you to her bunk. One of her hands gripped tightly onto three of your fingers while the other made waves with her nightgown, light skips in her step as she babbled on about the bedtime story Mama Kim read.

You hummed to let her know you were listening, even as your eyes trailed over to the foyer in curiosity. Your head tilting to get a better look of your mom with her back turned to you, speaking animatedly to two unfamiliar figures.

One of them being a tall woman, her posture stiff and unmoving, she reeked a sense of resilience and guardedness. Her eyes sharp and unwavering as she analyzed the orphanage, if you didn't know any better you'd assume she worked for Child Protective Services with the way she examined every fixture and crack in the walls.

Her dark hair sloppily pulled back into a low ponytail, wispy bangs resting dangerously close to her eyelids as tousled hair shaped the sharp yet delicate roundness of her face.

Her clothes were simple and worn, fitting her thin frame like an afterthought. The subtle sag in her shoulders didn't go unnoticed either, as she held a firm unrelenting grip on who you assumed to be her little brother's hand.

The little boy who slowly inched himself behind her, held onto one of her hands with the same amount of force. His doe-eyed gaze, less sharp and slightly frantic as he inspected the place that would soon be his temporary home. You've seen children dropped off here multiple times a year, but never by a relative other than the supposed Mom or Dad, nor were they ever so young.

You couldn't be nosey for long, feeling a strong tug on your hand as Eliana dragged you into the 'Girls Quarters' where the rest of them bounced on their beds and brushed each other's hair before laying down for the night.

You loudly clapped your hands two times to give a signal that it was nap time in which the girls quickly scurried to their designated beds, giggling to themselves as they snuggled under the covers.

You let Eliana lead you to her bed, sitting close to the edge as you tucked her in with promises of playing Barbies with her tomorrow morning, a gentle ruffle of her hair to enclose your departure before you made your way out of the girls bedroom, wishing them all a quiet goodnight before turning on the night light and shutting the door.

Another sigh left your lips as you leaned your head against the door, the weight of today slowly lifting off of your shoulders at the simple thought of getting home and being able to soak in the bath after a particularly grueling day.

Just as you started to gather your coat and bag, a shout of your name halted your steps. Turning around you're met with the face of your Mother and the two unfamiliar faces from before.

"I'm so glad I caught you on your way out." Your Mother exclaimed, an excited smile on her face as she sauntered over to you, hooking her arm around yours. "This is my daughter, she's here nearly everyday to help out. So, if you ever need assistance and I'm not here, she's the best alternative." She exclaimed, gesturing to you before lightly bumping her hip into yours at your rigid stillness, giving you the signal to say something and not just stand there like a mannequin.

You opened your mouth to say something but no words wanted to come out, at least nothing worth adding onto your Mothers introduction. "Uh—hi." you awkwardly rasped, a limp wave being sent their way, as you turned your gaze to the ground. Doing everything in your power to avoid the sharp analyzing gaze of the girl accompanied by her little brother, as well as the disappointed side eye of your Mother.

A huff of slight annoyance from your Mother was covered up by a forced laugh before she continued on with her unneeded introduction. "Sweetie, this is Kang Cheol. He's gonna be staying with us for a little while until his sister, Kang Sae-Byeok can support the both of them."

You nodded "I-We're happy to have you here. He'll get the best care-" Before your rehearsed line could gain any type of wind, Sae-Byeok raised her hand to put a stop to it.

"We've had a long night, I just wanna get him settled." She uttered, slowly lowering her hand.

Even as she was berating you without any words besides a sideways glance, you couldn't help but slightly admire her. Her body, the poster board of exhaustion, her stubbornness and will to fight impressive. "And you?" Your Mother suddenly asked as if she was taking the words out of your mouth.

"I'll be fine." She affirmed, grabbing her brother by his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze before gently nudging him in my direction.

Cheol looked over his shoulder at his sister, his steps heavy and hesitant as if he was unsure without her approval. She gave him a final nod, the slight upturn of the corner of her lips a comforting smile to encourage him into your guidance.

With one more final look back, Cheol made his way to you, "Show him to the 'Boys Quarters' dear, Miss Kang and I still have one more thing left to do." Your Mother urged with a gentle pat on your shoulder before gesturing for Sae-Byeok to follow her.

As you walked your separate ways, a particularly rough jab against your shoulder led you to tumble back a bit, not expecting someone of Sae-Byeok's stature to harbor such strength.

You blamed your lack of ability to stand straight on your drowsiness, swiping your hand down your face to awaken the last bits of energy you had left in you so you could properly take care of Cheol.

You lead him to the 'Boys Quarters' reciting the schedule of the orphanage's day-to-day to him, even in your drowsy state you were able to memorize and recite the ever changing schedule of the children's home as if it were the ABC's.

Helping him get settled as quietly as possible to not disturb the already sleeping young boys around him, you helped fold his clothes and put them away, not minding his silence as you went on a small tangent of all the fun activities he'd be able to do here.

Your sentence about 'Movie Night Friday's' dying on the tip of your tongue as you watched him sink into the plushness of the mattress, his eyelids getting heavier and heavier as he lazily dragged the blanket over himself.

You decided then to make your exit, unable to get far as you heard a quiet, raspy call of your name. You turn to see him fighting to keep his eyes open, the top of his head barely peeking over the blanket. You him in question beckoning him to continue. "Will you be here tomorrow when I wake up?" he softly asked, almost seeming unsure of himself.

You nodded in reassurance, "Of course." you murmur in which he simply replied a short "Okay." before fully settling into the bed, his eyes fluttering shut.

As you made your way out of the 'Boys Quarters' an unknowing smile on your face as you shut the door behind you, out of reflex you tap your cardigan pocket, only for a jolt of energy to shoot through you at the sudden flatness that your hand was met with.

"What the hell?" you muttered as you tapped incessantly at your pockets as if it would magically appear after the 10th pat.

You assured yourself that you would've known if it fell out in the boys bedroom, you hadn't been doing any excessive movement to where it could have fallen out.

Retracing your steps back to the art room and then the entrance to see if your money had been laying haphazardly somewhere.

A rush of frustration shot through you before spotting out of the corner of your eye, your Mother and Sae-Byeok discussing the payment for Cheol's stay in the orphanage on the front porch.

A familiar stack of folded ₩10,000 notes were brought out of her pocket and handed over to your Mother as payment. Your jaw going slack and a small huff of laughter escaping your lips out of pure astonishment at the amount of audacity to use the money you had made earlier that morning as a down payment.

Fucking Pick-pocket.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 📷 : @miabcuzz @twicesuuui @kissyslut @kritkalhit @st4rcs @dumbbellxo @theforestchoseme3 @wlvlurvsfimmia @genshinenjoyer @theweirdanimation @ch-3-rry @nenukkjhj @giaqnn @crack240 @pookalicious-hq @laurenkenss @sheinhamood @pooksterrr @bbynai @diorzs @beaaluv @colorfulkittenperfection

[activesplooger]

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ | ᴠᴏx x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʜᴀᴢʙɪɴ ʜᴏᴛᴇʟ

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: (MDNI) hii!!!! hope u like :] I WORKED LIKE A DOGGG DAY AND NIGHT ON THIS!!! ahhh :) im proud. also Amelie is pronounced

Ah-Mel-Eee for anyone wondering.

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You're an employee at VoxTech who's struggling to make ends meet to support yourself, as well as your daughter Amelie. One day, your sitter cancels and your left with no option other than to bring Amelie to work with you. She escapes your cubicle and blabbers to Vox about your financial troubles, giving Vox the opportunity to propose a deal— a deal in which your financial worries would be cast aside for certain services.

ᴄᴡ: NSFW!, money in exchange for sex, idk vox being a pathetic dick

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6,131

__

"Shit!" you exclaim as you throw your phone onto the couch. The babysitter you had relied on each day to watch your 4-year-old daughter had canceled at the last minute. Something about "too much work for too little pay". Since when were hell-born teens so picky about their source of income?

Your daughter, Amelie, giggles as you cuss. She runs circles around the living room, repeating the cuss word emphatically, "Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit-". "No, Amelie," you drag a hand down your tense expression, "don't say that.". Amelie continues her relentless cussing, pacing circles around you as she laughs and yells. Gently catching her from her unabated loop of running around you, you lift her up and settle her onto your hip.

Amelie smiles as you hold her, her small, energetic form squirming in your arms. A weak hum escapes your lips. Despite the exhaustion and stress you felt, your daughter never failed to bring a smile to your face, "How would you like to come to work with me, love?". Amelie nods and claps her hands excitedly, "Yay!".

__

A knot forms in your stomach on the way to work, growing tighter and tighter with each passing moment. Not only was bringing your kid to work considered unprofessional, but possibly fireable where you work. Vox, your boss, wasn't exactly known for being understanding.

You heard horror stories from your co-workers about the ruthless tyrant CEO of Voxtech; people being fired for taking too many bathroom breaks, innocent employees being yelled at just so Vox could get out his anger- The things you heard come forth from your memory and play on loop in your brain. Meanwhile, Amelie's kicking around in the car seat, asking why your "face is sad". "Nothing, sweetheart, keep playing with your toys," you say, pulling into your designated parking spot.

Once you're out of the car, you unbuckle Amelie from her carseat and hold her tightly against her side. As you make your way to your bosses office, you grow nauseous at your impending meeting. Surely Vox wouldn't scold you in front of your own child? Right?

Maybe you should leave Amelie at your desk- Just as you think to do so, it's too late and your already using your back to push open the door's to Vox's office. You set Amelie down once the two of you reach the large walkway surrounded by techy sharks below.

Amelie's little hands clutch at your legs upon seeing the large beasts beside her feet. "Don't worry, honey, they won't hurt you," you reassure her with a soft pat to her head. With Amelie glued to your side, the two of you approach the circular platform where your flat screened boss sat.

"M-Mr. Vox?" you squeak hesitantly, eliciting Vox to spin around his chair to you. "Yes?" he groans under his breath, his eyes narrowing in on the little version of you hiding behind your legs. Amelie giggles as their eyes meet, her once shy and fearful demeanor fading away. Her eyes widen and she springs out from behind you, pointing directly at Vox, "MOMMY LOOK THAT GUY HAS A TV HEAD!!!!".

You internally screamed, you were fucked. "No no no, Amelie! It's not nice to point!" you scoop her up into her arms as you chide her. Vox clears his throat, interrupting your reproach, "Did you just come in here so your child could insult me?".

You turn your attention back to him, "No, sir, I uhm, just wanted to apologize. My baby sitter cancelled on me this morning a-and I couldn't find anyone to watch her and this is incredibly unprofessional I know but she'll stay in my cubicle and not make a peep I swear-!". Your words come out in a frenzied jumbled mess, the pace at which you say your words was frantic and almost unintelligible.

Vox holds up a hand, signaling to pause your nonsensical apology. "Pause. Speak slowly, explain why it," he gestures to Amelie with a disgusted expression, "is here.". You furrow your eyebrows at his repulsed state, moving in front of Amelie to hide her behind you, "My daughter is here because my sitter cancelled. I'm really sorry Mr. Vox... I-I promise she won't be a bother. This wont happen again.".

Swiveling his chair back to face his monitors, he sighs, "It better not. Go.". "Thank you sir!" you swiftly grab Amelie and take her to your desk. __

"Alright, Amelie," you set up a play mat on the floor of your cubicle and sit her on it, "stay here and play with your toys, okay? Do not go anywhere, Mommy will be busy for awhile until my lunch break.". Amelie nods and busies herself with the array of dolls around her.

In the next hour or so, you become fixated on your work, momentarily forgetting about the tot playing on the floor beside your feet. Amelie grew bored. So bored in fact that she decided she wanted to explore! Normally, she would've bugged you. But, she sensed your stress,so naturally she took matters into her own hands.

Amelie dawdles off around the office, peeking at each of the overworked employees clacking away on their computers. She roams around the office until eventually, she finds herself back in front of Vox's office. Pushing her little body against the heavy door, she wriggles into the office and quickly speed-walks across the walkway.

Vox is laser focused on the plethora of monitors before him, not noticing the pitter patter of small feet across his office. Once Amelie reaches Vox’s desk, her eyes are immediately drawn to the various bright screens, a bit disappointed to find that it’s just some boring words that she can’t read yet. She tries to reach a monitor and play on it, but she’s too short. Frustrated, she tugs on Vox’s pant leg.

“What the-“ Vox snaps out of his work trance and notices the little girl beside him, “what are you doing here? Didn’t your mom tell you to stay with them?”. Amelie shrugs, “got bored. do you have games on your phone??”. Vox’s eyes narrow, his tone cold and flat, “No.”.

“what abouttt cartoons!” Amelie lights up at the prospect only for Vox to shut her down, “No.”. “but u have so many-“. “No,” he interrupts.

“What about games on ur computer?”

“No.”

“What about-“

Vox snaps at her, spinning his chair to fully face her. He leans down and points a sharp cyan claw at her, “Listen kid! I’ve got shit to do okay? So go back to your mom and be quiet!”. its quiet for a split second, eliciting a soft smile from Vox until-

sniffle

sniffle

Vox’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s about to happen, “No no don’t-“. Amelie bursts into tears, her loud sobs filling the large room, “Y-you yelled at meeeeee!”. “Kid don’t do that,” he tries to calm her, feeling out of place when it comes to “caring” for children, “c’mon don’t cry! Fucking- I’ll let you watch cartoons if you stop making that awful noise!”.

Right as he says that, her tears stop and she looks up at Vox with big hopeful eyes, “Really? Yay!”. An exhausted sigh escapes his lips while picking up Amelie and setting her on the arm of his chair, “Yes, no more of that crying shit.”. “Okay no more crying shit!!!” she says gleefully as he turns on some VoxTech brand cartoon. You are so getting fired after this.

He tries to go back to work, but is easily distracted by Amelie’s giggling every few seconds. At least she isn’t crying and bugging him anymore. As always, Amelie got bored after watching the same bland cash grab cartoons on repeat. She huffs to signal she's bored, her nose scrunching frustratedly as Vox ignores her.

She shifts closer to Vox, her little head peering over at the monitors he's working on, "What you doing?". "Working," he responds flatly, continuing to clack away at his keyboard, "Didn't I say no talking once your cartoons were on?". Amelie giggles and shakes her head, "No! You said no crying!".

An agitated groan escapes Vox's lips, his hand comes up from his keyboard to rub his temples, "Oh my God-". "So you're mommy's boss?" Amelie asks, swinging her feet happily. "Yes, I'm your mothers boss." Vox responses are absent minded, not caring what the answers are, "Don't you have school or something? Why are you here?". Shaking her head, her smile contorts into a flat line, her expression almost a bit saddened, "No, I've never been to school.". The clacking of the keyboard stops, his fingers pausing as Amelie reveals her lack of schooling, "You're not in school? What the hell is your mother even doing?".

"Well," Amelie begins, "Mommy said that some people can go to school and some people can't, and we can't. But its okay I get to spend more time playing!". Vox's mouth is agape, his face seemingly saying 'are you serious?', "So, you don't get any form of education?". She shakes her head once more, "No, mommy teaches me on her days off, but she doesn't have many...".

"We don't have enough money to go anyways, it's okay," Amelie looks off into the distance for a minute. Ouch, Vox's once judgmental look turns into one of guilt. So you weren't a shitty mom, you just had a shitty job. Yikes. "Your mother told you this?". "No, I heard her talking to her friend on the phone when she thought I was asleep.".

A soft chuckle escaped Vox's lips, "You're kind of a sneaky little bastard.". Amelie giggles and swings her feet off the arm rest, "Ya! Sneaky bastard!". "Don't repeat that," Vox chides, "what else does your mother say...?". "She says, uhmmm," Amelie swings her feet faster as she thinks, "that she's stressseddd for the bills— and she calls daddy a fuck wad!". "Your mother has quite the colorful vocabulary," he says, his eyebrows furrowed as he contemplates the information told to him, "tell me more about your dad, the uh-". "Fuckwad!" Amelie finishes his sentence gleefully. "Sure, that. How come he doesn't help out?" he pries, slumping in his chair slightly to meet her eye to eye.

A lazy shrug bounces Amelie's shoulders, a pout forming while her eyes are fixed on the ground, "Dunno, I never saw him.". That struck a chord with Vox. Growing up on Earth, Vox's parental situation was less then ideal. Despite his expensive taste and abundance of wealth, Vox didn't have much growing up.

He lived in an out of motels up until he was 18 with little to no supervision, although he was better off unsupervised. His mother was out of the picture, and his father was extremely physically and verbally abusive toward Vox. He often came home drunk and unannounced, searching the house for Vox who would hide to avoid his fathers drunken rage. After years of torment, he fled his home at 18 and started a questionable life for himself.

As the memories of his troubled childhood flood his mind, Vox finds himself transported back to his early years on earth... The fear he once felt now coming back to him, the sting after his father strikes him across the cheek still fresh on his skin... He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his hand gently squeezing Amelies shoulder, "Kid, believe me when I tell you you're not missing out. Fathers are... overrated.". He grimaces as he utters that last word, a colossal understatement to the pain he was forced to endure.

__

A few hours had passed since you had started working, a cramp forming in your back as you sat slumped in your chair for the past 3 hours. Just as you become cognizant of all the aches and stiffness of your bones, the time in the corner of your computer strikes "1:00". Lunch time, finally. You arch your back against the chair as you reach your arms over your head, eliciting your joints to crack and muscles to stretch, "Amelie, let's go get something to eat, darling.". No response. "Amelie?" you turn your head to the side, dolls are laying on the floor motionless on the floor with no Amelie playing with them. You dart out of your seat, your chair falling down from the abrupt movement. "AMELIE?!" your voice bellows through the office, your coworkers heads turning as you make a scene.

You frantically search the area —checking both bathrooms, asking your co workers if they had seen them, and triple checking every nook and cranny she could possibly be. That's when it dawned on you, "Oh no.". You stare at the blue circular VoxTech door, the dread in you manifesting itself as a stomach ache.

__

"I guess, I just wish mommy spent more time at home," Amelie confesses, her eyes fixated on her lap. "And why doesn't she?" Vox asks, his tone much softer than before. "She always here!" Oh.

Vox winced slightly, before defending himself pridefully "Well, your mother offers to stay overtime so-". Her head tilts, "Whats ova-time?". "Right, your a child," Vox mutters, "Overtime is where you work more to get more money.". "Well why donchu just give her more money any way! That would solve everything! I could get new toys and school and and and-".

Amelies words ring through his mind, her rambling fading off in the background as he contemplates her words. He couldn't just give you more money, hell no... but, maybe instead of overtime you could offer him something else...

Vox's thoughts are cut short but the door slamming open. He whips his head around and sees you running down the aisle yelling "Amelie!". "Mommy!" she yells back happily, hopping off the arm rest and running into your arms. Once you reunite, you lift her up in your arms and hold her tightly, "Please don't run away from me like that again... I was worried sick that my beautiful little girl was gone!. "Okay mommy," Amelie muffles into your chest. "Ahem" Vox interrupts the sincere reunion, his cold gaze falling on you. "Right," you set Amelie down, "Honey, go wait by the door okay?". You hoped that was far enough for her not to here the impending yelling and scolding you were about to receive. Amelie nods and makes her way across the pathway quickly, waiting for you by the door. "Sir I am so-". "Stop," he cuts you off sternly, "Your daughter was in here for the past TWO hours harassing me for cartoons...". "I know and I-". "I'm not finished!" he cuts you off again, "And while it was annoying, to say the least, you're not in trouble.". Your body relaxes at his words, thank God. "But," he begins, "I will need you to find a sitter tonight.". "I think I can make that work," you say, assuming he had you working overtime for free— which sucked but hey, at least you're not fired. "Great," he swivels his large chair back to face his desk, "a limo will be waiting to pick you up outside of your house around 7, don't be late.". Your eyebrows furrow, "I-Im sorry late for what?". "For dinner of course!" he spins his chair back to face you. "Wear something nice,” his smile falters and he cocks an eyebrow at you, his expression skeptical and a bit judgmental, “You do have something nice to wear, right?". "Uh- Yeah. I do-" "Great!" he beams, an exaggerated grin plastered across his screen, "see you then!". "I- Okay?" you hesitantly turn away and make your way to Amelie. What the fuck was that? Amelie reaches for your hand and holds it, "Did I get you in trouble?". "No sweetheart," you look down at her and smile softly, "don't worry about it."

__ You spend your lunch break hanging out with your daughter at the VoxDonalds in the lobby, watching her play with her free Velvette standee that came in her Happy Meal and enjoying the time you had with your daughter. Once you returned to work, you made sure to keep an eye on Amelie. You couldn't risk her running away from you again and earning yourself another migraine.

As you go through the motions of your work day, you find it hard to focus with the lingering thoughts of Vox's proposal. Getting picked up by some random person in a limo and going off to wherever the fuck? Jesus, this sounds like some shit you'd hear on Dateline. You suppose you'll cross that strange bridge when you get to it, for now you have to focus on getting a sitter... and figuring out what to wear. Fuck.

You had totally lied about having something nice to wear. The only things you owned were ill-fitting dresses that you wore before your pregnancy, you doubted they would fit over your changed body. Your work pant suit was the nicest thing you owned at the moment. In your defense, its hard to shop when your taking care of a 4 old and besides, the prices these days were outrages.

You had gotten home at 5:30, giving you only an hour and a half to find a sitter and look presentable for where ever you were going. Thankfully, your sister was able to take care of her for the day and picked Amelie up for a "fun night at Auntie Marie's house" at 6:15. You prayed that Marie would listen to your sugar intake warning and not call you all suprised when Amelie’s bouncing off the walls.

Once you got that out of the way, you were forced to confront your apparel issue. You filtered in an out of your closet for 20 minutes, hoping something new would appear and be perfect for the occasion. But each time you walked back in your closet, you were met with disappointment.

You put the issue aside for now and focus on your hair and makeup. Your hair was lightly curled into subtle waves, cascading down your head beautifully. And while you weren’t exactly a makeup guru, you thought you did pretty damn well with the crappy drugstore brands! And hey, you still have- TEN MINUTES LEFT?! YOU’RE FUCKED!

You sprint to your closet and dip your fingers in between each hanger, praying something would work out. Your hand stops at a classic LBD with lace around the bustier, maybe this will work if you put tights underneath?? Grabbing a pair of shear stockings, you jump into them and throw the dress over your head. Your eyes scan over your body. The once fitting dress was much tighter than you remember, your new curves stretch the fabric and the swell of your breast peaks out of the lace clad bustier. You cover your face in your hands and groan, “I look like such a slut…”.

7:00pm

Honk Honk

The sudden noise draws you away from your anxiety. You turn your head to the side and go to your window. As you push the blinds aside, a sleek navy limo with a voxtech logo appears outside your house. “Shit, shit, shit!” you exclaim, running to slip on a pair of black stilettos and grabbing your purse. Phone, keys, wallet, mace- You’re all set!

You b-line it to your front door and walk out. A chauffeur greets you. “Evening, Ms. L/N,” he grabs the car handle and opens it, his arm extended as a gesture for you to come in. “Oh, thank you,” you smile at the chauffeur and get in, careful to hold your dress in the back so you didn’t flash the poor man.

__

The car ride was 10, maybe 15, minutes from your apartment. Wherever you were going was located in the nice side of the entertainment district, which wasn’t too far from your work. Your eyes were glued to the window as you watched all the glitz and glamour of the posh restaurants, watching as sinners dressed in beautiful and elegant clothing were escorted inside by their much younger looking partners.

For you, this was a glimpse of the life you never had, the life you yearned for in your early years. Though you gawk over the sites, you wouldn’t trade what you had right now for the world— it's fun to pretend to have this life just for a night!

The limo pulls over onto the sidewalk a few blocks over at an elegant ocean themed restaurant. Your in awe at the luxurious building before you before heading in. Once you enter, you walk through an arched hallway made entirely of glass. Encased in the glass were a variety of sea creatures that swam along the archway beside you. You reach your hand out to the glass as you walk, a hell-phin swimming alongside your hand happily. A smile crosses your face before quickly fading as the dolphin swims out of site once the glass archway ends.

You walk up to the hostess and smile, "Hi, I'm meeting a uh- friend- here.". The a pretty succubus demon looks up, the black painted corners of their lips curling as they sees you, "Ah, Ms. L/N! Right this way!". They turn on their heels and walk into the booming restaurant. You follow behind them and admire the elegant high-class demons enjoying their time with their lavish clothes and food. As you look around, you spot Vox up ahead in a corner booth, he doesn't see you yet. His gaze is uninterested and cold, fiddling with the cuffs on his suit with his cyan claws.

The hostess reaches the booth and gestures for you to sit, "Enjoy your dinner you two!". You sit across from him, giving the hostess a polite smile as they hand you a menu, "Thank you.". Vox's ever-present showman grin is plastered on as he's met face to face with you, "Glad you could make it!". "You look," he scans you up and down, his smile twitching slight, "greeeaaat!". You cringe. That was probably the worst reaction you could've imagined, "Thaankss....".

He clears his throat, "Anything on the menu interest you?". "Uhhh," you glance back at the menu, the absurd prices catching your eye. The only thing you could even remotely afford was maybe one non-alcoholic drink. "It's on me!" he waves his menu in the air enticingly. "You don't have to do that," you insist, setting the menu aside. He waves his hand dismissively and chuckles, "Oh, but I do! I invited you so I should be the one to pay. Besides, I know what I pay my employees and well its far too expensive for-". Vox stops mid sentence once he notices your unamused expression, your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes were staring daggers at him. He pulls on his shirt collar awkwardly, "Okay, bad joke.". His elbows rest on the table and he leans forward, putting a stop to the "showman" facade, "I suppose I should just get into why I called you here today. You see, Amelie, told me some interesting things earlier-".

"Oh god," you reach your hand up and bring it up to cover the side of your face, "what did she tell you?". Vox chuckles, "Well, she told me about her "fuckwad" absent father— your words according to her, not mine— and how she isn't enrolled in a school because of your financial situation? Is that correct?".

You're going to have to have a talk with Amelie about "sharing personal info" when you get home, "Uh, well, yes-.". "Good, I have a proposal for you," he sighs deeply, "you see, I work a lot as an overlord and I don't get a lot of, how should I put this? Intimacy.". Your eyes widen, he better not be going where you think he's going with this.

He continues, "And I think we could kill two birds with one stone here, if you were to offer intimate services with me in exchange for money then-". "Ex-fucking-scuse me?!" you yell, drawing the attention of other people around you. Your hand reaches into your bag and holds the mace protectively. You collect yourself for a moment as to not cause a scene, "I-I may be in a rough financial position but if you really want to help you could increase my wages instead of soliciting me like I'm some kind of- hooker!!".

"Five thousand," he states flatly.

"Sorry, what?" "Five. thousand," he repeats "you need this more than me. Think of everything you could do with that money. Amelies education would be paid for, you wouldn't have to work as hard, and you'd be able to spend more time with your daughter.”. Shit. He had a point. You bit your lip as you considered the insane proposal. On one hand, you'd have to have sex with your boss. Gross. On the other hand... you could give Amelie the life she deserves, the life you yearned to give her.

"...Nobody can know," you respond, your tone wavering slightly. "Fine by me, doll" he extends a hand, "so, do we have a deal?". Your trembling hand releases the mace and reaches out to shake his, "Deal.". You really hoped you were making the right decision here. You'd do anything for Amelie, and if this was gonna give her everything you hoped you'd be able to give her, then so be it.

"So, when do these "sessions" start," you ask apprehensively. Vox cocks an eyebrow, "How long do you have the sitter for?". "Until tomorrow afternoon-". "Great," he grins, his posture straightening out confidently, "We'll have dinner then head back to my place, you'll be home before the sitter comes.". "Oh yeah I uhm, I guess that works, out," you weren't expecting it all to happen so soon, but alas, you made a commitment. For Amelie. __ You two spend some time together at dinner, ordering fancy drinks and food and making polite conversation. It wasn't a terrible date (if you could even call it that), but you couldn't help but fear for the night ahead. Never in a million years would you have imagined you'd be having sex with Vox. He wasn't terrible looking, but it was just weird! A chill went down your spine at the thought of your eventual hooking up.

Not to mention the fact that you hadn't had sex since you were pregnant with Amelie. That's four years! You were nervous like a virgin... and honestly a bit insecure over your post-pregnancy body.

Vox pays for the outrageously expensive dinner like it was nothing and guides you outside to where a chauffeur is waiting by the limo. You sit down in the limo and he plops himself right beside you, his large hand grabbing your thigh, rubbing his thumb across it gently.

Your breath hitches slightly as your legs instinctively tighten together. "Relax," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "nothing's going to happen in the limo.". His words did relax you a bit, for now, but the intimacy part of the night was still yet to come. __ Once you arrive at the V-Tower, Vox guides you to his penthouse at the top floor of the tower, his hand resting on the small of your back the whole way. You walk in and are met with a beautifully lavish and techy apartment; floor to ceiling windows, sleek furniture, and, of course, a ton of technology. "Beautiful place," you say softly. "Thanks," he grabs your purse and sets it on the kitchen island. He slowly walks toward you again, stalking toward you like a predator to his prey. Grabbing your hips, he pulls you flush against him. Before you can act, he captures your lips in a kiss. His lips were soft, surprisingly. Instead of having a TV glass-like quality like you assumed it would, his lips were fleshy and tender. Feeling Vox's soft lips pressed against your own, you allow yourself to get lost in the moment, savoring the sensation of you bodies intertwined. He deepens the kiss, his tongue darting out to tease yours. As your tongues slide against each other, your stomach starts to flutter, the heat between your thighs building up. His hands greedily grasp at your hips as he kisses you desperately, holding onto you tightly as if you'd leave if he let you go. He pulls you closer against him, his erection strained against his pants and poking your stomach. As if your hips had a mind of their own, you grind against his throbbing cock. You gasp softly against his lips, your muffled surprise coming out as a moan-like noise.

Vox's cock twitches against your stomach, the movement coming from you causing him to momentarily pause his kisses. His hold on you gets tighter, his voice low and possessive, "Enough, I'm not paying you to fucking tease me. Let's go.". Without another word, he strides off to the bedroom, turning back in the doorway to see still you standing in the kitchen, "What are you doing? Let's go.". His voice is commanding and almost fed-up, like you were just supposed to know to follow him like some puppy dog! You take a deep breath and repeat a soothing mantra that's gotten you through a lot, "For Amelie, for Amelie, for Amelie...". It’ll all be worth it to see her smile… With a sigh, you follow him into the bedroom. Once your in, his hands return to its place on your hips. His figure looms over your smaller one as the two of you stare into each others eyes. It wasn’t exactly romantic, but rather thoughtful. He gave you a desperate look that made you realize, he needed this just as much as you did.

With that, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips tenderly against his, earning a pleased hum from Vox. His eyes were furrowed shut as you kissed, his hands snaking up to your face and kiss you deeper.

Vox broke the kiss with a gasp, his forehead falling forward to rest against yours. His eyes were partially closed, his digital pupils blown wide with need as he stared down at you. You could feel the pounding of your heart against your ribcage, feeling the blood rushing through your veins with a fervor you hadn't felt in a long time.

A sharp cyan claw extends out to your dress, tracing the delicate lace materials along your breast. "Alright," he pats your breast, "off.". "R-right," you stutter, a bit lightheaded from the heated moment the two of you shared.

While he busies himself with taking off his intricately layered suit, you work on undressing yourself. You step out of your heels and peel off your sheer black stockings. As you undress, you can't help but let your eyes wander to Vox's undressed form. He was rather lanky, with lean arms and a slim waist you swore your hand could easily wrap around.

Once your dress was off, the two of you were left in only underwear. The air was tense, and a bit awkward. The two of you just stared at each other like teenage virgins. You fought off a cringe. Vox sighs, "Cmon, don't just stand there. I'm paying good money for this.". Oh fuck him.

You roll your eyes so hard they almost come out of your head. "As you wish, sir," you mutter sarcastically, walking towards the bed. "Don't be a brat," his words punctuated with a light static. He comes up from behind you and bends you over the bed, one hand grabbing your thigh while the other tears a hole in your underwear with his claw. "Hey!" you look back at him, "you could've just taken them off!".

"Relax," he drags his fingers teasingly along your the open slit in your underwear, just barely ghosting your wet sensitive flesh, "I'll buy you a new pair, hell, I'll buy you a hundred.". His claw tears the underwear so that it falls to the floor in pieces, he scoffs at the ripped strips of underwear, "Where did you buy this piece of crap? The dollar store?". "Shut up and get on with it!" you bark at him after the embarrassingly true call out.

"Fine," Vox hooks his claws under his boxers and pulls them down, letting them fall at his feet. He kicks off the boxers somewhere and presses his hard cock against your ass. You whimper quietly at the sensation, earning a smug laugh from Vox. "That's it, Doll," he coos, pulling back for a moment before pushing his tip into you. "Shiit-" you groan out, he wasn't hard to take or anything but fuck that felt good.

He inches himself deeper and deeper until he buries himself into the hilt. Yeah, okay, now he’s getting hard to take. His breathing grows heavy, you turn back and see his disheveled state. You could tell with the way his cock twitched inside you that he was already close.

He makes breif eye contact before pulling his hips back and thrusting into you, "Hnnf...". Shit, you weren't sure you would last longer than he did. You threw your head down onto the mattress as he pounds his cock into you. A coil in your stomach starts to tighten, "Fuck, Vox-".

Your words only serve to drive him further, he slams his hips into you at a punishingly fast pace. His claws dig into the flesh of your hips, his thumb brushing over a stretch mark from your pregnancy. "V-Vox wait-" you moan out, afraid you'll embarrass yourself by cumming so soon. "Shhh," he rubs your back softly with one hand, "don't— fuck— don’t worry...".

Grunts and moans fill the room as he continues to ram his jutting cock inside your wet pussy. You start to become desperate for release, your hips plunging backward to meet his thrusts. His cock twitches inside you, he can feel your walls start to flutter around him.

With one final thrust, the coil in your core snaps. A breathy moan and incoherent babbles escape your lips as you surrender to ecstasy. Your pussy pulsates as you cum, gripping his dick tightly. "Fuck!" he exclaims, slamming into you as he rides out his orgasm. Cum spills out of his cock and into your spent cunt.

The two of you breath heavily for a moment. After a few minutes, he pulls his soft cock out of you and sits on the edge of the bed beside you. "So," he breaks the silence, his voice breathless, "You want me to call the limo or-?". Jeez, no aftercare? No wonder he was lonley.

You get up and stretch your back, glancing at the torn underwear on the floor, "I'm not going in a car commando.". He rolls his eyes, "Fine, stay the night.". Pushing himself off the bed, he walks over to the other side and climbs into the covers. He lays on his side and turns off the light beside him. Did this man really just fuck you and then go night night?

With a frustrated sigh, you climb into the bed and turn over facing opposite him. "I'll have your money in the morning," was the last thing Vox said before drifting off to sleep.

__ You wake up to the sun shining brightly through the floor to ceiling windows. Sleepily, you turn over and see the other side of the bed empty. You sit up and look around, "Vox?". Grabbing a blanket, you wrap it around yourself and look around the apartment. You enter the kitchen and see a stack of cash with a note by your purse. The note read: "Had to leave for work. Here's your money. I'll call you when I need you again.

—Vox"

'How lovely,' you thought to yourself. Hands reach out to grab the wad of cash, your fingers flipping though the money tentatively, "Holy shit.".

__

Guilt wracked you all day. What would people think if they found out? Maybe you should've just stuck it out with your day job...

You arrive home and get showered. A few hours later, Amelie comes home! You thank your sister and exchange goodbyes, being very vague with where you had been all night.

Your thoughts continue to consume you until you see the joy in Amelie's eyes as she opens the gifts you grabbed for her on the way home. She squealed with joy and hugged you tightly, almost making you cry. Just as you suspected earlier, Amelie's smile would make it all worth it.

The rest of the day was spent with just the two of you hanging out, something you hadn't been able to do in ages. Just when you put Amelie down for bed, you get a call from an unknown number, "Hello?" __ AAAA NEW SERIESS LESS GOOO. hope ygs like it more parts will come eventually!! :)

TAG LIST:

@6esiree , @voxslays , @ithopi0s , @diffidentphantom

(if i missed u or accidentally added u im so sorry and lmk)

ʟᴍᴋ ɪꜰ ᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴀᴅᴅᴇᴅ

[alienpossession]

The Shell: The Landing Part 2

Part 1

"Come on dude, you've been helping us tremendously, at least grab a beer or something," insisted Colin as he tried to persuade the Forest Ranger to take a sip of the cold beer

"Heh, sure, not like my boss is around or something," said the Forest Ranger as he loosened himself up and grab the tempting cold beer from Colin's hands. Colin grinned with malice as the first sip of the beer instantly froze the ranger, the bottle shattered to the forest ground as venom already spread all over his system. Colin then easily opened the Ranger's mouth and then the alien starts to climb out from his throat and then traveled upwards to enter the ranger's nose. When it finished wrapping itself around the ranger's brain and then absorbed the memories, it oozes out from the ranger's ear and then flopped to the forest ground where it started to expand itself as the shell's creation process started. Minutes later, the perfect replica of the ranger, albeit naked, stand up with a smug grin next to the ranger.

"Guess I need to take what's mine, Ranger," said the replica with an eerie smile plastered on his face as he started to undress the real Ranger from his uniform. The boots with the lengthy, damp black socks, the pants that framed the ranger's hairy muscle ass so well alongside the sweaty white briefs, the wifebeater underneath the worn out uniform shirt and jacket and at last the musky hat that once adorned the Ranger head is now in the possession of the shell that wears it with pride and smugness that's never been seen before from the usually stoic and stern Ranger

"Ranger Stephen Henderson at your service. Ohhh......I love how knowledgeable he is about this forest. Lots of delicious bodies for our pack scattered in places I, as the Ranger, fully aware of if you want to explore the woods now. What do you think, Colin? Should we tell Ryle about this?"

"Oh we definitely should, Ranger Henderson. I know Ryle will be elated if you can show us where to find the next bodies,"

"Well, what if we bring one more body to him? There's this jogger watching us as we're speaking now looking all horrified right there," the Ranger pointed out to the person around 300 meters behind Colin that has witnessed everything

The jogger tried his best to outrun the youthful Colin and the street-smart (or forest-smart) Ranger Henderson, but he eventually succumbed to the same fate as the real Ranger and the real Colin when this alien replica of himself eventually snapped his neck in the final act of taking over his identity

"Let's head back to meet Ryle and strategize which folks we should convert before we head back to the city," advised the Ranger to both Colin and the recently-added Marco, the town's bartender that just wanted to get some fresh air but unfortunately took his final drag of fresh air witnessing an impostor stealing his identity and life

With the help of the Ranger's knowledge of the forest, the takeover turned out to be even much more efficient and rewarding as the Ranger directed them to the more fit and powerful human to be disposed of and cloned as shell into. As it stands, the pack led by Ryle Adams leave the forest in three differing cars, the first one filled by Ryle, Colin and the two local college jocks named Austin and Wes

Then, the second car, a huge pickup truck is filled by Ranger Henderson, Marco the bartender, Paulie the town cabin-builder and the owner of the truck alongside his buddy and recently turned in-law as their kids married each other, Sheriff Jeff Wilcox.

The final car, and quite an unexpected yet very much welcomed outcome, filled by 4 soldiers from the military base in the opposite town of the other 8 shells. The soldiers were on a quick unathourized trip out from the base to enjoy the pristine wildlife outside of their base. They managed to do so because the most senior one among them is the nephew of the Major and while the trip has been fun and stress-relieving for them, they certainly would never expect that it would be their last trip, ever. When the Ranger came out to the soldiers camping ground asking for help, they walked into a trap without knowing as they found themselves paralyzed from head to toe all in a sudden. They did not realize that they stepped on aliens on the forest ground that soon slithered themselves stealthily to numb their bodies to the point of paralysis. Then, the ranger wickedly shoved four slithering alien right to their ear canals and soon, they experienced what could only be described as progressive amnesia as their memories absorbed by the alien presence in their brain. As soon as they sucked the memories dry, the alien slithered out with pink-ish glow from the soldiers ear and flopped to the ground where it started to replicate the soldiers and that's when the soldiers also encountered their final fate soon after the replica reached its full state of replication, resembling perfectly the 4 unfortunate soldiers not only physically, but also mentally

So, while the 8 shells will get back to the town and inform the motherships of the town exact coordinate for a more precise landing of the next batches, it will also inform of another coordinates which is the military base that didn't even appear in the mothership detection. One reckless trip of the 4 soldiers will become a heavy price to pay by humanity as when the landing reached its full-scale, that entire base will be turned upside down and will become the base of the invading enemy without anyone knowing

[putalabelonit]

Fics based on a theme:

Stiles in a Contractual Relationship

••••••

—Derek/Stiles—

"Tax Evasion" (E) by standinginanicedress | 139,924 | “Here’s what I want,” Stiles starts, and Scott is already nodding along. “…I want a dude who’s going to take me out on dates. I like dinner and ice cream and all that. And I want him to meet my dad in, like, a sweater vest and khakis and shake his hand and talk about sports with the guy. And I want him to have a car and an apartment – not like, nice ones? But ones, you know? He’s got a dog, too. He drives me around and buys me stuff and is nice to my dad and my friends but then, like,” he squeezes the basketball extra hard and is sure he feels some air being let out of it, “…he ties me up sometimes, too. Is that too much to ask for? Am I reaching for the stars?”

"Don’t Take the Money" (E) by standinginanicedress | 53,469 | “Just so long as I don’t go falling in love with you, you don’t give a shit,” Derek clarifies. “Yeah. Pretty much.” “What if you go and fall in love with me?” “Ha ha,” Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t do shit like that. Alphas are disposable and they’re all just alike, when you strip them down to their parts.”

"For Your Eyes Only" (E) by standinginanicedress | 113,297 | “Are you a fucking psycho? Be honest. Are you sick in the fucking head?” Stiles asks. “No,” Derek says. “I’m a rich guy who likes twinks.” “Uh huh,” he doesn’t sound convinced. “You have twenty thousand dollars just lying around waiting to be spent on having cam sex with me?” “I do,” he shrugs. “And then some.” Silence. “You’re rich?” “Yes. I have money. I have an important job. That’s not what we’re talking about. Are you in or out?”

"One life stand" (E) by Vendelin | 84,278 | Stiles is used to selling himself to make ends meet. But it's getting harder to keep those ends meeting, and there's only so much of Stiles to go around. Until a too-fancy car shows up in his neighborhood, and he meets Derek Hale.

"Werewolf-Friendly" 🔒 (E) by badwolfbadwolf | 27,228 | Derek is a junior in college, never could get the hang of social interaction, and is, you know, a werewolf. A werewolf and a virgin. And it isn’t like anyone is banging down his door to hop on his werewolf dick, save for the few pervs who acted like he was some kind of exotic toy to be played with and experienced. So, when he sees Stiles' ad on Hot Men 4 Rent, Derek is... interested.

"Not What I Ordered" 🔒 (E) by eeyore9990 | 2,921 | Derek orders himself a bottom from a high-class escort service. What he gets is…Stiles.

"Unwind" 🔒 (E) by coffeeinallcaps | 15,047 | 'Hope you enjoy your present,' the text from Erica says. 'Payment’s taken care of. You can thank me tomorrow.'

"Disposition" (E) by Tulikettu | 56,104 | Stiles has an itch. A kinky, kinda dirty itch he needs to scratch. So why not go on the Internet and look for a complete stranger to scratch it? Derek needs a partner for his rut. What a coincidence.

"Oblivion for Two" (E) by publicdecency | 210,279 | “I’ll pay you to stop going around with other werewolves.” Stiles pushes Derek’s hand off of him, and Derek lets him. Stiles sits up. Derek sits up. They stare at one another. Stiles tries to laser through right to his dumb idiot fucking brain. “What did you just say?”

"A Mating Moon" (E) by unpossible | 37,353 | “Hey, Scott, so, I uh, there’s this amazingly hot guy and I’m uh, gonna spend the weekend with him but, you know, just to be careful, I’m sending you his picture, so if by some terrible chance my bloated corpse shows up sometime Monday, just, y’know pass this along to the authorities.” He pauses. “Uh. Kidding?” and then hangs up with a rush of air. “That is the worst voicemail in the history of voicemails,” Derek says.

"Millstone" (E) by eleanor_lavish | 31,368 | Derek waits until the door is shut behind him before he turns around. He holds out his hand, plants his ‘if you’re not weird about it, I won’t be’ smile on his face and says, “Nice to meet you, Stiles. I’m Michael. What kind of a good time are you looking for tonight?”

"Don't Worry Baby" (E) by kalpurna | 20,276 | "You know you're allowed to ask for vanilla sex, right?" he says, afterwards. "We can do whatever you want. That's kind of the point." Derek doesn't respond.

"but monsters are always hungry, darling" (E) by Rena | 7,071 | "I just...I just want someone to fuck me,” he blurts out, flailing his hands around. “I mean, like, really fuck me. Not any of this wishy-washy stuff, but someone with strength and stamina who’ll actually, honestly, fuck me, hold me down and fuck me so hard I can still feel it the next day.” “So, essentially, you want a werewolf,” Lydia deduces.

"Three Phone Calls" 🔒 (M) by pandabomb | 15,676 | Scott and Stiles live in a shitty apartment in NYC, Lydia is still queenly, and Derek is a clueless rich guy who mistakes Stiles for a hooker.

"Sell Your Body to the Night" (E) by Dira Sudis | 121,553 | "No," Derek repeated impatiently. "I'm not a cop. I'm someone who wants to exchange my money for your sexual services. I was told you were in that line of work." "I, uh, yeah, sorry," Stiles said. He glanced around again and then up--the full moon was almost directly overhead. Just one of those nights, maybe. "Yeah, I am. I do that."

"The Civilian" 🔒 (E) by bloodwrites | 15,279 | Stiles started hustling by accident. He likes the way it makes him feel too much to stop. Even the risk involved with selling himself in dark, dirty alleys doesn't stop him from doing it again and again. Not every night, sometimes not even every week, but he always goes back, looking for more of what he needs.

"A Whole Strip of Condoms" 🔒 (E) by eeyore9990 | 20,227 | Stiles feels the crushing weight of his family's debt; Derek has piles of money. Derek needs to get laid; Stiles is a willing and eager virgin. It's a match made in... well. Beacon Hills. Eesh.

"gave your smile to me" (T) by Sarageek16 | 4,784 | In which Stiles is a hooker (but not really), Derek wants to feed his skinny little body, and there is soup. Not necessarily in that order.

"Men of Taste" (E) by dizzzylu | 3,737 | It starts with a leather portfolio; a gift from Peter the day Derek is promoted to junior partner. He flips through the last few pages of cards, taking his time. Among them are several swanky nightclubs, a discreet gentlemen's club, a selection of the city's more opulent fetish clubs, as well as New York's most elite, and secretive, escort agency.

"Gravity's Got Nothing on You" (E) by zosofi | 83,979 | “Three weeks,” Derek says. “Still don’t want to,” Stiles says. “I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. “How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.” “My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”

—Stiles/Peter—

"A Delicate Beast" (E) by anonymous | 7,536 | Stiles flicks his eyes to Peter and has to almost instantly drag them away again in fear. This man wants to assault me.

"one kiss (you burn)" (E) by anonymous | 1,953 | Stiles just wants to pop his cherry.

"Loan Wolves" (E) by veterization | 117,313 | At seventeen, Stiles' mother dies, and suddenly, with bills piling up, Stiles and his father are in financial straits. Enter Peter Hale, the loan shark.

"Conduit" 🔒 (E) by DarkIsRising | 52,428 | A cool 10k to spend a weekend with some rich guy getting plowed in his familial estate during some hoity-toity engagement party for Rich Guy’s niece, with an extra 2k on offer if he can make his ex-husband visibly seethe with jealousy.

"A Spoonful of Sugar" (E) by Twisted_Mind | 31,133 | He blames Lydia. He would never have even considered this if she hadn't mentioned it like it was legit. But short of falling down the rabbit hole of student debt, he doesn't have a whole lot of options. So, whatever, he can try the sugar baby thing. No one has to know.

••••••

[smileskids]

Prevention | Smiles 4 Kids Idaho: Ensuring Healthy Smiles for Children Explore our comprehensive dental prevention services at Smiles 4 Kids Idaho. From routine cleanings to fluoride treatments, we prioritize preventive care to promote optimal oral health for children.

[ghostlyglimmer]

The Fun Zone Part 4

You can find more chapters here

Summary:

Danny Fenton’s part-time job at The Fun Zone—a chaotic arcade and entertainment center that’s secretly a gang front—was going great until a certain vigilante stormed in to shut the place down.

Danny had seen some chaotic birthday parties in his time at The Fun Zone, but this one took the cake—and he wasn’t even exaggerating. The group that had just walked in seemed like a random collection of mismatched personalities: a cocky black haired guy, a towering dad-type who was trying way too hard to be casual, a snarky girl in a leather jacket, a small scowling kid who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, and—oh no, it was Tim again.

Danny adjusted his uniform and sighed, plastering on his best customer service smile. “Welcome to The Fun Zone. Are you here for laser tag, mini-golf, or just to add to my growing migraine?”

A man with stark black hair stepped forward, grinning like he owned the place. “We’re here for a birthday party!”

Danny blinked. “You booked it in advance, right?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” the guy said, brushing off the question with a wave. “It’s all taken care of.”

The scowling kid, who couldn’t have been older than twelve, crossed his arms. “Grayson, this is beneath me. I don’t need a childish party.”

“Oh, come on, Dami,” the guy—apparently named Grayson—said, ruffling the kid’s hair. “You’re going to love it. Laser tag, mini-golf, go-karts—it’s got everything!”

Damian swatted his hand away with a growl. “I said, stop calling me that.”

The girl in the leather jacket smirked. “Yeah, but the kid here’s turning twelve. We’re here to make sure he has the time of his life, whether he likes it or not.”

Danny gave her a skeptical look. “You sure he doesn’t prefer, like, a book club or chess tournament? He looks like he’d rather set this place on fire than play mini-golf.”

“I would,” Damian said flatly.

“Don’t listen to him,” Dick said, leaning on the counter. “We’re doing this. Can you, uh, set us up with the works?”

Danny sighed, grabbing a clipboard. “Fine. I’ll need the birthday kid’s name. And don’t tell me it’s Grumpy McFrownsalot.”

Dick laughed. “It’s Damian.”

Danny jotted the name down and handed him a stack of wristbands. “Great. Have fun, don’t break anything, and if you end up in a go-kart race, try not to ram into each other. You break it, you buy it.”

Dick beamed. “Thanks, man.”

An hour in, Danny regretted every life choice that led him to this moment.

Damian, the birthday kid, was terrifying. He played laser tag like he was training for actual war, and he refused to use the pre-loaded names on the scoreboard, insisting his codename be changed to Death’s Shadow. He also managed to hack into the system to change everyone else’s names to things like Grayson the Fool and Drake the Useless.

The girl—Steph, he’d heard someone call her—was running commentary on everything, laughing every time Damian destroyed someone in laser tag. “Dami’s ruthless! Look at that kill count!”

Tim, predictably, was trying to strategize, calling out team plays like this was some kind of black-ops mission. “Jason, cover the left flank! Dick, stop running in circles!”

Danny’s ears perked up at that. “Wait. Jason?” he muttered to himself, glancing over toward the go-karts.

Sure enough, Red Hood—his boss—was standing next to the track in civilian clothes, looking like he wanted to commit murder. He’d been dragged along under protest, and now he was stuck watching Dick and Tim throw Damian a party in what was technically his turf.

Danny sidled over, slapping on a grin. “Hey, boss. Didn’t know you did birthday parties.”

Jason scowled. “Don’t start with me, Fenton.”

Danny chuckled. “I mean, it’s kind of adorable. You’ve got the whole supportive older brother vibe going on.”

Jason groaned, rubbing his temples. “They’re doing this to piss me off. Dick knows this is my place.”

“Your boss’s place,” Danny corrected. To try to keep Hood's true identity safe from his supposed siblings? friends? Hell if Danny knows at this point. “And hey, the kid seems to be having fun. That’s worth something, right?”

They both glanced over to see Damian obliterating another group of kids in mini-golf, his precision terrifyingly perfect. Dick was cheering him on, and Steph was doubled over laughing at the chaos.

Jason sighed. “This is hell.”

By the end of the party, the Fun Zone looked like a war zone. Damian had won every single activity with brutal efficiency, leaving no survivors in laser tag, mini-golf, or go-karts. Dick had somehow convinced Danny to bring out the giant birthday sundae, which Damian reluctantly poked at while glaring at everyone like they’d personally insulted his honor.

As they were leaving, Dick clapped Danny on the shoulder. “Thanks for putting up with us. You’re a champ.”

“Yeah, well,” Danny said, yawning. “Just make sure you tip me enough to cover therapy.”

Dick laughed, handing him a suspiciously generous wad of cash. “Consider it done.”

As the door chimed shut behind them, Jason walked over, shaking his head. “If you tell anyone about this, you’re fired.”

Danny smirked. “Sure thing, boss. But you owe me hazard pay.”

[dreamlanderin]

You don't see me, Part 5 (Sam x reader)

Summary: You're in Green Hollow, Sam and Dean race to find you. Follows after part 4

Warnings: Swearing, blood, gore, horror, angst (Legit almost everything you can expect from a supernatural episode), spoilers if you squint?

Words: 10k (I got carried away)

You’d been following Bobby’s directions for hours, squinting at a hand-drawn map that seemed to make less sense the further you drove. The landmarks he’d mentioned—a crooked signpost, an old water tower—had been there, sure, but they looked… different. Faded, almost distorted, like you’d stepped into some parallel version of the real world.

Your phone was useless out here, the signal dead the moment you’d left the last highway. You’d tried restarting it, even waved it in the air in a desperate attempt to catch a bar, but nothing. Just static.

And then, after what felt like an eternity of wrong turns and second-guessing, you’d found it. The town. Green Hollow.

It didn’t look like much—a handful of buildings huddled together in the middle of nowhere, their facades weathered and crumbling like they’d been abandoned decades ago. But the lights were on in some of the windows, and you’d caught glimpses of movement behind curtains and doorframes. A general store, a diner, what might’ve been a post office—they were all there, clustered around a single stretch of road that barely qualified as Main Street.

At first, it had seemed… normal. Quiet, but normal. Until you stepped out of the bike.

That’s when you felt it. Eyes on you.

It wasn’t subtle, either. People weren’t sneaking glances from behind windows or casually looking up as they passed. No, they were staring. Full-on, unapologetic staring, like you were some kind of intruder who’d wandered where you didn’t belong. A woman sweeping the porch of the general store stopped mid-swipe, her hand frozen on the broom as her gaze locked onto you. A group of kids on bikes paused at the corner, their laughter dying as they turned in unison, their faces eerily blank. Even an old man sitting on a bench across the street was watching you, his eyes unblinking, his hands resting motionless on his cane.

You tried to shake it off, brushing past the unease with a shrug as you headed toward what looked like a diner. You’d figured maybe you could grab something to eat, ask a few questions, and figure out your next move. But when you pushed open the door, the bell jangling above your head, the low murmur of conversation inside died instantly.

Every head turned toward you. Every set of eyes.

You froze, the weight of their stares pressing against your skin like a physical thing. The room was small, just a handful of tables and booths, but it felt suffocating. The waitress behind the counter—young, with a crooked name tag that read Mary—stood frozen, the coffee pot in her hand hovering inches above a mug. The man she’d been serving, a burly guy in a flannel jacket, turned his head so slowly it was almost unnatural, his gaze pinning you in place.

You managed a tight smile, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Uh… is the kitchen still open?”

Mary didn’t answer. She just stared at you, her wide eyes flicking briefly to the other patrons before settling back on you.

“Okay,” you muttered under your breath, backing toward the door. “Guess not.”

No, just no. You left the diner without another word, the weight of their stares trailing you all the way to the sidewalk. The air outside felt colder now, heavier, and as you glanced back at the windows, you swore you saw the curtains twitch.

You tried the motel next, if you could even call it that. It was more of a rundown, single-story building with a flickering VACANCY sign hanging crooked above the office door. But when you stepped inside, the tiny reception desk was empty, the bell for service cracked and rusted. You’d called out, your voice echoing in the stillness, but no one came.

It wasn’t just the motel, either. The gas station was locked up, the lights inside dim. The general store had closed early, its door chained shut. Even the post office, which had looked abandoned at first glance, now seemed to hum faintly, like there was someone—or something—inside watching you.

You tried not to let it get to you, tried to tell yourself it was all in your head. Bobby had said there was just some strange weather or something you needed to check out, this didn’t feel like strange weather at all. Did he give you the right map?

 You’d gone back to your bike, luckily it was still there, a part of you thought it might be missing when you went back. It would have to do for now, maybe you should camp for the night? The headlights cast long, distorted shadows across the empty street, and in the rearview mirror, you thought you saw movement—a figure standing just beyond the edge of the light.

But when you turned to look, the street was empty.

By now the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the town cloaked in an uneasy twilight. The streets were deserted, silent except for the faint creak of an old weather vane spinning lazily in the cool evening breeze. You’d pulled your motorbike up to the edge of the road, flicking the kickstand down and cutting the engine. The silence that followed felt too heavy, like it had been waiting to swallow the sound whole.

Unfolding the crumpled map Bobby had given you, you tried to make sense of the faded lines and scrawled notes. The directions had been straightforward enough when you set out, but now the roads seemed to twist and blur together, leading nowhere. Your headlamp cast just enough light to make out the words, but even they felt wrong somehow, like the map was deliberately trying to confuse you. You were hungry and tired, you wish you’d taken some snackss when you’d stopped by the gas station.

You tried your phone again but nothing.

You shifted your weight on the bike, exhaling sharply to ground yourself. It was fine. You’d figure it out. You always did.

But then you noticed them.

At first, it was just a flicker of movement in the corner of your eye—quick, darting, like shadows stretching in the fading light. You brushed it off as nothing, focusing instead on the map. But the flickers kept coming, and when you finally glanced up, you saw them. The children.

They were standing in the dim glow of a streetlamp a little ways down the road, half-hidden in the shadows. Two, no, three of them. Their faces were blank, pale, and still, with eyes that seemed to glint unnaturally in the low light. You recognized them immediately—the same kids you’d seen earlier when you’d first rolled into town. They’d been playing by the fountain in the square, laughing and running circles around each other. But now? Now they weren’t laughing. They weren’t moving at all.

They were just staring at you.

You looked back down at the map, trying to shake the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine. It was fine. They were just kids. Probably curious about the stranger in town. Kids were like that, weren’t they? Still, your fingers tightened around the edge of the paper, crumpling it slightly as you forced yourself to focus.

The sound of small, deliberate footsteps broke the silence.

Your head snapped up, and you realized they were closer now. Still not speaking, still not smiling—just standing there, watching. One of them, a girl with long, stringy hair that clung to her face, tilted her head slightly, the movement unnervingly slow. Her eyes caught yours, and for a split second, you felt frozen in place, like she was daring you to look away.

You cleared your throat, gripping the handlebars of your bike. “Can I help you?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

No answer. Just silence, thick and oppressive.

This wasn’t right, you thought. Your hand itched against your thigh, next to you knife.

The boy next to her—a gangly kid with a too-thin frame and a face that looked too sharp in the dim light—took a step forward. Then another. His bare feet scuffed against the pavement, the sound too loud in the stillness.

You didn’t wait for them to get closer.

Stuffing the map back into your jacket, you swung your leg over the bike and fumbled with the ignition. The engine roared to life, a comforting burst of sound that cut through the quiet. You glanced back toward the children, expecting them to scatter at the noise.

But they didn’t move.

If anything, they seemed closer now, their figures outlined by the glow of the streetlamp. The girl’s lips curved into something that might have been a smile.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you revved the engine, trying to drown out the rising panic. You weren’t scared of a few kids. You’d faced worse, far worse. This was nothing. Just your nerves playing tricks on you. Right?

You shouldn't have come here. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that their eyes were following you, even as you turned the bike and sped off down the road. The town blurred around you in streaks of dark shapes and flickering lights, but you couldn’t bring yourself to slow down, not until the uneasy weight pressing on your chest began to ease.

But as you glanced in the mirror, your stomach dropped.

They were still there. And their eyes, they were black now.

Demons. Where the hell did Bobby send you?

You twisted the throttle, the bike roaring beneath you as the town faded behind in a blur of dark shapes and faint streetlights. The air felt heavier with each mile, like you were dragging it with you, and the memory of those children’s unblinking stares clung to your mind like smoke. You told yourself to shake it off, to focus on the road ahead, you needed to leave, and now.

The first time you noticed them, you thought it was just your nerves. A man in a dark coat, standing under the yellow haze of a streetlamp, his head turning to follow as you passed. Then another—a woman in a pale dress, sitting on the steps of a house with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her eyes locked onto you, they flashed black. Then another, and another. Figures standing in doorways, leaning out of windows, scattered across the streets like chess pieces on a board.

All of them were watching you.

Your chest tightened as you leaned into the bike, urging it faster, the engine growling as the wind whipped past your face. The cold bit at your cheeks, sharp and unforgiving, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the growing weight of their stares. They were everywhere now, appearing out of shadows and corners, their faces blank but their eyes piercing.

Your breath came faster, shallow and uneven, as you tried to push the bike harder, faster. The town blurred around you, the streets twisting and curling like the lines of Bobby’s map. You didn’t know where you were going—just away.

Then you saw her.

She was standing in the middle of the road, a small figure bathed in the pale glow of your headlamp. The white dress she wore was stark against the darkness, its hem brushing her bare ankles as the fabric swayed gently in the wind. Her hair, dark and loose, framed a face that was eerily calm, far too still for a child standing alone in the street at night.

You slammed the brakes, the tires screeching against the pavement as the bike skidded sideways. Your heart leapt into your throat as the handlebars jerked in your grip, and for one terrifying moment, you thought you’d lose control. The bike wobbled, then steadied, stopping just a few feet from where she stood.

The engine idled loudly, its growl the only sound breaking the eerie silence. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your hands gripping the handlebars so tightly your knuckles ached. The girl didn’t move. She just stood there, her arms hanging loosely at her sides, her head tilted slightly to one side as she watched you.

You cut the engine, the sudden quiet almost deafening. The faint hum of the wind picked up again, carrying with it the distant creak of something—maybe a swing set or a weathered sign—moving in the darkness.

She stood, there unphased.

“Hello,” she said, her voice soft and clear, like the chime of a bell.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as sandpaper. “Hey,” you managed, your voice rough and uncertain. “You… okay, kid?” You look at her, please be a kid.

She tilted her head further and gave a faint nod, her dark eyes glinting in the light of the bike. “I’ve been waiting, you know” she said simply.

“Waiting for what?” you asked, your pulse thundering in your ears.

She smiled then, small and faint, but it sent a chill crawling down your spine. “For you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, the air felt colder. Heavier. You glanced around, your eyes darting to the shadows that lined the street, searching for… something. Someone. But the street was empty now, eerily so. The figures who’d been watching earlier were gone.

Just you and the girl.

Your hand instinctively moved toward the knife strapped to your thigh, your fingers brushing the hilt as your muscles tensed. “Who are you?” you asked, your voice sharper now, more demanding.

Her smile didn’t waver as her eyes flashed white.

“I’m Lilith”

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

It had taken Sam and Dean almost a full day just to figure out which road to take. They’d driven through the area where Green Hollow was supposed to be—at least twice—but the town itself was nowhere to be found. The map didn’t make sense, the roads didn’t match up, and every turn seemed to lead them back to the same stretch of empty highway.

“This is ridiculous,” Dean muttered, gripping the steering wheel with frustration as the Impala rumbled down yet another unmarked road. “It’s like the damn town doesn’t exist.”

Sam, slouched in the passenger seat with a map unfolded across his lap, ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. “The map says it’s supposed to be right here,” he said, jabbing a finger at a point on the paper. “But it’s not. None of this lines up.”

Dean shot him a glare. “You think I don’t know that? We’ve been driving in circles for hours, Sam. Maybe Bobby gave us the wrong coordinates.”

Sam shook his head, his brow furrowed in thought. His knee bounced restlessly, his fingers gripping the edges of the map a little too tightly. “Bobby doesn’t make mistakes like that. If he says it’s here, it’s here. We’re just missing something.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, like a magic portal, maybe? ‘Cause I’m not seeing a single sign of this Green Hollow anywhere.”

Sam didn’t respond right away. His mind was a tangle of frustration and unease, not just from the endless backtracking but from the weight of the vial still tucked away in his duffel bag. He hadn’t touched it, not since he’d packed his bag back at the motel, but just knowing it was there was enough to keep his nerves frayed. He’d told himself it was just a precaution, but he knew better. The temptation was clawing at him, and the withdrawal only made it worse. His hands itched to fidget with something, but he forced them to stay steady, even as a cold sweat broke out at the back of his neck.

They’d eventually pulled off into a small, run-down gas station on the outskirts of a nearby town, the kind of place where time seemed to have stopped thirty years ago. The fluorescent lights flickered, and the old man behind the counter looked like he hadn’t seen a stranger in years.

“Green Hollow?” the man had repeated, squinting at them from behind the counter. “Why the hell would you wanna go there?”

Dean had leaned against the counter, his tone flat. “Long story. Can you tell us how to get there or not?”

The old man had given them a long, scrutinizing look before finally jerking his thumb toward the window. “You’ll need to take the dirt road about five miles west of here. Ain’t marked, but you’ll see it if you’re looking. Place is a mess of old trails and overgrowth, though, so good luck not getting lost.”

“Great,” Dean had muttered under his breath, already dreading the drive.

“You boys sure you wanna go poking around there?” the man had added, his voice lowering slightly. “Ain’t much left of Green Hollow. Place is washed up. Folks there don’t like strangers much.”

Sam had thanked the man and grabbed the directions, but the warning lingered in the back of his mind as they left the gas station and headed back to the Impala. Dean, of course, hadn’t cared. “Washed up or not,” he’d said, starting the car with a growl of the engine, “we’re finding this place.”

As they drove toward the dirt road, Sam leaned his head against the window, the vibration of the Impala’s engine doing little to calm the restless energy swirling inside him. His thoughts drifted—mostly to you. What was he even going to say when he saw you again? How could he explain himself, the mess he was in, and the way he’d let so much spiral out of control? Every time he thought about it, the words felt like sand slipping through his fingers.

Would you even want to hear him out? He wasn’t sure he’d deserve it, not after leaving things the way he had. But the thought of you out here, alone, in a place that didn’t even seem to want to be found—it made his chest tighten.

The dirt road wasn’t hard to spot once they knew where to look, but navigating it was another story. It was narrow, uneven, and riddled with potholes, winding through dense trees that seemed to swallow the light. The further they went, the more the air seemed to change—heavier, quieter, like the forest itself was holding its breath.

Dean had grumbled the whole way, swerving to avoid a particularly deep rut in the road. “This better be worth it,” he’d said, gripping the wheel tighter as the Impala jolted over another bump. “If we end up driving into some Deliverance situation, I’m blaming Bobby.”

Sam didn’t respond, his focus split between the map in his lap and the weight of his duffel bag at his feet. He hadn’t opened it, hadn’t even looked at it since they’d left, but the knowledge of what was inside felt like a lead weight. He’d brought the vial with him. He didn’t know why—it wasn’t like he planned on using it. But the thought of leaving it behind had felt like a risk he wasn’t ready to take. It wasn’t just the blood that haunted him, though. It was you.

His thoughts circled back to you, and he found himself gripping the map a little tighter. He couldn’t stop imagining the way your face might look when he showed up—surprised, maybe even angry. But there was also a small, selfish part of him that hoped you’d still look at him the way you used to, with that quiet trust that had always unnerved him a little because he wasn’t sure he’d ever deserved it.

Then they found it an old sign written in yellow: Green Hollow.

Dean slammed the car door shut, stepping out into the late afternoon sunlight, the Impala parked a little crooked near the curb of Green Hollow’s diner. The town, to both their surprise, had a pleasant hum to it. People walked casually along the sidewalks, chatting with neighbors or carrying groceries. A group of kids on bikes zipped past, laughing as they raced down the street.

“This doesn’t look like the kind of place someone vanishes into thin air,” Dean muttered, shielding his eyes against the sun as he scanned the square.

Sam climbed out more slowly, rolling his stiff shoulders. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice distant. The heavy bag slung over his shoulder seemed to weigh more than just his belongings. He could feel the glass vial inside, nestled among his clothes, and it gnawed at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Dean gave him a sideways glance as they started toward the diner. “You good?”

Sam nodded too quickly, his hand brushing against the strap of his bag. “I’m fine.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, his frown deepening as his gaze dropped to Sam’s hand. It was trembling slightly, the motion faint but noticeable.

“You look like crap, man,” Dean said bluntly, stopping short of the diner steps.

Sam ignored him, brushing past with a muttered, “I said I’m fine.”

Dean didn’t push, though his jaw tightened. Dean’s gaze flicked toward the people milling about the square. “Alright,” he said, grabbing his jacket and opening the door. “Let’s ask around.”

They split up, keeping the square in sight as they started talking to locals. Most of the people they approached seemed friendly enough, offering polite smiles and vague answers about the town’s quiet charm. No one acted suspicious, and no one seemed particularly interested in two strangers asking questions.

Sam spoke with a woman near a flower shop, her apron dusted with dirt and her hands holding a small pot of marigolds. “I’m looking for someone,” he explained, showing her a picture of you that Bobby had dug up. “She might’ve passed through here recently.”

The woman squinted at the photo, then shook her head with a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry, hon. Can’t say I’ve seen her. But if she’s new, she might’ve stopped by the diner. Folks there know everyone who comes through.”

Sam nodded, thanking her before heading back toward the square to meet Dean.

Dean wasn’t having much luck either. He stood near a group of men loading lumber into the back of a pickup truck, arms crossed as he asked about you. The men glanced at the photo, shook their heads, and returned to their work without much interest.

“Nothing,” Dean muttered when they regrouped.

Eventually they headed to the diner. Inside, the place was all warm lighting and polished chrome, the scent of coffee and grease hanging in the air. A waitress with a kind smile greeted them and gestured to a booth near the window.

Dean slid into the seat first, his eyes already scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary. Sam took the other side, resting his elbows on the table as he tried to focus on the menu. His fingers tapped lightly against the laminated paper, his leg bouncing under the table.

What’s that smell? Something to Sam had smelled familiar, it made his head dizzy and his hands shake. It was all over this place.

“You want coffee?” Dean asked, his voice tinged with a note of something sharper—concern disguised as nonchalance.

“Sure,” Sam said, though he barely glanced up.

When the waitress returned with two cups of coffee and Dean’s order of pie, Sam reached for his cup, but his fingers faltered, the handle slipping slightly before he steadied it. Hot liquid sloshed near the rim, and Dean didn’t miss the way Sam’s hand trembled as he lifted the cup to his lips.

Dean’s frown deepened, but he didn’t comment, choosing instead to spear a piece of pie with his fork. “You think she’s here?” he asked after a moment, his tone casual.

Sam shrugged, his gaze fixed on the steam rising from his cup. “Probably,” he said. “I mean, Bobby said this was the last place she was headed. She might just be laying low—sleeping it off at one of the motels or something.”

Dean’s eyebrow arched. “Sleeping it off? She’s not exactly the ‘kick back and relax’ type.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam muttered, taking another shaky sip of his coffee. “Neither are we, but it happens.”

Dean didn’t argue, though the skeptical look on his face spoke volumes. He leaned back in his seat, watching as Sam stared down into his coffee like it might hold the answers he was looking for.

Sam’s thoughts, however, weren’t on the coffee or even the town around them. He kept picturing the look you might give him when you saw him again—angry, maybe hurt. And he deserved that, didn’t he?

He couldn’t stop the sarcastic thought that crept into his mind: Sorry I ignored you and didn’t call for weeks—my bad. How’s the hunting going?

The corner of his mouth twitched briefly at the ridiculousness of it. But beneath the sarcasm, there was a weight—a fear that whatever he said wouldn’t be enough to bridge the gap between them.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Dean said, breaking the silence.

Sam blinked, looking up. “What thing?”

“The thing where you overthink everything and don’t say squat,” Dean said, pointing his fork at him. “If you’ve got something on your mind, spill it.”

Sam shook his head, brushing it off. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean muttered, digging back into his pie. “And I’m the Tooth Fairy.”

They finished their meal and headed back to the Impala, deciding to drive around town to get a better sense of the place. The streets were starting to quiet as evening crept in, the earlier buzz of activity tapering off into the kind of calm that made Dean’s instincts prickle.

They saw it.

Dean slowed the car, his gaze locking onto a familiar shape propped awkwardly against the curb.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, throwing the car into park and jumping out.

Sam followed, his stomach sinking as they approached the bike. It was unmistakably one of Bobby’s—a sturdy machine with just enough wear to show its history.

“This is hers,” Dean said, crouching down to inspect it. “It’s one of Bobby’s. I fixed it up last time I was at the junkyard.”

Sam knelt beside him, his fingers brushing the handlebars. The grease stains were still there, faint but unmistakable.

“Why is her stuff still here?” Dean noted your duffle bag was still attached and looked up, thinking maybe you were close by and that he’d spot you comping up the sidewalk.

“Dean” Sam looked at him pointedly, Dean frowns but notices what Sam was hinting at,

Dean’s hand brushed against the handlebar, and his eyes caught on a streak of something dark near the base of the grip. His fingers hovered over it before he rubbed at it gently, then brought his hand closer to his face.

“Is that…?” Dean’s voice trailed off, his jaw tightening as he recognized the faint but undeniable smear of blood.

Sam stiffened, his chest tightening. “It’s fresh,” he said quietly, his hand gripping the strap of his bag like it might anchor him.

Dean glanced around the street, his gaze sharp. “Alright, now I’m officially not liking this”

“Don’t look at them, act normal” Sam whispered “It’s impossible for nobody to have seen her, either there is something wrong with this town, or there is something wrong with them”

Dean’s jaw tightened as he glanced at Sam, his grip on the wheel still firm. “And what exactly do you mean by ‘something wrong with them’?” he asked, his voice low but edged with unease.

Sam shifted, keeping his voice steady despite the jitteriness clawing at his insides. “I mean, they’re too normal. It’s like they’re trying too hard not to notice us—or the bike.” He gestured subtly toward the people walking down the street, all of them going about their business as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Not one of them had so much as glanced in the direction of the bike, even though it was left awkwardly propped on the sidewalk.

Dean’s eyes flicked back to the street. The people moved in a rhythm that felt… off. Perfectly timed, like they were part of some eerie choreographed routine. A woman pushing a stroller stopped at the exact same moment a man adjusted his tie, as if they were mirroring each other. A group of kids laughed too loudly as they walked past, their laughter abrupt and out of sync, cutting off too quickly.

Dean muttered under his breath, “Yeah, no, that’s not creepy at all.”

Sam leaned closer, lowering his voice even further. “Don’t stare. Just… keep it casual.”

Dean shot him a sidelong glance, one brow arched. “We’re driving a classic car through the middle of a washed-up ghost town. Casual isn’t exactly in the cards.”

Sam’s hand twitched, and he clenched it into a fist to steady the tremor. His palms felt clammy, and he rubbed them against his jeans as he tried to focus. “Look, all I’m saying is we don’t know what we’re walking into. This place isn’t right, and if they’re not going to give us anything willingly, we’ll have to figure it out another way.”

Dean sighed, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on the wheel. “Great. So, what’s the plan, genius?”

Sam didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the street ahead, his mind racing through the possibilities. “We start with the motel,” he said finally. “If she’s not there, we’ll ask around—but carefully. If they’re hiding something, we don’t want to tip them off.”

Dean nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Fine. But if one of these Stepford rejects tries anything, I’m not playing nice.”

Sam almost smiled at that, but the weight of the situation kept his expression grim. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Sam’s gaze lingered on the bike. The faint smear of blood and the ignition still on gnawed at him. You had to be somewhere close. He just hoped they weren’t already too late. Please be okay, please, please

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

The cold, hard floor beneath you was a poor substitute for shelter, but it was the best you could manage under the circumstances. You didn’t know how long you’d been here—probably just a few hours—but it felt like an eternity. The first rays of sunlight began creeping through the grime-covered windows, casting faint streaks of pale gold across the room. It was almost comforting, but not enough to banish the dread clawing at your chest.

Your body ached in ways you hadn’t thought possible. You shifted slightly, wincing as a sharp pain shot through your side. You pressed your hand against the source—a gash just above your hip. It wasn’t deep enough to be fatal, but it was bleeding more than you liked, the steady trickle soaking through the makeshift bandage you’d tied around it. Your left arm wasn’t much better; a long scrape ran from your elbow to your wrist, raw and throbbing. Nothing life-threatening, but enough to make every movement a struggle.

Your thoughts replayed the chaos from hours earlier, every detail burned into your mind. When Lilith had finally revealed herself, you’d bolted, your instincts screaming at you to run. You’d leapt onto your bike, the engine roaring to life as you sped away. But the moment you turned out of the main street, you realized you weren’t alone. The townspeople—those same eerily vacant faces that had stared at you when you arrived—had started to chase you.

They came out of nowhere, spilling onto the streets like a wave, their footsteps pounding against the asphalt as they gained on you. You had pushed the bike as fast as it would go, weaving between narrow streets and tight corners, but they were relentless. One of them—a man with hollow eyes and dirt-streaked clothes—had managed to grab at your arm as you turned a corner. His grip was iron-strong, his nails clawing into your skin as he nearly dragged you off the bike. The memory of his face—too close, too wrong—sent a shiver down your spine.

In a panic, you’d reached for the knife strapped to your thigh, slashing at him with wild desperation. The blade cut deep, and he stumbled back with a guttural sound that didn’t quite seem human. Blood had splattered onto your arm, hot and sticky, but you didn’t dare look back. You’d gunned the throttle, the engine screaming as you tore down the road, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. You didn’t even notice you were hurt

But the bike was loud, and it drew attention. You could hear them behind you, their shouts echoing in the night, growing louder with every turn. You knew you couldn’t outrun them forever—not on the bike. It was too conspicuous, too easy to track. You needed to disappear. So, when you spotted the outline of the old school in the distance, you made your choice.

You’d parked the bike.. The engine clicked softly as it cooled, but you didn’t wait around. You grabbed your bag, slipped the knife back into its sheath, and ran, your boots crunching against the gravel as you darted toward the schoolyard. The building loomed ahead, its dark windows staring back at you like empty eyes. It was large enough to hide in, with plenty of rooms to keep you out of sight. You hadn’t seen anyone else as you crept inside, but you hadn’t taken any chances.

Now, in the relative stillness of the classroom you’d chosen, you took stock of what little you had. The desks and chairs scattered around the room had been pushed to one side to make space for your rudimentary fortifications. On such short notice, you’d done what you could to ward off any demons that might come sniffing around.

A quick search of the school had turned up a few supplies: an old box of chalk, a rusty pair of scissors, and some forgotten cleaning supplies tucked away in a janitor’s closet. It wasn’t much, but you’d made it work. Using the chalk, you’d drawn a devil’s trap on the floor just inside the door, ensuring that any demon who stepped into the room would be instantly immobilized. The scissors weren’t exactly iron, but they’d do in a pinch as a makeshift weapon if you had to fight your way out.

You’d also found a bottle of salt in one of the abandoned classrooms—probably left behind by a teacher who’d used it for a science experiment. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to line the windowsills and the threshold of the door. It wouldn’t hold up forever, especially if Lilith decided to come after you herself, but it was better than nothing.

The faint sound of footsteps outside the building sent a chill down your spine. You froze, your hand instinctively going to the scissors you’d tucked into your waistband. They weren’t close—yet—but you could hear them, the steady crunch of gravel underfoot and the occasional murmur of low voices. The townspeople. Or… whatever they were. You’d heard them last night, too, their footsteps echoing through the schoolyard as they searched for you. They’d come so close to the building that you’d barely dared to breathe, afraid they’d hear you.

The faint light of dawn creeping through the window offered little solace. You didn’t know if it was enough to keep Lilith at bay. If she wanted you badly enough, the salt wouldn’t matter. But for now, you had to hope that your makeshift defenses would hold. You pulled the scissors from your waistband, gripping them tightly as you pressed your back against the wall, listening to the sounds outside. You were going to die here, you thought. And Bobby, Oh Bobby would blame himself.

What about Sam and Dean? You hadn’t even said goodbye to them. The thought twisted in your chest like a knife, sharp and cruel. And now, here you were—hurt, bleeding, hiding in an abandoned school—about to die because you’d been too damn stubborn, too caught up in proving yourself.

No. You shook your head sharply, banishing the thought before it could take root.

I am not going to die here.

You took a shaky breath, pressing your palm harder against the wound on your side as if the pressure alone could hold you together. I will live. I’ll see Bobby again and hug him so hard he’ll call me an idjit. I’ll laugh at Dean’s stupid jokes again, and when I see Sam, I…

Your thoughts faltered. What would you do? What would you even say?

The memory of his face surfaced—those warm, haunted eyes that always seemed to carry the weight of the world. Would he even care? Would he even look at you the same way? You didn’t know. But there was no time to dwell on that now.

Movement caught your eye. You pressed your back flush against the cold wall, your breathing shallow as you stared at the stained glass window across the room. Shadows moved on the other side, their distorted silhouettes flickering against the colorful panes. They were there.

The tapping started—a slow, deliberate sound that sent shivers down your spine. Fingernails, or maybe claws, scratching at the glass, testing it. They were looking for a way in.

Your grip tightened around the scissors in your hand, the dull metal pressing against your palm. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. Your gaze darted to the devil’s trap on the floor, the salt lines around the windows and door. You’d done everything you could to fortify this room, but was it enough?

The tapping grew louder, more insistent. Then came the whispers—low, guttural murmurs that didn’t sound quite human. They were speaking, but the words didn’t make sense, like a language that didn’t belong in this world.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound deafening in the otherwise silent room. You forced yourself to stay still, to stay quiet, even as every instinct screamed at you to run.

But where would you go?

The shadows grew darker, the tapping more frantic. Then, suddenly, the whispers stopped. The silence was worse. It stretched on, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t escape.

And then, a voice—soft, childish, and chilling.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Your blood turned to ice. You knew that voice. It was hers.

Lilith.

You gripped the scissors tighter, your breath catching in your throat. The tapping resumed, but now it was coming from multiple windows, surrounding you.

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to focus. You weren’t going to panic. Not now. You had to think. There’s always a way out. Always.

Your eyes darted around the room, searching for something, anything you could use. The door was barricaded, but if they broke the windows, you wouldn’t have much time. The second they got in, it was over.

What would Bobby do? What would Sam and Dean do?

What would you do?

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. If this was the end, you weren’t going down without a fight.

You stared at the flickering shadows, your mind racing. Panic clawed at the edges of your thoughts, but you shoved it back, locking it behind a wall of sheer determination. Think. Think. Running wasn’t an option—not yet. They’d catch you before you even reached the hallway. You needed a plan. A distraction.

Your gaze swept over the room, cataloging every detail, every possible tool. The barricaded door. The salt lines. The devil’s trap scrawled on the floor. The scavenged supplies—a few candles, some chalk, and a rusty old fire extinguisher. An air vent. It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough. Your eyes landed on the ancient metal trash can in the corner, and an idea began to take shape—reckless and desperate, but it might just work.

Crouching low to stay out of sight, you moved quickly and quietly. The fire extinguisher was the first thing you grabbed, dragging it to the trash can. You shrugged out of your jacket, wincing as the movement pulled at the wound on your arm, and stuffed it inside. Matches from a supply closet went next, the flame sparking to life in your shaking fingers before catching on the fabric. Smoke began curling upward, thick and acrid.

Grabbing a piece of cardboard to control the airflow, you moved to the windows, dumping salt along the ledges and whispering a hurried exorcism ritual you’d memorized from Bobby. Would it be enough to hold? Probably not, but it was all you had.

The smoke was spreading now, seeping out through the cracks around the windows and door. It wouldn’t drive the demons off, but it might obscure their vision enough for you to get away.

Then your eyes flicked to the ceiling—a rusted air vent, partially concealed by a row of cabinets. Your heart thudded. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a way out.

The tapping at the windows grew louder. A voice followed, soft and singsong, with an edge that made your blood run cold.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Lilith’s voice cooed, childlike and cruel. She was in the hallway.

You didn’t look at the windows. You didn’t have time. Moving quickly, you dragged a desk beneath the vent, ignoring the searing pain in your arm. You hauled yourself up, biting back a gasp as the motion jarred your wound, and wrenched the vent cover loose with fire extinguisher, breaking off the screws. It screeched as it gave way, and you froze, the sound cutting through the room like a siren.

Outside, the tapping stopped.

You moved faster, shoving the cover aside and scrambling into the vent. The narrow space closed around you, dark and stifling. Sweat trickled down your back as you pulled the cover into place behind you, muffling the sound as best you could.

The fire below crackled, smoke filling the room. You could hear the demons outside, their muffled voices rising in confusion. Then, with a crash, the window shattered. You heard them pour inside, heavy footsteps as they tried stomping over the salt line.

The vent was tight, your movements slow and awkward. Every shift of your body sent a metallic groan reverberating through the duct, but you kept going, forcing yourself to crawl forward. The smoke was creeping up, the acrid smell stinging your eyes and throat.

From your cramped hiding spot, you could hear them fill that room, it echoed down the metal tube. “Do you like nursery rhymes?” she said, her voice echoing in the silence.

"I think I'll sing you one"

You held your breath, the weight of her presence pressing against your chest like a physical force. The fire crackled louder, and you could hear the scrape of furniture being moved, the demons tearing apart the room in search of you.

And then, silence.

You didn’t dare move. Every muscle in your body was coiled tight, your breath coming in shallow, quiet gasps.

When she spoke again, her voice was softer, almost sweet. And she didn't speak, really, she hummed something.

You heard the scrape of her shoes against the floor, the sound growing fainter as she moved away. The demons’ voices followed, their footsteps retreating into the hallway. The smoke had done its job, disorienting them just enough to mask your escape.

You waited, counting the seconds in your head. Five. Ten. Fifteen. The air in the vent was stifling, your lungs burning with the effort of staying silent, the smoke had now entered the vent, making it hard to breath or see.

Finally, when the only sound was the distant hum of the fire below, you started moving again. Your fingers scraped against the metal, your breaths shallow as you crawled toward the faint light spilling through a vent cover ahead.

When you reached it, you pressed your face to the slats, peering out into the darkness. You took a breath; The hallway was empty. Quiet. But you knew better than to trust it.

You pushed the cover loose, sliding it aside as carefully as you could, and dropped down into the shadows. The school was a labyrinth, the hallways twisting and turning in a way that made it impossible to orient yourself.

But you had to keep moving.

You slipped into the darkness, your steps silent, your breathing steady. You didn’t know where you were going, but one thought kept you moving forward: You weren’t going to die here

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

As they turned the corner, the faint tendrils of smoke curling into the sky caught Sam’s attention first. He stopped mid-stride, his brow furrowing. “Dean,” he said, pointing toward the plume. It was coming from the direction of the old school.

Dean’s head whipped around, his eyes narrowing as he followed Sam’s gesture. “That’s not good,” he muttered, already picking up the pace toward the smoke.

Sam jogged after him, his heart pounding. His mind was racing with possibilities. What if it was you? What if you were in there? The smoke wasn’t thick enough for a full-blown fire—yet—but it was enough to make his chest tighten with dread. And then he caught something else. A faint, sickly-sweet scent that made his stomach churn.

He slowed for half a second, his brow furrowing as the scent grew stronger. It was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He’d smelled it earlier in the town, faint and fleeting, but now it was unmistakable. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut: demon blood.

His stomach twisted, the craving clawing its way up his throat before he could shove it back down. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the smoke ahead instead of the nauseating pull of temptation.

As they approached the edge of the schoolyard, a figure stepped out from behind one of the houses. It was one of the older women they’d seen earlier, her neat apron and floral dress a sharp contrast to the chaos hinted at by the smoke. She waved at them, her smile bright and disarming.

“Well, hello there,” she called, her tone syrupy sweet. “You boys lost? It’s not safe to go near that old school. There's a small fire”

Dean slowed, his hand instinctively reaching for the pistol tucked into his jacket. “Thanks for the warning, ma’am,” he said, his voice clipped, but he didn’t stop walking.

“Oh, no, no, no.” The woman’s voice turned sharper, her steps quickening to block their path. “I insist. You really shouldn’t be here.” Her smile widened unnaturally, her eyes almost too bright.

Dean stopped dead, his jaw tightening as he glanced at Sam, whose face was pale, his sweat-soaked shirt sticking to his back. Dean frowned, noticing the slight tremor in Sam’s hand as he rubbed the back of his neck. The sweat, the shaking—it wasn’t just the heat or exhaustion.

Sam didn’t meet his brother’s gaze, his hand tightening on the strap of his bag as the scent hit him again, sharper this time. Demon blood. It was clinging to the woman, faint but present, like she’d bathed in it. His stomach churned again, and he forced himself to swallow the rising nausea.

Before Dean could speak, the woman’s smile faltered, and her expression twisted into something darker. Her head tilted slightly, her teeth flashing in a grin that was far too wide.

Sam tensed, his hand going for the knife tucked into his belt.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere, boys,” she said, her voice dropping an octave, the saccharine sweetness replaced by a low, menacing tone. And then her eyes turned black.

“Demon!” Dean growled, pulling his gun in a flash. The woman lunged, unnaturally fast, her fingers clawing at him. Dean fired a salt round straight into her chest, sending her stumbling back with a shriek.

Sam rushed forward, grabbing her arm before she could recover, and slammed her into the side of a tree. He whipped out a flask of holy water, splashing it across her face. Smoke hissed and rose as she screamed, writhing against his grip.

“Where is she?” Sam snarled, his voice ragged and trembling. “Where’s the girl?”

The demon just laughed, the sound guttural and mocking. “What girl?” she hissed, her black eyes narrowing. “We have so many here”

Dean strode up, his blade gleaming in the sunlight as he pressed it to her throat. ““Speak, Grandma—use your words. Or I'm going about to go full Bundy on your ass"

But before they could get another word out of her, the demon’s eyes rolled back, and her body slumped, lifeless.

“Damn it!” Dean hissed, shoving the corpse aside. “This place is crawling with them.”

Sam wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, his fingers still trembling as he shoved the flask back into his pocket. That scent was still lingering in the air, faint but pervasive, making his skin crawl.

“We need to get to that school. Now,” he said, his voice tight.

Dean didn’t argue. They took off running toward the smoke, weaving between the rows of dilapidated houses and across the overgrown schoolyard. The closer they got, the thicker the smoke became, its acrid scent stinging their noses. Sam could barely focus on anything other than the pounding in his chest and the way the demon blood seemed to hang in the air, taunting him.

The school loomed ahead, its windows shattered and its exterior weathered with age. Smoke curled out from one of the lower floors, the faint flicker of firelight visible through the broken glass.

Dean’s grip on his gun tightened as they approached the door. “Alright, Sammy. Let’s find her and get the hell out of here.”

A horde of black eyes were headed their way.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

The fluorescent lights above flickered erratically, casting long, jittering shadows across the hallway walls. Your breathing was ragged, every inhale dragging through the sharp pain in your chest. Blood seeped through your shirt, leaving a dark trail on the scuffed tile floor behind you—a trail you knew she could follow.

Lilith’s voice echoed softly down the corridor, calm and melodic, chilling in its childish cheer. She was humming a tune, something eerily familiar but twisted, like a nursery rhyme gone wrong. Her footsteps were slow and deliberate, the sharp click of her shoes on the tile sending shivers down your spine.

You glanced over your shoulder, but the hallway stretched empty behind you, the hum growing louder, closer. Your legs felt like lead, every step a struggle, but you pushed forward, turning down another corridor, your hands brushing against the cold, peeling walls as you stumbled. You'd been bleeding, a lot.

The school was a maze. Every hallway looked the same—endless doors, broken lockers, and darkness that seemed to creep in from the edges. You couldn’t find the exit. All of the rooms were locked, Panic clawed at your throat, but you forced it down, focusing on the sound of your boots against the floor.

“Are you tired yet?” Lilith’s voice rang out, echoing in the empty space. She sounded almost amused, like a child playing hide-and-seek. Ring a ring a Rosie She began so sing again, sweetly.

You didn’t answer, biting back the scream that threatened to rise. Your hands were slick with blood, your vision blurred from exhaustion. You turned another corner, and that’s when you saw it: the door to the swimming pool. It's open.

You pushed it open with what little strength you had left, stumbling into the vast, cavernous room. The air was damp and heavy, carrying the faint scent of mildew. The pool itself was massive, its tiled depths empty and cracked, while a towering wall of glass stood on one side of the room, stretching from floor to ceiling. Through it, you could see the schoolyard outside, the faint glow of streetlights filtering in.

Your gaze darted around the space, searching for something—anything—that could help you. But the room was barren save for a few scattered chairs and broken tiles.

You needed time.

Ashes, ashes. They all fall down

Behind you, the door creaked open, and Lilith’s silhouette appeared in the frame. Her pristine white dress swayed as she stepped inside, her shoes padding softly against the tiled floor.

“Hide and seek,” she said brightly, clapping her hands together. “That’s what we’re playing, right? I’m really good at it, you know.”

You staggered back, your grip tightening around a chair you’d grabbed earlier. Your knees buckled slightly, the blood loss making your head swim, but you refused to let yourself fall. Not yet.

Lilith tilted her head, her expression innocent but her eyes glinting with something dark and monstrous. “But you’re not playing fair,” she said, her voice dipping into a childish whine. “You keep running away. Don’t you want to have fun with me?”

She took another step forward, her smile widening. “I promise, it won’t hurt for long. Just a little bit. And then we can be best friends forever!”

Your heart hammered in your chest as you backed toward the pool, your gaze flicking to the glass wall. Maybe—just maybe—you could break it and get outside.

“Stay back!” you warned, your voice hoarse, as you lifted the chair, holding it between you and her.

Lilith’s giggle echoed through the room, sweet and sinister. “Oh, look at you” she cooed, her tone dripping with mock affection.

You turned and hurled the chair at the glass with every ounce of strength you had left. The impact sent a dull thud reverberating through the room, but the glass didn’t even crack. Desperation clawed at you as you grabbed another piece of debris and swung it at the glass, again and again, each strike more frantic than the last.

Nothing. Not even a scratch.

“Uh-oh,” Lilith teased, her voice sing-song as she stepped closer.

You turned back to face her, your chest heaving, your vision growing hazier by the second. The world seemed to tilt, the edges of the room blurring as exhaustion and blood loss dragged you down.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-" You chant. Your back pressed against the glass, gripping the edge of a railing for balance as your legs threatened to give out.

Lilith stopped at the edge of the pool, Laughing. “You’re not looking so good,” she said, her tone dripping with false concern. “Maybe you should lie down”

"omnis legio, omnis congregatio et-" It's not working.

Your fingers fumbled at your belt, pulling out the scissors you had. You didn’t have the strength for much, but you weren’t going to make this easy for her. If this was your last stand, then so be it.

"Ergo, draco maledicte, ecclesiam-"

A gunshot rang in your ears. And that’s when your eyes caught movement at the window. You frown, maybe your blood loss had finally reached the level of hallucinations.

Sam. Dean?

Outside the glass, through the harsh fluorescent glare, Sam and Dean were there. They were fighting—tearing through a horde of demons with a ferocity you’d never seen before. Dean’s movements were sharp and efficient, his blade flashing in the dim light as he fought with all the reckless determination you knew so well.

But it was Sam who stopped you cold.

He was covered in blood—too much blood. You couldn’t tell how much of it was his or theirs. His face was twisted with something raw and desperate, his swings more brutal, more ruthless than you’d ever seen. He fought like a man possessed.

And then his eyes locked on yours. You couldn't help the beat of relief inside you.

The noise and chaos around you faded for a moment, drowned out by the pounding of your own heart as you stared at each other. His lips moved, shouting something, but the sound didn’t reach you through the thick pane of glass. His face twisted with frustration as he slammed his fists against the unyielding surface, trying to break through, trying to reach you.

They can't get to you.

You hand grips your makeshift weapon tighter as you heard her shoes come to a halt. You didn't look at her, only them.

You let out a soft, defeated smile, the kind that said, It's okay without words. You didn’t have the strength to shout back, didn’t have the breath to explain or reassure him. All you could do was stand there, bleeding and tired, and hope he’d understand.

Lilith tilted her head, noticing your gaze and following it to the scene outside. Her face lit up with delight, her hands clasping together like she’d been given a gift. “Oh, how sweet,” she cooed. “We have an audience.”

She stepped closer, her shoes making clicking sounds against the tile as she approached. The sound of Sam and Dean’s shouts grew louder as they slammed against the glass, desperate to break through.

You heard the creak of Bobby’s porch swing, the faint clink of his glass bottle resting on the rail, the wood groaning softly under his weight.

You could see Dean hacking at the surface with his blade, his jaw tight with frustration. Sam was yelling something, his voice hoarse and frantic, but the words were lost to you.

You smelled the faintest hint of old paper and ink, Sam’s hand resting on a dusty lore book between you. The bitter taste of coffee lingered in your throat.

The lights above you started to flicker, you could feel the heat of her presence, the suffocating weight of her power pressing down on you as she reached out, her hand stopping just shy of your face.

You felt the weight of Dean’s jacket draped over your shoulders, heavy and warm against the night’s chill. His hand had lingered for just a moment after settling it around you..

“Thank you for this” Lilith murmured, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You don't know how helpful you've been”

The glass behind you shook violently, the sound of impact reverberating through the room as Sam and Dean threw everything, they had at it. You glanced over your shoulder, your vision blurring, and saw Sam scream something, his face contorted with anguish as he pounded against the glass. You were so tired. Your grip slackened on the scissors as you started to slide down the wall. You were to weak.

You felt the sting of warmth on your cheeks, sunlight filtering through Bobby’s kitchen window as he handed you a plate of pancakes. “Eat up,” he’d grumbled, though his voice held that familiar undercurrent of care.

And then, in a flash of blinding white light, the room shifted.

You saw the soft glow of the Impala’s headlights cutting through the dark as it pulled into Bobby’s yard, Sam and Dean leaning against the hood, their laughter quiet but warm, a sound that felt like home.

The demons outside cried out as a new presence descended, their forms disintegrating into smoke and ash under the sheer force of its power. You blinked against the brilliance, barely able to process what was happening as the heavy thud of something filled the air.

Lilith’s smile faltered for the first time, her white eyes narrowing as she turned toward the source of the light. A silhouette.

Castiel? The last of your strength slipping away as the adrenaline burned out of your system. The world tilted dangerously, and you felt your knees buckle beneath you.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

AN: Yeah... Don't kill me. I feel severely disturbed at how fast I wrote this. Anyway, hope you enjoyed guys. Feedback is always welcome

Tag list:

@youdontknowe @theamuz  @mysteryenchatress @craycraycraic @craycraycraic @variant-zee @ur2moms @ambiguous-avery @steviespookie @s0urw00lf @bewr0210 @mostlymarvelgirl @dear-bambi2 @yeehawgiddyup13

[hay-jud]

A little Jewish joy this Rosh Hashanah:

Before the kids left the service for activities, our rabbi let them come up and sit on the steps to talk with them. After, she asked one of the kids if he wanted to blow his shofar again (he'd blown it to open services). He said he wanted his little brother to blow it. So he helped his 4 year old brother to hold up the huge ram's horn and the little guy successfully did it! Everyone laughed and applauded and smiles were abound as the kids left.

I know this kid a little; he's so proud he's Jewish and was so excited to start Hebrew school last year. Just happy to see our future is so bright.

[wyervan]

@r0tting-rat & @amarynthian-fortress I hope you don’t mind each other’s company in this ask.

I also hope u don’t mind that I tried writing for this ask. Also it’s halfway through November 😆 hope your not too sick of Halloween. I know I never am 😝

It’s been a reeeeally long time since I’ve written much of anything 😳 but I wanted to try it out again and both you guys are such amazing writers and i would be totally open to your feedback and suggestions 🥺🥺

DCA Slasher AU

content warnings: general spookiness i guess lol? oh but also characters describing acts of graphic violence :D

🌞🔪🤡🪓🌜🩸 💫 👾 🌞🔪🤡🪓🌜🩸 💫 👾

The October air is refreshingly cool as you step out from your car. Looking up into the fading pale sky, you see pink cirrus clouds lining a glowing sunset. You stand there for a moment and inhale deeply, briefly in awe of the color of the light. A sudden whistling breeze rattles the branches of a balding tree, sending a flurry of yellow leaves skittering across the parking lot.

Remembering that you have somewhere to be, you turn on your heel, slamming the car door a bit too hard and startling both yourself and a crow that was sitting on a nearby fencepost. It chides you sternly for your disruption with a caw.

Ignoring the jeer, you start down the sidewalk toward downtown, joining a half a dozen others leaving the lot, all of them dressed in varying degrees of costume.

Apparently for Halloween this year, the town had sectioned off a whole six block radius of shops, restaurants, and other commercial establishments to encourage business and tourism for the holiday. Blockades prevented cars from entering the area for the evening while vendor booths and pedestrians filled the streets. Local businesses handed out goodies to the trick or treaters, usually working in some advertisement of their wares and services.

You found yourself actually excited for this Halloween in a way that you hadn’t felt since you were a child. You even dressed up! Ahh—kinda. You just pulled something from your closet and did your hair in a way that made you look like that one character from that show that you watched two seasons of three years ago.

But you had promised Sun you’d wear a costume tonight. You had left work much earlier than usual, vowing to return to the arcade now and stay late to assist with the festivities. Your outfit was quick enough to put on that you had managed to sneak in a nap before heading back out.

You pass kids in costumes. They walk and chitter to each other excitedly, yelping happily and playfully pushing each other around. A smile spreads widely across your face at the sight of their joy. Parents or scowling teen siblings follow closely behind. Now inside the blockades, booths displaying all manner of seasonally-themed crafts, foodstuffs, and trinkets line both sides of the street, people flitting from vendor to vendor. Candy bowls sit ripe for pillaging at the edge of every station.

Enjoying the sights and sounds, but not wanting to get caught up with the fair, you stick to the sidewalk. You round the last corner and across the street you see a small crowd of strange creatures gathered in front of the arcade—a cat, a wizard, two pirates, Shrek, and multiple Disney princesses.

Their attention, you see as you cross the street and finally step on to the curb in front of the arcade, is entirely focused the clown crouched in front of them. You stop behind the group of kids and the clown’s eyes raise meet yours, flick down your form, and then refocus on the little girl in front of him, all in half a second.

“Mr. Sun, we know magic isn’t real. My cousin showed me that trick and then he showed me an entire book about fake magic! It’s all slide a hand or whatever…”

The clown, dressed in pale bright yellow and burgundy stripes, shakes his mane and brandishes a card with bear and the number 4 on it to the girl (one of the pirates). His already wide grin stretches further.

“Little Captain Shelley, if magic wasn’t real, then how did I know that this is the card you actually wanted, hmm?” he says.

Shelley the Pirate opens her mouth to retort, but before she can say anything, the clown suddenly flicks his pinkie and flips the card once, twice, thrice… and then there’s a bar of chocolate grasped between his gloved fingers instead of the bear card.

The other kids give small gasps of delight. Shelley is quiet and wide-eyed for a moment before a shy smile breaks over her face and she snatches up the chocolate bar, dashing away giggling to her parents standing a few paces away. They scold her lightly for not saying “thank you” to the clown, who is now passing out candies to the remaining trick or treaters.

You look around, taking in the decor that you and your bosses sweated over just this morning. You had watched as Sun hung string lights from the eaves at painstakingly even lengths. The goofy-looking giant spider that you had wrestled with earlier sat fat and content in a gauzy net of cobweb pinned over a window. A fog machine situated in the entrance between the two sets of doors into the arcade spilt thick mist out onto the pavement.

You spy the other clown fifteen or so feet away, slumped in a fold-out lawn chair next to the arcade’s doors. His deep blue hat and pants, accented with yellow stars, stand out starkly against the ruddy red of his seat. He’s already watching you—head propped up in one hand braced against the chair arm, the other idly fishing through the bucket of sweets he has resting in his lap.

“Star light, star bright, won’t you grant me candy tonight?”

You pull your attention back down to the red and yellow clown to see that the trick or treaters have ran off to raze other pastures, leaving him alone with you. He’s looking up at you now, cheeky grin cradled in his palms... then suddenly springs from his haunches to his full height—easily six and a half feet. The bells on his wrists chime abruptly with the motion. He weaves his fingers together, palms out, and brings his arms out and over his head, spine arching with the force of a full-body stretch.

He drops his long arms and takes one stride to close the distance between you. He leans a bit to the side, hand going absently to rub at his left knee, and gives a dramatically contented sigh. “Ahh. Little monsters and princesses may come and go, but the Star always returns to the evening sky,” waxes the clown—who is your boss of course, because that’s the kind of life you lead now.

Ah. And he’s in character. More so than usual.

“Starlight, what kind of treats did you bring us?” he asks, bright blue eyes wide, chin tucked to gaze steadily down at you.

“Oh shit. I forg-“

He leans further in toward you, face suddenly less than a foot from yours, and you jump a bit. He raises a single slender finger as if giving an instruction, or about to shush you.

“Language, Star, especially when there are children in the vicinity. Anyway, it’s fine, fine, fine. We have more inside” Sun steps back and gives a dismissive wave. “Moony, could you get the two other five pound candy bags from the breakroom, pleeease?”

Moon’s head rolls lazily to give Sun a dead look, long strands of black hair spilling across the stark light side of his face.

“You can have all the licorice, red and black.” Sun states.

Apparently satisfied with this, Moon’s head lolls back to a neutral position. He sets his candy bucket on the sidewalk, gets up with a low grunt, and trudges through the fog and into the arcade. You turn, opening your mouth to ask Sun what he’d like you to do now that your here, but he’s already prancing back to his post—just in time to excitedly meet a Mario and Luigi pair.

You walk over and take up Moon’s nearly empty bucket of candy. Hmm… you wondered if Moon had been eating most of this himself, judging by the numerous empty wrappers mixed in with few yet untouched pieces of chocolate you see at the bottom of the bucket.

“Trick or treat!” Two pairs of children’s sneakers enter your vision.

You look up to see a couple of familiar faces—Gregory and Cassie, both wearing blocky helmets and body pieces made of tinfoil-covered cardboard and covered in glued-on switches, buttons, and dials. They have their arms and legs stuck through wide flexible tubing and are holding lumpy pillowcases filled with their spoils.

“Oh, hey guys. Robots—nice. How’s the haul been tonight?” you ask.

The styrofoam balls that top the antennae attached to their helms bounce in the air when they look at each other and nod their square heads.

“Pretty good. Wickson’s down the street was giving out caramel apples. Think you can top that?” Cassie says.

You glance down at the meager dregs of what was left in the candy bucket. But before you can offer up the scant pickings and apologize, Moon’s voices rasps from behind you.

“Kid, don’t you know treats aren’t for brats?” Moon’s arm brushes your shoulder as he remerges from the arcade, two bags of assorted candies clutched in one fist. He looks down on Gregory, lips pulled into a slight sneer. Gregory faces him fully and juts up his chin at a defiant angle.

“Sounds like a sore loser talking.”

“Kid, I already beat your score again this morning. Ain’t got nothing to be sore about.” The sneer turns into a smug lopsided smile, displaying a sharp canine. You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. Moon had forgone his usual nap on the break room couch, choosing instead to stand hunched over an arcade cabinet for the entire morning upon seeing GREG in mocking neon green at the top of the high scores. His desperation was evident by eleven when he snapped at you for vacuuming too close to the power cable.

“Yeah? Well, I’ll be back in this weekend.” Gregory promises, narrowing his eyes and attempting to awkwardly cross his tube arms in front of his blocky shell. “Your scores aren’t safe.”

Moon rolls his eyes and brings the hand holding the candy bags up, releasing one into the bucket you’re holding. Unprepared for the sudden weight, you almost drop it. He grips the top of the other in both hands and splits the plastic seam. Then he offers it stiffly to Gregory and Cassie.

“Here. Before I change my mind. Pick what you want then scram. No licorice though.” The kids don’t hesitate, hands diving into the bag to fish out a Banana Laffy Taffy and an Almond Joy. Both of them crinkle their noses at the choice the other made. Cassie smiles sweetly and thanks Moon, starting back toward the vendor booths. Gregory also turns to leave but then gives Moon another narrow-eyed look. He brings two fingers up to his own eyes and then turns his hand so that his fingers jut toward Moon—the classic gesture for I’m watching you—then he waddles away, tube legs impeding his movement slightly.

You set the candy bucket down in Moon’s chair and turn to face him, hands coming to your hips.

“Kind of lazy, don’t you think, to just be wearing your work costume for Halloween?” you tease and flick the bell of his hat resting at his shoulder. Moon just shrugs and gives you a bored look. His thick dark eyebrows flick up.

“Yeah, and what are you suppose to be? Some sort of nerd businessman?”

“No! What? You don’t know? I’m that one guy from that show with all the other people who all do the thing together.”

The street light above you two suddenly flickers on. You look up at the sky. In the half hour or so since you had left your rental, it had already darkened to a bruising indigo. You look back to Moon and in the stark orangey light, you spot a dark reddish mark on the white half of his shirt that you didn’t see before. You peer closer and raise a finger to point out the stain just below the blue ruffle collar he wore around his neck. “Hey, you got something right there. Jeez, is that blood?”

You scan him over again, looking for any sign of injury but find nothing concerning on what two-toned skin you could see… but looking at him carefully revealed an even larger stain on the dark-side of his costume, deepening the charcoal color of the fabric to almost black.

Glancing back up, you see a strangely stiff expression frozen on his mouth. But Moon’s eyes are intense, slightly wide, trained carefully on you. A spark of something jumps in your stomach under his gaze. You look away and try to break the weird sudden energy with a joke. “You know you should really be more careful while you laze about on—“

“Last time I wore this, I killed someone.”

This statement, spoken flatly, makes you forget your awkwardness and look back at him again sharply, mouth slightly agape. A moment passes while you stare at him blankly… then two… then a small impish smile settles on your face.

“Yeah? Did you suffocate him with a balloon animal?”

“I hit him in the back of the skull with a heavy statue from his mantle,” Moon says in the same matter-of-fact tone. You’re slightly taken aback again, but then he continues steadily “And when he woke up, I smashed his knees with a bat so he couldn’t run away.”

“Ah, the ol’ Tonya Harding. Classic,” you deadpan.

Moon’s face suddenly dips down closer to yours. His eyes have widened further in somewhat alarming glee and a slow smile was beginning to stretch his lips. You jerk slightly at the sudden closeness but stand your ground, not wanting to be the first to give into this odd game.

“And I took a knife and peeled strips off him until he begged for me to kill him… then I stuck it in his throat… and watched him choke to death on his own blood.”

“Moony, my old friend—my partner in clown, brother of bells—“ You break away from Moon’s gaze to see Sun approaching, his hands gesturing in a whirling motion in the air. “I’m SURE what you’re blathering to them about is very important—BUT, I need to pull our shining Star away so that they may attend to the prize counter. Some children inside will certainly be wanting to exchange their hard-won tickets for treasures very soon—mhm!” He finishes with a hearty confident nod.

“Sun was there. It was his knife.” Moon breathes, close to your ear, then he leans back from his hunched position over you and you find you can finally take a full breath.

Sun’s jester shoes stop-short mid-step with a violent jingle and a harsh scrap. His gesturing halts and his expression freezes in a wide but strained smile. He hums a nervous, sort of giggly noise of confusion.

“I beg your pardon?” Sun asks through his teeth, head tilting at a sharp angle.

“Moon was just telling me about what you guys do in your free time. You didn’t tell me you guys were suppose to be dressed as the Killer Klowns from Down the Street. I don’t even see any blood on your costume, Sun.” This actually earns you a low devious chuckle from Moon, which makes you feel an embarrassing bloom of pride. Sun doesn’t seem to find it so funny.

His eyes flick to Moon, to you, to Moon, and then back to you, and then Moon again… and then again back to you. His smile doesn’t drop.

“Ah yes… well, you know how hard even fake blood can be to get out of clothes.” Sun says in a constrained, somewhat aloof tone. He’s staring at Moon again with a strangely pointed look in his eye. “Wouldn’t want to scare anybody with stains like that after the holiday, now would we? They’d think we were a couple of lunatics.”

“You guys are kind of nuts though, you know.” You state. This draws both their gazes to fix on you again. “You bought this place didn’t you? With its history and everything.” You stick a thumb back in the direction of the arcade. “Pretty crazy. But you turned it into a cool place.” A smile lights your face at a feeling of genuine appreciation for your current situation in life. Sure, your showers were mostly cold water and your car was probably gonna fall apart on the drive home, but you had a pretty cool job with two people whom you now considered to be more your friends than bosses.

“Aight, I’m gonna head inside now.” You pivot with a wave and turn away from Sun and Moon, feeling the heavy weight of their twin gazes on the back of your neck. The sky is now nearly black, cold, distant stars glinting. A gust of wind picks up and sends fog swirling around your legs as you enter the arcade. The air, pleasantly cool only an hour ago, now bites chillily at your exposed face and throat.

🌞🔪🤡🪓🌜🩸 💫 👾 🌞🔪🤡🪓🌜🩸 💫 👾

Okay that’s all folks :D This was what I was working on most of the week. I started the first paragraph and was like “this is really hard!” then skipped to halfway through to some dialogue I knew I wanted. It’s hard to find the most efficient words to describe the scene and characters.

I’m happy with it! but I feel like it might read a bit stiff? Maybe you can tell I’ve read and watched too much historical fiction. Worry sometimes I come across a bit stuffy or old fashion-sounding.

Idk idk like I said at the beginning, it’s been a very long time since I’ve written any prose. Hope you liked it~ most probably definitely will do more, it just takes a lot of time and thought.

Please leave me your thoughts~~