#Small Johnny is just funnier

[jei-rifni]

Part 2 of this i guess -> (the dumb comic where Gyro flies)

[neowinestainedress]

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: any nct member!ghostface x detective!fem!reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: “horror”, thriller, yandere-ish, smut, halloween special, scream!au 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in these past months your only goal is to find the killer that is terrorizing the town of Woodsboro, but when you get close to him and feel like you finally have the upper hand, Ghostface turns the game around again.  Or, Ghostface wants to play with you but not like he does with his victims, and you let him. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: dark content, talks of [m*rders, sl!tting throats, v!olent stuff in general], dr*g/anaesthetic use [to make mc fall asleep but unrelated to any sexu*l act (she’s awake and willing)], mentions of [dubcon] phone s*x + masturbation, implied stalking, use of restrainers, cl!t rubbing, rough t!t/n!pple play, protected s*x turns unprotected, kn!fe play, ‘fear’ play, clothes cutting, fake sympathy, pet names used in a mocking way, degradation, rough s*x, hair pulling, spit (1), p*ssy slapping, dacryphilia, possessiveness, 1 brief talk of carving, polaroids pictures, all consensual but i’ll still put a dubcon warning just to be safe (tbh it’s more like hate sex bc the mc would rip his head off but also fuck him), reader is kinda fucked up herself. | inclusivity notes: reader has hair long enough that can be pulled (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type but reader is manhandled a few times and has b**bs and *ss big enough that can be cupped, no mention of skin color, no use of y/n 𝐖𝐂: 10.662k 𝐀/𝐍: this year i had vague ideas for halloween but not even a defined good one, i had some suggestions i liked but were far too complicated, and i had no energy to write them in time. but a ghostface/scream au was an idea i had in mind for some time, the original was a ghostface cosplay, but then i went with this one, and I’m happy with how it turned out. i had 2 members in mind (johnny/haechan) for the og plot, then someone suggested jeno and jisung (as a duo) but if i unmasked him the plot wouldn’t have made sense anymore, so he’s whoever you want him to be! the other ghostface is mentioned but doesn’t appear physically in the story, you can pick who you want for him too. i never wrote blankly for the male mc so let me know if it was good. please, if you like it, leave feedback through reblogs or asks! and also let me know who you imagined behind the mask 👀 enjoy and happy halloween

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄.

Your mother always told you to mind your business or else your curiosity was going to be the death of you one day.

It’s clear you never treasured her words, and your curiosity led you to be a private detective with only a few thrills in your life since now, nothing too exciting ever happened in your small town, until one day you received a phone call from the district of Woodsboro. A string of murders was terrorizing the town after years and all the evidence led to another psycho who thought it was funnier to kill people while putting on a Ghostface mask. 

Months have passed since that call and you have nothing concrete. It’s like he’s only messing up with you and, in the meantime, innocent people keep dying. But you have your theories, the ones you only keep to yourself, stored away in the privacy of your diary, hidden under the pillow of your bed. Your colleagues seem decent people, but with time, you’ve learned to trust nobody. 

And your secret theories led you right where you are now. In the open country, away from the small town, where a small barn grabbed your attention the first time you moved to Woodsboro. 

The barn seems empty but eerie vibes surround it. The strong smell of the grass stings your nose as your black boots walk on the muddy ground, the rain of this morning still lingering in the air and in the countryside. 

When you reach the perimeter, you squeeze your eyes to see inside, but the few tiny windows don’t allow you a big view. The more you walk around it to make sure it’s empty, the more the hold on your concealed carry with the gun inside tightens.  

It’s late October and the cold penetrates your brown leather jacket, but the temperature is not the thing that makes you shiver. 

You should’ve never followed your instinct and come here alone. You should’ve spoken to somebody else in the department, told them your theory and have some backup in this crazy plan of yours. But when your impulses take over, your smartness slips away, and you find yourself in the worst situations ever. 

Like right now. You stand in front of the wooden door and find the courage to push it open. You should feel thrilled, you found him. You found the psycho that has been haunting the town for months now, messing up with you with clues and mocks that pushed you farther away from the right path. Yet, you beat him, for once it looks like you have the upper hand now that you’re walking around the empty barn away from the town. But something doesn’t feel right, your guts are telling you something but you don’t listen, you can’t walk away now that you’re so close.

There’s not much to inspect, a few pieces of furniture, a disheveled mattress in the middle of the room, and a few chairs in a corner. It almost looks like an abandoned farm if only it wasn’t for the unnerving vibes that carries with it and for two walls that call your attention. On the right, there’s a map of Woodsboro, pins linked by a red thread, connecting all the places where Ghostface hit in these past months. Your hand quickly reaches the back of your pocket to pull out your phone and snap a picture, hoping there will also be places he didn’t go, and this time you can be faster at stopping him. 

What’s on the other side is worse. 

“What the fuck…” you mumble under your breath as you step closer to the wall. Polaroid pictures hanging from it, Ghostface and the victims, you guess, moments before they were brutally killed. You’re not surprised, one of the gifts he would leave on the scene of the crime being Polaroids, but they didn’t make much sense. “He’s a fucking psycho,” you scoff as you take another picture. 

“Surpriiise!!” 

Your phone falls on the floor with a loud thud and your heart jumps in your throat when his voice breaks the deafening silence in the room, but your reflections are swift enough to make you reach for your gun and turn around, shooting. 

“Boo, fail,” Ghostface laughs, hitting your wrist hard enough to make the gun fall on the floor next to your phone. “You’re really not as smart as I thought you were, don’t you know intruding on someone else’s property is illegal?” he points out, pushing your body against the wall, the sharp blade of his knife grazing the skin of your neck. 

You try to keep calm, deep slow breaths as you try to don’t look scared for your life. You might die today, but you won’t give him that satisfaction. 

“Don’t look so frightened, my dear. I’m quite happy to have you all to myself,” he chuckles, his hand lifts to caress your face and you struggle to avoid it, but the click of his tongue makes you stop. “I wouldn’t act too careless, it’s sharp.” 

You stop moving. You are smart, and you can get yourself out of this situation. “Do you want to play a game, Ghostface?” You ask, ignoring his taunts, the irony in your voice is clear, just like it’s blatant in the slow bat of your eyelashes, but your words only make him laugh. 

“Oh, that’s not how it works, detective. That’s my line. You didn’t study the script?” 

You scoff, trying to take time to free yourself. “We’re switching roles. Do you want to play a game? It’s called you turn yourself in and I put you in jail.” 

He snickers, and his head tilts to have a better look at your face. He’s had many people in this position before and never saw so little fear in their eyes. “Now you want to act like you don’t love the chase?” 

“Fuck you, I don’t love it,” you spit out, narrowing your eyes, desperately trying to get a glimpse of anything under the mask. Another failed attempt. 

He laughs darkly, so deep it hits you to the core and makes you shiver — in fear or excitement, you’ll let this decide to your better judgment. “I know you do,” he coos as his thumb covered with the black glove caresses your lips. “Enjoy the little clues I leave you around? You were interested in the pictures, I knew you loved them, that’s why you get the prettiest ones. I tell you so much, but you don’t understand me,” his voice is calm, scarily calm, and full of sarcasm filled with a sweetness that feels like a slap across your face. “I was a bit mad it took you so long to find me.”

Rage shoots up inside of you, but you instantly push it down, you can’t lose your composure. “So, what are you going to do, kill me?” Your voice drops of a tone, and your eyes turn into a teasing gaze, making him chuckle. 

“Talking about death so nonchalantly with me, mmh… are you brave or dumb? Because if you ask so nicely, I just might let the knife sink in.” 

You laugh lightheartedly, putting up the best performance of your life before your eyes flutter seducingly at him. “No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel,” you coo, lips in a pout and innocence in your eyes, until you hit him with a swift, strong kick between his legs, the distraction of your performance giving you time to slip to the side, causing just a bit of your skin to cut and bleed. 

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he kneels to the ground. You reach for your gun, but barely have time to grab it before he pushes you on the floor again. “We were having so much fun, you just have to ruin everything.” 

You’re waiting for the worst when he traps you on the floor with his body on yours, but his arms don’t lift to stab you in your chest or stomach, the last thing you see before passing out is his hand lifting in the air and the sting of a needle pushing past your skin. 

The white light of the room feels like staring directly at the sun when your eyes blink repeatedly as you try to come back to earth and push away the hammering of your headache. You groan hoarsely, trying to adjust to the light, but the biggest discomfort comes from your shoulders, pushed behind your back and around the chair you’re now sitting on. 

“Sorry, I had to tie you up, but you’re a bit feisty today. Didn’t want you to get hurt,” Ghostface replies to your silent questions — not so silent, considering how loud you’re groaning and struggling on the chair, trying to break free. He’s standing in front of you, but a chair is right behind him so you guess he was sitting there before you woke up. 

“You can’t even take one down without a fight? Need to kill me without breaking a sweat?” You taunt, eyes dark and a deep frown on your forehead. 

But your teasing seems to leave him unfazed as he walks toward you with a glass in hand. “Drink.” 

You scoff, staring at him. You hate that you can’t see him, not even because you want to find out who’s hiding under there, but also because you feel like you can’t confront him well enough. “You think I’m so stupid to accept a drink from a psycho?”

His head rolls back followed by an annoyed sigh as he stops right in front of you. His black boots bumping against yours. “You know that’s not how I move, no fun in killing with these shortcuts. Drink. I would never want you to pass out here,” he coos while his free hand pushes your hair out of your face. You can’t see behind the mask, but you know he has a shit-eating grin on his face. He moves the glass to your lips, but you turn to the side, he doesn’t give you a choice when he strongly grips your chin, pushing your lips open, and forces the water down your throat. “Oops, it spilled all over, you’re so messy, detective,” he snickers when water drips on your chin and shirt. As if he didn’t do it on purpose. 

“Asshole,” you mutter, eyes closing into fissures while you look at him. His head tilts, “Oh, brave. I could slit your throat right now, add you to the collection.” 

You chuckle darkly, shaking your head. “You won’t,” you say firmly. “You’ve never had someone quite as fun as me.” 

A low laughter escapes from the mask. “So, you are at least a bit smart?” His hand places on your thigh and you try to move away, but the chair screeches on the floor, and his hold only tightens. 

“Don’t play games now. Don’t fake it,” he groans, hand moving up on your blue jeans. “You enjoyed our last conversation,” he whispers, the mask close to your face, so close you can almost see his eyes behind the blackness of the two holes. “Had shivers run down your back when the phone rang in the middle of the night, haven’t you? You sat up straight in your big bed, all alone, and felt fear take over. Never answer unknown numbers. That’s what they say, that’s what you say, running around town, warning everyone about me,” he laughs deeply. “And then look at you, picking up that phone call, eager to hear my voice on the other side.” 

“You’re a psycho,” you spit out, struggling against the restrainers. But once again it is an act; he is a psycho, but you are starting to fear you aren’t much different. 

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I am, never denied that. But don’t act better than me. You stood right in front of that window, stripping for me, touching yourself for me, moaning for me. How fucked up that is?” He snickers. “You have fucked up fantasies, my pretty detective, but I’m not one to judge. I’d gladly help.” 

You laugh quietly, trying to look confident but it comes out shaky from your throat, “If you want to help, take the mask off and show me who you are.” 

“Wow, wow, darling. Not so soon, I’m not one to burn stages in a relationship. What next? Want to meet my mom?” 

You inhale sharply, and spit on him, “God, you’re insane.” Your eyes snap open when he pulls out of his back the sharp knife, your breath is stuck in your throat and fear runs all over your body. And once again you regret how impulsive you are. You did well all these past years of training and then on the first real-life experiences at pushing this side of you in the cage, but it looks like it’s coming out like a beast that’s been trapped too long.  

“Don’t be so scared,” he huffs, the fake sympathy in his voice should make you mad but it triggers something else inside of you, and you hate to admit that he might be right, you’re enjoying this more than you should, you’re enjoying this entire chase more than you should. It’s like a game, but it’s not when real people are dying. “I would never hurt you,” his voice is raspy, slightly muffled by the ghost mask he’s wearing, and the knife sits on your sternum. “I hope you didn’t like this shirt too much, detective.” 

You don’t have time to react, the steel cuts your shirt neatly, the sound bouncing in the small room and the sharp tip brushing your skin. You shiver, gulping hard and closing your eyes, already feeling the sensation of it cutting through you, but it doesn’t happen. 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head disappointingly. “You truly don’t trust me. I’m offended, and I don’t like when people offend me. Just like I don’t like when they hang up the phone while we’re playing. If people were respectful, I wouldn’t have to kill them, you know?” You stare at him with a furrow on your face, you’d like to take the mask off and see his eyes, not really to find out who’s hiding underneath that mask, but to see if his gaze is as insane as you imagine it to be. 

“Let me go,” you say, the skin of your wrist bruised from the pressure you’re applying against the ropes.

“Don’t struggle too much, it turns me on,” he warns, kneeling at your level. He smiles softly and thinks it’s a pity you can’t see it, you’re just so pretty, with your beautiful face filled with different emotions and your eyes looking at him with a gaze that wants to be threatening but it’s all the opposite, almost making you look like a lost puppy.  

“Why?” 

“Why? It’s funny to see the victim beg for their life, it makes you feel powerful, you could show mercy, but you don’t,” the smug smile on his hidden face can be heard in his voice and you shiver at how cold he sounds, the shrug of his shoulder is just the cherry on top to his unhinged behaviour. 

“So, you’re just going to keep me here?” 

“No, I want to play with you. Do you want to play a game, detective?” 

Your gaze falls on your thighs where his hand is placed again, the black gloves preventing it from leaving traces behind, as it slowly moves closer to your heat. 

You snicker, pretending to play it cool, but your breath twitches at the contact. “’Cause if I said no you would stop?” 

“Hey, I’m a killer, not a rapist,” he defends, shrugging. Yet, you still don’t reply, and he doesn’t like that. “So? I’m not so patient when I ask people if they want to play with me, so don’t test me.” 

You swallow hard, swiftly looking around to see if you can pull a move on him. Damnit, it’s your chance to get him and throw him in jail but instead, you’re seriously thinking about his proposal. You fool yourself that you’re only doing this because maybe he could slip, maybe he could say something in the heat of the moment that could give you a clue, or he could leave his traces on you somehow, maybe his mask could fall, but you know you’re feeling something else. Attraction. 

“I said,” he mutters, his face comes closer to yours, making you pull back, and the knife pushes flat in the hollow of your chest, “do you want to play a game, detective?” 

“Yes, yes, I do,” you mutter, starting to breathe again when he pulls the knife away. 

“Good, I love playing with you.” His fingers move to unbutton your jeans and then pull the zip down, you look at him attentively. “Lift your hips for me, love?”

You glare at him at the pet name but he only chuckles deeply. “What? If I’m rough with you, you get mad, if I’m sweet with you, you get mad. I can never win, can I?” 

You huff, deciding it’s better to not reply and just do as he says. Your pants are quickly at your ankles and suddenly you feel even more trapped than before now that you can’t even move your legs, but his touch on your naked skin takes you away from that thought. 

“Pretty panties just for me?” He coos, tilting his head to the side as he stares at your burgundy panties with the lace trim. “Were you hoping to find me here so we could finish what we started on the phone?” 

“Shut up, this is not for you,” you retort, your forehead creasing with a furrow. 

“And who is it for?” He asks, cupping your pussy, watching your body shiver. “Oh, no, please don’t tell me there’s a boyfriend I’m not aware of. I’d hate to kill him.” 

You bite your lips and keep the contact with the mask, but words struggle to come out when his index finger starts rubbing on your clit, moving from the slit —where you can feel you’re starting to get wet— to your sensitive nub. “It’s not for you,” you repeat, trying to don’t show how much his touch is affecting you. 

“Well, you want me to work so hard too, I’ll have to find out on my own if someone is playing with what’s mine,” he replays nonchalantly. “I know where to find you, maybe I’ll come visit again.” 

“You talk so much for someone who wants to play so badly,” you retort, a teasing grin curling your lips. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know my princess was so eager,” he replies, saccharine voice filled with mockery, before a harsh slap lands on your pussy making you jolt and whimper. “Want my fingers?”

The glare you give him would be enough to kill him; isn’t this pathetic enough? How much more does he want you to humiliate yourself? 

He rolls his head back and then the knife is against your neck again. “Do we have to do this every time I ask you a question? Do you want my fingers, detective?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. Your body relaxes momentarily before tensing up with excitement again, but it quickly shifts to disappointment. “What are you doing?” You ask when his covered fingers press against you again. 

“Oh, you’ll get the gloves too, I’m not dumb, you know? Don’t leave fingerprints on dead bodies, won’t even leave them on yours,” his voice is smug, all the confidence of someone who didn’t make a wrong move and somehow was always ahead of you and the police department. 

You hate him. You hate he’s so much better than you at this. And you hate him even more now that he has you fighting whimpers and moans. 

“Are you seriously going to pretend you don’t like this while your hips are bucking up?” He taunts, clicking his tongue in a mock. “Think moaning is more pathetic than humping my fingers like a bitch in heat?” 

Your mouth opens to retort but you can’t deny the evidence; your hips are rolling against his hand, chasing for more, your panties are darkening as your wetness leaks through the fabric and your chest is heaving in erratic motions.  

“Look at me,” he sings, hand moving up to graze your neck, thumb pressing on your carotid, making your head snap up. “You listen so swiftly when you fear for your life. It’s funny, you know, because I truly would never hurt you.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head, trying to pull away from his hold when his hand moves up to caress your jaw. The gentleness of his touch is even scarier than when he has his knife pointed against you. “Is this what turns you on? The fear in their eyes?” 

His head tilts to the side, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Partially. But not in your case, what turns me on with you it’s the chase, and the fact I always win.” 

You scoff bitterly, struggling in his hold but his hand quickly grips your chin and pulls you closer. “Didn’t you see the movies? The villain always dies.” 

“If the heroine is not busy getting fucked by him,” he mocks, squeezing your face harder and moving his fingers faster on your clit. Your head rolls back and so do your eyes while a chocked moan leaves your lips. “See, I doubt you will shoot me in the head if you keep moaning like this.” 

You groan angrily, you’re madder at you than you are at him. You want him and it’s so wrong that you do, but there’s not even a siren ringing in your head, telling you to make this stop. 

“No, shh, shh, angel, it’s fine, this will be our little secret,” he whispers to your ear, the mask rubbing against your face, and when your eyes turn to look at him, you can see small dots of blood on the white varnish. ��We could play another game: one secret for you, and one secret for me. If you behave, maybe I’ll reveal myself to you, if you promise to keep it to yourself.” 

Your teeth sink into your lips harder when he delivers another harsh slap on your clit before resuming his quick movements. “Just — just tell me if I know you,” you mumble. You know he will never reveal himself, but maybe you can get something more, anything to complete the missing pieces of the puzzle. 

He chuckles darkly, staring at a spot behind you as he pretends to think. “Mhh, we’ve met.”

You frown and your heart jumps in your throat for a moment at the thought you’ve seen him. “Only met?” 

“We talked,” he adds, finally letting go of your face, making you breathe normally again. 

Your eyes widen while your brain hurts as you try to quickly connect the dots, and find out who’s hiding underneath the mask, you just have to put a face on a voice — even if distorted, but you can’t. And suddenly realization slumps on you.

“Will it — will it break my heart?” 

He snickers under his breath as he looks into your sad eyes, you’re looking at him like a dog when it’s being scolded, but in this case, you’re also silently praying he’s not someone close to you. He has no idea why that would make you feel better, if you care more about Ghostface or whoever is hiding under the mask, but it doesn’t matter, and he mocks you again, mimicking you in a high-pitched voice. “Will it hurt if I was someone close to you? A colleague? A friend? A lover?” 

Your breath gets faster. Will it? Would you turn him in or defend him? And you can’t stand you’re even questioning it, of course you’ll turn him in, that’s your job, but most importantly, your duty. But will you? You could be doing it now, and you’re not. 

“See? It’s not as funny if you know me,” he laughs at your face, your thoughts so loud he could get a headache. “It’s not as exciting, you love the thrill of this too, more than you like to admit.” 

“Fuck,” you curse when his other hand cups your covered breast, it’s a harsh tug and the leather feels weird on your skin, yet, it makes you clasp your thighs and forget what was tormenting your morals, again. 

“They’re so perfect, I can’t believe you always keep them hidden under those ugly clothes,” he pouts, giving it another hard squeeze. “Sorry.”

“For what — what the fuck?” You scream when he cuts your bra with the knife, first the middle and then the straps, the matching burgundy bra falling in pieces on the bottom of the chair. 

“It was getting in the way, and I don’t like things that get in my way. I cut them off,” in his voice lingers a hysterical laugh that makes you shiver, and in times like this, you’re glad you can’t see his face.  

You gulp and automatically close your legs. 

“Not you,” he reassures you, forcing your thighs open again with a smack, “you entertain me. And you suck at your job, so it’s clear you also don’t get in the way.” 

“I’m good at my job and I will get you and put you behind bars —” 

“Uh, uh,” he clicks his tongue, knife under your jaw before you can even finish the sentence, silencing you in an instant. “We were having so much fun, don’t ruin it, babe.”

You swallow and look down following the path he’s tracing with the knife, goosebumps bloom on your skin and you hold your breath when it gets closer to your neck, only releasing it when the blade sits in the hollow of your chest. 

“It’s so funny how you shake like a leaf, I’m a professional,” he says, sounding almost offended. And you furrow, is he talking about the knife or his fingers? “Both, love.” 

Another groan leaves your lips before he moves the crotch to the side and the cold air of the room hits your burning core. You’ve never been so ashamed your entire life, you shouldn’t be an open book to him, you shouldn’t be so malleable in his hands, it’s pathetic and humiliating. 

“You’re so fucking wet. I’m quite pissed I can’t run to the police department and let them know how much I turn you on. I can already see the disappointment on their faces,” he taunts, the slick sound of his gloves against your dripping pussy burns your body in shame and excitement.  

“Don’t you dare,” you spit out, but you don’t sound so menacing since your voice breaks, and a pathetically high-pitched moan rolls from your tongue right after.  

“I said I’m not going to, I keep my promises,” he kneels to the ground, one hand keeping you spread more and the other is still busy taking care of you. “Maybe if you promise you won’t shoot or put me in handcuffs right away when you’ll find out who I am, I can eat you out. I bet you let out the prettiest moans when you have someone between your legs.” 

Your head rolls back, and you hiss. “You wish,” you retort through gritted teeth, but a part of you dies to know what that would be like. “I will never give you the satisfaction.” 

He laughs mockingly. “Maybe I should blindfold you and do it now, will you recognize me by that?” At those words your body tenses up, head standing straight again as you look down at him with terror in your eyes. “What?” He asks in a giggle, surprised by your reaction. “You’re fucking with me right now, I still have blood on me. Would that be the most problematic thing? Having fucked with me before? Without this mask?” 

“You’re just messing with me,” you mutter but your brain is trying to think, the list of the people you’ve been with is not that long, he can’t be so stupid to out himself like that, right? 

“Maybe… I love it when I can see you think,” he whispers. “Usually, you have your hands in your hair, pulling at it even if you just washed it or spent hours styling it, and then you nervously bite your right thumb, somehow there’s always a hangnail to pull until it bleeds, oh, and you also nervously walk back and forth, two steps forward, two steps back. It’s cute, really. You have no fucking clue how to stop this, but you look so into it, chasing after me… well, so you think because, let’s be honest, you’re only chasing after your tail.” 

You can’t believe he knows all of this, how close to you is he? And a few names start popping into your mind, but for each face that you see, your only answer is it can’t be. 

“Why are you surprised? I told you, I love watching you,” he says, voice scarily soft even through the distortion of the mask. “You’re very pretty, detective. When you work hard to catch me, and even more when you screw it all up to moan for me.” 

“Ugh,” you groan through gritted teeth, wrist rubbing against the rope keeping you in place and hips bucking up, anger and pleasure mixing like a drug in your brain. You hate to admit it, but you’re close and you doubt you can push back your climax any longer.  

“It’s alright, love, I told you, I won’t judge you,” he hums. He studies your face for a moment, admiring how your teeth trap your lips in the vain attempt to don’t truly show how much you’re enjoying this, but your eyes are filled with lust, lightly glassy, and your cum is painting his gloves white. “Now, will you come for me?” 

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, your body shutters as the orgasm washes over you, the quick movements of his fingers on your sensitive clit making your nails dig into the palm of your hands while your moans slip out of you freely. Your morality disappears, getting dragged away with the orgasm that consumes you before leaving. 

You forget where you are for a moment, or to be more precise, with who you are with, as you let your head roll back, close your eyes and take deep breaths, waiting for the high to pass. 

The thing doesn’t bother Ghostface, though, he sees enough fear in people’s eyes, he likes it better when you stop pretending and relax around him. That’s the thrilling thing about you, you are the most entertaining game he has ever played. With all the others he knows how it will end, their lifeless bodies laying in a pool of their own blood and the sirens of the police going off in the background as he blends in with the crowd, but with you? It’s unknown. Like a Russian roulette. 

He’d love to shred all your clothes off, but he knows you’d have to spill your guts (not literally) if you walk out of there completely naked, and he’s sure the version you would tell the police would add another crime to his name. So, he takes your shoes off and then pulls your pants down. 

Your laugh makes him raise his face and stare at you. “What’s so funny, dollface?” 

You shrug, wetting your lips. “You scare me more when you act all sweet, you know?” 

He scoffs, standing up again, and caressing your face. “You want me to hurt you so badly. I could carve a heart right here,” he presses the tip of the blade next to your heart, tracing the shape of a heart, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. “It would look so pretty on you, and you will always carry me with you. Isn’t it nice? Couple goals.” 

You raise a brow at him, he doesn’t even realize it, but he’s giving away so much of his personality, even if you don’t find it out now, you’re pretty positive all of this is leading you somewhere. You shake your head quickly, trying not to show how hard you’re thinking about your plan. “I only want one thing from you, and you know what it is.” 

He chuckles, leaning next to your ear. “My dick.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you curse, accidentally kicking him now that your legs are free to move. You suck your breath in, fearing your move, even if involuntary, might piss him off.  

He hisses but doesn’t do anything else. “Don’t get all bratty here, doll. You said you wanted to play a game, and we’re going to play it until the end.” 

When he cuts your panties and balls them in his fist, saying “keeping them as a souvenir,” with a grin that can be heard in his voice, you only reply with an “asshole.” 

Once again, he doesn’t pay your insults any mind, and you wonder why he’s so nice to you. Should you fear it? Will you be his last victim, getting the worst death of them all because he needs to put on a show? “Now I will untie you, if you play any trick on me… you know how it ends.” 

You nod quickly, watching him disappear from your view as he stands behind you. You inhale when the knife places against your neck again and roll your eyes back. “You don’t have to do this every time, you know?” 

“It turns you on,” he retorts firmly. “And I need to make sure you don’t do any funny business.” 

Your eyes roll back again but you try to relax anyway and keep still when your wrists are finally free. Your shoulders are in a more comfortable position again as you subtly roll them to ease up. “Get up,” he orders, and you follow, moving carefully because the blade is still close to your body and you don’t want to end up dead on the floor. “Good, now lay on the mattress.” 

Your face twists in disgust when you’re reminded of the mattress on the floor, but he pushes you forward. 

“We didn’t kill anybody there.” 

You stop, turning around swiftly, and his reflections are rapid enough that he doesn’t push the knife into your chest. “We?” 

“Oh… it didn’t click yet…” He laughs darkly at your expression, the whole world falling on your shoulders as you wonder how could you be so stupid to not realize it. “Sorry, love. But hey, aren’t you happy I helped you out?” 

You glare at him but then bring your hand to your hair and your thumb to your lips. Of course, there are two of them, that’s the only way they could always be so headed of you. 

“Not the right moment to think about that,” he warns, voice dropping lower, making you stop your nervous ticks. “Get on the bed.” 

You turn around again, suddenly aware that he’s completely covered and you’re bare. That thought makes you seek the cover of the mattress more, and swiftly you’re laying where he wants you. But it also turns you on, being so exposed to him while he’s giving you not even a peak of who’s under the mask and the clothes send chills down your body and more cum drips out you.

“Promise you’ll be good? We can play cat and mouse later if you want to,” he asks, the blade running flat on your boobs, making him chuckle darkly when your nipples harden at the contact and your hips buck up. “You promise, detective?” He repeats with urge when you don’t reply, too busy watching the knife move on your body as he pins you down. 

“Promise,” you reply, looking into the blackness of the eyes of the mask. 

He chuckles under the mask, and you watch him unbuckle his pants. You could easily grab the weapon that’s on your stomach and stab him, you could even un-mask him, but you lay still, almost mesmerized. And the conscience inside of you likes to remind you how fucked up you and your morals are, but you brush it off, shaking your head quickly. 

“Turn around,” he orders, but you hesitate. That’s too much vulnerability. It’s clear he doesn’t like your hesitation when he groans, grabbing the knife and pushing it aside. “God, I have to do everything with you,” he sighs as he forcefully flips you on your stomach before his legs trap you again. This time you can’t do anything even if you want to, but once again, you don’t want to. 

“Fuck,” he moans, hands cupping your full ass and squeezing hard, the firm hold eliciting a moan from you. “Look at you, so fucking pretty. Keep your head down, don’t try to even get a peak,” he warns, and your immediate reaction is to turn around to understand what’s going on, but you know better, so you press your face into the pillow and only when you hear the loud sound of a spit and a glob of saliva drip between your folds you understand what happened. “Not that it was needed, you’re dripping. But you know, I like to get messy at times.” 

You turn your face around, resting your head on the pillow, and bite your lips. The smugness and insanity of his voice causing more cum to ooze out of your pussy.  

“I want to feel you so bad,” he hums, spreading your cunt, making you feel so exposed, “but will you run to the police? Will you tell them ‘oh no, I had to fuck Mr. Ghostface to have a bit of his DNA and save the town from this psycho’?” he mocks with a high-pitched voice, it doesn’t sound like you at all, more like a hopeless, brain-dead, blonde girl that dies within the first minutes of any horror movie. 

You snicker. “You underestimate me, I could say I got those traces from somewhere else.” 

“But will you? Also, I’m pretty sure they will find traces of you too. How humiliating would that be? Come on, honey, I won’t blackmail you, but you will screw yourself over? That’s not very smart of you.” 

He’s right, you hate that he’s right. You will have to out yourself in the process of trying to turn him in. “I — I won’t.” 

Deep down he knows you won’t, there’s no way they won’t trace it back at you too, and he also knows you won’t try to play the victim when you’re not, but he needs to be conscious, one wrong step and you could turn the game around. As much as he likes to mock you, he knows you’re smart and have been close to discovering them a few times, it was a matter of luck, and they were extremely lucky. 

“Better safe than in jail,” he chuckles darkly, you don’t even try to peer around, and only listen to the plastic of the condom rip. 

You whimper when you feel the tip against your slit, and you hide your face in the pillow as if that could change the reality of what you’re willingly doing. You’re too excited to be so ashamed of your actions, but, even if some may argue your morality is nowhere to be found, it still feels like a big balloon hovering over you. 

You shiver when you feel the mask rest on your shoulder, “Nah, ah, angel, no being ashamed now. I told you I don’t like rude people, so don’t be rude and ask me nicely to fuck you.” 

The urge to slap him is stronger than anything else, but once again your greed makes him win. “Please… please fuck me.”

“Not what I want to hear, you know what I want. We practiced the other night, haven’t we?” He reminds you, a hand creeping around your neck, holding tight enough to make buzzes of fear run through your bones. 

You close your eyes, inhaling as deeply as you can while trying to find the courage to humiliate yourself one last time, but then the words slip out, “Please, fuck me, Ghostface,” and the air gets knocked out of your lungs when he pushes into you. It’s a strong, deep thrust that fills you to the brim and knocks you over. Your head falls against the pillow again while his loud groan fills your ears, “Fuck, it sounds so good from your lips.” 

“Oh, fuck,” you curse through gritted teeth when he starts moving right away, barely giving you time to adjust to the feeling, thick dick grazing your insides and strong hands wrapping around your waist tightly. 

“Is it too much for you, detective? My sweet little angel can’t take it?” 

A groan slips past your lips, you try to stand up on your elbows, but he pushes you down. His body presses against your back and you feel trapped again. “Don’t move. I will fuck you so deep into this mattress that I will feel your scent for days after this. I want your face smashed against the pillow, I want it to be wet with your ruined makeup and tears, got it? ” 

You nod quickly, shoulders dropping as you slump against the mattress. His breathing next to your ear makes you shiver, and you wonder if that’s the last thing the non-so-lucky people have met him heard before dying. But you push it away, for the sake of your sanity, you have to fool yourself that you’re not so attracted to a bloody murderer, that your morals are still intact, and that you are a good person. 

It’s pathetic how all the anger you feel disappears with each calculated thrust, pleasure getting to your brain so quickly you stop holding back. Soft whimpers and moans roll out of your tongue and unconsciously your ass grinds back into him.  

“Fuck, that’s what I want to hear,” he hums, standing up while his hands wrap around your waist. He never wanted to burn those gloves so badly, feeling the urge to feel your burning skin and mark you with his bare hands, but he can’t risk it. That doesn’t mean he can’t leave marks in other ways. One hand leaves your hips and cups your boob, eliciting a broken moan from you. “Have I told you they’re so pretty?” 

“Mhh,” you mumble, eyes closing as he pinches down on your nipple. You wish you could say it hurt you but instead, it makes you clench hard around him, cum leaking out more with each pinch on your delicate, sensitive buds. 

“Shit, you really are into pain,” he comments, there’s mockery in his voice —like always— but there’s also a genuine surprise. “Who would’ve thought, my innocent detective is way more fucked in the head than I thought.” 

“I — I’m not,” you retort, groaning and forcing your eyes open, but the deep chuckle that rumbles in his chest makes you quiver, and your attitude drops in a moment. 

“Honey,” he slurs, voice dipped in honey, “you’re letting Ghostface fuck you dumb, you are fucked in the head.” 

You shake your head quickly, but he’s had enough of your lies. The rough tug at your hair makes you let out a choked gasp as your head is lifted from the pillow. “I know you better than anyone else, angel,” he groans, mask pressed against your hot face. “I know your dirty, little secrets. I know what runs into that dirty, little mind of yours. You can’t lie to me,” he almost purrs, a low chuckle making shame fire up inside of you, “and I can feel you, princess. Squeezing me, barely allowing me to pull out to fuck back into you. Fuck — I should feel you right now, no stupid rubber between us.” 

Another broken moan slips from your lips when he roughly lets go of the hold on you, your fingers clench hard around the thin sheet under you, and your hips jerk up even more. It’s like you want to feel him more, to have him imprint himself deep into you, so far under your skin that you won’t be able to wash him off, and you don’t even know why you feel like this. Why it made you feel like this a week prior too, all the hesitation and fear as you picked up the phone and heard his breathy, distorted voice, flying out of the window the moment he started ordering you around. But was it truly an order when your only hesitation came from the fear of judgement, and you could only feel your body tingle with excitement? Sitting in front of the window, having no idea where he was hiding, putting on a show for the killer you swore you hated and making yourself come the hardest you’ve ever done. 

“It makes you feel special, doesn’t it? The way you’re the only exception. The only one I would never hurt.” His voice is lower, hitting you to the core, making your toes curl and your breath falter in your chest. “You’re like a daisy in a garden of bloody, red roses.” 

“Please,” you breathe out, choking on your tongue, eyes fluttering open shyly. 

“Want me to stop?” He coos, head cocking to the side as he lands a sharp slap on your asscheek that makes you hiccup on a whimper and then another to your boob that drags a louder cry out of you. “Don’t want to hear how special you are?” 

But that’s not what you meant. Your pleads were about something else, something you struggle to confess. 

A deep laugh resonates in his chest as he looks down at your already wrecked face. You’re so precious, he can’t believe you sometimes think he could hurt you. His prettiest game, his wildest fantasy. The thrill he feels in his bones every time he’s close to you, so, so near to being discovered and yet always safe. It’s exciting, getting to his brain so much he can hardly hide how much it turns him on. But you’ve never been this close before. He dreamed about fucking you, having you pressed under him, begging, moaning and crying as his dick hit deep into your sweet pussy, pounding into you over and over again until you were nothing but mush in his hands. He wanted to strip you down completely and leave nothing of the women he sees and admires every single day. He dreamed of having all this power over you, watching you get weak on your knees and let him do anything he wanted, watching your body convulse in pleasure and your brain empty. And here you are now; wet, fucked-out eyes looking up at him while your pretty, plump mouth opens and closes as your shut-down brain tries hard to find the words. 

“Speak up, princess. I don’t like to wait.” 

“Please, wa-want to feel you,” you slur in a whisper, eyes blinking lazily as you try to hold onto what’s left of your sanity. 

He chuckles, his thrusts coming to a stop that makes you whine in disappointment. “You want me to fuck you raw, detective?” 

You hum, nodding slowly, not for the lack of enthusiasm but for the amount of shame that’s looming over you like a tornado. But Ghostface doesn’t like your silences, he doesn’t like it when you hesitate, that’s not what turns him on about you. It’s your impulses, the way you jump into things headfirst without thinking, for some it may be dumb, but to him, it’s just that sprinkle of insane bravery that makes life exciting. Your head is yanked up again with a rough pull of your hair, but his hold quickly moves to your neck. “I thought we were over the phase where I have to drag the words out of your mouth, detective. I’ll ask nicely one last time, do you want me to fuck you raw?” 

You swallow your pride and reply meekly, “Ye-yes.” 

He chuckles, pulling out of you almost completely before sinking in again with no warning, knocking the air out of your lungs, air that’s already struggling to fill them as his hold on your neck doesn’t loosen up. “See? It wasn’t that hard, was it? Even your stupid brain could put two words together.” 

You gasp for air when he finally lets go and your face sinks on the pillow again. 

“I’d love to, but I won’t risk it. Maybe next time, maybe if I’ll ever feel like telling you who I am,” he replies, and you groan in disappointment. Not only he doesn’t give you what you want but he also mocks you, reminding you why you’re here and how your mission flushed down the toilet as you let him play you like a violin. 

“Then — fuck — please, fuck me harder,” at this point you want him to fuck you so hard your brain will just unplug and your superego can stop nagging at the back of your mind. You don’t want a single thought in your brain, just pleasure and lust. 

“That I can give it to you,” he hums happily, and in a second, he complies. His hips start snapping against you at a fast speed, his tip hitting you deep repeatedly as he keeps you arched back with one hand around your waist and the other one wrapped around the makeshift ponytail he made with your hair. 

You can already feel the orgasm build up at the tip of your stomach, but it only worsens when Ghostface roughly pulls you flat against him. Your head falls behind on his shoulder, eyes rolled far in your skull as your lips hang open to let out desperate moans and suck in as much air as possible. 

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he moans, his thumb rubs against your neck and jaw while his right hand squeezes and pulls your boobs hard before pinching the nipples. “Listen to those pretty sounds you make,” he snickers, “and you still want to pretend you’re innocent and pure? You’re fucked up just like me, baby, that’s why I like you so much,” he slurs. 

You blink, once again adjusting to the light is uncomfortable but you make out just in time the fact he’s holding a Polaroid camera. “Smile for the camera, babe,” his voice rings in your ears but doesn’t reach your brain and before you know it, you’re coming just like that. The look on your face is not a smile but an expression of blissed pleasure, the exact moment as the climax explodes inside of you, making you clench around his dick and shake in his arms, your arm twisting back, letting your hand claps on his bicep and sink your nail in the thick fabric of the black cloak.  

Ghostface would like to say he’s disappointed and scold you for misbehaving, but he can only stare at you with amused disbelief written all over his face. But you only see the constant expression of the mask and once again, you fear for a second he’s mad at you. Truth be told, he could even kill you right now, you wouldn’t mind much or even notice, too lost in the pleasure that’s still looming on your body. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, hips slowing down until they stop completely, “you just gifted me the most precious pic in my collection,” he whispers. You feel like the edge of mockery is still persistent but at the same time something genuine lingers in it, it doesn’t make it less creepy, but the ‘fuck me harder method’ worked because you don’t question his, and yours, fucked morality and just smile dumbly. 

And that smile, united with the slow bat of your wet eyelashes, is what he needs to lose it. 

“Oh, fuck it, I’ll clean you up once we’re done and if you’ll try to turn me in, I’ll find out, so you better keep your promise, alright?” 

You don’t get what he’s talking about right away, too fucked out as you lay on the mattress waiting for his next move, but when he pulls out of you and swiftly pulls the condom out, you get it. You bite your lips in anticipation and swing your hips in invitation. 

The sight would be enough to make him come right there, and he damns himself because out of all people, you can’t be his biggest weakness. It got to be some fucking joke of destiny. “Will you go to the police?” 

“No,” you mumble.  

“Good girl, because these little games are just for us, me and you, you can’t use what we do here to help you with your case.” When he sinks inside of you again, he feels like he could lose it all for the way your wet, warm walls wrap around him. “Fuck, fuck,” he curses, voice even more distorted now that he murmurs through gritted teeth, “you feel so fucking good.” 

His thrusts now are almost primal, desperately pounding you against the mattress, keeping you pinned down with a hand on the back of your head —not that you need that, you wouldn’t be able to hold your neck up even if you wanted to— and holding for dear life on your hips with the other. You’ll probably have some bruises by the end of the night, if not colored prints on your skin, surely light discomfort at the touch will follow you for a few days. And you almost want to beg him for more, to mark you in some other ways, to leave something just for you to see and carry with you. Sick and perverted thoughts cross your mind, and you push them away swiftly. 

You bite down on your lips when his hand leaves your side to torture your nipples again, he can barely push his hand between your body and the mattress, but he has just enough space to play with your sensitive nipples, making them even harder and causing you to clench even more around him. He loves how sensitive you are there and how each rub, pinch, and slap has you easily squirming and moaning under him.

“Look at you, going all dumb on my cock,” he groans, mockingly giving one harsh slap to your tits before his fingers trace your cheek. Your skin is so hot he can almost feel it through the fabric separating you, but what he’s most fascinated about are your tears, black mascara running down your beautiful face, dying on the pillow and your tortured parted lips. “Are you still thinking about being better than me or — fuck — have you finally embraced your dark side?” 

Not a word comes out of your mouth when you whimper back, and not even a thought crosses your mind. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grins smugly. “You know,” he breathes out, head thrown back as it gets harder and harder to contain the orgasm, but he doesn’t want it to end so soon, “you should fire yourself and be my toy, just my toy, every time I need you, everywhere I need you. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? It’d make you feel even more special.” 

You mumble a weak reply, it’s a whispered ‘no,’ but your body doesn’t deny how much the thought turns you on. Too many responsibilities in your life and your job, too much to carry daily, but right now? Nothing. Guilt will eat you alive tomorrow but not now. Something feels exciting about being on the run with him, being the one that runs, instead of the one that chases. But it won’t happen, you believe in your job, and you want this slasher to end.  

“Cause only I can get you like this, ugh,” he grunts, hips slamming faster but more sloppily against your ass, the vulgar sounds filling up the room. “No man before and no man after will make you come this hard. Nobody, love. No matter how much you’ll want to, they all will disappoint you and you will look for me in every single one of them,” he groans, each word punctuated by a harsh slam of his hips, “well, the lucky ones that will get a taste before I’ll get them and kill them.” 

You don’t reply, just lay there, looking like a mess as you try to fight another orgasm because coming again would be humiliating. 

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” You can hear the grin on his face and his voice has the edge of insanity of the usual. “Let’s be honest, you’ve got a list of shitty partners, you would’ve been grateful if I got rid of some of them.” 

“Fuck, just — just fuck me,” you beg, your hand reaching behind to touch him somehow, but he doesn’t like it. 

He grips your hand and pins it behind your back bending your arm, you hiss in discomfort, but he doesn’t let go. “Oh, no, angel. You don’t make the rules in this game, I do. If I want to sink into your brain and get so deep into you that I’ll make sure you will never come out the same, I will. I’m the darkest side of yourself, the fucked up filth you’re too afraid to face,” he groans. “And I know you’re close again. Your tight cunt is squeezing me, and you made a mess on the mattress,” he snickers. “Imagine if they find this place, this mattress, your DNA on it,” he stops, leaning next to your ear, voice dropping lower, “or better, imagine if they find us now. What do you say, detective? Would they be disappointed? Would they just jack off at the view? You look so hot right now, I wouldn’t blame them if they’d get off to you, to us together. Kill them surely, blame them not. We’re so hot, detective.” 

You squirm under him, feeling like the room is spinning fast and you can’t ground on anything. You have a darker thought in mind, something you can’t confess to him or else he won’t stop mocking you. You want to get caught, but not by your colleagues, by his partner. What would he do if he saw you and his partner in crimes like this? Would he understand this, or would he snap? Maybe even feeling betrayed. Does he even know you and him have been playing this game of attraction for a while now?  

Your silence doesn’t make Ghostface suspect anything. You simply look totally fucked out, brain empty as you plead in soft whimpers and moans. 

“You sound so fucking good,” he praises. “Why don’t we play another little game, uh?” 

Your eyes open in surprise and you hum with no strength, “what?” 

“Beg me to save your life,” he says, grabbing the knife again and placing it close to your neck. “Come on, do it for me, I won’t ever hear you say it because I will never want to kill you. Please, detective,” he coos, hips slowing down because your pussy is fogging his brain and he’s not sure his always-perfect aim and reflexes will work right now. 

You take a deep breath and then speak. “Please, Ghostface, please, spare my life.” 

His head rolls back, and a deep, groggy moan comes out of his lips. “Fuck, yes, keep going,” he orders, hips picking up the rhythm again as he skillfully flips the blade to the lesser sharp side just to be safe. 

And you obey. You beg, choked-up words slipping from your lips that soon turn into please, fuck me harder, and then please, wanna come. You feel boneless, your body is too hot, and you feel you might pass out, you need a release and then hope something bigger than you will make you get back on your legs and walk out of there as if nothing happened, as if you never followed your guts and found his —their— safe haven. 

“Come for me, love,” he orders, throwing the knife to the side before his hand sneaks under your body to roughly slap your clit a few times, enjoying the louder moans he drags out of you by doing so and watching with pleasure as your body squirms and shakes. “And don’t forget to smile for the camera.” 

This time your eyes lock with the polaroid that he points toward your face as his chin rests on your shoulder. But it only lasts for the time of the picture, your body collapses again when he lets go of your hair and you let the pleasure pervade you from head to toe. It’s breathtaking and mind-blowing, and next time you’ll fuck someone else you’ll hate that he’s right. You will feel him everywhere, you will feel his dick deep inside of you every time your fingers will desperately try to take its place, and every time you’ll let someone in your bed, but you don’t hate that thought as you should. 

“Fuck,” he groans, giving you a few more pumps to make sure you rode your high before slipping out and then roughly flipping you over. “Close your eyes,” he orders, and you follow with no hesitation —honestly, you were struggling to keep them open in the first place. 

Your heaving chest, your parted lips still letting out cries, your wet cheeks, and your trembling closed thighs are the last drop he needs to let go. Deep moans reach your ears while his hot cum drops on your face, most on your skin but some in your mouth, and they get even louder when you shyly swallow it and lick your lips for more. 

“Fuck, fuck, you’re —” he gasps but doesn’t finish, holding onto nothing as he empties himself all over your face. “Fuck.”

He feels dizzy, the orgasm still shaking him up, but then he looks at you and has to bite back a moan. The white strings of cum are covering your blissed face, your eyelashes are clumped together by the tears, and your lips are plump and darker, he knows he doesn’t want to forget what you look like right now. “Smile one last time, baby.” 

And you do, the corners of your mouth lift and then you hear the click of the polaroid. You think for a second you should’ve told him to don’t take them, he could easily blackmail you, or straight-up get you fired, but once again, you don’t truly care, and you don’t deny how much the idea of those photos turned you on.

You should get up, grab your pants, jacket, shoes and leave. But you feel heavy and tired, you’re still shaking, and your breath didn’t go back to normal, yet. 

“Don’t worry, detective,” Ghostface whispers, something passes on your face to clean you from the mess, but you don’t know what, and only then you open them ajar, just to see he’s still wearing his mask. “I’ll take care of you.” 

The Ghostface mask is the last thing you see. 

When you wake up, you’re in your bed, wearing your nightwear, completely cleaned up, but your bones and muscles are still sore, and a terrible headache is throbbing in the left side of your brain. You turn around, rubbing your eyelids with your palms before you can fully focus on the pillow and see three things on it. The Ghostface mask, a polaroid of you two from before, his face next to yours as he pulled your hair, and a note. 

“It was a pleasure playing with you, my pretty detective. Can’t wait to see what our next game will be like�� ” 

general taglist: @froggyforyoongi , @wingsss45 ; @tddyhyck ; @technologyculturedneo

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[starstruckmiraclekitty]

i liked your reader sneezes like a kitten but what about reader that sneezes like a dad. like full body earthshaking loudass sneezes that scare the living shit out of you. even funnier if reader is tiny.

Bahaha, yess🤣 I had fun writing this one, lol. Thanks for this request!! Sorry it's a bit short.

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141 + König with a Reader Who Sneezes are Loud as Shit

Warnings: swearing

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Simon Ghost Riley-

You and Simon were sitting peacefully watching a RomCom in your flat. He'd never seen The Proposal before, and you'd be damned if you let another day go by without him watching it. The both of you were snuggled together, your head resting on Simon's chest when you got the sudden urge to sneeze.

You were able to turn your head just in time before letting out one of the loudest sneezes you've ever had, nearly shaking the glasses in front of you.

Simon immediately jumped up and took in his surroundings. "What in the bloody hell was that?!"

He turned to you to see you biting your lip to stop from laughing. "Love...did that...come from you?" His tone was deadly serious, a look of horror on his face.

You nodded your head, your cheeks burning from the intensity of his gaze.

Silence fell between the two of you for a few moments before Simon erupted with laughter.

"What's so funny?" You questioned, starting to chuckle yourself.

"I just, uh, didn't quite expect that from you. You'll be a great alarm system, though. Somebody ever breaks in and hears that, and they'll go running." He gave you a kiss on your forehead before pulling you back into him to resume your movie night, the smile not leaving his lips.

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

The two of you had just settled down for the 4th night of your horror movie marathon. You'd finally gotten Johnny into horror movies, as when you first started dating, he stressed he was vehemently against jump scares.

Unfortunately, you were about to backtrack your progress. It was right in the middle of a tense, quiet moment in the movie, when you felt the familiar tickle of an upcoming sneeze. Your sneezes were usually pretty loud, but you decided to make it just a bit more dramatic, to scare Johnny. You turned your head and bellowed out a ridiculously loud sneeze.

"AHHHH!" Johnny sprung backward on the couch, causing himself to tumble over the edge. "What the FUCK was that??"

You couldn't contain the laughter that emitted from your lips, at the sight of your boyfriend. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I sneezed."

"That was no fucking sneeze. That was like a demon leaving your body. Is your soul still intact? My lord. Never again are we watching these."

"Noo Johnny." You were still laughing your ass off, replaying the scene over and over in your head. "C'mon, let's finish the movie."

"Nah, nope. Gotta go check my pants after that one. Honestly, I think I may have wet meself"

John Price-

You and John were cooking dinner together on one of your nights off. John was mixing ingredients together in a bowl while you were cutting the veggies. You felt a spray of onion juice reach the inside of your nose, and the urge to sneeze overcame you.

"Dear, I'm done with the mixing do-." John started, but was cut off by your hideously loud sneeze.

Startled, he dropped the bowl, causing it to shatter all over the floor. "What the hell was that?!"

Both of you froze and stared at each other, John looking at you like you'd grown two heads, causing you to stifle a laugh with the back of your hand.

"My sneezes are a bit loud." You said, voice muffled by the back of your hand.

"A bit loud" is an understatement. Scared the ever loving shit out of me." A small smile appeared on John's face.

"I'll help clean this up." You crouched down on the floor to start gathering the broken shards of the bowl.

"I think you owe me a date night out after that one. May have to get myself some ear plugs just for your sneezes."

König-

It was a quiet week night, and you and König were sitting on your back porch. König was reading the newspaper while you were reading one of your books.

As the sun was setting, it hit you at just the right angle, causing the tickle of an oncoming sneeze. You turned into your arm and were trying to be as quiet as possible, no to avail.

The sneeze rippled through you, causing you to let out an obnoxiously loud noise.

König, who was sitting peacefully reading his newspaper, nearly jumped out of his skin, his fright causing him to rip his newspaper. "Heilige Scheiße, was war das?"

"Oh gosh! I'm so sorry Kö, I tried to be quiet. I've got really loud sneezes." Your cheeks were red with embarrassment, as your boyfriend regarded you with wide eyes.

"You're so small.. how did that come from you?" He was bewildered. He would've expected a sneeze like that to come from someone his size, not you.

"I've uh, just always sneezed like that." You rubbed the back of your neck nervously.

König let out a hearty chuckle, causing you to smile. "My little Schat, who sneezes like an elephant. Remind me not to read my newspapers around you anymore." He teased, kissing your temple.

(He tried to call you elephant as a cute nickname but felt like it was an insult and nearly cried afterward bc he felt so bad)

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

Gaz was playing video games with Johnny while you were in the other room on your computer. You felt the sign of an oncoming a sneeze and turned your head into your shoulder before screaming out "ACHOO!"

"Bless you, Johnny." Gaz said into his headset.

"I didn't sneeze, mate. I heard that too." Was his friends reply.

Puzzled, Gaz turned his head toward you, who had a bashful look on your face. "Babe, was that you?"

"No fucking way was that Y/N. That sounded like a dad sneeze, that did." Johnny laughed.

"Uh yeah. Sorry about that. Always had some loud sneezes." You bit your lip from trying to laugh at your boyfriend's puzzled expression.

Gaz broke out in a fit of laughter, setting down his controller to approach you. "That is hilarious. My girlfriends got dad sneezes. Who would've thunk that."

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A/N: hope you enjoyed❤️🙃

[shadow4-1]

Man Thoughts - Ghost Edition (SFW & NSFW)

Just starting a new lil' thing where I try to get into the many thoughts of the COD boys. It helps me write but it's also just kind of fun to characterize these dudes. (MDNI! NSFW Under The Cut)

(These are thoughts Lt. would probably never voice to you, but are thinking in his head.)

-Who let you in 'ere? And why're you so bloody small?

-You're a medic? Tch, you're a lil' bird is what you are. Wouldn't last 5 minutes on the field.

-Price can't be serious about this. M' gonna be the one who has to carry your dead body to evac. Fuckin' hell.

* * * *

-You're funnier than Johnny, I'll give you that. Need t' work on your execution though. I c' hardly understand the joke if you're gigglin' all the way through the bloody delivery.

-You need t' learn to stop smilin' at men like that. Gonna attract some bad kind of attention. N' then m' gonna have to drag some poor sod off o' ya.

-This is gonna be a fun report to write for Price. M' sure he'll agree th' fucker deserved it fer layin' a hand on you like that.

-'F you walk 'n front of me one more bloody time m' gonna have t' grab a handful.

-Fockin' hell. It's a wonder you're not married with a fuckin' rack like that sittin' pretty on your chest.

-Yeah, that's non-reg soap I smell on you. Who're you tryna impress, lil' bird? Hidin' a new piece?

-Aren't thigh high socks an American thing? Either way you're a minx is what you are. Fuck. If you tempt me even a lil' I'm rippin' those straight off your legs.

-What is your obsession with breakin' dress code? I can see everything in those shorts, lil' bird. N' so can every man on base. Are y' lookin' to get dragged off n' fucked? Cause that's what's gonna happen if you don't put on some real clothes soon.

-How fuckin' forgetful are you? Here, just take m' fuckin' jacket, love. I can see your nipples peeking out through your shirt. Next time m' gonna make you flash me before I help you out again.

-Stop sayin' you stink, love. If I had m' way I'd lick you from cunt to ass right now. You smell fuckin' divine.

-So that's what your pretty little lips taste like. Wonder if the others taste the same.

-Wonder how many times I could make you come in one night. Look like a squirter, you do.

-Fuckin' brat. 'F Johnny wasn't here I'd bend you over my knee right now. Keep pushing m' buttons and see if I don't fuck you in the ass for it.

-You have no idea how bad I need you right now.

-If anyone else tries to see you like this m' a kill 'em. Only I can see your body like this. Fuck, you're perfect.

[daisygirlwrites]

Permission

Summary: You have some important news for Simon

warnings: Mentions of pregnancy

Pairing(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader (platonic), mentions of König x Fem! Reader and GhostSoap

Notes: No use of (Y/N)

a/n: hey hey! i'll be making a proper post soon regarding my writings. not to worry, i will be continuing! anyways, had this fun little idea for a while. thank you for reading!

taglist:

@bobfloydsgf , @warenai , @devilsfoodcake22 , @itsscromp , @dilfsaremyfavourite , @imalovernotahater , @cutiecusp , @allen-444

gif credit: @voidfromouterspace 

He spots you before you even walk through the door. Constantly aware of his surroundings and checking who walks in or out of the restaurant; it’s a habit that he developed throughout the decades being in the military and will most likely stick with him in his lifetime.

Simon watches you enter, a small smile forming on his face as he sees your eyes make quick darts around the moving environment. Even when you transferred from the field and into intel with Kate, your eyes are as sharp as ever. But they immediately soften when she finds her old Lieutenant sitting in a booth at the back walls. Quickly informing the host that you’re meeting up with a friend, you make your way towards him. He rises out of his seat to give you a hug as both of you exchange pleasantries. 

You noticed in the last few years that you’ve seen less and less of Ghost and more of just Simon. His movements, while still calculated, were also slow and relaxed. With not having a job that could kill him at any second, he takes his time with things. And his dark brown eyes, the ones that stared back at you with such intensity, have lightened up. But the true difference is the lack of a skull mask that you spent years looking at. Hell, he was even sporting a light brown beard and knowing him, something Johnny asked for him to do. Retirement looked good on Simon. 

Even though he now has all the time in the world, you still have years ahead before you would consider hanging up your hat. Your visits are few and far inbetween, but whenever you mention getting lunch or dinner with each other, Simon always shows. 

“I took the liberty of ordering our usual. Still into vodka soda, yeah?” He looks at you before he takes a sip of his bourbon. 

Grabbing the glass, you stare into it as you swirl the clear liquid around. Even from a distance, the smell of it was overwhelming, causing you to pull back. 

“Usually but I haven’t been drinking for a bit,” you say as you slide the glass towards him. You watch Simon eye the drink then back at you, one of his eyebrows raised and his head slightly tilted. Giving him a nod of encouragement, he slides the glass towards him.

“Very unlike you to turn away free drinks,” he comments as he reminisces the many times he and the team carried you out of bars.

“I’m feeling generous tonight.”

“Yeah right,” Simon lets out a chuckle, “There’s always a catch with you.”

“Well, actually-”

“Fuckin’ knew it.” He shakes his head, a small smile on his face. He watches you roll your eyes before downing your glass. It was way too sweet for his liking but it helped offset the taste of the burning vodka.You watch him as he drinks, going back and forth on whether to tell your ‘catch’ after he’s finished but you quickly decide that telling him now is the funnier option.

“I’m pregnant, Si,” you announced.

Letting out a snort, you kept your eyes on the man in front of you as he chokes on the drink. It took him a few minutes to recollect himself, coughing along and even asking for water to whichever server walked by. You wait for him to say something and he takes his sweet time for it. Another habit of his that will never go away is his staring. However, you’re used to it and after a few more minutes of having a staring contest, Simon finally speaks.

“How far along are you?”

Tapping your chin, you think on it for a second, “Almost four months now.”

His eyes narrowed at you before he moved his head low enough to see under the table. Low and behold, even under the loose fitting clothes you were wearing, there was a slight outline of a bump. How could he miss that?

“Does anyone else know?”

“Kate and Price, obviously. Kyle made a surprise visit last month, so there was no hiding that,” you scratch the back of your head as you glance up at him, “And now you.”

Simon shakes his head in disbelief. An uncomfortable pit begins to form in his stomach, as if he’s experiencing deja vu. He watches her happily eating the meal in front of her. She flicks her eyes up to him and gives him a small smile of reassurance. The same expression his mother gave him. 

The rest of lunch went by in comfortable silence. He still had questions however, he can tell that  the woman in front of him has something else to say. Simon watched as she would still her hands and open her mouth before shutting it quickly. Once the plates were taken away, there wasn’t the excuse of food to cover your expression. 

He stares at her face again, which was deep in thought, as if there was a battle going on in her mind. 

“Out with it, Tiny.” He lets out a silent laugh as you give him a glare, not too pleased with that old embarrassing nickname.

But your eyes soften as you let out a sigh, “We were thinking of names and if it’s a boy, Dietrich wants to name him after his grandfather.”

Simon holds his gaze, patiently waiting for you to continue. You hesitated with the next words.

“He’d be named Thomas.”

He was taken aback for the second time that day.  It was quiet between the two of you again and you recognized the distant look in his eyes. Despite not having a mask on, Simon’s expressions were unreadable. Again, it takes a few minutes before he responds to you.

“I don’t see why you need my permission. It’s just a name afterall.”

“Judging by your reaction, it’s not ‘just a name’,” you reason. “It’s not set and stone yet, just ideas-”

“I’m okay with it.”

It was your turn to be stunned. “Are you sure?”

Simon mirrors your actions from earlier, giving you a smile and an encouraging nod.

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

“Are you going to ask me and Johnny to be the godfathers?”

“Kyle called dibs, actually.”

“The hell he is.”

[familyabolisher]

if you wouldn't mind sharing, what did schitt's creek do disappointingly in its story? thank you!

so, like. i mean, i think the show was flawed from the start -- i think a lot of the jokes rely on this image of the, like, small-town 'hick,' that in turn relies on a pretty hefty set of classist assumptions that i don't think dan levy was, you know, interested in interrogating in any serious way. i don't watch sitcoms for their revolutionary politics lol but there were certain moments in eg. roland and jocelyn's characterisation in particular that left an incredibly bad taste in my mouth. (ftr i think season 1 is pretty poor, 2-4 are genuinely good tv, 5 + 6 are a mess.)

but my specific frustration was -- so, at the end of season 4, we see moira despondent that the crows have eyes 2 was shelved; we also see the culmination of a season's worth of work having gone into the community production of cabaret. from here, the plot beats seemed so obvious to me that i was literally like certain i knew how moira's arc would end: clearly, this was an opportunity for her to realise that pursuing the sort of 'fame' she had before was a losing battle that was making her unhappy (and had always made her unhappy!), and that she could find genuine fulfilment through pursuing the kind of 'local,' small-town community opportunities that cabaret was supposed to represent. i mean obviously i have my various communist gripes with this position, but like, by the standards i hold sitcoms from nepo babies to, it's fair enough! it's a compelling enough response to the setup of the show -- the roses have lost everything and have to learn to live without everything. moira relied on a seemily fictitious narrative of public adoration; an insanely easy way to eke some character growth out of her would surely be to have her realise that small, local projects with her friends bring her a joy that public validation never could.

but, like. by the end of the show, moira gets back on the showbusiness ladder, to the point where her old show is rebooted. johnny gets a foot back in the business world. alexis is a businesswoman. david is a businessman! david chooses to stay in schitt's creek whilst the others leave for NY and cali, which is a compelling enough narrative choice on its own, but like -- come on, he opens a v bougie business and Gets Married and whatever the fuck else, it's boring, it's the same old narrative of assimilation into the bourgeois classes. it makes for a nice contrast against the end of season one but i don't believe he's a fundamentally changed person; he's just found a way to make his old tendencies make sense in a new setting.

there's a sense that the lives of the roses essentially reset; that they've been given the opportunity to return to their old lives, taking the 'lessons' they were able to learn from their time in schitt's creek with them. if anything's been "learnt" then it's these v individualist perspectives on, like, bootstraps and hard work; david and alexis have graduated from being nepo children into people with a legitimate intellectual claim to the bourgeois class. johnny has proven himself as a businessman. moira has uhhhh put on a production of cabaret, which justifies her going back to the old life that clearly made her miserable. like -- there's no sense that their old lives were bad, just a sense that they hadn't quite earnt the right to them yet. and in that, everyone in schitt's creek ends up ultimately reduced to a vehicle by which they can earn the right to their bourgeois status. it's a v nasty ethos, and as much as i find individual points of the show pretty funny (like, funnier than your average sitcom), i just -- like, it's so cruel at its centre?

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Paulatim sed Firmiter (Slowly but surely) - Wednesday night / Thursday early morning

Warning: None. If I check and re-check this one I'm going to combust

Tag (because they asked): @glitterypirateduck

I'm thankful for @nrdmssgs and @glitterypirateduck 's amazing patience with me

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Mood:

Wednesday night/Thursday early morning

Somewhere

‘‘… and you should’ave seen their faces, Lt, it was hilarious’’ Soap’s smug grin filled the screen while he walked down a hallway, keeping his phone up to his face, laughing. ‘‘Gaz and I were blowing kisses and squealing each time they grabbed us and they just looked horrified while we beat them up’’

Ghost was lying on the floor, his shoulders and head propped up against his backpack, with his rifle between his legs and his phone in his hand, listening to Johnny rambling about their day. It was a habit that Soap had started after Las Almas, when they had resumed ‘normal life’ and sometimes deployed to separate places. Due of that, MacTavish had started recording videos of the 141’s day whenever one of them wasn’t there to experience it.

It was strange to be so far and so alone, and feel so comforted by a stupid video that he shouldn’t even be watching. He never brought his mobile phone on solo missions. But this time he did. And there he was, with only one earphone on just in case.

‘‘Ack, I hope you get back soon, it’d have been funnier with you along…’’ In the video, Soap arrived at the common room and stepped inside, still holding his phone up. ‘‘Gaz and Riot are making dinner, this week’s canteen has been shite’’

The view of the camera focused on the small kitchenette Price had ordered to be installed in the private common room, where Gaz and Christine were talking while cutting something on a board.

‘‘In all honesty, it was so damn funny, but we’re going to get in so much trouble once Price knows’’

‘‘We’ll cross that bridge when… ’’ Gaz gasped when he suddenly found a phone in front of his face, and his own face looking back at him. ‘‘Shit, Soap, just warn me next time’’

‘‘What are you doing?’’ Christine turned her head to look at Johnny, who was peering over her head to see what they were preparing: a lot of potatoes, onion, and a couple of garlic cloves.

‘‘Recording a video for Ghost. God knows where he’s at today’’ Soap tried to grab a slice of the raw onion and she swatted his hand away. ‘‘Ow… what are we eating?’’

‘‘Tortilla de patata, I’m so fucking sick of British food’’ She grumbled, and then yelped when Johnny hugged her from behind and started swaying with her. ‘‘I’m going to cut myself and it’ll be your fault! Go bother someone else!’’

‘‘Aww…’’ Soap raised the phone screen to his face again, pouting. ‘‘Lt, nobody loves me’’

‘‘Don’t fucking say that!’’ She threw a piece of raw potato at Johnny, hitting him right on his ear as Gaz laughed.

Ghost chuckled quietly, pausing the video to take a swig of his water bottle. He was supposed to be there, sitting in the common room with them instead of lying on the dust in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. It almost surprised him how much he really wanted to be there.

He was used to being alone. To working alone. He preferred it that way. The void in his chest and the darkness in his mind were too much to impose on other people, as much as Dr. Heather tried to convince him that was not the case. Too much baggage. Too much pain. Too much blood.

Too many ghosts.

And still, he struggled to ignore the little videos and texts that Johnny sent when he was away. He watched them alone in his room at base to try and make himself feel human again, a part of something. He found himself starting to want again. To feel greedy about things he wanted to have, experience, and keep.

Even Gaz texted him from time to time, sometimes even sending a short funny video or a link to some song on Youtube or Spotify. Price texted him sometimes too, brief things like ‘Be safe’ or ‘Drinks on me’

Ghost unpaused the video, watching as Soap and Riot bickered and laughed, still cooking. It was so… stupidly domestic that it felt strange to be so jealous of not being there. Then Gaz grabbed the phone to start telling him about some problem with a supply company that Price and him were dealing with. Garrick excelled at handling that sort of thing, and would be an awesome high ranking officer in the future. But he was more interested in what was happening in the background.

‘‘What can I do?’’ Soap kept trying to steal raw onion, and Riot thrusted a bowl into his hands.

‘‘Whisk eight eggs’’  She grumbled, frying the potatoes in batches with the onion and the garlic until they were soft and crumbling. ‘‘And stop trying my patience’’

‘‘But I’m hungry… Gaz, aren’t you hungry?’’

‘‘I know better than to bother the cook’’ Gaz laughed, with the phone in hand and showing what they were doing. ‘‘You have to write down the recipe for me’’

‘‘Sure thing, I’ll text you later with it’’ She hummed approvingly when Soap showed her the bowl. ‘‘Put that aside, I’m still frying this’’

There was a sound of the door opening in the video and Gaz turned around. Price had come in, looking quite pissed. In that moment, his comm made a static noise and Ghost paused the video again, waiting.

‘‘Watcher-1 to Bravo 0-7, position?’’

‘‘Fifteen klicks from exfil’’

‘‘Objective?’’

‘‘Terminated’’

‘‘Are you safe for the night?’’

‘‘Affirmative’’

As if someone was safe, anywhere.

‘‘I’ll have a bird waiting at dawn. Watcher-1 out’’

‘‘Copy. Out’’

Ghost sighed, rubbing his eyes. After being on his feet for close to thirty-six hours, he really should try and get some sleep if he had to hike fifteen kilometres to the exfil point before dawn. But he unpaused the video again.

‘‘May I ask why the fuck do I have a formal complaint on my desk about three of my staff, for humiliating three Army Air Corps Sergeants in public?’’ Price obviously wasn’t happy, and the three culprits looked at each other.

‘‘A formal complaint? That’s preposterous’’ Gaz shook his head, pretending to be offended. ‘‘It was a friendly demonstration’’

‘‘A friendly…’’ Price almost sputtered, grabbing mechanically the bottle of beer that the ‘apple of his eyes’ was offering him with an appeasing smile. ‘‘I expected that shit from MacTavish, but certainly not from you’’

‘‘Gaz here is the devious one, not me!’’ Johnny defended himself, while Riot was trying to go unnoticed with her back to them and busy in the kitchenette.

‘‘Do you muppets even realize all the…’’ The Captain stopped talking and walked over to Riot, who was very intently ignoring his presence. ‘‘What are you cooking?’’

‘‘Tortilla de patata’’ She smiled innocently, earning a glare from him. ‘‘There’s enough if you’d like to stay’’

‘‘… Heather is having dinner with some colleagues’’ Price grumbled, with the beer still in his hand. Gaz gave the phone back to Johnny and then clasped a hand on the Captain’s shoulder, guiding him to the dinner table.

‘‘Cap, there’s something going on with one of the supply companies that I wanted to talk to you about…’’

‘‘Phew’’ Johnny laughed, placing the phone on the counter and against the wall so it would keep recording him and Riot while she cooked and he bothered her. ‘‘Gaz will keep him busy while you finish’’

‘‘Good, that way we’ll have our last dinner before he kills us’’ Christine sighed, mixing the fried potatoes, onion and garlic with the whisked eggs and then pouring the mixture into a burning hot oiled pan.

‘‘Nah, he’ll have our backs once he knows what’s going on…’’ He grabbed her phone from her pocket, ignoring her silent glare, and unlocked it before starting to browse her music. He chose one song, smiling. ‘‘Which one is it?’’

‘‘Aren’t we a bit old to keep playing that?... Mony, Mony, Billy Idol’’

‘‘It seems we aren’t. What about this one?’’ Johnny chose another, and she hesitated a couple of seconds before answering.

‘‘Nothing Else Matters, Metallica’’

‘‘Ok, next one…’’

‘‘Are you going to let me listen to them?’’ She hummed along with the next one before answering. ‘‘Think, by Kaleida… here, hold this’’

She handed him a big plate and then turned her attention back to her task, molding the mixture in the pan to prevent it from sticking or pouring out while she kept humming. The humming was followed by soft, hushed singing, until Johnny nudged her and her voice got a bit louder, the recording completely forgotten.

They worked for a bit, Johnny silent for once or humming along and Riot singing softly, completely focused on what she was doing. After a while she grabbed the plate that Johnny was holding to cover the pan, and then turned it around to slowly and carefully let the content slid back in.

By then Johnny was belting out I want to break free by Queen, dodging the pens that Gaz was throwing at him, laughing his ass off. Price was sitting back on his chair, finishing his second beer after having decided that whatever his kids had done could wait until the following day.

Alone in the run down warehouse in the middle of bumfucknowhere, Ghost felt jealousy and his heart ached a bit at the memory he had missed being a part from. He resented Laswell and the mission that had forced him to get out of the little bubble that the 141 had built. Three days tops. He missed her eyes.

The video jumped forward to where Price, Gaz and Riot were sitting at the table, and Johnny was rambling about whatever while they were serving the food.

‘‘So, yea, I guess I’ll leave you to… whatever it is you’re doing, Lt’’ The phone was aimed at Gaz then. ‘‘Gaz, say bye bye’’

‘‘Take care, Ghost’’ Gaz smiled and raised two fingers to his temple in a salute, and then the phone was on Price’s face, who grumbled.

‘‘Come back in one piece, will you? I have my hands full with these idiots’’

‘‘Don’t lie, Cap, you love us’’ Johnny laughed behind the camera, and then, the screen was on Riot, who sighed patiently, chewing part of her food. ‘‘Say something to the Lt!’’

She waited until she swallowed, her eyes a bit distant, maybe thinking what to say. Then, she smiled, that lovely, sweet smile that almost made him swerve the jeep into a tree back in Belarus.

‘‘Come back and I’ll tell you’’

Ghost chuckled quietly, listening to Johnny trying to coax her into saying more, but she just shook her head and kept eating. The camera turned around and was then on the Scot’s face, the screen full of his cheerful grin.

‘‘Sorry, Simon, I can’t get more… Be back soon and take care, we miss ye’’ He waved before stopping the video, and Ghost stared at the screen a bit longer, lost in his thoughts.

He still had fifteen kilometres left to hike before the exfil point. He really should rest. But his finger tapped on the screen and rewinded the video, until he found the point where Johnny and Christine were cooking. Where she was singing, with that low, almost shy voice before Soap had nudged her to sing louder. ‘Come back and I’ll tell you’.

Her voice in his earphone, filling his head with all kind of thoughts. Good thoughts.

Think of me, i’ll never break your heart. Think of me, you're always in the dark I am your light, your light, your light Think of me, you're never in the dark

‘Come back and I’ll tell you’.

He would.

[shamelesslymkp]

The Charlie Bone/Children of the Red King series (Jenny Nimmo) is very like Harry Potter in terms of vibe, although to me they read as less fanciful. It's also a boy-goes-to-magic-school-and-ends-up-being-a-hero-despite-a-tragically-abusive-family

N.B. that with one thing and another I never finished the books and can't speak to the later part of the series nor the author's politics.

The Magickers series by Emily Drake is somewhat similar in terms of like, proto-plot, but instead of a magic school it's a magic summer camp, and it had some really quite clever twists on the genre, imo.

N.B. here is that something went down with the publisher and only the first 3 books were published, I think the author was self-publishing the rest but this was over a decade ago and I honestly don't know what happened there; I think at the very least the first book is still worth a read

Going a bit older, Naomi Novik's Scholomance series is quite a bit darker than Harry Potter but still gives you some of that magic school element and also is just fantastic I highly recommend them

The Worst Witch books by Jill Murphy are possibly going a bit younger, and admittedly I don't know how well they hold up at this point (they were Old when I read them), but I don't remember anything egregious and - as a bonus! - there's an AMAZING netflix adaptation that is near and dear to my heart, large plot changes and all. the books follow a young witch during her years at witching school - she is absolutely terrible at magic, schoolwork, and like. not breaking things, but also very good at somehow saving the day at the last moment.

I am seconding-thirding? Percy Jackson and Rick Riordan's other series, for sure. Not quite the same vibe as Harry Potter, but tbh a lot funnier, I think. This also has the advantage of having a large fandom and an in-production TV adaptation that's being worked on, which will give you some of the sort of community experience that was had with Harry Potter, although not anywhere near that level.

@dduane's Young Wizards series - again, not quite the same vibe as Harry Potter; I think it takes itself more seriously right from the start. Near and dear to my heart, with an author who has indeed listened to people pointing out places where she could improve!

The Year of the Griffin by Diana Wynne Jones has a school setting and plot and is fantastic (and a sequel to an equally fantastic but somewhat - but not much - darker book, The Dark Lord of Derkholm)

The Wayward Children series is excellent, but has a very different mood/vibe to it than Harry Potter. They are very likely to make you cry or at the very least stare distantly at a wall for some time.

The Finishing School series by @gailcarriger is again skewing older (and is changing era and genre quite dramatically) but I think it really fits the sort of spirit of the thing - it's a series based on that same sort of boarding school kind of plot conceit, in which the protagonist realizes that the adults are really quite useless and takes matters into her own hands repeatedly.

The School for Good and Evil series by Soman Chainani is a bit hamfisted (and definitely skews younger) and I didn't read past the first one, but it's again very much a school story. And there's a netflix adaptation of the first book which is incredibly incredibly queer and features like. I don't even know what gender stuff is happening there I just know that all of the characters have like. the MOST gender.

A Non-Comprehensive List of Other Older Juvenile Fiction I Highly Recommend (but are diverging from the original idea of a substitution)

The Enchanted Forest Chronicles, Patrica C. Wrede [bonus! full cast audiobooks!]

The Frontier Magic trilogy, Patricia C. Wrede

The Circle of Magic quartet, @tamorapierce [bonus! full cast audiobooks!]

The Protector of the Small series, Tamora Pierce

most of the Tortall books tbh, I just like TPotS the BEST

The Tiffany Aching Discworld subseries, Terry Pratchett

Johnny Maxwell series, Terry Pratchett

How to Train Your Dragon series, Cressida Cowell [not at ALL like the movie; starts ridiculous and over the top and then gets gradually darker and more intense while still not losing the ridiculousness - audiobooks are narrated by David Tennant, and he does ALL of the voices]

A Series of Unfortunate Events, Lemony Snicket

The Dark is Rising series, Susan Cooper

The Wrinkle in Time quartet, Madeline D'Lengle

Animorphs series, K.A. Applegate [available to read for free with the blessing of the author!]

Ella Enchanted, Gail Carson Levine

The Secret Country trilogy, Pamela Dean [so near and dear to my heart I hesitate to even mention it]

Un Lun Dun, China Miéville

Howl's Moving Castle, Diana Wynne Jones

Inkworld trilogy, Cornelia Funke

Holes, Louis Sachar

I cannot in good conscience recommend the Lockwood & Co book series, although I whole-heartedly recommend the netflix adaptation; it is one of the most mean-spiritedly fatphobic book series I have ever read. worse that JKR's fatphobia.

Have the people recommending Wizard of Earthsea as a replacement for Harry Potter actually read both series? Because "wizard school" notwithstanding I wouldn't even put them in the same subgenre.

Also the first book is worse than Lord of the Rings for female characters.

[farm-witches-fic-recs]

Hello, friends! We’re rounding out the Fridays this month with the rest of our November community recs. 

The coven wants you to know that we are so very grateful to have all of you follow and engage with us. We truly appreciate your support and your continued investment in this fandom.

Now, we hope you’ll enjoy giving these a read and leaving the authors some love!

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

All the joy that is to come (@myolivebranch​) “This is such a sweet, thoughtful alternative take on if Patrick, wide awake at 5am after kissing David for the first time, nervously texts his mom to see if she is up, wanting to share the joy he is feeling for the first time ever.”

An old fashioned guy (soonerorlater) “It's an interesting take, that David wanted to propose to Patrick, and this is David Rose at his most romantic, big gesture self. Its so sweet and there's also some anxiety, of course. But there's a lot of beautiful communication and expression of what commitment means. The ring, oh! Just go read it if you haven't.” 

Basically his only friend (jmda4) “I love seeing how Alexis responds to Johnny's health scare. Ted comes through as a supportive partner.” 

The confidence of friends (onegirlandherpen/@alysiswriting​) “It's a great look at a minor character (Grace) and at the Jazzagals as they band together. What's not to love?”

Everything (kingoftheroad) “We see Johnny and Moira early on in their relationship, and Moira finding strength through Johnny.”

Everything that goes wrong (swift_wind)  “All the works so far in this series are a masterful balance of funny, tender, hot and still believable.”

Go your own way (pandorasdaydream) “This heart wrenching RPF which explores the aftermath of Noah singing Go your own way on Instagram live, is everything anyone who reads and loves Dan/Noah RPF could want. It may not be everyone's cup of tea but it puts into words the feelings many people had about sad Noah singing this particular song at this particular time.”

Just wanna tell you how I’m feeling (hudders-and-hiddles/@wild-aloof-rebel​) “This fic is so sweet, the way it captures a moment they are IN IT but it's too soon to really say that except in the way that we see Patrick do it in the show, using lyrics to say what he's not sure David is ready to hear yet.”

The other French kiss (@demora00​) “A fun flirty and witty 5+1 about cheek kisses and a first kiss. Stevie and David banter, confused David, and French! Patrick. What's not to love?”

Retail David series (@petrodobreva​) “Everything about this meet cute is wonderful. There's money and class discussions, Patrick's journey of self discovery through clothes. David's staying true to who he is despite lack of money and his occupation. A brilliantly written Moira. It just makes you feel warm and fuzzy when you read it!”

Small projects (@gclane​) “This is a beautiful canon-compliant story featuring David learning a new skill and further enmeshing himself and Rose Apothecary into the SC community. It has tender/hot early relationship elements, and a hint of Patrick’s anxiety about keeping their relationship from his parents. It’s perfect for a fall/winter afternoon read.” 

Weep not for the memories (lucianowriter) “As someone who's loved and lost ones with Alzheimer's, this hit home for me. We see Patrick struggle to remember, and David being the best caregiver he can. The ending is bittersweet.”

what my head overlooks the senses will show to my heart (cromarty/@patrickredactedbrewer) “It's funny to imagine Patrick as a private investigator, and even funnier to watch Alexis be immediately good at it like she is in the escape room, but it's David falling in love mostly over the phone that really gets me in this story. That, and why Patrick became a PI, are so sweet.”

[nctstar]

polaroid scandal

when a stray polaroid puts you in the middle of a dating scandal with none other than Zhong Chenle...

pairing: idol!chenle x fem!reader 

other members mentioned: lee jeno, lee haechan, suh johnny, jeong jaehyun, nct dream as a kpop group 

word count: 3k

genre: rom com (kinda lol I’m not funny) 

warnings: mild profanity (two uses of sh!t, one use of b!tch), cyberbullying, mentions of drinking

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my imagination. I do not know the nct members and do not claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: wow! This ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would. But anyways, the first part of this fic is actually a dream I had about being at a new year’s party with Chenle :D To be clear, the words in italics are being spoken/written in Korean and __ is your name. I tried something different with this, I’m not super confident in writing lighter, funnier fics so please bear that in mind haha <3 

You were absent-minded that night.

The air was filled with sounds of people chatting, some girl giggling as some hot guy inevitably flirted with her, the clinking of glasses as people held their drinks over their head as they passed tipsy people, careful not to spill. In the distance, the sound of cicadas still screeched, providing a natural backdrop for an otherwise people-filled unnatural New Year’s Eve party. You said unnatural because, though it was in a park, you couldn’t tell at all. The focus was not at all on the lovely fuschia-tinted flowers blooming beside your toes, or the century-old trees that covered everyone like a green hug, or even the starlight that bathed everything in a cold, shimmery glow, making it all seem better than it was.

No, the focus was not on that tonight. The focus was on one person in particular.

“Chenle!”

Your head whipped around, suddenly relieved. The sound of his name didn’t seem to faze him though, instead choosing to continue and ignore the passing of his friend seemingly determined to see him.

“You’re needed back…” his friend’s voice quietened as his eyes rested on your face. You had to stop yourself from staring back, pulling your irises away from his piercing gaze. His friend might have been the most beautiful boy you had ever laid your eyes on in your entire life, and something inside you spun a million miles an hour.

Chenle finally stopped, not at his friend’s voice, but at the way he looked at you, and more importantly, the way you looked back. You could’ve sworn he did a mini roll of his eyes before speaking, “This is _. I’ve been talking to her about the company’s-“

His friend laughed, a big laugh that made his body shake, and you hated the fact that you were immediately entranced. By a boy you just met. Ew. Get a grip.

“Everyone, Chenle’s drunk and talking about government conspiracies again!” His friend raised his voice. A few of the guests turned around, confused, and in the distance, you could see another group of very handsome looking boys cheering and whistling back. One of them yelled back, “Jeno, save her from him, you know he never stops!”

You bit back a smile, not wanting to offend Chenle. It was true that he had been talking nonstop for so long, lecturing you about some injustice that began with powerful people and ending at the hands of the common man. You were being polite, sipping your drink, smiling and nodding, but inside you had no idea how to react any more than that and your desperation for your best friend who had ditched you for some tall hunk Johnny grew deeper and deeper.

Chenle looked offended anyway. Still ignoring Jeno, he began to walk away, but a small lady with a camera-looking contraption as large as her body stopped him. “Photo?”

Jeno smiled, his eyes turning into crescent moons. “Thank you, ma’am. __, get in!” His name rolling off your tongue made you feel drunk, silly, and you gladly positioned yourself into his side, his long arm snaked around your waist.

That’s when your best friend came. The shock on her face was so picture worthy, you felt yourself thinking, and you smirked at her with confidence. Her face ran a smorgasbord of emotions in the span of just two seconds, but nevertheless, she still managed to whip out her polaroid camera right on time.

Flash!

You saw the polaroid printing with your very own eyes. But of course, your brain was somewhere else. Thinking about the way Chenle stormed away, and whether you should’ve said something. Jeno speaking to you in Korean, your scrambled brain trying to translate it in time and then again translate a response. A sudden suffocating thrill from all the people around you, from the way everyone watched as Jeno’s hand rested on your body.

Your best friend said something, but you couldn’t hear her. You leant it and earned a whack from her flying arms, still gripping the camera. Rubbing your arm, you exclaimed, she began to laugh and yell back about Johnny and all his friends and someone called Jaehyun who she gave her number too and someone else who told her that they were part of some group. You tried to take it all in, nodding, laughing back, the excitement coursing through both of your veins.

Neither of you noticed the way the polaroid floated after it was released from the camera. It floated amongst the gorgeous Jenos and Johnnys, the drinks people were raising above their heads like some bad impression of Leonardo di Caprio, the flashes of white as that lady with the camera that shrouded her petite frame continued to go around. It even floated around your hands, clasped with your best friends’, as you both continued to be embarrassingly exuberant.

It rested on a tray of appetisers, and the waiter, annoyed at some drunk man who kept following and flirting with him, threw it on the ground without a second thought. The picture then was hammered on by the point of a loud lady’s stilettos, and it dug further and further into the ground. Almost out of sight.

Hours after you had left, and about an hour after the last man had, the youngest member of the clean-up crew found it in her hands. She held it under the light of a now dim lantern and squealed, much to the dismay of her superior.

“Unnie, look! I found a picture of Chenle with some girl!”

The older lady couldn’t help her curiosity and peeked. The way the younger girl had squealed had made it seem like it was some scandalous picture, but it wasn’t. There was a young girl standing next to a dressed up Zhong Chenle, and that was basically it. They weren’t even touching, for god’s sake.

She smacked the polaroid out of that girl’s hands. “Leave it. You know idols have lives too? I’m honestly tired of you gossiping on the job. If you can’t handle yourself here, you’ll be fired.”

There are moments in life when you are reminded of the fragility of it all. How easily the normal trajectory of your life can be rerouted completely by the tiniest of things, like by the incessant fangirling of that one girl on the clean-up crew. The pocketing of the polaroid – YOUR polaroid – into her apron. The completely guiltless snapping of that polaroid and posting of it onto her Instagram. The shameless reposting of that post by almost everyone on her list. A few taps here, a few clicks here, and it was done. Effortless. Your polaroid floated its way out of the small corners of the internet, travelled here and there collecting likes and reposts, and then eventually, it ended up right where it was supposed to.

Right into the lion’s mouth.

“Oh my god, girl, please, wake up. You need to see this.”

Your eyes felt like they were glued shut, and you remembered with a grimace that you didn’t take your makeup off before collapsing onto your bed the previous night. Or, to be more precise, five hours ago.

“Shit, what is it? Why are you waking me up so early?” The words kind of hung in the air awkwardly as you noticed the sheer panic on your friend’s face, etched onto her every feature. “Oh my god. Who died? What happened last night? Are you pregnant?”

You thought that last thing would shock her out of whatever trance she was in, but you were taken aback when she didn’t react to it at all. Instead, she shoved her phone in your hand.

NCT DREAM’s Zhong Chenle seen with girl at New Year’s Eve, potential secret relationship?

user2001 she looks really pleased to be with him

czennie4life he looks angry. Maybe he wanted to break up with her.

yoonahlove she looks like a bitch. lol

sunmilover the people bringing that girl’s looks into it is honestly insulting. get a life.

unknown who took this?

lelele3 lele deserves better

You stopped reading and mirrored your friend’s expression. “Oh shit,” you whispered, and she nodded. “How did this-“

Your friend took your phone out of your hand and grabbed both of them in hers. “It’s too late for anything now. We need to talk to Chenle and figure out what he’s gonna do for damage control. Then, we need to run away and move to Alaska forever. These netizens are out for blood.”

You stared back at her in shock. If you were going to be completely honest, everything she just said had just flew over your head. Your brain was too consumed by NCT Dream’s Zhong Chenle seen with girl at New Year’s Eve, potential secret relationship?

“Hello? Earth to __?”

You snapped out of your shocked haze slightly. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

“About Alaska? Girl I was kidd-“

“No, about Chenle. But he’s an idol apparently? Which means we can’t contact him…”

You trailed off, noticing your friend dialling on her phone. You frowned, “Who are you calling?”

She ignored you, instead picking up on the voice on the other side of the line. “Yes, hello, this is __’s friend from last night, are you the very handsome Jeno?” You could’ve puked at the way your friend twirled her hair around her finger and put on her flirtiest voice. “Yeah, I just need your friend’s number…yeah, Zhong Chenle I think he was?” She paused for a second, no doubt processing Jeno’s voice on the other side. Her expression faltered slightly, as if a bit taken aback by Jeno’s words. Your stomach twisted, and you wrung your hands involuntarily. “Yeah, it’s because of the polaroid. She wants to talk to Chenle. Yeah, I know that’s really risky. Yes! No! Okay, listen,” Your friend sat down next to you on your unmade bed, and you shuffled over immediately. “why are you telling ME all the risks associated with this? You go give Chenle this number and then go lecture him! Yes, okay, fine. Make sure you-“

You heard the dial sound go off. He had hung up.

Your friend looked disappointed, but the expression didn’t last for long. She looked at you and shrieked, making you jump out of your skin. “What the-“

“I just got lectured by the Lee Jeno! Can you believe it!”

“Oh my god, you’re not seriously fangirling about this right now,” You slapped your forehead. “Girl, I am in a crisis.”

“Yes, yes, don’t worry! Chenle’s gonna call back, I have a good feeling about it.”

If the world was run on good feelings, it’d be a much better place, you wanted to comment. If you actually got the job you had a good feeling about after the interview, you’d be rich. If you managed to woo over your crush after telling him you liked him, you wouldn’t still be single. If you had a good feeling about the last time you told your parents the truth, they would still be trusting you right now.

It wasn’t all doom and gloom though, like you thought. The truth is, Chenle didn’t call back. But he did write back. Days later.

“Hey, I fought back the reporters today. I know writing that article basically ruined your life as of right now, but I don’t care what they write about me. So I gave them a talking to, don’t you worry.” Your best friend patted you on the shoulder, trying to force a smile. You muttered a thanks and something like I’m gonna take a nap before retreating to your bedroom, collapsing onto your bed.

That’s when you heard it. Something slide under your door.

Your first instinct was to roll your eyes. Your best friend, always so dramatic. And sure enough, as you picked up the envelope with a note from her on the top, my highness, your mail, your face snuck in a smile.

It didn’t last for long though.

It’s Chenle. I’ll get straight to the point. Meet me under the Hangang Bridge at 12:25am on the 8th of January. I know you probably have seen the worst of it by now, so I’ll prove it’s me by saying this – at the party I was talking about how people shouldn’t be so terrified of the government tracking them if they’re the same people who use phones and social media. Then Jeno came and exposed me, and Donghyuck teased me back. Oh, and the polaroid is cropped. Jeno was on your right.

The Hangul letters floated in your vision, and suddenly your brain couldn’t comprehend anything at all. Shakily, you called out your friend’s name.

                                                             ☆

“He didn’t think this through, did he? I mean, under the Hangang Bridge? That’s not very specific. And also, he’s probably gonna come in some black hoodie and a mask…” Your best friend continued. Though she had been nonstop pestering you for the past hour about your current predicament, she also didn’t stop following you, watching you like a hawk wherever you went.

She suddenly skidded to a halt in front of you, her eyes meeting yours. “__, I’m serious, okay? If he hurts you, or if this is some saesang, I will NOT hesitate-“

“Honey, I know,” you smiled at your friend, a warm protective feeling expanding inside of you. “I have a feeling it was him. A good feeling.”

She scoffed. “If the world ran on good feelings…”

You couldn’t help but wonder if your friend was more right than cynical. This was risky, and for what? You weren’t sure why you were doing this. But somewhere inside you, beneath the anxiety and the sadness, there was something that just felt right about meeting Chenle again.

A few days ago, after deleting all your socials and shutting your windows tight to stop the sounds of reporters outside your apartment, you had had a thought. Well, you had multiple in succession. Some evil ones towards the girl who had posted the polaroid first, one user who had said you had a potato face and a crazy fan who had thrown a raw egg at your window. And then your brain tried to move that angry cloud over to Chenle, arguably the most important person in this scandal. But you couldn’t. Because suddenly you didn’t feel like that was warranted.

Much like Chenle’s long, convoluted theories he believed so deeply, your brain began to believe something about Chenle. That he had a plan of when, where and how to reach out to you, to see you again.

You knew that sounded much too romantic to be the reality. And yet here you were. Under the Hangang river at 12:25am.

Your friend who couldn’t shut up mere minutes ago found herself speechless when Zhong Chenle showed up as promised.

“It’s me.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, a new twinge of warmth entering the air. “I know.”

“I’m,” he sucked in a breath through this mask. You noticed his eyes behind the crystal-clear lens of his glasses, and it’s like you were at that party again, a little breathless and dizzy. “honestly a little surprised you showed up.”

“Well, I didn’t want to turn down an offer to see you again.”

You could’ve sworn you saw the skin on the sides of his eyes crinkle, even for a second. You wondered if it was stupid to kind of sort of be in love with someone who you wanted to get away from only last night.

“Would you have tracked me down quicker if I were Jeno?”

The mention of Jeno forces some weird noise out of your best friend, otherwise being a very well-behaved observer of probably the best moment of your life.

“Jeno is nice. But I’m more into boys who like to talk a lot.”

Chenle rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

You smirked. You could tell by his tone that he wasn’t blowing you off, rather, the opposite.

“I actually, agree with you. Well, what you said at the party.”

“What?”

You bit your lip, finally feeling the chill settle into your bones. It felt good, though. Thrilling.

“I’m…sorry. My Korean is not that great, so that’s why I wasn’t saying much in response.”

You could hear a chuckle escape from under Chenle’s black mask. “You know I tell Daegal this kind of stuff all the time. You’re the first human to probably have heard all my crazy theories.”

“Well, I’m honoured.” You spoke. A weird silence followed after that, and then you said something that you never thought you’d have to courage to ever say to anyone.

“You’re really bad at flirting, you know that?”

He looked genuinely offended, but he nodded, grudgingly agreeing with you. “I guess Donghyuck wasn’t wrong on that. You’re probably right. Then go ahead,” He didn’t miss a beat, and you imagined the hottest smirk under his mask. “Ask me out.”

Your friend stopped being well-behaved and squealed. “Oh my god,” she laughed, and it felt like the tension in you melted away immediately as you watched her giggle.

“Well, okay.” Suddenly you felt shy, like you were under the harsh scrutiny of a spotlight and a million pairs of eyes at once. In a way, you were, but you willed those thoughts away. Breathing out into the cold air, you looked up at Chenle, watching the gentle wind blow on his feathery strands of hair. Something in you clicked, and you opened your mouth to speak. “Zhong Chenle, will you go-“

“Wait!” your friend yelled, her eyes rounding up like saucers. Scurrying through the massive bag on her shoulder, her hair tumbling down in front of her face in the process, she pulled something out.

The blue polaroid camera.

“Gotta capture the moment, right?”

Chenle grabbed it out of her hands, and for a split second you thought he was going to throw it into the river, like the turning point of a kdrama. Instead, he tucked it into the pocket of his dusty beige coat, and pointed at your friend. “I’m giving this to Jeno. If you want it back, go see him. But personally, I think it’s done us enough service to last a lifetime.”

Your friend’s gaping mouth, the blue polaroid camera dangling off Chenle’s neck and the prickly winter air marked the moment of the fiery death of your polaroid scandal, replacing it with your blossoming relationship with Zhong Chenle.

[jonnnysuh]

how 127 crushes on you

—TAEIL observes. You’ll catch him staring at you, and he’ll just shyly look away. Will look for something you have in common as an open to start talking to you, but it takes him some time to build that courage.

—JOHNNY exudes so much confidence in all ways but there’s something about you that’s got him at loss for words. A part of him can’t believe you’re really real. Teases you to the point where inside jokes have evolved from it. Wants to include you in everything.

—TAEYONG falls frequently and quickly. Very comfortable, and talks to you like he's known you his whole life. Sometimes the way he looks at you makes you forget what you're about to say. A little bit clumsy and tries really hard to remember stuff about you. Keeps his cool, and then freaks out to his friends afterwards.

—YUTA calls you "cute" out loud. Pinches your cheeks or puts his arm around your shoulder. Always makes sure to hug you bye before he leaves. Asks very thoughtful questions that kind of make you feel like you never want to stop talking to him. Will text you when something reminds him of you.

—DOYOUNG literally gives his full attention to you. He’s very witty and subtle about how he flirts. You’ll think about something he said and only realize later, “was he flirting with me?”. Remembers small details about you and will bring them up.

—JAEHYUN does small things like hold the door for you, lets you sit down instead of him, or does little things to get your attention like nudge you with his elbow. Thinks too hard about what he’s going to say, but ultimately it comes out funnier when he lets loose. Looks at you intently, and gives you nods of reassurance when you speak. Only shoots his shot if he knows you feel the same way.

—JUNGWOO is naturally flirtatious but I feel like when he's just around you, he turns it down a bit. In a way, he wants you to know he's serious about his feelings for you; it's not just him playing around. Every so often he'll say something like "what if we kissed?" though. Very, very funny and wants your eyes on him.

—MARK tries to stop calling you “dude” because he doesn’t want you to think he only sees you as a friend. ‘Randomly’ shows up wherever you are and starts a conversation with you. When he walks you home, you can’t help but notice he looks at you with the stars in his eyes. Tries his best to elongate the conversation for as long as he possibly can.

—HAECHAN loves teaching you how to do something you're unsure about. If you're at mini golf, he'll wrap his arms around you and teach you how to do a proper swing. Playfully disagrees with you, and thinks it's hot when you sass him back. Although he can sometimes be a little mean, he's protective of you.

[deputychairman]

In this scenario I made up where Daniel & Johnny are sharing an Airbnb rental in Mexico City while they look for Miguel & Sam, is it funnier if a) Daniel runs out of clean clothes first and has to wear something of Johnny’s while they do laundry, or b) vice versa?

With option a) we get Daniel in an oversized band t shirt like a rock chick who’s just woken up in the guitarist’s bed and is claiming a trophy, excellent; option b) we get Johnny in a too-small shirt, buttons straining over his tits, sleeves straining over his biceps, like a high-end trophy boyfriend dressed by his sugar daddy; also excellent. In either circumstance the respective garment is received reluctantly and with suspicion, while the other one watches them try it on? And feels weird about it in an unspecified way? Anyway please feel free share your thoughts & insights on the different ways this delightful concept could develop

[singlecelledthot]

That one Moment

Pairing: Raiden x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDom, Aggressive Domming, Choking, Biting, Creampie, Semi-Public

Summary: Honestly, how long did you think you could tease him before Raiden got tired of it and DID something?

Tags: @grandmaster-blueberryice @lilliannmac @fromthewifecage @feistyfandomthings​ 

💕Oh boy you did it now!!! I am a huge fan of dominant Raiden, and an even bigger fan of a brat pushing his buttons. I hope you enjoy this Dear Anon! It was fun to write, a labor of love. First time writing for the Thunder God so fingers crossed there’s some semblence of his personality in there!! 💕

Raiden was not a being of impulsivity, every action he took was with purpose and thought, with consideration for as many factors as he could possibly conceive. The man never did anything by halves, he always followed through---with duty and responsibility and not an ounce of frivolity in him. He still swore he had no earthly desire, unbound by the concept of lust, but every time you stayed at the Sky Temple (“for training” you’d say) he felt the small threads of his patience and dare he say, his resolve, fray. Perhaps he’d indulged you for too long, you were a bright light in a dismal world for more than just him---friendliness and a sharp wit saw you engrained in many lives around you---he theorized it was your earnest care for others that gave you the happy talent of friendship. In his opinion, you were too soft for Kombat, but he could not deny the wisdom in your training. You were a rare moment in time for him, and perhaps this indulgence towards you on his part is what found the both of you on the brink of a cataclysmic shift in your relationship. In hindsight he would blame the whole sordid affair on himself and your flat out disrespect for his personal space.

“Come on, Raiden!” You hopped from one foot to the other, mirroring Lui Kang’s own bouncy kung fu amalgam without any of the practiced know-how. You had begged Raiden to train with you, thinking that perhaps he would have insight that Lui and Lao didn’t possess. Or maybe they weren’t willing to divulge, it was funnier to watch you try after all. Raiden, despite his better judgement, agreed and the two of you had found a secluded spot in the lower tiers of the Sky Temple to train. Keeping a stoic expression firmly on his face, Raiden moved into his own stance, “Be serious, if we are to train it will be without your usual antics.” 

This earned him a pout, eyes fluttering in mock hurt as you stopped bouncing long enough to place a hand over your heart and gasp. “Sir! I’ll have you know I am always serious! I am seriously copying Lui!” The Thunder God felt his jaw twitch, and his eyes narrowed, enough for you to see and in turn slink back into the proper stance you had been taught. At least you knew when to back down from your ridiculous shows of bravado, a single point in your column over Johnny Cage. Raiden found himself surprised when you cleared the distance between the two of you and twanged his hat, causing it to bounce precariously before it settled back in place. He threw a punch, catching you in the shoulder harmlessly, his intention was not to hurt you after all. 

When you sprung back, hand on your shoulder to check and see if it was still there, you cast a haughty grin that had the Thunder God’s frown deepening. “This is not a game…” You begged to differ, saying nothing but dancing back into his proximity with clever foot work, a skill he had not realized you’d been practicing with any kind of real integrity. He lunged as you darted in, his heavier bulk plowing into your own and forcing you to roll out of the way or get slammed in the gut by his hip. His leg was so thick you were able to spring off of it by planting your palms on his thigh and vault over his shoulder. The world spun for you, dizzying to be sure, and when you righted yourself, Raiden was bull rushing you. When he connected you let it happen, but let his momentum move you as you wrapped your arms around his torso and let yourself get carried away with the contact rather than get bowled over by it. 

When the world stopped spinning for the second time, Raiden was struck by a horrible, inappropriate thought.Your body was so small compared to his, your feet weren’t even touching the ground anymore as you clung to his torso like some hellish leech. Your breath was quick, eyes wide as you stared down at the ground, considering that he could have run you down and squished you if you hadn’t grabbed him instead. His jaw flexed as your warmth sunk through his clothes, and perhaps too quickly he grabbed you and  set you down on your feet. When you cast that wide eyed stare up at him, his internal consideration of your body and it’s warmth took on a different connotation. He took a step back and gestured for you to move back into position. “Again. That sort of tactic may work here, but in true kombat you would not survive such a foolish move.”

“Foolish or not, it got you to stop.” Raiden felt something akin to cold water trickling down his scalp, his blood pressure spiking at your smile and reckless teasing. “Indeed.” Your expression took on a subtle change along with his drop in tone, almost like you were starting to realize the shift between the two of you. A smarter person might have opted to stop while they were ahead, cease poking the bear and continue on with more productive activities. But you weren’t a quitter. 

The next series of small scuffles included you twanging his hat again, and earning yourself a soft palm strike to the sternum for it. You coughed and sputtered, wheezing dramatically in the hopes that Raiden would move to aid you, when he did you flipped his hat off of his head, laughing as it fell to the ground. Raiden made no sound, but grabbed at you suddenly, his intentions weren’t clear but it didn’t matter---the game was different now. Now you had to play keep away. Raiden rushed you, each time you evaded him his temper flared and he was hopelessly lost to the moment. Where was his discipline now? His aversion to whimsy? With every missed grab for you, you smiled and laughed. When had you become so good at avoiding him?

 It was finally, after what felt like forever, that the game ended when he deceived you by juking one way, only to spin around and catch the back of your neck with his massive palm. The Thunder God didn’t have the patience to think, his fingers closed around the slender column of your neck, pulling you inward until you were slammed into his front, grunting from the impact. 

Time stood still as he looked down at you, his own heart hammered like a war drum, you could feel it even as your own pounded in tandem with his. Raiden’s mouth was opened slightly in the softest panting you’d ever seen, you knew there was no way that a measly five minutes of play fighting could have winded him like this. His eyes moved all over your face, making it impossible to pinpoint just what he was seeing, in truth he was taking in everything---the molten heat your surprised expression caused vexed him to the point of madness. Raiden pulled you in close, until you were nose to nose, his fingers releasing your neck only to fist the hair at the back of your head--tilting you back until your throat was exposed and he did not need to lean down so far to maintain eye contact.

“You. Will. Cease. This!” His shout filled the sky, and the distant clap of thunder made you jump, dragging your body across his front inadvertently. Whether it was your intention to press yourself to him, it didn’t matter--it was enough. He could feel your heat scorching him, your soft mouth opened in surprise at the sudden closeness, like a rabbit trapped in the jaws of a wolf. The sight of your bare throat, working and shifting with each breath and swallow caused his mouth to dry. True to his nature, however, Raiden made no move without consideration and he felt a distinct sense of anticipation waiting for you to acquiesce to his demand, as if he was leaning over the edge of some great cliff. 

Outraged flared to life in his belly when your small hands slid down his chest down to his belt, nails scraping across the leather as your look of shock morphed to one of pure heat. “Cease what, Lord Raiden? Aren’t we just training?” Your refusal to acknowledge your tomfoolery, coupled with the lingering sensation of your hands on his chest and stomach was all it took for Raiden to lurch forward, slotting his mouth against your smiling one with ravenous hunger. Your eyes closed, but his remained open as he watched you sink into him, soft tongue sliding across his lip even as he forced your mouth open with his own. He would be the first to admit, he did not know what he was doing---had he ever allowed himself a moment of weakness he never foresaw it being of the same nature as what was happening now. Your moan as his teeth caught your bottom lip unraveled his patience further, his hands moved to cup the small of your back, finger tips digging in harshly as he clawed at you--pulling you closer as if he could meld you with his own body. Raiden fought for that connection like a man possessed, inexperienced hands did not lack for enthusiasm and he touched every soft, supple curve of you that he could reach. When your leg came up to tuck against his hip, he picked you wholly up off of your feet and carried you over to where the training area bled into soft dirt and foliage. 

He didn’t let you breathe, even as you gasped between clashes of tongue and teeth, he took and took and took. Just as you had robbed him of his patience, he would rob you of your breath. When finally your small hands pushed at his shoulders, Raiden released you, allowing you to fall back to the soft grass beneath the two of you to pant and gasp desperately for air. You couldn’t even keep your eyes fully open, heavy as they were and as blurry as your vision had become, you still stared up at him with the sort of want reserved for lovers in heat---not tenuous acquaintances.  

Before you could recover, his massive hand was wrapping around your right side, fingers and palm curling around your rib cage as he held you still. His other hand kept him upright, allowing him to lean down to press his mouth into your throat. “R-Raiden…” His teeth pinched down on your windpipe, causing your legs to buckle inwards, holding the friction and heat between your thighs. “No more words.” He released your throat long enough to mutter, and there was something about his voice then, how it reverberated and demanded your obedience. You wanted to fight back, tease him and test him more, but the fight had drained out of you--leaving behind an emptiness that he readily filled. Raiden crowded you to the ground with his bulk, mouthing the spots on your neck that caused you to make the most noise. To see the Thunder God undone like this, animalistic and instinctual in his taking of you, you weren’t sure if you were even capable of being any wetter. He was so heavy, intolerant of you trying to move or shift even if it was to get comfortable, you had opened this Pandora's box and now the consequences were yours to have. “Raiden...please wait, let me get up, there’s a root under my back--”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, because he had clamped his teeth down on your throat and for a moment you thought perhaps he had pinched your airway. Your gasp was strained, soft, and it pleased him to feel you go rigid under him---your small body that burned like a furnace and tore wretched shocks of pleasure out of him, the likes of which he had never known. Your hands soothed immediately, rubbing at his shoulders, his chest and the back of his head if simply to ease him off of you. You’d pushed too far, this feral god above you hardly resembled the Raiden you knew to be the paragon of order and stoicism. The Thunder God eventually did let up, dragging his mouth from your abused throat to your mouth where he took his pleasure again, his body rocked clumsily into you, dragging his pelvis against yours to get friction where he needed it--and god you did too. You could feel him press hot and hard against your center, he didn’t seem to know where he was aiming precisely, but the motion of his hips was perfect and the thought of him inside you, at that pace and pressure had your thighs shaking around his wide hips. 

“Please….Let me….Raiden let me.” You begged when he finally released your mouth, and the supplication in your tone did give him pause. Thought and logic rolled back into his brain like a storm, and he looked surprised to find you beneath him---as if he hadn’t a clue how you had gotten to where you were. “I..You..” Raiden leaned back, meaning to get up off you, but your hands fisted into his robe, hauling yourself up onto him until he had to sit back and you were straddling his thighs. “Don’t quit on me now, Raiden.” Where once you submitted, now you dominated and his ire ignited again, engulfing him in want as his hands found your backside, bruising your curves with the harshness of his grip. Clarity hit him in the face, even as he let you roll your hips across him, rocking the apex of your thighs against the solid shape of his straining cock. You angered him, your levity and lack of decorum enraged him, and in turn brought to life a carnal hunger he had been certain he was impervious to. 

Sweat pearled on your brow as you fought desperately for friction, using his robes as a handhold so that you could grind and buck your hips into his own. You’d wanted this for so long, perhaps not as it was happening now but certainly you’d recognized the tension and power play between the two of you long before he had. Raiden seemed so lost now, fighting with his nature in favor of his instinctual desire to claim you. Leaning up, you pulled yourself to his ear and breathed out your words to him. “Let go for me. Take me, Raiden. God, I want you to take me.” Your last words faltered, wobbling in your throat and adding a tone of weakness to your bid for dominance. It was that weakness that he played on now, his forearm tucked under your backside, scooping you up higher on his chest so that now you loomed over him. Your torso pitched forward and you found yourself half-laying across his shoulder as he used his other hand to free himself from his trousers. Shocked by this boldness, you whipped your head around to look down at what he was doing, only to be shifted up higher. 

“I must have you. Now.” The finality of his tone brokered no arguments, and you weren’t really sure why you’d ever fought him to begin with. You couldn’t see, but you felt when his cock sprang free, and you couldn’t help but lean down, pushing the material that encased his head aside, to snag the lobe of his ear and suck it. He lowered you quickly, letting your clothed ass rest along the bridge of his aching cock, and your ministrations coupled with the pressure on his bare skin had his hips bucking into you, frotting his cock along your clothed center with growing urgency.

With Raiden supporting you, you had the ability to let go of him and tug frantically at your waistband, but you couldn’t get them down, you were pressed too closely. “R-Raiden.” “Lord Raiden.” You pulled back to glare at him, but he beat you to the quick by grabbing a fistful of the seat of your pants and ripping it clean off your body. Your gasp was swallowed by his mouth as he pressed it to yours again, lowering you back down to the ground so he could cage you between his arms and legs. Exposed, you had enough wits left to pull back and glare, panting hard as the thick weight of his cock rested on your belly, he seemed just as irate—-scowling as he took you in. 

He was thinking again, you could tell he was coming down from his anger induced high and if he left you now to struggle in your arousal in the dirt you’d kick him square in the head. But his thoughts it seemed weren’t of a nature to abandon you—but just what to do with you. He refused to let you know of his quandary, instead taking the base of his cock in hand and running it down your belly, across the crest of your mons and down to your slick folds. He was met with a wetness so hot he hissed through his teeth at the shift in temperature, your mewling beneath him didn’t help in the slightest and he took his other hand, pressing it on your throat with no intention to harm—but to quiet you.

Your throat chugged for air, warm and soft beneath his palm as finally he prodded at your entrance with his thickness. Your hips bucked to meet his, causing him to slip off of you and irritate him, “Be still!” His tone didn't register, the feeling of his silken cockhead bunching against your entrance had sent you into a downward spiral. “N-nnng make…me.” And so he did, clenching his jaw and lining himself up with your wriggling body. The sound you made in unison as he pushed into you with an audible ‘pop’ was so loud he flinched. You whined, open mouthed and wide eyed as the stretch burned through you, your hips rocked in small jerks and Raiden had to shift his hand from your throat to your hip to keep you from moving like that. He wasn’t even in all the way and your clenching pussy had almost unmanned him. 

Small, shaky hands moved to reach for him, the flush on your face reached down to your neck and your tongue darted out to wet your aching lip, bruised from where his teeth had pinched you. “Pl….please, please..” His hips shifted forward as he peered down at you, gaining his cock another inch and causing your eyes to slam shut. All you could do is ride it out, his cock pushed in snuggly —your insides working hard to adjust to his girth—and despite his best efforts to appear unbothered, he couldn’t help the groan that spilled from him.

He bottomed out in you after what felt like hours, inch after excruciating inch before his hips were flushed to yours and he had to tilt his head back to get air. When he felt your nails dig at his hip through his robe he finally looked down, seeing your small, tired grin at his expression of baffled pleasure. Raiden knew there was more to come once he started moving, but the intensity of it as he pulled out had his back stiffening and his hips snapping forward to bury his entire length within you again. As if the very thought of being outside of you was an intolerable offense. The scrabble of your fingers in the fabric of his robes and the look of frantic desperation plastered on your face spurred him on, telling him to ignore that inner voice that screamed for reason, he pulled back—then slammed back in without restraint.

The sob you released filled the area, echoing and Raiden pressed his palm over your mouth to stifle your cries as he picked up an uneven but consistent pace—for one horrible moment you feared he may have cracked your pelvis—but when blinding pleasure wracked through you as his pace grew sloppy, you realized the only thing Raiden had broken was your defiance.

He curled over you, teeth latching into your neck, eclipsing you as he grabbed your hips and pulled them up to meet his thrusts. The angle stole your thought and soon your insides clamped down on Raiden like a vice, making him stutter and pull back only to press every inch of himself within you. The Thunder God above you shuddered and bowed his body to pull you in as close as he could. Raiden whispered your name into the nook of your neck, bucking and grinding until your hands pushed at him to stop, uttering the weakest, most attractive laugh he’d ever heard.

“Are you…?”

“I’m…I’m fine,” You hid your smile in his chest as he pulled you off of the ground and into his lap, where you slumped into a boneless mess. “I…apologize.” He at least sounded genuine when he said it, but you know better. “But you’re not sorry.” You heard more than saw his huff of irritated amusement, before you closed your eyes and let your fate settle in his hands. Raiden simply observed you, more clear headed now that he'd spent his anger inside you—-where he remained and despite the realization that you were both vulnerable and easily seen—he couldn’t bring himself to pull out just yet.

Raiden knew you were a rare moment in time, he’d let himself keep you for as long as he could.

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

As a taller girlie, I’m wondering... how would Chris and his characters react to their S/O being taller than them?

I honestly have nothing to do so how bout I treat you guys for a comeback. Its a little short just for a small comeback but if you want me to do a part two for this let me know :) Happy Friday yall.

Requests closed for now until I catch up on people's past requests if they still want them.

Characters Listed: Chris Evans, Steve Rogers, Ransom Drysdale, Andy Barber, Johnny Storm, Jake Jensen

How Chris' Characters Would React To A Tall S/O

Chris Evans

Chris doesn't mind a tall s/o, he might make jokes here and there, you make fun of him. You and Hemsworth are both tall so it's fun when you're in the same rook together. Chris loves when you wear heels though, it makes it more funnier to him on the carpet when his lover is towering over him. If he had a dime every time someone asked, "How does it feel to be the short lover?" He'd be richer than he normally was.

Whether you're taller or not, he still treats you like you're the small spoon. But to be clear, you're definitely not Andre the Giant to him. You're not Shaq to him either, you're the love of his life and he will love you no matter what. Honestly, you probably got a lot of comments of being the pick of the relationship since most loves tall women.

.

Steve Rogers

Intimidated the first moment he saw you. It was at a party. Whether you had superpowers or not, he thought you were another supersoldier. "Nah, she's just the front desk receptionist," Tony says. It was a lie, you were in SHIELD as an agent, you actually were Tony Stark's secret bodyguard but also chaperone.

That was also a lie told by Tony. But you were an agent. Steve and Sam were both afraid to step up and ask how the hell you were tall. Thor was even impressed that she managed to be the same height as him and taller than Sif. Thor was fond of you and believed you were a God trying to be an undercover agent.

Years after, Steve asked you out and ever since people never shut up about the height (Tony himself) Natasha was the support but joked every once in a while. Steve always like the height, it was never seen a lot where he saw how strong and confident a tall woman could be. You literally looked like you'd kick ass even if you didn't know hoe to fight. His pre-serum self would be jealous. But he loved you and enjoyed how you looked at him with a smile.

Ransom Drysdale

There's a chance some things can get spicy. Not inna sexual way of course. There's challenges. Ransom doesn't like being downgraded by tall people but when it comes to his s/o. You're in bit of a tough ride. Ransom never knew how the hell he got you, but he thought you were a model at first.

He didn't plan on dating you, until he actually put effort into something more and eventually asked you out. Now he's gotten cocky. When with family, you've become almost as tall as his uncle, Walt. The family never has filters, especially Walt.

There's always going to be one person who picks on you and Ransom's height differences. "Have you grown taller, Y/N?" Walt asks, "Figured you'd stop by now, one day, it's gonna hurt Ransom's ego."

Being taller only made you the center attention but also help for the kids.

.

Andy Barber

Surprising enough, Andy didn't know how he got you and how you got so tall. You just happened to grow faster than him in Law School. Andy doesn't mind having tall wife but Jacob finds that shit cool. There's kids always talking about you with Jacob. Even you became an officer, you'd stop by and scare anyone.

Andy jokes here and there but he loves you no matter what. Sometimes the niegbors gossip on how a tall woman should be with a man taller than her but you didn't give a dang and married someone just a couple inches shorter. Who cares? Tall people are cool.

"How's the weather down there?"

"I'm a lawyer, not a Weather Forecaster."

Johnny Storm

There's two things, Johnny being mentally and physically bigger but in reality, he's neither. With a tall woman, he's shocked to see a tall glass of water (he says) roam in the building with Reed. There's a lot of moments where he's going to flirt almost any chance he gets.

"I know the air is pretty thin up there," Johnny began, he smirk, "Why don't you lay in my bed and catch your breath?"

"Uh... no?"

Rejected? Oh no, he doesn't take that for an answer. He's going to try.

"Do you play basketball? Maybe volleyball?"

"..."

"No?"

Johnny tries again. "You would totally be worth the climb!" Disgust received from you. "You're a tall drink of water. And I'm thirsty!"

"Just ask me out already and stop talking about my height." Johnny didn't need to be told twice as he happily gave you his number.

Jake Jensen

Oh, you two aren't the ones talking about height differences. It's your friends you guys work with. Yeah, Pooch out of the rest was a pain in the ass about your height. But you happened to be the most powerful person in the group.

Jensen loved your height, he liked being the smaller one (secretly). He liked it when people were watching you. Even though you weren't that overly tall than him, he liked it when you placed your hand on his head or shoulder. He likes looking up at you too. There's always a point where he gets on one knee to dramatically request help or anything.

[laysdimplesareillegal]

NCT as High School Teachers

Y’ALL IT’S FINALLY HERE

So I saw a thibg on instagam that said nct as teachers so lets go

We’re going by age so I know I get all of them but I also don’t know all of them too well. I’m literally so upset I cant do xiaojun because I love him but I also don't know him well enough I’m sorry honey. also some of these I really pulled out of nowhere so they might be way the frick off

Taeil

I think he’s like one of those teachers who loves his job and wants his students to love his class but like he teaches selectively at the end of the day and they just want to go home

Teaches like language arts or some sort of literature

Is so happy to teach everyday

Johnny

Everyone's best friend

Knows every bit of gossip going on in school

Nobody knows what his job is

Meanders around campus all day

Knows your name somehow

Taeyong

Teaches something to help improve life skills like speech or something. Teaches Home Ec.

Loves his students and wants to be involved in their lives

Pretends like he’s not listening to all the student’s gossip so he hears it all

Gets bombarded in the teacher’s lounge on what’s happening (needs to be cajoled)

Surprised by all the scandalous things his students get themselves into

Yuta

We all knew this was coming

The hot substitute teacher

Works like once a semester

When he comes to work the whole school is rocked and he knows it

Walks around the classroom all day like sir why are you strutting

Sits with his feet up on the desk

Kun

Probably wants to be a really good and strict teacher

But the kids know they can walk all over him

Senior teacher

So when the seniors are informal with him so are the rest of the students

Doyoung

Scary

Extremely silent classroom you could hear a pin drop on the carpet

But like then he’s seen around the other teachers and he's so smiley

Either lectures and notes or busy work

Will not. Under any circumstances. Allow friends to sit next to each other.

Ten

“Do whatever you want, I don’t care”

Art teacher

So he can do whatever he wants, pass kids, and gets paid to use the school’s art supplies

Scolds kids who insult other kids’ artwork

Randomly subs for PE one day and makes the students learn dance

Jaehyun

Honestly idk probably an elective

His class is pretty average just like any other

But wow sir hello

Everyone is in love with him

Is besties with Taeyong and like wow what a pair Probably has a movie day like at least once a month

Winwin

Mysterious

Likes select students who will then learn that he likes stuff like ballet and singing

Students only learn about him through Yuta

People take his class cuz they know Yuta will visit him even when he doesn’t work

Well and ya know because its Sicheng

Is a pretty chill teacher

Jungwoo

FRESHMEN TEACHER

Girls literally coo at him instead of doing their work

Wonders why he has to fail students when he doesn’t teach anything

Speaks in tiny and loses control of his class sometimes

Shares a room with another teacher like idk Jaehyun.. Idk why but he does

(I have just been informed that he does in fact share a room with Jaeyun so there you have it)

Lucas

Teaches like P.E.

It’s something he can do and be loud about

Loves shouting orders but he never sounds angry like a normal coach lol

Actually scratch that he can sound angry sometimes

PRETENDS to be angry and yells then laughs like lol you should see your faces

ALWAYS plays with the students he never stays on the sidelines

Allows you to wear normals clothes not just the ugly gym uniform

Mark

Yes he teaches english

But half the class is just him laughing

Lots of the other teachers visit him

Like Yuta and Haechan

You can hear him from down the hall

I feel like he’s that teacher that has mistakes in his notes or tests or something, like small little spelling errors idk I can just see it

Firmly believes that you learn best by immersion and therefore you watch TV in class ALL THE TIME

Hendery

Drama teacher drama teacher drama teacher

All around good vibes

Finds things funnier than other students do

Truly anything goes in his class

Has never written up a student

Does stuff. Like you’re not the only one up there embarrassing yourself he does it first so y’all aren’t shy

No shyness allowed he will shell you like a pistachio

Renjun

Strict

It’s not even that he wants his students to do well or any dumb excuses like that he’s just strict

He gets teased all the time by the other teachers and his students cower at them

They honestly think it’s his twin brothers talking with the other teachers who is this man

Teaches a language class

So its like you either speak in that language or you don’t speak at all

Really cuts the stupid out of his class

And his class is really difficult for no reason everyone is like “But sir this is 101”

Jeno

Good wholesome teacher everyone can like

I can see him in like home ec

Kids come and talk to him all the time

His tests are so easy you are guaranteed to pass his class with flying colors as long as you know how to spell your name

Haechan

Study hall

Wants to have no responsibility Leaves the classroom all of the time, like he’s never in the classroom

Visits Mark so much

And Johnny so many visits to Mark and Johnny

Jaemin

He probably dabbles a little bit into phys ed

Also enjoys teaching so much

Has a big smile in class all the time

Learned everyone’s names down after the first day of class

Wants everyone to have a good ol’ time

Yangyang

Probably gets along with the younger boys 

Teaches something but people only learn german from him

No learning goes on in his vicinity

I love him but I feel like some people would find him a lil annoying

The jokes never stop

Chenle

Teaches freshmen math

He���s really hit or miss with his students

Sometimes they like him sometimes they don’t get him

I feel like he’s the teacher that always has like a group of students that eat lunch in his room

Always looks so fine like he dresses really well and all

Probably makes you do a lot of group projects I feel

Jisung

The youngest teacher

No one’s sure he’s actually allowed to be a teacher because he’s very discreet with his timeline like nobody knows his age but he has a mysterious amount of degrees

Like no one knows the details of his life he’s just there

Was mistaken as a student on multiple occasions

[hangovercurse]

Stay With You ii

You get the call after Rook’s accident and go to the hospital to take care of him.

Requests: “ Could you maybe write another Rook story about where you get the call after his accident that he’s in the hospital and just always staying there with him and when his dad shows up he sees you leaning on the bed sleeping holding Rooks hand or something and he knows you’ll take care of him? I just really love Rook “ “ I was wondering if you know what happened to rook and if you could write something cute like taking care of him after being worried at first about him. I had a mental breakdown when we got the news I'm hoping he gets well soon “

JP “Rook” Cappelletty X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of the accident (violence, broken bones, etc.), angst

A/N: I needed something happy to come out of this situation so... I wrote it.

Word Count: 2372

part i

You woke up a few hours later to Rook moving under you, your eyes finding his instantly. “Hey baby, how are you feeling?” You asked as you sat up, a smile on your face as you saw that the bruising on his face was fading. He had clearly just woken up as well, sleep still in his eyes.

“Better, I think. Awake.” You nodded, moving the pillow from his lap.

“Your dad’s here.” You said softly, nodding your head towards the man who was sleeping in the chair against the wall. You giggled at the sight and Rook let out a chuckle.

“I’m hungry” He whined and you frowned, remembering what the anesthesiologist told you about no food 8 hours before surgery. He was scheduled to go in at 10 am, and it was currently 5 am.

“I’m sorry, babe. The doctor said no food until after the surgery. I can see if they’ll let you eat jello if you want.” He frowned and you reached up to rub his face. You could tell this was going to be a long 8 weeks.

Truth be told, Rook was a baby when he got sick. He would lay in bed and whine until you agreed to cuddle with him. And if he wanted something, he would pout until he got it. But you kind of loved it. “I’ll be right back.” You whispered, standing up to go find a nurse.

He smiled at you, “can you hand me my phone?” He asked. You moved to the other side of his bed where his phone lay on a table and handed it to him. “I’m gonna see if Colson’s still up.”

You nodded, happy that the two boys were so close. You put your mask on and left the room, flagging down one of the nurses working the night shift.

When you got back into the room with 2 cups of lemon-flavored jello, Johnny was up and the father and son were having a light conversation. You set the cups on the tray and moved it so it was in front of Rook. He tried to raise his hands but you could tell he was struggling. He let out a sigh and looked at you, embarrassment in his eyes.

You smiled lightly, trying not to giggle at his helplessness. “Do you want me to help you?” You asked and he gave a nod, pouting. You adjusted his bed so he was sitting up fully.

“Can you sit next to me?” Johnny let out a laugh as you rolled your eyes a little bit.

Rook tried to shift over in the bed, but you could tell it was hurting him. “Baby stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” You sighed.

“I want you to sit on the bed with me.”

You looked at his dad, an exasperated look in your eyes. He just chuckled and turned back to his phone. “I don’t want to hurt you.” You frowned, taking notice of the fact that there was very little room on the bed to begin with.

He squinted his eyes at you, still pouting. “You won’t hurt me.” You raised your eyebrow and moved to sit halfway on the bed, your right thigh resting on the mattress but the majority of your weight still on your left foot on the ground. “Not good enough.”

You rolled your eyes, scooting closer so that your back was against the back of the bed, turned on your side. He smiled, reaching his arm up slowly to try and wrap it around your shoulders. You glared at him, but he shot you a “My hand is broken, not my arm.”

You sighed, sitting up and leaning onto his chest, where you knew he wanted you. You pulled your other leg onto the bed, careful not to put any pressure against his. You leaned up slightly, putting weight on your right hand as your left grabbed the jello cup beside the bed. He opened his mouth and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t like how much you’re enjoying this.”

You placed a small spoonful of the yellow food into his mouth, making him smile. “In a few years, its gonna be you in this bed and I’ll be feeding you jello.” You tilted your head at his words, furrowing your eyebrows. “Y’know, when you’re giving birth to our kid.”

You blushed, a smile making its way to your face. You knew JP wanted kids at some point, and you did too. But you guys had never really talked about it. And now he was bringing it up so casually. Before you could respond, the door opened, and in walked Colson with a backpack full of what he called “everything Rook will ever need,” which you assumed to mean weed and tequila.

Rook smiled, “Yo, dude, what’s up?” Colson threw the bag onto the floor on the opposite side of the bed from you.

“How are you, man?” Colson asked, throwing himself onto the chair next to it.

Rook shrugged, “I’ve been better.” He chuckled and you rolled your eyes, a small giggle coming from you. “Y/N’s feeding me, so it’s not too bad.”

His dad spoke up, “You’re forcing Y/N to feed you jello, you mean?” You laughed at that as Rook’s shoulders fell. “Nice to see you, Kelly.”

“You too, Johnny. I like the new hair.” Colson smiled at the older man, who thanked him. “So, what did the doctors say?”

Rook gave him the rundown, one surgery today, Wednesday, and another on Friday. Casts on his hands for 6 weeks and on his legs for longer. The four of you spoke for a while afterwards and then Colson pulled out a game of connect four (which you raised your eyebrows at but Rook seemed excited about it).

Eventually the Anesthesiologist, Dr. Stenson, came in with a few nurses to take Rook to surgery. You had to climb off the bed, much to Rook’s dismay. “I can’t go into surgery with you, dummy.” But part of you wished you could stay with him because you did not like the way those nurses were looking at him. Colson noticed your distaste and chuckled, causing you to send him a glare.

“He’s going to be very drowsy when he comes back once the anesthesia wears off.” Dr. Stenson said, and you smiled at the thought of Rook on anesthesia, which he claimed would be “just like being high.” Dr. Stenson shook his head at that.

Before he was wheeled out of the room on his bed, he made grabby hands at you as best as he could. You leaned closer to him, pressing your lips against his quickly. “I love you, Y/N” He said, quietly. He didn’t mind anyone else hearing, but he wanted these words to be only for you.

“I love you too.” You said, just as quietly. He leaned back up to kiss you again, making you smile. You were starting to love helpless Rook; it was just endless attention and neediness.

The nurses took him off to surgery, leaving you, Johnny, and Colson alone in the room together. You collapsed onto the chair you had slept in, letting out a sigh as Colson chuckled at you. “Shut up.” You scrunched your nose at him, curling into the chair and bringing the pillow under your head.

“You guys are cute, what?” He asked, defensively, but the smile on his face was anything but.

You pouted, trying to push yourself further into the chair to find some comfort, but you knew your attempts to sleep were futile. You groaned, sitting up and throwing your head down towards your chest. “I’m so tired.” You mumbled, causing the two men to laugh.

“This is your life for the next 2 months.” Johnny chuckled. “If he doesn’t marry you after this then you need to leave his ass.”

You chuckled, the irony of his dad telling you that made it even funnier. “I can’t believe he still hasn’t proposed.” Colson shook his head in disappointment.  

A laugh fell from your mouth. “It’s funny how everyone is more impatient than I am for my own proposal.”

“I don’t understand how you’re so patient! I’ve barely been with Megan a whole year and I already wanna marry her.” Colson threw his head back against the back of his chair.

“I mean it’s not like I’m worried it’s not gonna happen. We were just talking about kids. He just doesn’t feel the rush, I guess. I don’t either, what’s the big deal with getting married anyways?”

Colson tilted his head at you, “It’s like, this huge proclamation of your love. Like you’re telling the whole world that you’re gonna love each other for the rest of your lives.”

You shrugged, looking down at your nails. “I mean, we don’t really need big proclamations. It’s in the little things. I love him, he loves me.”

You could feel both men’s eyes on yours and heat ran to your cheeks as you thought about the idea of a white dress. “But you do wanna get married, right?” Johnny asked and you smiled.

“Of course, I just don’t want to push him into something like that. He’ll ask when he’s ready.”

Colson shook his head as you looked back up, “He is one lucky motherfucker. Literally every other person would’ve kicked his ass by now.” You chuckled, not saying anything. “Wait you guys were talking about kids?”

You nodded, “right before you got here, actually.”

Colson furrowed his eyebrows, “I never saw him as the type, honestly.”

You smiled widely, “He brought it up.” Colson shrugged, a hum coming from his mouth. “I think it’d be kinda nice. I don’t know how it would work with him being on tour all the time, but that’s a discussion for another day.”

“I seriously can’t imagine Rook being a dad.”

“Can you imagine Rook getting married?” You giggled as Colson shook his head.

“Well I, for one, am looking forward to being a grandad, so hop on that.” Johnny said and you laughed. You spent the rest of the time while Rook was in surgery playing connect four and eating shitty hospital food, trying to keep your mind off the fact that Rook was in fucking surgery.

When he did get back, it was a sight to behold. The nurses wheeled him back into the room, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “Y/NNN!” He slurred, “Look at my beautiful girlfriend.” He said to the nurses and you and Colson busted out laughing. “She’s so cool. She comes on tour with me sometimes, and we partyyy.” He made a dancing motion with his arms even though they his right was in a very large cast.

“Okay Rookie, the nurses are gonna leave now, okay?” You said, trying to hide your laughter. The nurses gave you a look of thanks and left the room after leaving you with a list of what he could and couldn’t do. Colson took his phone out and started recording, knowing that whatever Rook was gonna say next would be funny.

The surgery went well according to them, but the doctors would be in later when the medicine wore off to tell you more. “How are you feeling?” You asked, knowing he wouldn’t give a real answer.

“I feel greeeat. I’d feel better if my fiancé were laying with me right now, but other than that I am just fine.”

You cocked an eyebrow, an amused look on your face. “Your fiancé?”

“Yeahhhh.”

“When did you propose?” You giggled, looking over to his dad and Colson who were both cracking up.

A look of realization crossed Rook’s face, “Oh shit, I forgot that step, didn’t I?” You nodded, “Do you wanna get married?” You bent over in laughter at his innocent expression. He pouted at you, whining. “Why are you laughing I’m asking you to marry me?”

You tried to speak through your laughs, “I’m sorry babe.” You took a deep breath in, “I’m not laughing at you.”

“So, you don’t wanna get married?” He asked, getting very upset.

“I do, baby. I do. But you gotta get a ring.”

“Oh yeaaaah.” He looked over at Colson. “Colson, where’s the ring?” Your head snapped to Colson, whose face went red.

“Dude you didn’t get a ring.” He tried to cover it up but you could tell he was lying.

Your eyes went wide and your mouth hung open. “Yes I did, I told you to bring the ring with you when you came.” He whined.

You giggled, hand going to your mouth. “Oh wait.” He said, turning back to you. “I can’t ask you to marry me right now. I gotta get down on one knee and my legs are broken.”

Johnny had an amused look on his face when you looked over to him for help. “Okay, Rookie. I’ll forget that you proposed and then when your legs get better you can do it again, okay?”

He nodded, “But you’ll still say yes, right?”

“I’ll still say yes.” You smiled, eyes closing as you continued to laugh. “You should get some sleep, hun.” You moved his braids out of his face.

“I wanna cuddle.” He pouted.

“You just had surgery; I can’t give you cuddles.” You frowned as he looked sad.

“Why don’t you love me?”

“I do love you, Rookie. I just can’t cuddle you with your arm broken.” You could hear Colson wheezing from the opposite side of the bed. “Get some sleep and we can cuddle when you wake up.”

He groaned but leaned back into the bed anyways, slowly drifting off to sleep. You turned to Colson, eyes wide and face red. “You had a whole conversation about marriage while you had his ring in your bag?” You whisper screamed.

He raised his hands up in surrender, “I was just doing what I was told. I didn’t think he’d propose to you while he was high off his ass on anesthesia.” He chuckled.

Johnny chuckled, “at least you got it on video.” You sighed and rolled your eyes, putting your face in your hands.

“Congratulations!” Colson said, eyes swinging up in the air.