#ghostface id pack

[rabidbatboy]

♱ SCENE KID GHOSTFACE ID PACK . . .

NAMES ; ghostie , scythe , killer , billy , reaper , axe , wound , gray , tyler , bates , splatter , ripley , havoc , phantom , malice , pierce, adder , wesley , zim , neo , hyde , candi , travis , blitz , spike , zero , chase

PRNS ; slash / slashs , mask / masks , skull , skulls , neo / neons , gut / guts, blood / bloods , kill / kills , rave / raves , rawr / rawrs , knife / knifes , glit / glitter , dead / deads , ghost / ghosts , spook / spooks , kand / kandi , slice / slices , raz / razor , stud / studs , scene / scenes , zim / zims , gore / gores , scream / screams , stab / stabs , eye / strain

TiTLES ; the ghostface, the kandi killer, [X] who wears the ghost mask , the stalker , the hunter , the murderer , the killer of woodsboro, the masked one , the bringer of death , the killer in neon , the one covered in blood , the scene slasher , [X] who chases , the myspace murderer , the one who makes massacres

iDENTiTiES ; slashermovian , sceneslasher , scenecoric , skelglovegender , scenehorric , ghostfacemurderer , invighostface , ghostfaceslasher , neonpinkgoric , slasheomic , slashgoreic , maskedslasheric , rainbowslasher , knifething , bloodthing , kidscenecringeic , kandicoric , gorrorslashxic , ghostfacelover

🦇 ——— REQUESTED BY ; @kiruyeen

[ PT: scene kid ghostface id pack

names;

prns;

titles;

identities; (links)

requested by; @/user / END PT]

[spooky-luvur]

OPEN 24/7

(Ghostface x Reader)

(Summary: Working at a gas station at two in the morning was sooo boring- until a strange customer changes that)

The bell rings for the umpteenth time. As part of your game, you make a guess in your head. Another old beer-belly? Bud Light, but maybe Modelo. Maybe a kid, reeking of weed and you’re gonna need to ask them for ID. Those are more common than you’d like to think about.

You listen to the squeak of leather shoes against the floor, not bothering to look up from your phone until the footsteps stop in front of you.

“How can I help you?”

“Something more interesting than me?”

The tone of the man causes you to finally avert your attention. He’s neither fat and bald nor young enough to require questions, if the shadow on his face is any indication. He's giving you a look, hands nonchalantly tucked into the pockets of his jacket. Not a mean look- you’ve gotten enough of those working at this crummy gas station to know the difference. The smooth brow and twinkling eyes is enough to tell you he isn’t mad and isn’t about to yell at you about the pumps not working. Not yet at least.

You flush a bit at the call out, awkwardly slipping the device in your pocket. Thankfully it’s just you tonight, so there’s no annoying coworker to rat you out for this.

“Sorry,” you tell him, trying to sound at least a tidbit professional. “Slow night, I guess.”

The man’s lips quirk but he’s not quite smiling. You wonder if he’s actually upset about it before he nods to the shelf behind you.

“Some reds. Gotta look cool and mysterious for all the people flinging themselves at me.”

You let out a ‘ha’ at his joke and he grins. You turn to grab a pack of smokes, placing it on the counter and he pulls out some cash to pay for it. Not unusual, but usually people his age love to flaunt their fancy credit cards to prove they have them or some other bullshit reason to flash the shiny hunk of plastic at you. Normally a shitty pick-up line follows it.

“Not very good for you,” you attempt to joke. The man raises his brow and you immediately wish you kept a gun behind the counter to shoot yourself with.

“I know,” he says. “Ever found yourself hooked on something, though? Can be tough as hell to break away.” He gives a kind of wry smile that leaves you fidgeting where you stand.

“No. Not- nothing like that, no.”

The man deftly tucks the smokes into his pocket.

"Right. Well, have a nice night," he says before turning on his heel and swiftly exiting the store, the encounter happening so quickly that it leaves your head spinning.

“Alright,” you mutter to yourself, a bit too stiff to go back to your casual leaning against the counter pose.

You’re still absentmindedly staring at the glass doors when the phone rings. The blaring noise makes you jump but you snatch it up nonetheless, stuttering out a hello.

“Heya, just checking in.”

The voice of your boss makes your shoulders relax. You suddenly can’t remember what they were tense for.

“Hey Jimmy, I’m doing fine.”

“Yeah? No robbers?”

“If there was, I wouldn’t be talking to you. I’d be crying in the freezer.”

“Ha. Never gonna happen, kid. Not when they know Big Jim’s the one that owns the place.”

“Course not.”

He reminds you to restock the drinks before he hangs up, leaving you sighing against the phone. A couple seconds after you set it down it rings again and you pick it up fully expecting for Jimmy to answer saying ‘and another thing-‘

But it isn’t Jimmy who responds to your hello this time. A peculiar voice echoes the word back to you. It makes you pause, and a short silence follows.

“…Hello?”

Snapping out of it, you instinctively adjust your posture as though the person on the other end could discern your lackluster demeanor and reprimand you for it.

“How can I help you?”

”Who is this?”

“…Jimmy’s Station. Do you need a pizza, or…”

“No, no. Was hoping you could help me with something else.”

“Okay…what is it?” You naw your lip, nervous for some reason. Your gut twists like you’ve eaten something bad.

“You got any knives?”

“Ah…”

You glance over at the rack of colorful blades on the other side of the counter. All shapes and sizes, all dangerously sharp.

“Yes, we do.”

“Perfect. You got any pink ones?”

“Buying one for your wife?”

Seriously, curse you and your automatic attempts to desperately avoid weird conversations. The voice on the other end laughs a bit. Or scoffs.

”Maybe. Think she’ll like it?”

“I mean, probably.”

“Hm…what about blue? You got any blue ones?”

“Yes, we have blue knives.” You answer, simply exasperated now. Part of you thinks this guy is just messing with you, but these seem like regular questions well enough. It’s not like there’s a lack of strange people out there that could be asking them.

“Well, that’s just great. Hey, could you do me a favor?”

Knowing he’s probably gonna say something stupid, you reply with a ‘sure, whatever.’

”Take one of those pretty, shiny knives- one of the really nice ones, you know? Pick your favorite color, even. Take it, really feel the weight- and shove it in your gut till you bleed like a stuck fucking pig.”

The phone is suddenly a block of ice in your hand.

“W-What?”

”What?” It mocks you. “You think it’ll hurt? I bet you’d like that.”

You shake. Why the hell haven’t you hung up yet? The sick freak on the other end laughs tauntingly. Like he’s actually having fun with this.

”You would wouldn’t you? I’d take your damn guts and string them up on the wall- really spice the place up a bit, it’s so dreary. Then I’d-“

You finally rip the phone away from your ear and slam it down onto the receiver. Gulping in a breath, you rub your hands down your face to steady yourself. Stupid prank callers.

Deciding you need to get the hell up and do something with your hands you leave the counter and head toward the back of the store behind the freezers. Upon entering you shiver, considering going back out to your car to retrieve your jacket.

You haul a box of beers onto a table and begin unpacking them, the repetitive motion allowing you to lose yourself in your thoughts. For a few minutes it’s a good distraction from the voice you keep replaying in your head.

Then your phone rings. Not the store phone still on the front counter- your personal cell resting in your back pocket.

‘Ugh,’ you think. ‘What is it now, spam?’

Thinking that, you ignore call and let it continue ringing until it stops. But then it happens again, and you’re annoyed enough to whip it out and answer it.

“Listen-“

”You’re being really fucking bad.”

The can you’d been holding slips out of your grip and explodes on the floor, wetting your feet. You curse loudly and fling your phone onto the table.

“What the fuck!”

The device slides off the table and clatters onto the stone floor. All you can do for several moments is stand there and stare as if the voice would reach through the device and grab you, carrying out the acts it had told you to perform on yourself only minutes prior.

Thinking quickly you hurry over to the freezer door and lock it from the inside. Great, now the only people that can get in and get you are people that work here. You can just stay in here till morning, right? Or maybe Jim will call again and you won’t pick up and he’ll get worried and he’ll call for someone to help you and-

“Saved me the trouble.”

A pair of arms wind around your waist and you’re ripped away from the door and tossed onto the ground like a sack of food. The concrete scratches your skin painfully as you gasp for breath, glancing up to see a kind of black shroud. It’s all you allow yourself before you’re scrambling to your feet and further into the room.

Only, as you stop in front of the back door that leads to basically the woods, you realize you don’t have the one think that opens it on your person. Your mind thinks back to the key ring in the office as you hear the shrouded attacker approaching.

“Please,” you’re saying before you even turn around. Once you do you’re met with a stark white face twisted in a dramatic scream. The figure is tall, you notice as it stalks closer.

“Already begging?” It teases you in a warped voice. The same one on the phone, you realize.

“What the hell?” The fearful tears in your eyes sting angrily. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Want do you want? I’ll call the fucking cops!”

He’s laughing before you can finish.

“Really? Who am I to stop you, then?”

He steps to the side and waves his arm to the doorway behind him.

“Phones just over there. Go ahead.”

Surely. Surely he’s messing with you. You’re not that stupid, and neither is he. And he knows that you know that, if the silent laughter that makes his shoulders shake is any indication.

“Fuck you,” you hiss at him as you press your back to the locked door. Your hands splay across the cold metal as if searching for a blackhole to swallow you completely.

“Such a dirty mouth! Think it’s good for anything other than cussing me out?”

“Get fucked.”

“Are you offering?”

You find yourself paralyzed with fear as he reaches into a concealed pocket, retrieving a knife. The silver gleams in the shitty light of the freezer.

“What do you want?” You take pride in lack of tremble in your voice.

“You were so rude earlier,” the masked man says. He slides a finger down the blade of the knife tauntingly. “Hanging up, and then ignoring me? Didn’t your mother teach you any better?”

“You deserved it, freak.”

“Oh!” He laughs. “You think so? Mm, maybe I was a bit forward…” He playfully taps a gloved finger against the plastic mask like a cartoon villain.

Your heart beats painfully in your chest but you force yourself to steady your breathing and consider your options. Right now you’re stuck between this obviously intelligent freak of a man and a locked door you have no hope of opening unless you suddenly get super strength.

“I see you thinking, doll. Wanna share with the class?” By now he’s standing mere inches away and you flinch as he brings up the gutting knife to trace the tip of it along the vulnerable skin of your exposed collar.

You steel yourself, tilting your head so you’re not looking up at him like a frightened child. “Get away from me.”

The knife pauses in its path up your throat and you nearly shiver at the sharp chill.

“Away? From you?”

A hand tangles in your hair and shoves you harder against the door, making you groan in pain.

“Go ahead and have an attitude again, I dare you. Double dare, even.” He hisses, bringing his mask closer to your face. You can’t see his eyes behind the cloth. Just a black void.

“I’m sorry…” you mutter, having to come up with something quick. Maybe if you convince this guy you’re totally giving up he’ll slip somehow and you can get away. Or he’ll see right though it and you’ll end up with your insides strewn about like party streamers. That’ll be fun for the next shift.

Your breathy tone causes him to pause. After a moment his chest rumbles like a happy purr.

“Oh, that’s good. I like that. Say it again, won’t you?”

You can feel his knife poking your belly- thinly veiled threat.

“I’m sorry.” You grow bold enough to slide your hand from the wall and onto his waist. You touch the man lightly as if he was a bomb you could set off at any moment. Which he is.

“I’m just scared. Please.”

“Of course you are. But it’s gonna be okay,” he brings his other hand from your hair down to your face to traces your lips with his finger. It would have made your stomach flutter if he wasn’t holding a knife against it.

“I’m not gonna hurt you too bad. I just wanna have some fun, but you’re being such a brat.”

“I…”

Your eyes slide past him to the open doorway. Your phone still rests on the floor in that room, but doesn’t he know about that? No way he’d let you anywhere near it. You’d have to think of something, fast.

A hand under your chin forces you to look back at the screaming mask.

“I hope you’re not thinking of it. I don’t know if I can handle anymore of that tonight.”

“No…no, of course not.”

“Good. Good boy.” His hand moves from your chin to curl around your throat as if simply admiring the flesh there.

“Please,” you push yourself off the wall and further against him, straight up pressing your chest to his at this point. His hand stutters against you and you don’t feel the sharp press of the knife anymore. “You’re…making me feel so-“

“Yeah? How am I making you feel, baby?”

You smooth your hands up his arms, having to mentally scream at yourself to keep you from fawning over the firm muscle there.

Maybe he’s too desperate to get his hands on you, or maybe he’s distracted by your hands on him, but he’s loose enough to not notice the not so subtle tightening of your grasp all of a sudden.

“So…urgh!”

You don’t know where you got the strength but you throw your entire body weight at the guy in order to shove him away and pretty much fling him toward a metal rack stacked full of boxes. He yelps in pain as he crashes into it, bottles spilling out and exploding. If the bitter smell of strong alcohol doesn’t suffocate him, his now drenched mask surely will. You use his momentary stun to turn and sprint to the other room, nearly slipping on the liquid covering the floor.

Your hands are shaking from adrenaline so badly you almost lose your balance once you crawl under the table to retrieve your phone. Breathing a sigh of relief once you have it you swipe to your contacts and click on the first one you see, the scream for help on the tip of your tongue. You don’t remember if your finger hit the call button or not before you’re suddenly grabbed by the ankle and dragged out from under the table shrieking.

You don’t have time to prepare yourself to meet the terrible mask once again before you’re flipped onto your back, but that doesn’t matter. A gasp gets stuck in your throat at the bare face that greets you.

“You…”

The man’s hair is damp as it falls over his eyes and he reeks of fancy beer. He’s breathing heavily as he sits on your legs to keep you still.

“Hey, doll. Funny seeing you here.”

A brief exchange- a single purchase was all it took to become a victim? He must see the realization on your face because he grins like a bully.

“I know, I know. I did good, didn’t I? Had to stop myself from jumping over the counter then and there. Knew the wait would be worth it, though.”

“You fucking prick!” Squirming within the man's unyielding hold, he maintains a smug grin while firmly clasping your wrists. You can tell someone like him is simply reveling in his sense of control. “I hope you choke on your damn cigarettes!”

He throws his head back and laughs. If he wasn’t currently holding you captive you probably would have blushed at this man’s boyish charm.

“That’s good, I might use that. You mind if I use that?”

You attempt to kick him off before there’s a hand on your throat and squeezing. You sputter, grasping at it. The man brings his face down to yours to hiss angrily, but before he can get a word out-

“Hello? Please answer me…”

The room fills with a thick silence as both of you freeze. You both pivot your heads in unison, eyes landing upon the phone which is nearly concealed beneath the table's shadow. The screen is lit up in a call, the name of your friend that lives just down the road splayed across it. You’d laugh in pure relief if you weren’t still face to face with the man in the shrouded costume.

The man on top of you faces you with a blank look and brings his finger up to his mouth in a shushing motion. As if you’re dumb enough to yell out for help now.

“The cops are on their way, I called them a few minutes ago. Maybe everything is fine but I just wanted to make sure-“

The man quietly seethes with anger and scrambles off you to snatch up the device, ending the call. He leaves you on the ground, breathing heavily and staring up at him.

“I know where you live. I know where you work.”

He crouches beside you and there’s that stupid fucking grin again, like a child that just stole another kids candy.

“I know where you go to eat, I know what roads you take, I know where you piss in the morning. I know everything about you, doll. So please, tell them everything and give me a fucking reason.”

You hadn’t noticed his knife was back in his gloved hand until it’s being dragged down your leg, catching the fabric of your pants. You suck in a breath and look back up to meet his eye, shaking your head.

“Good. I know you’ll behave.”

He stands back up and makes to leave through the back door, swinging the ring of the key on his finger casually. He winks at you before he slips away.

“Until next time, baby.”

Thirty minutes later you’ll be seated in your friends car as they drive you home, remembering the feeling of the masked man’s hands on your skin, on your body, around your throat- until it’s seared in your consciousness. It isn’t until you’re laying in bed that night that a shiver of fear, or maybe even sick excitement runs through you when you remember he still has the key.

——————————————————————————

(chat gpt fr saved my ass on some of this 🤫)

[cobaltperun]

Lost (17) - Satellite

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 5.4k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-That's why we won't back down we won't run and hide-

Telling Chad you’d be fine without him, that he should focus on protecting Mindy and Anika in case anyone went after them was a right thing to do, but you still had no idea what to do. How to find Ghostfaces targeting you this time, or how to avoid them, you were stuck at the moment.

But, as the three of you left the hospital you saw her… Gale, like a reporter shark that she was, smelled blood and found you before any other reporter could.

“I heard what happened, are you okay?” she walked up to you, at least she didn’t have her equipment or anyone shoving a camera in your faces, with her.

“Gale, I swear,” Sam had no patience to deal with the woman right now, frankly, neither did you and Tara, but you couldn’t deny that maybe, just maybe you needed as much help as you could get, even if that help was Gale.

Gale immediately raised her hands in surrender. “Truce, okay? I’m- I’m here for whatever you need,” she said that, but, well, you’ve seen Gale going back on her word before. Maybe that was being too harsh, she didn’t go back on her word when Ghostface was on the loose, but she did break an important promise.

“Just like last time,” you said, already trying to spot a cab that would take you back to the apartment. Or anywhere else really. Staying near the hospital could put your friends at risk.

“Okay fine, off the records, okay?” she offered and well, you were stuck and all four of you knew that.

Sam sighed, nodding slightly. “Fine. Thank you,” she agreed.

Gale glanced at Tara.

“Nope! That punch was beautiful, and you will not be getting an apology for it!” you interrupted before Tara could even begin to utter an apology she didn’t mean anyway.

Gale chuckled and shook her head, expecting as much from you and Tara. “Guess I should be thankful you weren’t the one punching me,” she sighed.

“Exactly!” Tara grinned and lifted your arm up. “She packs a punch,” she rolled your sleeve up and patted your forearm.

Mere seconds later you saw a cop car stopping and Kirby and Bailey stepping out, and that’s how the six of you ended up following Gale’s lead and going to a former movie theater turned shrine for Ghostface.

You felt sick. Angry that someone could actually worship these monsters. So many people died. Everyone in this theater, aside from Bailey, was attacked at least once. You kept an eye on others, on Gale as she passed by Dewey's photos or her own books. On Kirby and Bailey as they focused on whatever grabbed their interests. On Sam as she went and touched the glass case holding Billy's mannequin. On Tara as she went over to Sam.

You were stuck observing crime scene photos from when Amber attacked Tara. You saw Tara's wounds, you knew minute details of each and every scar she had. You never saw the photos of her house from that night. It looked even worse than it did when you went to clean the house, it looked fresh, the blood was still not dry. You clenched your fists, wishing you shot Amber, you wished you could go back and finish her off instead of forcing Tara to do it. How many times did you wish for nothing more than for some kind of instinct or a precognition that would allow you to stop Amber before she got to hurt Tara in the first place.

You saw Tara going outside and were about to follow her when your phone rang. This time you checked the ID and saw it was Thomas. His timing really was the worst. With a groan, you answered the phone.

"Hey, Y/N, sorry to call like this, but I heard you didn't go to the gym last night," he opened up with that right away.

"Yeah, sorry, something came up," you didn't sound sorry at all, you'd abandon the gym a hundred times over if needed.

"Look, I know these past two weeks have been tough and I may have asked too much of you-" you really didn't feel like having this conversation.

"I'm busy right now, we'll talk later," you hung up before he could even respond to that. Since your phone was already in your hand you tried to call Susan one more time, but, as it always did these past two days, it just went to voicemail. "Fuck!" you cursed and stuffed your phone in your pocket.

"Troubles?" Bailey asked and you just now realized you were alone with him.

"Are you asking or questioning me?" you still didn't know where the police tracker came from. There was no way you were trusting anyone other than Tara and Sam, and, as much as it annoyed you Gale, as far as not being a Ghostface went.

"Just asking, sorry if I'm overstepping," he raised his hands apologetically and backed away.

You nodded. "You are overstepping," you said and tilted your head in the direction Tara and others went. "After you."

He sighed, but otherwise remained silent and complied with your wishes. The two of you found Sam and Gale in the midst of, from what you could see, burying the hatchet.

"Where's Tara?" you asked right away, honestly hoping you didn't all walk into a trap set by Ghostface.

"Kirby is with her, they went upstairs, wherever that leads," Sam told you and you tried not to panic. Kirby survived a Ghostface attack herself, surely she wouldn’t be a Ghostface, right?

"I think I have a plan how to catch these fuckers," Bailey said and you desperately wanted to agree with the plan. The sooner this was over the better.

~X~

You absolutely hated the plan Bailey had. And you were vocal about it. So, here you were, at the park, next to the van Kirby would trace the call from with Tara trying one last time to get her to change her mind. It was reckless, it was unnecessary, and you were sure a bit more of thinking would give you a better plan.

"Tara, please, at least think this through," you pleaded, already certain you were wasting your breath, but you couldn't just give up.

"I thought it through, Y/N, I'm staying with Sam," Tara leaned against the van with her arms crossed over her chest. She refused to look at you, but you saw the furrow of her brows, you saw her biting her lower lip, and you knew she was getting angry.

You’d still take her being angry at you over her being in danger. "It's dangerous, at least let me come with you," if you couldn't get her to stay safe, then you might be able to convince her to let you come with her and Sam. Sure, Bailey explicitly argued that you being there could discourage Ghostface from attacking, and you could see his logic, but you still wanted to stay by Tara’s side.

"It won't work if you're there. You can fight them," Tara huffed, clearly getting even more frustrated as you kept arguing. The two of you had been going back and forth on this ever since Bailey proposed the plan and she decided she wouldn't let Sam do it alone.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache over this whole plan. And they weren't even out in the open yet. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Tara narrowed her eyes at that. "And it's fine if Sam gets hurt?!" she raised her voice and tightly gripped her left biceps.

"I didn't say that," you took a step back, trying to cool your head at least a bit.

"No, but you think I could get hurt, so you think Sam could get hurt and you're not trying to convince her not to do it," Tara took a few deep breaths.

"You and I both know I'd much rather take Sam's place, but no, Ghostface is after her so anyone else won't do!" you yelled, what little cool you managed to regain fading away way too quickly for your liking.

"Like you left last night? Right? Like how you chose to put yourself in danger even after you saw there was a tracker on your car?! Do you even understand how worried I was?!" somehow this was reminding you of the night you told Tara you were retiring from MMA.

"I fucked up, okay?" you spread your arms for a moment then let them drop at your sides. "I thought they'd try to finish me off first and figured I could use the opportunity."

"Yeah, you thought putting yourself in danger and possibly fighting someone that defeated you before was okay, but this isn't?" Tara asked incredulously.

"So, your solution is to go ahead and do something equally reckless? Is that what you're saying, Tara?" you had no idea how you weren't already shouting. You felt like screaming, but you still didn't shout, if for no other reason than because you didn’t want unwanted attention on the two of you.

"She's my sister, Y/N! I'm her backup, and if it comes down to it, we'll keep each other safe!" Tara yelled and, perhaps to avoid arguing further began walking toward where Sam was getting ready with Kirby and Bailey.

"Yeah, because being with Sam sure kept you safe every time Ghostface was involved!" you just snapped and watched as Tara turned around.

She was glaring at you. "Don't you fucking dare, Y/N," she warned, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

For once you glared back. "Am I wrong?" you challenged. As long as you could move and you were there no one, not Amber, not Richie, not whoever these Ghostfaces were, managed to touch her, let alone hurt her. Sam didn’t have the same track record.

Tara reached you, anger evident in her eyes, and then, as if she just made that decision at that exact moment, swung her palm toward your face. You caught her wrist, entirely unimpressed with how telegraphed the attempted slap was. "Don't ever try that again," you let go of her wrist and climbed into the van, shutting the door behind you, you missed the way Tara looked down at her palm, horrified by what she just tried to do.

You slumped down and absentmindedly touched the scar on the right side of your jaw. Once again you called Susan, once again you were left in silence. You looked at the last text exchange you had with her, the word fun popping up for some reason. Maybe you should take that vacation the moment this all ends, or at least the moment everyone heals up. Maybe spend a week or two in Sacramento, only you and Susan, and then come back to New York with her for Thanksgiving.

Maybe taking that small break from one another's company would be good for Tara, after all this wasn't the first fight in the past few days, and that one was before you even knew Ghostface was back. Sure, you talked it out and kissed it better, but this one just brought it back to your mind.

You only opened your eyes when you heard the doors opening because you wanted to be sure Kirby was the one coming in.

"You look awful," she commented.

"You look like it's none of your business," you replied, not really in the mood to discuss this with her.

"Someone's cranky," she just shrugged, not bothered by your reaction and you chose not to respond.

Too much time passed before Ghostface finally called, bragging about being a step ahead. And he was. He went after Gale. Bailey got in the van and turned the engine on.

"Where are Tara and Sam?!" you jumped to your feet when you saw he was alone. Your blood pressure probably skyrocketed as the worst possible scenarios came to your mind.

"They stole my car!" he exclaimed angrily.

At this rate, you were going to have a heart attack. "Who's driving?!"

"Tara," that girl was going to be the death of you.

"Are you crazy?! Tara can't drive! How are you even a cop you incompetent fuck?! How could someone just steal your damn car?!" a rage-fueled part of your brain cynically told you this was to be expected. That you should have realized Tara was too reckless to consider her own safety even back when she stubbornly convinced you to take her with you when you went after Sam back to Woodsboro after she just barely survived two attacks and had a broken leg. That you should have realized it when she first disappeared and went to a party with complete strangers.

When you finally reached Gale's apartment building you saw Tara and Sam sitting in the hall and you ran up to them.

Tara looked up when she heard you, or rather the running, and she got up, rushing to meet you halfway, only to stop, as if suddenly remembering the last interaction you had. You took a deep breath and just pulled her into a hug. She quietly sobbed into your chest as you held her.

"Is Gale still alive?" you asked softly and relaxed when Tara nodded.

"She was seriously injured, but she should be fine," she told you when you released her, your heart cracking a bit when you saw the pain in her eyes when you pulled away. With a hand on her back, you led her back to where Sam was still sitting.

"Hey," you squeezed Sam's shoulder, hoping to comfort her a bit.

"Hey, sorry we left you with Kirby and Bailey," she apologized and placed her hand on top of yours for a moment. You just nodded and sat down with Tara. There would be a better, more appropriate time to tackle that reckless decision.

Soon enough you saw Danny running in. "Hey, I came as soon as I could," he ran up to the three of you, looking mostly at Sam.

"Did you?" Tara challenged and he just looked at her, perhaps knowing better than to add fuel to the fire.

"More importantly, what now?" you chose to save him from Tara's anger.

"Maybe he gets to win this time," Sam's words made alarms go off in your head as you turned to look at her.

"What?" you demanded, not quite sure if it was just your exhaustion catching up to you, or if Sam actually just said that.

"He wants to punish me," she explained, on the verge of tears. "Me," she stood up and faced Tara and you. "So maybe I let him. I'll just give myself up."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing and for a split second, you wondered if Sam lost her mind. "Fuck that! Who do you think you are, huh?!" you got up and stormed away from Sam. "Giving herself up? Unbelievable!"

"If this is what it takes to keep you safe, it's worth it," the only reason you weren't yelling that she was out of her mind was because she was crying. Sam was crying and you rarely saw that.

You couldn't convince her, so you'd leave it to Tara and maybe scold her once this was all over, because not only was Sam important to you and your friends you did not want to see Tara dealing with losing Sam once again.

Tara stood up and approached Sam. "No, we're not doing that, Sam. You went back to Woodsboro to protect me. Every single day you make the decision to protect me. None of us would even be alive if it weren't for you. You have to let us protect you this time," Tara told her without a single hint of doubt in her words.

"No," Sam said weakly.

"Yes," Tara said firmly and from the corner of your eye you saw her pulling Sam into a hug. "We're a team, remember? I can't lose you, Sam, it feels like I just got you back in my life."

That was definitely going to work. The question remained though. What to do next?

"He's gonna keep coming after us," Sam pointed out while hugging Tara back.

"We could use that, though," Tara said and somehow you just had the feeling she was about to suggest something reckless before she even spoke up.

The plan? That involved Bailey and Kirby? Lure Ghostface into the movie theatre they used as a shrine and execute them. When Tara said she intended to execute Ghostface you looked at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and just accepted it.

'At this point, the best I can do is be the fucking bodyguard,' a moment later you wondered when was the last time you cursed this much. "Right, off to the murder shrine, where we'll definitely have the upper hand," you couldn't help but grumble.

~X~

You drove to the murder shrine, in your car, just you, Tara, Sam, and Danny. No public transport. Nope. none of that. You were not about to be suspicious of every stranger on the train.

When you parked outside the theatre you saw Kirby waiting for you.

"I talked to Bailey, let's get you all inside," she went right down to business, but Sam abruptly turned around and faced Danny.

"Not you," she said.

"What?" he asked.

"Don't trust anyone, remember? We don't know you, not really," she told him.

"I don't know, Sam, we could use extra muscle," you still weren't sure you could defeat that Ghostface in a one-on-one, let alone with at least two more on his side. And why did the three of you even bring him along then?

"Y/N is right and you know me," Danny tried to convince her.

"You're not Woodsboro. I'm sorry," Sam wasn't listening.

"It's okay. It's okay, I get it. Just be safe, okay?" he kissed her cheek.

Sam nodded. "You too," with that, she turned around and the rest of you followed, leaving Danny behind.

"Good call," Kirby said as the four of you entered the theatre.

~X~

Things just kept getting better and better, Kirby was the only one with a gun, the only one with any weapon, really, and you only had one exit, that could be blocked fairly easily.

Perhaps seeing the tense look on your face prompted her to do it, but Tara took your hand and pulled at it, frowning when you didn't comply. "Come with me for a minute?" she requested, looking softly into your eyes.

"Now? You want to separate from Sam now?" you couldn't help but ask.

"Please, Y/N," you could never resist her for long. Thus, you complied, letting her lead you outside of the shrine and into the hall where you figured tickets used to be sold. "You're stressed," she said, not quite getting into your personal space, but still remaining close to you.

"Can you honestly blame me? I'm one bad thing away from just breaking down, Tara. I'm just tired," the first time this happened you had moments to rest, you slept, and you felt safe at Susan's place, for the last twenty-four hours even when you weren't in constant danger you were either arguing with Tara or trying to reach Susan.

Sure, you slept yesterday, but that was over thirty hours ago at this point and you were really feeling the stress that accumulated over the past two weeks.

"It'll be over soon," she said, reaching up to touch your cheek, but stopping mere inches away from it. As if trying to slap you suddenly put an invisible barrier between you that was only temporarily broken by the adrenaline caused by what happened to Gale.

For once, you chose not to lean into her touch. "Let's go back to Sam," you said, and Tara nodded, lowering her hand. She walked in front of you, and you went back to the shrine to see Sam running toward the doors you just walked through with a knife in her hand.

You were immediately looking around, trying to see if she was running from someone, but somehow you couldn't see anyone.

"It's Kirby! She made this whole theatre a kill box, for us!" Sam explained rapidly.

"What?" you asked, but it made sense. The police tracker on your car, only Kirby having a gun, locking you here... Why would she wait though, and who was she working with? You knew there were at least three Ghostfaces this time, and it didn’t seem like Kirby had any definitive allies.

"Bailey is on the way here, but-" Sam continued as you went back to the middle of the shrine.

"Stay back to back," you interrupted her and the three of you stood in a circle, making sure you had each other's back.

"Wait, wasn't it Bailey's idea to use you as bait?" Tara reminded Sam.

"And Kirby refused to let Gale come with us," Sam said, frantically looking around for any trace of Kirby.

"Unless he figured that's what would happen. Just to be sure, how about we don't trust either of them?" you suggested, and she was alone with Tara, but she would have to be stupid to just try and kill Tara before.

Tara nodded and you felt her brushing her fingers over your hand.

You took and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Ghostface appears you stay still, you hear me. Don't make sudden moves," you could pull either of them behind you and counter-attack at any time, you just needed them to stay calm.

You heard footsteps coming from your left, where Sam was and you moved, getting between the masked attacker and her just in time to catch his fist and punch his face. "Fuck running, I'm fighting you head-on," you said as he stumbled back, from the grunt of pain you figured this was probably the one you stabbed last night.

The second one jumped out, but they didn't attack, choosing to circle the three of you instead.

"Sam, Y/N," Tara was close to panicking and you knew why. The third one. He still wasn't there, and you didn’t have that much luck one on one, let alone now that there were three of them here with you.

"I need you to be ready! You ready?" Sam asked she had her back to Tara's while you moved to stand closer to the front of her while not blocking her direct line of sight. Sam even handed Tara a brick, which was good, Tara needed something to even the playing field a bit.

Tara took a deep breath. "I'm ready," she took another deep breath. "Come on motherfuckers!" unnecessary, but as long as she was calm and ready. Or at least ready.

Shooting made both Ghostfaces take cover and you turned to see Kirby, bleeding from the side of her head, and more importantly with a gun in her hands.

Somehow, you relaxed, if she wanted to shoot you, she probably would have done it and used the element of surprise.

"Maybe it's not you after all," you said and turned to Sam. "Come on, what's the point of keeping cover at this point? Your aim really sucks though. Not even one bullet hit them," you said, you'd still keep your guard up around her, but for now you figured you could tentatively trust her.

"My head is bleeding, Y/N," she deadpanned.

"Meh, excuses," you replied, though Kirby having a gun really eased some of your worries.

"Kirby, get away from the girls!" Bailey rushed in, with his gun raised.

"Whatever you think, I'm not the killer!" Kirby quickly denied any involvement in this mess. "I don't know what he's been telling you, but don't listen to him!"

And then the third Ghostface, the one you were the most worried about, came up behind Bailey.

"Behind you!" Kirby yelled only for Bailey to shoot her.

"Great job, you three," Bailey said as the three Ghostfaces stood by his side.

'Right, this is happening. Four of them, just great,' you thought as you fully expected Bailey to point his gun at the three of you.

"You?" Tara asked, and you shared her disbelief, after all Bailey had no reason to go after you.

"Yeah, of course, it's me. Frankly, I expected more from you after what you did to us," he declared, as if this was reasonable, as if they should have expected him to be the Ghostface.

"Us?" Sam repeated, as puzzled by his statement as you and Tara.

"Let me guess, Quinn?" you figured since he was saying 'us' maybe his daughter was involved as well.

Indeed, the Ghostface to Bailey's right took the mask off, and sure enough, it was Quinn. "Hello, almost roomies. Too bad I couldn't resist messing with you when we met, but it was a good way to not be on the suspect list," she said.

You narrowed your eyes, realizing that this might actually be worse, because this now meant anyone could be a Ghostface, that they no longer played by the rules and skipped getting close to you and becoming a part of the friend group.

Then the Ghostface to Bailey's left took off his mask. "Mindy was right, it was easy to juke the roommate lottery!" Ethan exclaimed. "All I had to do to get close to you was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad. Fuck, I can't wait to kill him!" he pointed the knife at the mask he was holding. "This was your grandmother's Sam. Nancy Loomis. Really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it? Speaking of family..."

"Wait for it," Bailey chimed in.

"My name isn't Ethan Landry, is it dad?" and Bailey just laughed at that, as if there was actually something funny.

"Dad?" Tara's eyes widened.

"And then they tell Sam it runs in her family," you sighed as Ethan and Quinn began pacing around once again. You remained focused on the only remaining masked one.

Bailey explained his plan, saying how they were counting down to Billy's mask. Jason and Greg, bodega, Sam's therapist, your shared apartment, that was four, with four of them there were now eight masks. The idea that one, Amber's mask, was still missing worried you. Was Gale the ninth mask? That didn't make sense, no mask was left behind and it was the last attack, not the first as the countdown should imply.

Convinced that the fourth one was content with watching you began walking around Tara and Sam, keeping light on your feet, and making sure Quinn and Ethan were on your opposite sides the whole time. This way you could react to either of them attacking. They wouldn't be allowed to touch either Tara or Sam, not with you right there.

"I'm gonna need you to put it on," Bailey offered the mask to Sam, but she slapped it out of his hand.

Ethan went in to slash her, but you stepped in, making him halt before he could reach you. "How are the wounds?" you taunted and just as it looked like he was about to back away the fourth one spoke, still using the voice changer.

"Step back, she'll just hit you again," he warned, actually sounding amused, and though it was clear Ethan didn't like that, he did step away.

Their plan was insane, though it was working out well for them so far. They ruined Sam's reputation, courtesy of Quinn's efforts, and as Ethan explained it further Quinn made a mock attempt to stab Tara.

You once again moved in time, regardless of her intentions, and pulled Tara behind you.

"Truly a guard dog," Quinn mocked and that's when it all clicked for all three of you.

They weren't Amber's family, but... "You're Richie's family," Sam realized.

"Yeah," Bailey said slowly, just for a moment showing the pain of losing his family.

"Ding, ding, ding!" not liking the enthusiasm Ethan had when he said it you stopped between him and Sam, he seemed ready to lunge at you, but the warning he got before kept him at bay, at least for now.

"Now! It wasn't until I saw those photographs of what you did to him that I knew! I knew you had to die for what you did to him! You had to be punished!" Bailey yelled, angry at Sam for what she did to his son. You couldn’t say you blamed him, you wanted revenge for what was done to Tara and she survived. Even if Richie was the one who started it all, he was still Bailey’s family, so you understood. But you still weren’t about to let him, or his children hurt Tara and Sam.

"Real great parenting, by the way," Tara commented as she glared at the man.

"Shut your whore mouth!" Quinn screamed at her but didn’t attack knowing she had to go through you first. Ah, so she was the one that called you.

"And you? What's your deal?" you gestured toward the still masked Ghostface, interrupting whatever Bailey was about to say.

"You really should have figured it out by now. I get that you probably didn't want to consider it since I did help you out so much," he removed the mask.

Your jaw dropped slightly as you recognized Thomas. Honestly, you should have seen it coming just from how well the bastard fought. "What the fuck?" you couldn't help but ask. "Are you kidding me right now? Do you have any idea how bad it'll look when I end up putting 'Killed my employer' down as the reason for unemployment?" why was he even after you. Richie's family you could understand on some level, they were the bastard's family, but Thomas? Really?

Thomas actually genuinly laughed at that. "Trust me, that's the least of your worries, Y/N," he said and held up a paper bag for you to see. "You wondered where Amber's mask ended up?" the smirk on his face, the tone of his voice, it all made you feel unexplainable dread. "Take a good look," he opened the bag and turned it over, letting a very familiar pair of MMA gloves fall to the dirty floor.

Despite Tara's attempt to grab your hand you took steps forward, stopping right between Tara and Sam and the gloves at Thomas' feet. "Susan," your throat was dry when you said her name. This couldn’t be happening, she couldn’t be dead, but he took Zack’s gloves.

"Exactly, it's been four days now, just so you know why she hasn't been responding all this time," he was taunting you. He was amused by your failure to figure out what happened to Susan.

"Why?! What did she ever do to any of you?!" you weren't the one asking that, it was Tara.

You just stared at the gloves, barely even registering your surroundings. If anyone wanted to kill you, well, there wasn't a better opportunity than this very moment.

"It's simple really. Susan was the only one who'd always, no matter what, no matter what the other choice is, choose Y/N. Your friends won't, Samantha won't, not even you would Tara. It would hurt you, you'd never forgive yourself, but you'd choose Samantha in the end," he turned to you as Tara remained silent. "Parents? Oh, they really don't care. Zack and Susan? Dead. You can try to deny it all you want, but the only reason you are still alive is because you were strong enough to survive on your own. Twice now you were stuck with me, no one came to help. Your girlfriend put up a better fight to protect a friend than she did to protect you. You are alone, Y/N, and you threw everything you could have been for nothing. Quite frankly, what I'm about to do is a mercy kill."

You heard everything he said and you relaxed. There was nothing. No rage. No despair. No remorse. No sorrow. Nothing. Just an empty state of mindlessness.

"That's it," Thomas grinned, tossing aside his robes. Then his eyes abruptly widened. "Wait, Quinn!"

"Y/N!" you heard Tara and Sam's scream.

You glanced to your left and focused on nothing but the blade that was approaching you.

A/N: Here's a fun question, how much would Tara suffer if she had to choose between Sam and Reader?

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[fairlyang]

Special 🕷️

you get brought up on stage (request)

w/c: 3.8K

pairing: magicmike!miguel x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. one use of y/n, ghostface mask, looks at you, chooses you, practically teasing, lap dance to the extreme, turned on x2, invited you backstage, flirting, stroking, humping, blowjob, interrupted

notes: I posted this on Halloween😭 and also this was a request by a mutual that I don’t think has found this acc yet </3

pony — song 2

It was your friend, Eva's birthday and as usual you were going to go to the club with them, but your other friend Jenna asked why don't you go to a strip club instead.

En route to your usual club too.

So the plan changed and designated driver Alivia quickly changed directions and drove to the strip club Jenna had found.

You were wearing a red lace bralette cami top with black flare pants and heels, and not a dress this time because you weren't in the mood for something tight. But now you were unsure if this was the right type of outfit for a strip club but it was too late to go change.

You had finally made it and the bright neon lights came to view after walking out of the parking lot and to the entrance. You walked to the line, getting ready to get your ids checked which surprisingly went by quickly.

You all walked in together and the inside was the complete opposite of the bright exterior of the club. It was dark and only had a few pillars with red neon lights on them.

And of course with the big stage in the middle with loads of lights. But besides that there was a bar on both opposite ends of the stage, along with lots of tables in front of it.

It was still early, barely about to be 7:30 so your group was somehow able to find a table right up front of the stage.

"No fucking way in hell do I wanna get dragged up there-" Eva says as everyone sits down making you scoff.

"It's your birthday why the fuck would you not want a hot man dancing for you." Jazmin quickly says making the rest of us nod.

"Well first of all I'm wearing a dress, everyone knows they purposely don't choose girls who wear dresses." She says matter-of-factly which only confuses you.

She notices your confusion and continues, "it'd be tougher to do all their moves with a girl in a dress."

You shrug and look up at the stage as the lights turned off, you turn to her and say, "wouldn't be the worst thing in the world though..."

Suddenly the lights come and just as Pony by Ginuwine starts playing there's a man on stage with his back turned to the crowd. He was still fully clothed but as he turned around to look at the already hollering crowd, you noticed he was wearing a ghostface mask.

And as if it couldn't get any better he started dancing while unzipping the sweater he had on, throwing it on to the floor and immediately doing some hip thrusts while he had his arms up.

You yelled along with the other women on the floor because you couldn't help it. And mainly because he deserved it.

The way he was moving his body, to the beat of the music, and in such precision, you could've sworn you were getting turned on already. He had literally just started and the worst part it's not like he was even doing this for you. And it was his job.

Which just meant he was good at it.

And looked good while doing it too.

His biceps were big and toned, you might as well have been salivating as you watched him dance and move around expertly, paying the most attention to his arms.

And his broad shoulders. He looked like a big guy and those muscles looked so fucking good.

He did more hip thrusts and spun before dropping to his knees, hands moving down his body as he slid behind him while moving his hips back and forth. Then standing up, doing a cartwheel and takes his tank top off.

More screams erupted and his torso was just as good as his arms. If not better.

You were barely able to see the six pack he had before he immediately went down to the floor and did some floor thrusts. Your mouth was wide open and your friends next to you were screaming their hearts out.

He then slid to the edge of the end of the stage he was on, sitting there for a few seconds for everyone to ogle him, lifted himself up to do two thrusts then stood up now on the stage in front of you.

He jumped on beat to the lyrics before taking off the tank top he had on earlier, out of his pants-

Your mouth was still wide open in shock because you didn't even notice he put it in there. But you quickly screamed as he threw it to your table making all of you scramble for it but birthday girl Eva was the lucky one to get it.

"Fuck yes!!" She screamed before turning her attention back to Mr. Ghostface.

He then did a few moves looking at each side of the stage before slowly taking off the mask then flipping his hair back. And of course he was gorgeous.

No surprise there.

He dragged the mask down his body before locking eyes with you. He took a couple steps back before throwing the mask behind him. He then walked forward to the front of the stage, has a hand above his eyebrows as if he's scouting out into the crowd then points towards you specifically before turning back around and does a backflip off the stage and lands in front of your table.

Your heart was beating out of your chest and you notice the lights turn off before you felt him in front of you. Surely enough you feel weight on the arms of your chair and his face in front of you. He then moves down and whispers in your ear, "do you wanna come up on stage?"

You feverishly nod before realizing maybe he can't see you, "absolutely!"

Suddenly the lights are back on and he's no longer in front of your face but between your legs. He wraps your legs around his head and then carries the chair you're sitting on up. You quickly wrap your arms behind his head as he drops the chair and in an instant holds you up by your back.

You blurt out curses as you realize how close he was to your crotch but laugh as he carefully places you down on the stage. He slyly got on the stage and his head was by your stomach before he fully brought himself onto the stage and started trusting dangerously close to your crotch.

It was full on torture but the wide grin he was giving you, might've made it worth it.

You were too afraid to touch him so you gathered up some of the bills that were by your head and waved them at him. The grin never falling from his face as he gets up, almost tripping on the loads of bills he had been receiving throughout his whole routine.

He then reached down, grabbed your hands and pulled you up. You straightened up as he brought your hands over his body, letting your trail them along his chest and abs.

You internally screamed and just gasped as you noticed how toned he was up close. And fine, this man was undeniably the hottest man you've laid your eyes on.

He then grabbed your waist and had you walk backwards until you felt something hard by the back of your leg. He had you sit down until your ass was on a chair and you couldn't believe your luck.

He began by dancing in front of you to the beat of the new song that was playing and you subconsciously squeeze your thighs together as you watch the way his body moves.

His eyes were dead set on yours and it only made this whole experience more thrilling. He moved a hand over his body before it stops at his crotch and he does a handful of thrusts to which you happily cheer for.

He then came up to you while on his knees, hands on your shoulders as his head comes up your body, almost touching your cleavage but his eyes were definitely set there before he looked into your eyes. You were mesmerized and could watch him do his thing all day if you could.

He then got on top of your chair, at first kind of squatting over your lap, running a hand over your hair then stands up with his crotch right in front of your face. Your mouth grew dry and it was just making you more excited.

He comes back down, gently caressing your cheek before he jumps off the chair then turns around facing the crowd and flips his body backwards, landing on top of your lap. You watch absolutely shocked as he thrusts on to you then grinds on you slightly before coming back up.

Your mind was already so overwhelmed and filled with thoughts you probably shouldn't be having while getting a show right in front of your eyes.

He stands up again only to do a little spin and sits on your lap, one hand on your shoulder while he brings his body backwards, then lets go but brings a leg up and over your shoulder. You left a hand on his thigh and he then quickly brings your head down towards his crotch.

You laugh again as he sits up, thrusting his hips in front of you before the lights turn dark again and he carefully brings the chair you were on down until it hits the floor. You stayed still not able to see anything until his crotch was the only thing you could see in front of your face, making your body grow hot.

You then see him move his arms forward and he brought the chair closer to him, his crotch now fully being your only view. He then used the chair as support to thrust in front of your face before he grabbed your legs, wrapping his arms around your ass then carries you up.

You quickly wrapped your arms around his waist and you had no other choice but to look at his crotch once again. You let out a shaky breath as you could've sworn you felt him give your inner thigh a kiss.

He then does some fast maneuver, somehow flipping you over his shoulder before bringing you back down to the ground. He gives you a bright smile for a singular second before he flips you back and bends you over, hands on your waist as he full on grinds against you. You held back a moan as he continued and even thrusted against you, you almost forgot there were other women watching this all, including your friends.

He then helped you back up before bringing you back down to the floor again, you laid down no questions asked. He left your eye sight, probably to do some moves for the women in the crowd before coming back crotch back in front of your face.

One thrust before he somehow flips you on to your front, pulling your hair up gently making you gasp before he thrusts into you. He then grabs you, placing you on your side, lifting your left leg up as he thrusts behind you then pulls your leg over and grinds right against your clothed (not so surprisingly) wet pussy.

You cover your mouth as the lights turn into a red and you could see the smirk on his face as if he's only now taking account what kind of reaction you've given him. Surely he was enjoying this too-

He flips over so he was back to thrusting his crotch onto your face but then flips again and drags your body across the floor and now somehow you were sitting on top of his lap looking out into the crazy hoard of women now standing up and closer to the stage.

He bucks his hips up against you then brings you down and flips you over so you were back on your back while his crotch was hovering your face, thrusting again.

He then gets off you and pulls you back up again, then grabs the back of your legs, carrying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, arms behind his neck. He then starts thrusting into you making you let out an accidental moan into his ear which made him laugh, "enjoying this huh?" He teases in to your ear making you laugh.

He pulls away, still thrusting and you shrug, "maybe.. could you blame me?"

"Don't think I can honestly..." he murmurs as he squats down, hands no longer on you but instead behind your back as he thrusts faster making you gasp before he stands back up.

"Maybe I can help you out." He whispers and you nod, before he places you down and finally the song was coming to its end.

He turned you to the crowd and you could only laugh and hide your face as he blew kisses and thrusted into the air for the hoard of horny women in front of you.

He grabbed your hand and walked to the end of the stage before jumping off and helping you get down. "I'll catch ya in a bit yeah?" He whispers in your ear, giving you a wink before climbing back on stage for his standing ovation.

You stood there shocked until Eva pulls you down to your chair and all your girls scream. You sat there dumbfounded, finding it absolutely unbelievable that you were somehow the chosen one.

And by a fine ass stripper at that.

You looked back up to the stage and right at that moment he gave you a wink before he slipped his ghostface mask back on and ran off backstage. You looked back at your friends and covered your mouth, eyes wide and ready to fall out still shocked. "Lucky bitch."

"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life-"

"So fucking lucky-"

"He was hot as fuck-"

They all spoke at the same time and you couldn't even tell who said what because your body still felt extremely hot and now you just prayed Mr. Ghostface would come get you because he caused this mess.

Another stripper came up in a firefighter outfit but you couldn't stop thinking of that dance you just got. It was so exhilarating and your body was still feeling all tingly from his touch.

And you might as well give him a good tip because that was a once in a lifetime experience and he gave it his all.

Suddenly you're tapped on the shoulder making you turn your head to see a woman with short hair giving you a smile, "our ghostface would like to see you."

You quickly stood up waving to your friends before grabbing your purse and phone then follow the woman who led you backstage. You walked past a ton of other strippers who were getting ready to go up and who were also wearing all types of Halloween costumes.

Michael Myers was also looking pretty good...

You felt them staring right back at you and you couldn't help but question if strippers usually bring girls backstage?

That thought quickly vanishes when the woman brings you up to his door and then walks away. You knock and hear a slight, "come in."

You take a deep breath then open the door to see Mr. Ghostface putting his mask on to a mannequin head before turning to you and giving you a smile. You step in then close the door before he beckoned you.

You walked into his dressing room and gave him a smile back before opening your purse up, "that was really incredible-"

"Oh you don't have to do that." He says and walks up to you, putting his hand on yours to stop you.

"I want to!" You say and he shakes his head.

"It's alright, plus this dance felt a little... extra special than my usual ones go." He replies in a low tone making you nod slowly before letting go of your purse.

His hands were now off you but now you were just filled with curiosity. "How come?" You asked and he chuckles.

"It didn't feel like I was working, it was fun. Not every night we can say that." He says making you hum, slightly understanding him.

"But maybe you could pay me another way.." he suggests and you play dumb, shrugging.

"Like how?" You whispered and he leaned in closer to your face, sending shivers all throughout your body.

"I think you know how now don't you gorgeous?" He murmurs and wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you as close to him as possible making you place your hands to his bare chest.

"I think I have an idea." You say as you feel his hard on right up against your stomach.

"You did really do such a good job out there." You murmur as you snake a hand down his body before letting it trace around his bulge, teasing him.

He starts to breathe heavily and it only makes you more excited. "Had me shocked at every part." You whisper and finally rub your hand against him making him moan.

"Also left me wanting more..." you cooed into his ear as you started to stroke him over his sweatpants.

"It left me wanting more too as you can tell." He breathes out making you chuckle.

"You bring all the lucky girls back here?" You joke and he instantly shakes his head.

"Never do actually." He says making you scoff.

"Seriously. All the guys were shocked but you're special. Something about that out there was special." He murmurs and you stroke him faster after he's done.

"That's good to know." You coo and he hums.

"Technically no competition." You say making him laugh before he holds onto you and sits down, making you sit on his lap.

You both moan when your cunt directly rubs against him. "None at all gorgeous." He breathes out as his hands sit on your hips.

You move them back and forth while you're sat right on his hard bulge, him helping you as he lays his head back. "So fucking beautiful." He murmurs making you moan as his shaft hits perfectly against your slit.

You place your hands against his shoulders for support before moving faster, earning you the hottest moans from him. You bit your lip as you grind against him perfectly.

You then get off him and slide down his body and get on your knees in front of him, looking up at him as you play with the waistband of his sweats. "My names Miguel by the way." He says making you chuckle and smile up at him.

"Y/n." You reply before sliding his sweats and boxers off and then taking hold of his thick cock.

"Pretty name for a pretty girl." He coos making you grin before you spit on it and let it dribble down before licking the tip then stroking it. You then take it in your mouth, slowly going down trying to take him while stroking his base. He moaned above you and you felt his hands guiding your head lower, to take more of him.

You let him and go as down as possible, his tip hitting the back of your throat as he bucked his hips forward making you gag before he goes back down and you pull away, slapping his tip onto your tongue.

He groaned and you took him back into your mouth, going down then back up as you looked into his eyes. He locked his gaze on to you watching as you moved back and forth as if this was your job.

He leaned his head back moaning as you took him deep in your throat again and then pulled back only to take him deep again. You were already starting to feel breathless but you needed to make this man cum.

He gave you such an incredible show you might as well repay him the best way you knew how.

"Fuck baby — taking me so good." He moans as you bob your head up and down, stroking what you can't take.

You squeezed your thighs together as your arousal was only getting more prominent in your panties. His moans were just driving you insane and were your motivation to keep taking all of him even if you couldn't breathe anymore.

"Just like that — good fucking girl you take that cock." He groans and grabs onto your head, pushing you down and having you gag on him again.

He thrusts his hips up having you gag even more before pulling away and drool slips out of your mouth and onto his cock. You stroke him fast, the wet noises of his cock filling your ears and only turning you on more and more.

"Holy fuck baby." He grunts, bringing his hand down to your face before slipping his thumb into your light which you happily sucked on.

He rolls his eyes back and pulls it away with a plop. You get back to work and bob your head much faster as you take all of him in your mouth.

Miguel leans back against the couch and feels his orgasm approaching in his lower abdomen as you gag on him more making him groan. He then pushes your head down all the way making you breathe in through your nose as you feel his trimmed happy trail tickle your nose when you feel him twitch and then drop his load down your throat.

You swallowed as much of it as you could before he finally lets go and you pull away coughing then catching your breath as you stroke him through his high, the last of his cum dripping onto his thighs.

He breathed heavily and you stopped stroking him as you watched his cock twitch the final remnants of cum drop off the side of his cock.

You let him go and he shakes his head, looking down at you with the widest grin, "I think we're even now."

You laugh and return the grin before sitting up, "maybe we are but maybe we could go furth-"

Suddenly the door swings open and you scramble to stand up while Miguel stays seated, calming his breathing when the woman from earlier comes in, "Miguel you're up again with the group."

"Thanks Lyla." He says waving her off as you stood up, a bit disappointed this was the end.

"How about we call this a rain check and next time could be outside the club?" He suggests and you nod, smiling at him before grabbing your things and watch as he stands up to change into something else.

"Well I hope you enjoy the rest of the show." He says giving you a wink as you open the door and give him a wave before walking away.

[untilwedont]

Heart To Heart

I love you.

PAIRINGS: Ethan Landry x Male!Reader

Summary: In which the reader meets a terrible fate during his time alone.

Warnings: Reader death, mentions of blood

A/N: This was inspired by the script I made for my og character, Max, who is the love interest for Ethan <3 Script is at the end of this blog :D

You sat on the your couch in your dorm, flipping through different channels, trying to find a good one. You were interrupted from a vibration in your pocket. It was your phone. You took it out and looked at the caller ID. ‘Eth 💕’. You smiled and answered the call, putting your phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked.

“Hey M/N, just making sure you’re alright.” Ethan asks through the phone.

“Yeah Eth, I’m fine. Are you guys at the subway?”You ask, getting up from the couch and walking over to the kitchen, putting the call on speaker mode.

“Yeah, just arrived. It’s packed here so we should be safe.” You could hear the sounds of people talking through the phone.

“Alright baby, stay safe alright?” You tell him, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“You stay safe. I love you.” He responds back. You could tell he was smiling through the phone.

“I love you too.” A grin appeared on your face as you ended the call. You pulled out a box of macaroni and cheese from the cabinet, but you were interrupted once again by another phone called, this time it was an unknown caller.

You hesitated for a sec but decided to pick it up, placing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked curiously.

“Hello, M/N. It seems to me that you’re just asking to die. You have a death wish, don’t you?” You recognized that voice on the other side of the phone. It was the voice that constantly terrorized not only you, but your friends.

“What do you want from me?” You ask, turning around and speed walking to the front door, making sure it was locked.

“Nothing more than to slit your throat and watch you gurgle on your blood as you try to gasp for air.” The other voice on the line said. Damn, that was descriptive..

“Nice try fucker, but every window and door in this dorm is locked.” You responded back, a bit of panic starting to set in you.

You walked back to the Kitchen to grab the largest knife you could find as a defense weapon, keeping it close to you.

“It'd be a shame If I was already inside your dorm, wouldn't it? Or what if I had your precious little Ethan chained up right beside me?” He was clearly trying to get under your skin, but you wouldn’t fall for his tricks.

“Bullshit. Ethan's already at the subway.” You responded, sitting back down on the couch and turning the TV off.

“Oh really? Why don’t you look at the picture i sent you and tell me what you see.” The voice replied. You put the call on speaker and looked at your messages. You saw a message from the same person you were talking to.

You clicked on it and it revealed a photo. It was a photo of Ethan. He’d been chained to what seemed like a pole.. his face was bloody and bruised. Your heart sank, “I swear to God if you laid a hand on him!” You yelled, taking the call off speaker mode and putting it back to your ear.

You grabbed your shoes to put them on before running towards the front door of your dorm. You opened it and was suddenly met with a stab in the stomach and ghostface staring at you.

You screamed out in pain as they took the knife out of you. You tried closing the door but they forced it open. You ran behind the couch, pleading for him to leave as your hand covered your wound. You were trapped in such a tiny space with nowhere to go. They were blocking the entrance and exit.

“Please, please don’t hurt me!” You cried out. It hurt to breathe. Ghost face didn’t comply with your plead. Instead he ran onto the couch and over it, catching you off guard. They fell onto the floor, but only before slashing your shoulder, bringing you down with them. You screamed as they got up, attempting to pierce their knife between your eyes.

You kicked their leg as hard as you could, watching them fall back to the ground. You got up and ran toward your bedroom, closing the door and locking it. You cried in pain as you grabbed your phone from your pocket and dialed Ethan’s number.

Your hands were so bloody that it made it hard to type his digits in, but you were successful. Ghostface tried to get into the room and you screamed and cried for them to leave you alone.

Ethan picked his phone up.

“Hello?” He asked calmly.

“Ethan, their here! Ghostface is in the dorm right now! Ethan, please help me, i don’t wanna die!” You spoke fastly as you began to hyperventilate, backing up against a wall. The knife you originally had fell onto the ground outside.

“Wow, calm down baby, you’re talking too fast. What’s going on?” He asked, his tone turning more concerned.

“Ghostface is trying to kill me, ethan!” You screamed and cried, “Please, leave me alone!” You cried as ghostface continued to try to get into your room.

“Ethan, I don’t wanna die! Im so scared, Ethan!” Tears poured out your eyes as you feared for your life. The only thing between you and ghostface killing you was the door. “What? O-okay, uh- is there anyway you can get out? Like the window, have you tried the window??” Ethan asked through the phone, his voice clearly becoming more panicky. “Ethan I wouldn’t make it- Wait, no, stay back! Please, don’t hurt me!” You pleaded and cried.

Ethan frantically called your name as you screamed for your life, until the screams came to a stop. You slid against the wall as you felt your life coming to an end. Ghostface left you, but not after stabbing you multiple times in the chest. This was it. It was your final moments on earth as a hopeless teen who only hoped to survive.

Ghostfaces job was done… and so was Ethan’s.

A/N: I didn’t finish the script since I was too lazy but lmk if you want me too 😵😵

[fandomnerd9602]

Hunting Ghosts

Sam Carpenter x Wick!Reader

For @tokufighter

Sometimes the past comes back to haunt you when you least expect it. For you and the Carpenter sisters it was a mixed bag. On one hand, they had to deal with the serial killer known as Ghostface. For you it was the festering wounds that the Continental Hotel had brought on. You find yourself loading up on guns and any assortment of gadgets you needed to combat the dollar store slasher villain. You holster the P30L pistol and pack your grandfather’s tactical rifle into a duffle bag. The attachment that Winston mentioned was a secondary shotgun barrel retrofitted for dragon’s breath incendiary rounds.

You snuck out, having Sam and Tara in the safe confines of the Continental Hotel. You even took Sam’s cellphone that way whoever this Ghostface was, they would be hunting you and not them. You made your way down Times Square, walking around just waiting for a call from the killer. On the cue the phone rings. The caller ID reads Charon. You pick it up, “tell me the girls are safe” “Oh we’re safe.” Sam answers back. “Where are you?” “I’m ending this. Today. I won’t let you or Tara get injured again” “This one’s different. I can’t lose you too. You come back right now. You hear me?!” Sam begs you.

“I will…when Ghostface is six feet under” you hang up. Another call rings, you pick it up without even looking at the caller ID. “Sam, baby, I’m sorry I-” “Oh I’m sure you are” the slimy voice of Ghostface answers back. You stop dead in your tracks. “you look snazzy in that suit. I’m sure if you weren’t with Sam, Quinn would’ve gobbled you up in an instant.” “I might’ve let her. She was smoking hot till you gutted her like a fish” you retort, “of course Sam wouldn’t have minded sharing” “Tempting that would’ve been. Honestly that outfit is missing something…”

“Yeah what?” you say, your instincts kicking in at that moment. “It’s not stained red!” the voice shouts from behind you. You duck and weave, narrowly missing the blade of Ghostface. You counteract the next swing of the blade and stab your own blade through the assailant’s arm. A shriek that sounded feminine in form rings out from the mask. You knew who it was in the moment. “Hello Quinn” you smirk. You hear a growl under the mask. You give your assailant the finger and run off into the crowd. You can feel her give chase. Your mind runs wild - if Quinn is under the mask, who is her partner in this? There’s more than one, as always.

You run into an abandoned building, Ghostface is hot on your tail. You run up the staircase of the complex, you can practically hear the boots of the killer right behind you. You reach the top of the staircase and roll into a shooting stance. You fire off several shots which ricochet off the robes of the killer. “It’s amazing what you can buy on eBay” Quinn retorts “Someone sold out the tactical tech.“ you huff. She drives her knife towards you. Quickly rolling again, you pull out your own bowie knife and swipe at her, landing a few jabs at her left knee and elbow.

She screams before driving a knife into your right calf. You grit your teeth to muffle any scream. “Funny” she retorts, “I always was hoping you’d stab me. Over and over again” She gets real close, removing her mask. She licks your face, a sign of mockery, or maybe that was just her sex positive attitude leaking through. She slips her mask back on and readies the knife over your heart. “We’re in the endgame now” Quinn whispers, readying to run you through with the knife. “You know what I love about a franchise’s endgame?” you smirk as your hand reaches into your duffle. “What?”

“It always ends in fireworks” BLAM! You fire off the dragon’s breath attachment. Quinn’s robes catch fire and ignite. She screams, trying her best to dampen the flames. BLAM! BLAM! Two shots ring out, bouncing off her robes. The masked Quinn slams into the railing and tumbles down the staircase. And with that, she disappears. “Chasing ghosts, kid?” A gruff voice rings over you. “More like being hunted by them” you respond as a hand reaches down to help you to your feet. “Apparently one’s helping me now” You get pulled up to your feet by John Wick, who offers you a weary smile and a hug. “It’s good seeing you again” he says, rubbing your shoulders reassuringly.

“Good seeing you’re still kicking, Dad” you respond, “I thought you died in a duel in Paris with Caine” “It’s the city of love, not death” Wick responds. “let’s go” Your dad guides you out to a jet black Mustang. Sam jumps out with her own shotgun a second later. “I thought i lost you for a second” Sam runs up and hugs you. “Wicks are hard to kill” you retort. “And even easier at resurrecting” John finishes as he shakes your girlfriend’s hand. “Come on” Sam smirks “lets kill a ghost”

[dreamties]

polyam! ghostface || chapter 1

A/n- Masterlist

tw: animal death, creepy behavior from Stu & implied assault!

series desc. Stu spares most of the details when he tells Billy about you. He spares maybe too much detail, as he tells Billy that he made a friend in the city and not the fact he met an honest to god serial murderer. He figures he’ll talk about that one when the topic arises.

Stu spares most of the details when he tells Billy about you. He spares maybe too much detail, as he tells Billy that he made a friend in the city and not the fact he met an honest to god serial murderer. He figures he’ll talk about that one when the topic arises. 

. . .

Their friendship begins in 1994. Well, not exactly. Stu is freshly 16 and finally has his drivers license. He only really needs it to get to the main part of town, at that point it’s easier walking everywhere. What’s a license and car good for if it spends most of its warranty stuck on the property? He thinks it’s bullshit. He’s also reckless and still a kid.

He decides, before he’s even fully confident in driving, to go to the nearest big city from Woodsboro. That means the roving hills of San Francisco. Maybe it terrifies him a little- not that he’ll admit it- but it’s thrilling, so he doesn’t take a U-turn back home.

He’s old enough that a few remarks and suave confidence usually gets him into places he shouldn’t be, along with a fake ID- and if that doesn’t work, a show of what’s in his wallet usually does the trick.

He meets you in a club. Or- Stu sees you from afar and thinks you’re cool, but doesn’t say hi. There’s this dangerous, nervy edge to you, that he enjoys simply observing. You’re different from these other party goers. He gets a drink and when he goes back to his seat in the corner to watch you, you’ve already slipped out the back door.

He never brings Billy up with him to the city- despite being good friends, maybe even best friends, if guys are allowed to do that sort of thing. Nothing makes Billy nervous. Nothing that Stu is aware of yet.

(Billy’s fine. He’s stone-walled and flirts with danger like it’s no one's business. And then his mom takes off in the middle of the night, with two hastily packed suitcases, leaving him alone. He’s 14 when this occurs. 

He’s freaked he’ll never be found again. A mothers love will go to any length to make sure their baby is okay- Billy’s not enough to make his mom love him.

He also hates leaving Woodsboro- that one is irrational. He doesn’t get it himself.)

Stu’s up late, flipping through channels, when he stops on the news. Another man is found with his throat slit in the SF Bay. Authorities aren’t sure if they’re connected yet. It’s too early to say, but it looks like California might have a new serial killer on the loose. That should scare Stu, he gets excited about the possibilities. He loves horror and he’s engrossed in slashers- he’s never thought how human blood must feel between his fingers. He gets giddy and has to calm himself down- he takes a hunting knife from his dad’s collection and skins a stray dog in the woods. 

He’s been up to the city a few times throughout the year since his brief- strangely exhilarating, yet fraughtless and boring- encounter with you. He hadn’t been back to that specific club though. There hasn’t been any more news about dead bodies- a part of him, a sick part, wishes there'd be more talk about it, more pictures. He wonders if he went up to the city and waded in the cold waters- if he’d find a dead body. Wonders what a dead person looks like up close. 

Woodsboro doesn’t have any killers or crazy crime. Though there has been an uptick in wild animal deaths.

It’s the end of the year, nearly. Which means he’s nearly 17. He’s at Billy’s dad’s apartment, while said dad is out working. He’s lying with his back on the bed, Billy half-listening to whatever moronic rambles Stu’s on about.

Billy sits on the floor, reorganizing a collection of comic books and CDs. He interrupts Stu, not looking up at him. “Have you ever thought about killing a person?”

It’s not very tactful- he learns to be better with that. Stu seems unfazed.

Stu shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Why you asking, man?”

He speaks like it’s easy to admit. 

Billy scowls to himself, thinking.

Stu disrupts that thought train, because of course he does. “It can’t be that different from killing animals.” Except he thinks it would be more fun. He’s getting excited. His hands itch and ache with the thought.

“Geez,” Billy lets out, too surprised. “That’s fucking ruthless, man.”

Stu sits up, just enough to turn his head to look at his friend. He twists his face, raising a brow in genuine confusion. “What?”

Billy gives him a look.

“What? You asked, dude.”

It’s a frustrating exchange- Billy laughs. Fucking laughs. It stirs on a reaction from the other boy. It so . . . fucked up and they’re laughing. This is a catalyst to their relationship.

“Stu, do you not see the issue?”

He gets a shrug and a wild grin in response. He smiles to himself and then turns to look at Stu, who’s fully sat up now, who looks onwards into his eyes, awaiting in intrigue, hanging onto Billy’s next word. It feels nice.

Billy tells Stu about a plan he has. Stu’s on board with little questions asked. Perhaps no real questions asked- he asks about the methods, if they would get to wear some sort of costume like they do in film, he asks when do they start like this was an interview for a job. He doesn’t ask Billy why he wants this.

Shortly after his seventeenth birthday, Stu goes back up to the club. He gets a short sort of vague warning from his mom to be careful- that there’s an investigation going on for recent killings in the area. He doesn’t say this- but he knows. He’s been obsessed with watching the news. It’s usually on late night that new stuff is announced. He guesses it makes sense- it’s not really daytime media, a daytime event. He’s kept track of each man found dumped in the water, evidence drained clean. Suspect still at large. A pattern that still needs to be found.

He doesn’t say it- but he has clippings taped on his wall from The San Francisco Chronicle, detailing how the victims were killed. How skin with jagged edges came to be, how likely it was that some of the men hadn’t even died yet before being pushed to the water. Bleeding out and struggling to swim up in freezing temperatures. Whoever was behind this knew what they were doing.

He goes up to the city knowing this- and partially because of it. He doesn’t think at all about you, though. He’s mostly forgotten about you by now. He’s more focused on the future killing of Maureen Prescott towards the end of the school year.

He goes to this club because he knows it’s easier to get into than some of the other ones he’s been to over the past year. He gets a drink and people watches in the corner. He doesn’t really care to join in with dancing or chatting girls up. He’s had enough of french kissing guys in empty bathrooms. He can do most things here that he’d have more fun doing in Woodsboro.

Except maybe kissing guys- but that was tiring. The only boy he wanted to kiss was his best friend, anyway.

He notices you out of the corner of his eye. You’re having a verbal altercation with an older man- it’s quiet, he only recognizes it for what it is because you push him away, and your face is scowling, and your hands are shaking. He recognizes a split-second of darkness in your eyes, not far off from how Billy looked, when they were sat in Stu’s room, pinkies brushing against each other, as they talked and looked at the massacre of clippings on his walls.

The man is pushy, angry. Stu doesn’t think to step in at first. Shit happens. He’s not about to mess with things. He quite likes watching it, anyway. Which is fucked up, Billy would let him know that- he’s Stu’s moral compass. He feels a sort of jealousy seeing you pushed out the back door, into the alley. It perks him up from his glass, he abandons it in his corner spot. He follows the interaction in quick steps. 

The alleyway is a maze. It doesn’t empty out neatly into a long stretch. He has to turn the corner before he’s actually in it. That’s where he sees you. 

You’re pressed against the wall; not struggling anymore, but your body still shakes at the edges. The man is slumped over your frame. He’s violently pushed to the ground- and this is- it’s dangerous. 

Stu could very well be dead now.

You’re standing there panting and holding a bloody knife as you catch your breath over the body of a dead man.

You hear Stu take a few steps forward, your head shooting up with wide eyes.

“Oh, shit.” The two teens say in sync. 

[kiruliom]

no spoons for ID

malibughostic

a gender connected to the malibu ghostface sticker pack created by bubbleteapenguin as a patreon reward, which can be found here (cw for suggestive themes on blog and ghost-booty) (link)

its literally made for me aaghh if it ever somehow drops as like a regular product Im gonna FIND A WAY TO GET MY HANDS ON EM

tagging @gender-mailman and @buntress (shaking you shaking you shaking you sha-)

[TS: please do not reupload anywhere without permission and credit. end TS]

[moongumi]

killer d*ck

pairing: eren x reader

⟶ cw. fem!reader, smut, ghostface!eren, blood, mentions of murder, torture, dub-con, stabbing, dildo, masturbation, toy usage, etc.

sypnosis: you were just doing an essay before a wannabe ghostface killer shows up in your room trying to fuck you before he kills you

⟶ wc. 4.7k

a/n: hi hi, the only uni au i can relate to is art courses cuz i do one myself so just go with it! and its barely in this soooo yea, i simp super hard for ghostface and well to imagine eren under the mask yessssss < 3

The keyboard switches click continuously as soft freshly painted fingernails type words on a document. The keyboards sound expensive, non-clicky and muted, a girl with taste. The neon lights were stereotypical though, but at least it wasn’t just pink lights, he hums happily.

You were definitely a gamer. He takes a look around, collecting valuable information. You had nice expensive headphones on, your phone was in the living room―where you had forgotten it when you rushed to your PC earlier in the day to play games with your friends. You were completely and definitely focused on your essay, and totally not the spotify playlist on your other monitor that you were scrolling down looking for the right tunes.

You sigh, stretching back on your ergonomic chair, a loud crack runs through your spine―echoing in your small bedroom. It has huge, a fucking huge relief too as you moaned with pleasure―its been a while since you got up and walked around. You smile, checking that you had 2300 words out of 2500 minimum, you were definitely not an overachiever and well all you wanted to do was pass. Sadly, you were dumb and chose an Art course instead of something that would really secure you a future but at least you only had a couple of essays a year and they barely mattered.

Your phone starts to ring, all the way in the living room. You grunt, throwing your head back in the seat against the headrest before getting up. It buzzed long and hard before falling off the table onto the rug. You had your headset on your head still, pulling the cups off your ears and letting it fall down around your neck―eyebrows raising at the flashing on your phone

No Caller ID.

Alright, you never answered numbers you didn’t know and well, to be honest you don’t even answer calls you knew, anxiety’s a bitch. So you toss your phone to the couch and walk back to your bedroom.

Only for it to ring again, and again, and again.

“The fuck!” You were about to turn your phone off before you got a text from the number.

(No Caller ID): I would answer the phone if I were you.

Sort of scary, but you didn’t wanna die so weighing the options is getting a little scary.

(No Caller ID): I have a question about the assignment.

Oh, just a classmate. Maybe they really needed help so you decided to pick up, “Hello?”

“Hello…”

“Yea, hi. Whatchu want?” You ask.

Deep breaths reply to you, really really deep raspy breathing noises. His voice is deep and raspy, he chuckles slightly, “What’s your favourite scary movie?”

You laugh, knowing where this was going but for some odd reason decide to just play along with it after all you were so done with hours and hours of writing and maybe the tiredness is clouding your judgement. “That’s not really about the assignment, yano?”

“Just answer the question.” His voice gave you chills.

“Uh, fine.” You think about it for a second, before gasping, “I really fucking love Shrek!”

The guy seemed to gasp too but, he hisses a response, “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?” Woah, the way he says that sounded straight out of a porno, you’d definitely buy a voice-pack from a guy like that. 

You walk over to your bedroom with the phone to your ears not wanting to miss a second of this conversation, so you lay in bed on your side, “Don’t judge what you don’t understand, clearly you are uncultured.”

“I am not uncultured, Shrek is just a fucking terrible choice.”

“Pft, you definitely are an uncultured old man, maybe watch the movie before you start commenting on the masterpiece.” You continue to joke, “Plus, that shit is lowkey scary―have you seen what Lord Farquaad looks like, oh, he gives me chills.”

“I am not an old guy,” He didn’t sound old but you just wanted to tease him, to see what would make him mad, “But answer me properly, what’s your favourite scary movie?”

You groan realising that this was actually getting boring, “Dude, are you trying to be Ghostface? ‘Cus that’s really 2000s―it’s literally 2022, I know there’s a new movie out but my god―”

“Fuck me, are you going to run your mouth more? That’s the whole fucking point, there’s a new movie so there’s a new wave of serial killers, bitch.”

“Ew―you into the whole roleplaying shit? And you’re super rude, why’d you even call me? Didn’t you need something for the assignment?” You grumble, turning onto your stomach and playing with your hair, twisting it in your fingers.

He laughs, maniacally, “Roleplay? Bitch, I didn’t call you for your damn assignment. I called because I wanted to know what the girl I’m about to gut sounds like.”

Oh, your stomach drops. His voice was so booming in your ears and caused rough chills to run down your entire body. So you did the only thing you could do.

You hang up.

You sighed with relief that it was over, but it really wasn’t over because the phone rang and rang and rang again. You answer it, but instead you drop it on the bed on speaker.

“Oh, okay―I see how it is,” He begins, his voice low and grovelly―if you could fuck a voice you would, “Be a good girl, a good fucking girl and listen, since you wanted to be a real bitch and hang up on me, I’m going to be hard on you. I wanna play a game, just answer my questions―some trivia and I won’t come in the fucking window and rip your cute little intestines from your cute little stomach, okay?”

This was getting a bit scary now, so you decided to simply play along, answer the questions right―you knew trivia enough and hope that he doesn’t kill you. “Uhm, can it be about Harry Potter? ‘Cus legit if you ask me about any of those horror or slashers that Ghostface asks his victims I’m actually going to 100% get them all wrong and at that point just come and kill me before you even start.”

He pauses, stumbling over his words, “Uhm. Shit, fuck this wasn’t the plan. Okay, uh, you’re lucky I like Harry Potter. Alright, warm-up question, What is Harry Potter’s Patronus?”

You jumped up, joyfully, you knew the answer, “Easy, a stag just like his daddy.”

He hums, enjoying the way you said that. He chuckles, continuing, “Good job, next question―the real question. How many staircases are there total in Hogwarts?”

You deadpanned, shocked, “What the fuck! Who knows that? Are you reading off one of those ‘Top Ten Harry Potter Trivia Questions that only real fans know’? Because seriously, do you even know the answer to that?”

“Shit, sorry doll, you got it wrong. The answer was 142, and no, of course I wasn’t reading off one of those silly websites, ‘course not.” He laughs, “Sadly, this means I’m gonna have to kill you.”

Your heart races, and you start looking around your apartment. Heart nearly beating out of your chest, you hoped deep in your heart that it was a prank, just a prank, “Wait, how are you going to do that? I live on the 9th floor.”

“Well, I am quite resourceful―” Within a flash a loud thud echoes in your living room and your heart practically explodes. Your eyes scamper towards the direction. A large figure in a black cowl, white mask runs at you. Fucking Ghostface runs at your with a large glimmering hunting knife in his grasp.

Your shrill screams bounced off the walls. You sprint into your bathroom, slipping slightly since you were wearing fluffy socks on hardwood floors. 

Before you could even lock the door, his foot nudged between the gap making you scream. His arm reaches through and then his body, his gloved hand grasps your wrists within a second and he drags your screaming body outside into your bedroom. He’s huge, heavy and impossible to fight off, your death was imminent. 

Under his mask he laughs, obnoxiously. He cocks his head after throwing you onto the bed with your wrists under his hand, his knife on the other hand drags down the side of your body―all over the skimpy pyjamas you wore.

“And here I thought you’d put up a better fight.” His voice is distorted just like on the phone but somehow even deeper in person.

Tears run down your face uncontrollably, and you writher against his hot body. “This isn’t fair, I had nowhere to run! What the fuck did I do to deserve this?”

Ghostface hums, listening to your pretty sobs and cries, leaning into your face, “Hm, baby, you didn’t do anything. You’re just a victim of a serial killer, just like the rest of them.”

You were going to die, you just have to accept it now.

“Fuck, and here I am thinking I’m the main character.”

☆.・゜゜・*. * ·✧*. * ·★.・゜゜・✰

A typical Friday night would not be described as this, no, you only planned for a slow night of essay writing, gaming and drinking. Who would possibly imagine this, being hog-tied by some of your own stockings that a serial killer stole from your sock drawers, chest down on your living room couch and the killer standing tall, illuminated by the bright lights from your open fridge door.

“Do you eat? There’s no food.”

You sighed, this man had been dragging out your death for what felt like hours and now he was digging through your fridge looking for scraps. He was playing with you, teasing, a predator playing with his food―a fresh prey ready to be eaten whenever he desires.

You did the only thing you could do, glare at him with fiery eyes. He smiles to himself, looking at your pathetic form and angry face. He enjoyed toying with you, a fiery girl with a lot of attitude being tied up completely submissive, just his favourite meal. He stands with the cold breeze piercing through the outfit and drapes. In the fridge were mostly yogurts, eclairs and what looked like leftover cake. In his eyes you seemed like you had some sort of sugar addiction-no real goddamn food in this fridge. Damn, maybe he should’ve eaten beforehand.

Eren thought you may have been too scared to talk but hell, the look in your eyes told him you were just being stubborn. “Come on, I didn’t tape your mouth up for a reason.”

You swallowed the buildup of spit before replying to him. “I usually order food, that’s why there's no food in there.”

He chuckles, echoing softly in the dimly lit living room. He slams the door shut, “Rich girl, huh? Parent’s pay for everything or what?”

Your lips curled with anger, face heating him. “Just a mother who works really hard.” You didn’t like talking about family, at all.

Eren brushes his freshly painted fingernails, hidden under his gloves over the expensive looking countertop while he strolled over towards you, slowly, like he was sizing up his meal. He looked menacing, stopping right in front of your little head that rested on the arm couch, his crotch at your eye level. 

You sneered, turning away not wanting to have your face in his dick but he had other ideas. His gloved hands, heavy, grabbed your cheeks squishing them together as he dragged your face up as far as it could go, straining your neck to look up at him. His masked face, only the sense of anything human was the void eye sockets that barely showed his eyes, he said nothing, only humming slightly pleased with how uncomfortable he was making you.

He cocks his head, hands caressing your face roughly and carelessly. He scanned you completely, taking in what he likes and doesn’t like about you.

“A mother who won’t have a daughter for much longer, does she love you a lot?” There was really no reason to lie, especially if you were going to die you weren’t going to die with your trauma clogged inside of you.

“No.”

“No?” He lets out a pitiful noise, cooing, “Poor thing, mother doesn’t love you? Does mother love her money more?”

“No, she loves men and their dicks more.”

Ghostface, Eren gasps dramatically squeezing your cheek for added effect, “Woah! What about her daughter? Does loving dick run in the family, hm, do you love dick?”

You hiss, “Not more than my damn family.”

He grimaces, “You haven’t had killer dick then.”

“And never will, thanks to you.”

Ghostface laughs, his voice trailing off into something more serious. “You want some?”

“What?” You gasp, feeling his grip tighten on your cheeks, nails digging quite deep into your soft skin.

“Do you want some―killer dick?” He smiled maniacally, but you couldn’t see that.

Oh, it finally hit you what he meant. Oh god, “I’m okay, thanks.”

“Ya sure?” He taunts, “Would be your only shot, the last dick you’ll have, and it would be a good one.” 

You were beyond confused, this Ghostface was definitely unlike the ones in the movies. “Why would I fuck you? Willingly? I don’t even know what you look like.”

You’d never admit in a million years but Ghostfaces have always been attractive even behind the mask. The voice does a lot even when you only first heard him, it’s always the voices. His voice was modulated yet under all of that you could hear the scruffy and rough tones of his real voice, and god it was deep.

He shrugs, turning your face left and right, “Well, I’ve got a pretty big dick, been told that it feels pretty good.”

“Just kill me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, pretty thing, we’ll get there after we have some fun.”

☆.・゜゜・*. * ·✧*. * ·★.・゜゜・✰

It is beyond terrifying, your body wants to jump out of its skin. Your heart was beating so fast you felt it in your throat. 

You didn’t expect this, no not at all. You were not expecting him to untie you, and force you to play hide and seek with him. “If I find you, I’ll fuck you.” Is what he said before he sits himself on the couch and covers where his eyes would be over the mask. He had begun counting down from a hundred as if you had any room in your tiny apartment to hide. Childish asshole.

You had time to look around but you knew your apartment well enough. There wasn’t any real place to hide and you could bet that he knew this, he just wanted to mess with you, scare you and then chase you like the psycho killer he is.

There was really one option far enough away from him, behind the door in your bathroom, it’s lame but you had no choice. Your wrists were sore and raw from how hard he had tied you up with the rough pantyhose material. Covering your mouth with your hands so he couldn’t hear the way you were breathing and even whimpering with fear.

He already finished counting, you could feel the vibrations of his boots against the floors, he was getting closer and closer. Yet, he took his time to look over pictures on your walls and skim his fingers over your bookshelves at the books you read, gosh, he was being nosy with your personal items. He hums a song, enjoying himself beyond imagination.

And here you were, shivering with fright.

“Darling, pretty girl―where are you?”

He strolls around, between the hinges of your door you could see him walk around the washroom, closets and kitchen as if there were any real place to hide. He pretends to look everywhere before ending up in your room―you sob, turning away not wanting to see him catch you.

All you hear is a disappointed sigh, “Hey, come on now! You could’ve tried a bit harder, most people go under their beds.” He clicks his tongue, his boots not clicking on the tiles in your bathroom as he pulls the door away from your side, revealing your huddled up body, weak little thing.

Eren’s dick was rock hard in his pants, threatening to bust through his zippers. His gloved hands grab you by the shoulders, within a fell swoop he picks you and shoves you against the bathroom door, his body trapping you. “You look so goddamn hot with tears running down your face, what kinda mascara do you use?”

“Shut up!” You cried out, shoving his incredibly hard chest.

He loves it when you talk back, even if you were scared shitless.

Ghostface turns, taking a quick look at your shower and before you know it you’re under the shower head being doused with cold water. It practically drowns you, trying your hardest to block it out with your palms and he laughs, and laughs at you.

Eren doesn’t take his pretty green eyes off of you, the way your clothes got wetter by the second revealing your lack of bra―your top molds around your tits, hardened nipples exposed, god could he get even more aroused?

“What the fuck! Just fucking kill me already!”

Ghostface wiggles his pointer finger, left and right, “No way, you’re too fun to play with!”

You notice the way his mask is tilted down towards your chest, you try to cover it up as best you could.

“Get up, lie on your bed.” He basically growls. He shuts the water and kicks your thighs with his boot, you were forced out and laid on the bed as he said. He scrambles through your drawers for something, like he knew what he was looking for. 

You’re soaked, dripping water onto your sheets and pillows. You sucked it up, laying like a dead fish.

He gasps, “Ah hah, I knew you were a kinky one.” He pulls out a vibrator from your drawers, it was supposed to be well hidden but fuck.

Your eyes widened, “What―what are you going to do with that?”

He cocks his head and starts to mock you, “What―what am I going to do? Easy, you’re gonna show me how you play with yourself with this thing, alright?”

He walks over to you and spreads your legs forcefully, pressing the toy against the centre of your shorts pushing it into your core, hard. “Just like this, I wanna see you fuck yourself.”

You weren’t allowed to say no, he wasn’t going to agree because he pulled out his knife after dropping it between your crotch, mocking you with his glistening blade.

“Alright, I’ll show you.”

☆.・゜゜・*. * ·✧*. * ·★.・゜゜・✰

Damn, he did not expect you to actually do it―fuck. He’s been hard this entire time and not even gotten soft once, you were just making him more and more aroused with the seconds. The way your wet top still clung tightly around your curves, and fuck, the expressions you made.

It was so hard to him to resist, the way you took off your shorts slowly―your underwear, fucking tease.

Eren watches as your face fills with shame, embarrassment when you see him realise you were soaking wet, not with water either. Your underwear was sticky, clinging tightly onto your pussy. 

“I need lube for this―” Your small voice breaks him out of his lustful trance.

He cocks his head, smirking, “You look wet enough to me.”

You let out a sigh, that was more like a deep whine. “It won’t go in.”

Lies, you were lying to him. He knew you would be able to take it, fucking hell, it was no where near the size of his dick and he had been imagining how you’d swallow him his dick this entire time.

“Try.” Is all he says, not budging even a bit.

Eren watches you bite your lip angrily, taking the purple and pink dildo shaped like a tentacle or some sort in your hands. You sighed out loud, making him know you were annoyed laying on your back. Your arms reach towards your cunt, trying to find the best angle with your legs spread out towards him as if he was doing an exam on you or something. Your bare cunt glistening for him, cleanly shaved, you must’ve been a girl who gets a lot of action. He loved it when girls shaved, he loved seeing the entire pussy-he sucks his bottom lip, his mouth watering at the sight.

The head of the dildo, wasn’t really a head at all, it was just a tapered end―a pointy thick tentacle, “You’ve got some freaky kinks, buying yourself a dildo like that.”

You puff your chest, “It was a gift, and it feels good.”

“I bet.” He groans, thrusting his hard cock against the inner part of your leg.

His eyes glued to the suctions, the ridges around the dildo. It definitely wasn’t a struggle to get the tip in but it got so much wider and wider. 

You ran it along the length of your slit, gathering your arousal hoping it would ease the tightness. The tip teasing your clit at every drag, making goosebumps appear on your skin, you didn’t have much time to really enjoy yourself after all you should not really be enjoying this, no, you were supposed to be doing this because he made you. A weirdo watching your masterbate right between your legs.

You looked only at the dildo but he grabs your legs pulling them apart more, “Look at me while you do it.” The modulation in his voice made him seem much more dominant, making you shiver.

You grunt, slowly flickering your eyes towards the void holes in the scream mask. You glare at him, siren eyes. 

Eren wasn’t used to that, girls usually begged for his cock with doe eyes, submissively begging him for more, fore attention, touch but not you. 

You took enough time to prepare yourself, starting to push the dildo in, it stretches you greatly―you take in a gasp of air feeling it widen up your hole. 

Eren’s lips part as a breathy moan leaves your lips and your eyes soften as it further went into you―lips swallowing up the suctions beautifully. Your eyes shut, your lashes feathering completely forgetting that he was even there at all. 

He shifts his weight, thrusting upwards―hands tightening on the shaft of the hunting knife.

The edges of the dildo are ridged, they flicker and kiss your walls as you begin to move it with ease, in and out. A warmness builds in the pits of your core, warming your cunt up as your arousal grows and dribbles out. You whimper loudly as your pussy nearly swallows the entirety of the shaft, so big, you feel so widened and filled.

His hands find their way towards your throat, choking you within a flash-he pushes you back down into the bed and you gape unable to make any other noise but moan. 

Eren shoves away your pretty hands as he is unable to resist any longer, he could easily come in his pants right now. His right hand takes the base of the dildo in his large heavy hands. Eren’s impatient, compared to you―and so damn rough.

He takes the entire thing, pulling it out and shoving it back in feverishly.

You gasped, choking on your breath, “Fuck! Oh fuck―that feels so good!”

The dildo bottoms out inside of you, the base slapping against your bare cunt, he tries to shove past the base but he couldn’t go any further―he wanted it deep and deeper. His grip tightens on your throat the more you make those cute noises for him. Your lips part as drool escapes it dripping down your pretty pink lips, you moan every time you take a breath.

Eren places himself further between you holding your legs apart as he feels you closing them the closer you get. He’s a huge guy, with enough broadness to keep you wide open for him to enjoy. His weight is completely impossible to move, like a huge boulder. His eyes were enthralled with your cunt, wet and slobbering all over the ridges of the toy―he just imagined the way it could be replaced by his red hot cock―that would feel so good for him.

“I thought that―that, fuck, was my job.” Your eyes shut, feeling the pits in your core tightening more and more, he went faster and deeper when he noticed.

Then he plays you, dragging it out slowly wanting to take his time before thrusting it back in- your cunt feeling the way the suctions of the tentacle bounced or lips around, the entire eight-inches easily going into you. Eren groans, almost drooling himself, “I couldn’t help myself.”

You wanted to reply but the grip on your throat, definitely going to leave a mark with those leather gloves, stops you. He watches the ultra wet dildo, slurping you up. Only gasps of pleasure left your lips, eyes hazed with arousal and your breath staggered the longer he kept it up. Approaching your end, he doesn’t stop, oh no, he’s merciless, the goal was right there.

Eren leans into ear, placing the plastic mask against your shoulder as he whispers, “You going to cum? You gonna cum for me?”

You nod, sporadically, unable to control yourself especially after those words.

“Cum then, pretty girl.” You did, you fucking did. Your body came undone, your cunt tightens around the toy-the heat inside of you rush into the core completely destroying you. Your pleasure crashes down on you and the tingles in the pits of your stomach explode into warm pricks all over, inside of you. Your cunt squeezes and pulsates around the dildo for the last time before he takes it out completely, enjoying the pop it makes―dangling it around like a prize.

“Would you look at yourself, you just came for a serial killer―fucking hell, add that to your dating profile.”

You couldn’t even reply before knocks on your door interrupt the little moment you had with this killer. The knocks were loud, echoing through the apartment-his head snaps towards it immediately and he takes his knife in his hand quickly. 

You remembered exactly what it was and you had to stop him. Even in your overly stimulated form you grabbed onto the hem of his cloak pulling him back. “It’s just my friends.”

He turns towards you and cocks his head arrogantly, “Ah, more people to kill.”

“No!” You shout, pulling him even closer to you, “Don’t, please. If anything I’m saving your ass, two of my friends are huge guys who could easily take you with or without a knife. You wouldn’t have enough time to escape before you get caught.”

Bitch. Eren wanted to say, thinking over his options he knew it wasn’t going to be easy-he only had such an easy time with you because of all the stalking he did to figure out your routine but he had no idea who was at the door and what they could do, the risk is not worth it. He could still have tomorrow, to mess with you.

He grabs your cheeks yet again and pulls you up, your cheeks red from all the blood rush. Your hand grips his wrist, weakly. You writher under him as he nearly kissed you with his mask, “You get to live this time, bitch. But remember me, because I’ll come back for you.”

The hunting knife in his hand raises, light bouncing off it before it penetrates into your hip, you scream loudly-cuss words and insults thrown at the killer. You fall onto the bed and the killer pulls the knife out, getting up. He wipes the blood off his blade as the same blood pools out of your side onto your sheets. 

A pretty girl with pretty blood. Eren smiles.

Eren is halfway out the window before he waves goodbye sending you a creepy kiss before he jumps out the window, into the night. The breeze hits you, this isn’t a fucking dream. You couldn’t even think if he’d survive where he was going because the pain was something you’ve never felt before-you cry into your sheets, adrenaline running out quickly and the pain gets so much worse.

How many people could say that the same guy fucks them and stabs them, just you?

☆.・゜゜・*. * ·✧*. * ·★.・゜゜・✰

© moongumi 2022. all rights reserved, do not copy and publish my writing anywhere else.

★.・tags: @emiliaserpe @ladybeautiful18 @hallothankmas @kiitysstuff @i1k @idontgiveahugefuuuck @sei-hoe @dreaisgreatatit @jordyn-degas @berranurates @Kurtaclangobrrr @songbirdgardensworld @marycarabell @narinchan @peace-for-levi

[mattzerella-sticks]

Beer Run (a Dean/Cas fic guest starring our kids from Lebanon, 2.3 k, Coda to 14x16 “Don’t Go In the Woods”)

Where will Dean go to get the beer Jack was unable to pick up? He's not going to bother the liquor store for a six-pack, thinking a quick stop at the convenience store will be enough. But is beer the only thing he'll pick up? There are three kids there who seem to have something heavier for Dean to carry home. It's too much, and Dean is forced to call someone to help lighten the load.

(Read on Ao3)

           Dean parks in the first open spot he finds, tugging the key out half way through Zepp’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’. Lugging himself out from the car, he speeds across the street and over to the convenience store. There’s barely anyone inside, however he recognizes three familiar faces by the counter. Each turn to stare as he enters and Dean waves to them all. A cocktail of emotions spills across their faces when they recognize him. Stacy shudders, fear flashing in her eyes before hiding it staring at her feet. Max bites her lip, wariness translated by the set of her shoulders. Eliot can’t snuff out the fire before Dean sees it. Fists tightening at his sides, his scowl causes any further friendliness to die on his tongue.

           He moves on, giving the teens a wide berth on his path to the beer. It’s takes longer than he’d like to find his brand, too distracted by the tense atmosphere. He chokes on it like thick smog off a bad engine. When he finally finds the case of El Sol, Dean could slice through it with his silver blade. It gets denser the closer he walks to the counter.

           Three sets of eyes watch him place the beer down on the counter. “Don’t worry,” he says, chuckling awkwardly, “I have ID.” The joke falls flat, each teen staring as if it were a baby bird pushed from its nest too soon. Dean stops laughing and instead digs his wallet out. But, par the course, he can’t do it fast enough. And when he does, Dean fumbles it and drops it on the floor. “Sorry, I guess I have performance anxiety –“

           “Where do you get off?”

           Dean startles, Eliot’s growl drawing his attention. He juts his chin out, arms hanging out on his sides like he’s ready to take flight. Max and Stacy are taken aback in shock. Max reaches for him, whispering, “Eliot, it’s not worth it –“

           “No, I think we deserve to hear what he has to say!”

           Dean glances between the two, shrugging. “I mean, I guess when I get nervous I try and diffuse the situation using humor… they’re not my best jokes but –“

           “You think this is a game?” Eliot asks, scoffing, “That’s not what I’m talking about!”

           He sighs, hands out between them in case Eliot’s powder keg burst. “Listen, kid I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

           “Yeah, right. Like he didn’t tell you.”

           “Who?”

           “Jack.”

           His heart skips a beat, the pure acid with which Eliot spit his son’s name out burning. “What,” he breathes, “What about Jack?”

           Max takes the reigns of the conversation then. “You’re serious,” she says, “You don’t know.”

           Eliot keeps glaring. “Of course he knows, Max, they’re all in cahoots together –“

           “Eliot,” she hisses, “Stop it!”

           Dean’s blood pressure rises, the flippant tone scraping at his nerves. The two teens keep arguing, and he has to slam his palm against the counter to stop them. “Listen, I don’t know what happened with Jack, and I’m not gonna know unless one of you decides to tell me, so…”

           They wait a long beat before someone decides to talk. It’s Stacy who steps forward. She clears her throat and bats away the hand Max floats her way. “We ran into him the other day, right here. He was sweet, kind of odd but… well, after you and your brother saved us we thought it might be nice to hang out with him. Jack doesn’t seem like he hangs out with anyone his age.”

           Dean nods, Stacy’s assessment fair and true. As nice as her story starts, he knows there’s a turning point in it. Otherwise Jack would have told them what happened instead of letting it slip between the cracks.

           “So we’re all hanging out and he’s… trying to toss this sword thing.”

           “He wasn’t getting it,” Max tells him, “It was kind of depressing, he did it for hours saying he could get it.”

           “And he did, eventually,” Stacy says, “After he… after Jack made it fly.”

           Dean’s eyes widen, “No…”

           “His eyes glowed bright gold,” Eliot says, “Like some kind of monster.”

           “Hey,” Dean barks at him, voice hoarse with terror, “he is not a monster.”

           “But he’s something,” Max says, “And after he hit his target he kept showing off. Made his knife go every which way, had it circle us like a wasp. We tried to get him to stop but he wouldn’t listen and then he… then he –“

           Stacy grabs her hand, squeezing it tight within her own. “I ran and he… he stabbed me.” Dean’s instinct takes over and he goes to check her over, but she jumps back at his advancing touch. He stills before reeling himself in. “Jack healed me but… but…”

           “Why are you letting him live?”

           Dean experiences whiplash with how quick he rounds on Eliot. He can tell from his posture the younger boy doesn’t regret his word choice. “Excuse me?”

           “You hunt monsters, don’t you?” he asks, “Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons… angels? How can you let someone with that much power walk around with normal people –“

           “Hey, you don’t get to speak about him like that!”

           “And why’s that?”

           “Because he’s my son,” Dean snarls, “And I’ll be damned if you think he’s a monster just because of his powers. He’s done a lot of good, saved a bunch of people. Jack… he’s…” Dean loses steam, shoulders slumping in on themselves as the weight of their story sinks into him. “It’s our fault, and we’re sorry. I know Jack is and… I am too. He was without his powers for a while, but he got ‘em back and he was eager to prove his skill. It wasn’t intentional and we’re… we’re working on it.”

           “Well I don’t care if he becomes a master, I don’t want him anywhere near us,” Eliot tells him, “Do everyone a favor and lock him away.”

           He storms off before anyone could stop him, stomping towards the back of the store. Max looks between her friend and Dean, not sure whether to leave Stacy with him or stand guard. Stacy pushes the beer towards him. “Just take it,” she says, “Please.”

           Dean swipes his wallet and pockets it, using his other hand to grab the beer. On his way out he hears Eliot shout to him. “The Ghostfacers were right – screw the Winchesters!” The barbed comment barely pierces the shell Dean crawled into throughout the conversation. He focuses on his breathing the entire walk back to his car.

           Sliding into Baby, Dean doesn’t start the car. His fingers can barely hold onto his keys, they shake so fiercely. He grips the wheel and slams his forehead against the leather. His breaths become more and more shallow, until he works himself into a panic attack. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, and he blindly searches for his phone. Dean pounds the number 2 and waits for the other end to pick up.

           It’s barely past the first ring when Cas answers. “Dean? What are –“

           “Cas,” he forces out between clenched teeth, “I need…”

           “What do you need?”

           “Talk me down, man. Please.” He’s desperate, weak, but Cas knows how to pick him up when he gets like this. Immediately his angel starts on a tangent about cows, having passed a dairy farm within the hour. From cows, Cas jumps to milk and other dairy products, discussing and ranking different cheeses. He asks Dean his opinion, and he does his best to answer. Once they move past that, Cas gets halfway through an argument about wine being the superior alcoholic drink before Dean can hear him without the tidal wave of his blood washing him out.

           “Thanks, Cas,” Dean stutters out, “I… I needed that.”

           “I’m always here for you Dean. If I may ask, what happened?”

           Dean leans back in his seat, carding his fingers through his hair. He whistles out a melancholy note before launching into the story. Cas remains silent through it all. “…I can’t help feeling that none of this would’ve happened if we were honest with Jack in the first place.”

           He fiddles with the radio knob while waiting for Cas’s response. It’s a short beat before his angel speaks again. “Dean, you shouldn’t burden yourself with this.”

           “A kid almost died –“

           “But she didn’t,” Cas says, “Jack was able to heal her.”

           “And what if he can’t do it the next time, Cas?” Dean cries, “We could end up with a Tombstone situation and when that happened he high tailed it out of there.”

           “I think the only thing you can do now is watch out for Jack,” Cas starts, his deep rumble soothing the anxiousness in his mind. “There’s a reason he didn’t share this story with you, but you know now. You also know that he’s willing to lie about certain things so… maybe he won’t uphold his promise about using his powers.”

           Dean bites back a gasp. “I… I didn’t even think of that.”

           “Keep an eye on him,” Cas tells Dean, “This might not even be about his powers. This could have something to do with his… his lack of a soul.”

           Kneading the space between his brows, Dean agrees with his angel. “It just worries me, y’know. Jack traumatized these kids, but I know he never meant to put them in harm’s way. We’ve been treating him like he’s human but Michael’s grace kind of… reset him, somehow. He’s practically a toddler, and we can only guess how this all affected him, what messed up ideas he absorbed.” Dean forces out a wet chuckle, “Can't even tell what he’s thinking nowadays…”

           “Raising a child isn’t an easy thing, Dean.”

           “I know,” he sighs, rubbing at his jeans now. His hands have flown all around his space, releasing all the nervous energy from his anxiety. Dean bites at his lip. “It’d be easier if you were here, though.”

           Cas breathes out over the line. “I know.”

           “When are you coming back?”

           “Dean, I…” He knows nothing good will come with the next few words. “I don’t know.”

           He tries to forces a smile, glancing up into the mirror at his ugly grimace. “Until the itch goes away, right?”

           “Are you feeling all right?”

           “I did call you in a panic, remember?”

           “No, are you,” he drags it out, as if cherry picking the words from out the air, “were you okay with me leaving?”

           In the comforting darkness, Dean finds no reason to lie. “I never am, Cas.”

           “Dean?”

           “Because I’m always wondering if you’re going to come back.” He never spoke his fears aloud, but they always existed. Hiding in the back of his mind, whispering and waiting for the moment Cas ultimately leaves. Dean figured that was over with, now that Michael was gone. They were waiting for him to forget, for him to feel truly happy before striking with vengeance. “I understand why you stay, when things are rough. And Sam was feeling better, Jack looked okay and I was free from Michael so we weren’t holding you back. Figured you might actually want to stay now that things were good and peaceful…”

           “I’d like that as well,” Cas tells him, his voice bittersweet like a haunting love ballad.

           “Then why don’t you?”

           “I… I have my reasons.”

           “Didn’t I give you enough of them to stay?” Early morning departures aren’t Dean’s specialty. Cas knew this, choosing it to make it easier for himself. Slipping out of their bed, gathering his duffel. Dean woke up though, caught him in the act. He couldn’t stop him though. But he hugged him tighter than he had before, clinging to his trench coat. Let his lips linger for longer than he does. Whispered a prayer for his safe return moments before slipping back into unconsciousness.

           “Dean, believe me when I say that no matter where I go, I’ll always return home –“

           “To the Bunker, I’ve heard it before, Cas –“

           “No, Dean… the Bunker isn’t my home. You are.”

           His heart leaps into his throat, choking out any noise.

           “And before I can do that I need to see to a few things. Know that whatever I do, it’s to keep my family and my home safe, Dean.”

           Dean covers his mouth with his hand, clearing his throat, doing anything to hide the delirious grin stretching across his features. “I… I trust you Cas, I do. You’re not going to share with the class though?”

           “In time,” his angel says, “All I ask for is your patience.”

           “Well you know better than anybody how much experience I have with that… especially when it comes to you.”

           Cas chuckles, soothing the tight pit that gnawed at his stomach. “Thank you… and thanks for telling me.”

           “Jack’s your son, too. Figured you’d wanna know.”

           “I was talking about your true feelings… but yes, that as well.”

           Dean blushes, “Cas…”

           “Give him guidance, Dean, help him make the right decisions. I know you can do it.”

           “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cas.”

           “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

           “Until then.” Dean presses the end call button, tossing his phone to the side. It lands between the bench seat and his now warm beer. With the whirlwind of emotions tearing at his insides, Dean doesn’t care at what temperature he drinks his alcohol only that it does enough to knock him out. He’s already a little tipsy from his call with Cas.

           It’ll be a long time before he allows himself the comforts of booze, though. When he gets home he and Sam will have a thorough conversation about Jack. He holds tight to the hope that it was a stumble and nothing more. A kid wanting to impress and biting off more than he could chew, it wouldn’t be a foreign concept to Dean. That thought sticks with him the entire drive back, other possibilities getting lost in the dust his Baby kicks up.

           Dean doesn’t dare linger with them, in fear they’ll dislodge the already fragile scenario he has in place. If the truth is anything other than what he thinks, than Dean won’t know what to do.

           And that’s scarier than all the monsters they faced.

[rabidbatboy]

how about an ID pack for a ghostface who is also a scene kid, if youre up for it? :0

POSTED! this one was SO fun ehe

[blueandsunny-morn]

Hello Jughead

A/N: Hello! So yeah this is a Riverdale x Scream crossover that no one asked for but I’ve been thinking about for like two weeks straight. I just really love both and the fact that Skeet is in both just makes the crossover inevitable you know? Hope you guys like it! I’ve never written anything “scary” before so please excuse if its not that great, I also wrote this at 5 AM so there’s that too.

Pairing: Jughead x reader

Warnings: In this world Sidney got pregnant and instead of going to Windsor she took off to Riverdale instead

While Sidney loved her son, she just wished he wasn’t so into scary movies. It didn’t really come up much seeing as though most of the year was spent relatively horror free, but when Halloween came around it seemed like Jughead seemingly was reminded they exist. Out came the popcorn and the blankets as Jughead and his friends overtook the living room in order to scare themselves for hours on end, except on Halloween where they’d get dressed up and head over to the Bijou where they’d watch whatever double feature was playing. Horror movies just couldn’t escape Sidney Prescott. And this year it really did her in, the Bijou was playing an old favorite of hers, Stab, and of course her son and all his friends were just so damn excited to go see it.

Sidney had never told Jughead the story of what happened in Woodsborro, she wanted to keep the boy innocent to that. She had put it in her past the second she packed up and left. She simply told him that she came from a small town in California and she left after graduation when her boyfriend dumped her for getting pregnant, a story Jughead still believed.

“The ghost masks aren't that scary.” She heard Archies voice coming from the living room.

“Anything’s scary when it’s coming at you with a knife.” Came Jugheads reply.

Sidney almost laughed at that. They were all almost ready, Jughead, Betty, Veronica, and Archie all stood in the living room waiting on the final person to arrive. Y/N, Jughead's girlfriend of about 3 years. Jughead met Y/N back in middle school during his time at the Juvenile Detention Center. While he was there for playing with matches, Y/N was there for beating the crap out of a kid at her school. Y/N didn’t have the best homelife, so Sindey let it slide, but she made sure to keep an eye on the girl. She could not afford to have another Billy Loomis in her life.

“Where is Y/N?” Betty questioned, pulling on the sleeves of her black sweater.

The group had decided to go as the Breakfast Club this year, Cheryl’s nickname had inspired them. Archie went as Andrew, Veronica as Claire, Betty as Allison, and Jughead got stuck with Brian. He originally wanted to be Bender, but Y/N decided she was the best fit to be him and that was a fight Jughead just would not win. She was a great match for Jughead in the stubbornness department.

“She’ll be here soon, apparently her car decided to not start again today so she’s trying to convince her brother to let her borrow his truck.” Jughead replied from his spot on the couch.

“Aww, don’t you all look so good.” Sidney cooed, coming out into the living room. Pushing down the wave of nausea that had settled in her stomach when she was the Scream poster printed on a flyer on the table. A chorus of thanks came her way.

“Are you doing anything fun tonight Ms. Jones? You could always come to the Bijou with us if you want” Betty told her with a smile.

“Oh no, you guys are teenagers you can’t have your parent hanging around during Halloween, just wouldn’t be cool.” Sidney said with a small laugh. “Besides Stab gives me the creeps.”

“Really? Why?”

“Scary movies were just never my thing. They’re all kind of the same, some girl running up the stairs when she should be running out the door ya know.” She said with a smile. “You guys be good!” She called as she headed back up to her room.

Just then the phone rang. Weird, Jughead thought, no one ever called their home phone anymore. Jughead, being closest to the phone, picked it up and answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello Jughead” Came a raspy voice from the other line. Confused, Jughead looks down at the caller ID, huh not a number he recognized.

“Hello, uhh who is this?” He asked, gaining the attention from his friends.

“You tell me.”

“Uhh well, I have no idea.” He said, looking up at the group, who were now watching him intently.

“Scary night isn’t it? What with the murders it’s like right out of a horror movie or something.” The voice on the other end spoke. Jughead let out a small breath as a relieved smirk spread across his face.

“Y/N you gave yourself away, are you on your way over or what? The movie starts in half a hour and you know I hate missing previews.” He scolded her playfully.  

“Do you like scary movies Jughead?” The voice on the other end had not changed the whole interaction, Y/N was good he’d have to admit.

“Is that Y/N?” Veronica asked.

“Yeah she’s just messing around.” Jughead told her before turning his attention back to the phone. “I like that thing you’re doing with your voice Y/N, its sexy.”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Oh come on Y/N, you know what my favorite scary movie is so why are you asking?”

“Are you alone in the house?”

“Oh come on, that’s so unoriginal, I’m disappointed in you Y/L/N.”

“Maybe because I’m not Y/N.” The voice growled, causing Jugheads face to fall. The mood in the room suddenly went cold. Noticing their friends distress the group now all sat around Jughead as he put the caller on speaker phone. Maybe it was a lapse in judgement, maybe it was the Halloween season getting the best of him, or maybe it was the Nightmare on Elm Streets he’d watched earlier but he was thoroughly freaked out.

There was a pregnant pause.

“So, then who are?” He questioned cautiously.

“The question isn’t who am I, the questions is where am I.” The called spoke, their voice had lost the anger in their voice and it was replaced by something almost lighter, like the caller was having fun messing with the teens.

“So, where are you?” He looked at his friends around him, all who were watching him intently.

“On your front porch.” The voice said smoothly. Causing the teens hearts to fall into their stomachs, in their panic none of them seemed to recognize the dialogue as a being apart of the movie they were all about to go see, maybe it was just creepier to be heard through your own phone rather than on a tv screen.

Archie was the first person to get up, making his way slowly to the front door as his friends trailed behind him.

“Why would you be on my front porch?”

“Well you see that’s original part.”

“Well see, I call your bluff.” Veronica snapped, for the first time since the call had started. Pushing past Archie Veronica pulled the door open, Jughead thought for a moment she might rip it off it hinges, but the worry left his head completely when a figure, dressed in all black and a ghostface mask jumped into view holding a knife.

Dropping the phone Jughead jumped back, his friends following suit as they all let out terrified screams; that was before they noticed the figure in the doorway hunched over in laughter.

The figure dropped it’s knife and pulled its costume off easily, revealing a Bender clad Y/N in all her glory.

“Oh my god, Y/N that was NOT funny!” Betty screamed, moving forward to hit the girl repeatedly on the arm. Which did not stop her laughs.

Moving away from Betty’s rath Y/N kept hold of the ghostface mask as she moved inside.

“Aw man, I can’t believe you guys fucking fell for that!” She gushed. “Come on that’s one of the best scenes in Stab, I’m disappointed in you all none of you would make it through a horror movie.

Hearing the screams Sidney quickly got out of bed, rushing through the house fearing the worst. After running into the scene, baseball bat in hand, Sidney saw the teens huddled near the door, with a very amused Y/N holding her costume in her hand. Sindey’s blood ran cold as she recognized the black and white mass, but she put down the bat and crossed her arms, assuming the true annoyed mother stance.

“What the hell was all that screaming?” She questioned, looking pointedly between her son and his girlfriend.

Jughead looked over at his mom, first startled that she had come running with a bat in hand, but it soon morphed into embarrassment as the situation set in.

“Well seeing as though we’re going to go see Stab tonight I figured I’d try and scare these guys, and like wimps they fell for it.” Y/N laughed, knocking Jughead with her elbow. “You of all people I thought would get it Jug, we’ve seen that movie like eight times.”

Looking down at his feet Jughead tried to hide the faint blush on his cheeks, Y/N was never going to let this go. “Sorry, you caught me after Nightmare on Elm Street, my guard was down.” He muttered, casing Y/N to scoff.

“You like Stab Y/N?” Sidney questioned, her voice strained a bit. Now Sindey, liked Y/N, she really did, she was a sweet kid and was always there for Jughead when she couldn’t be, but then again, so was Billy before senior year.

Noticing the off tone in her boyfriends mothers voice Y/N nodded slowly. “Oh yeah, its my favorite, redefined the whole genre you know?”

Sidney gave the girl a small, yet forced smiled as she nodded. “Right, right. Shouldn’t you guys be headed out? The movie starts at 10 doesn’t it?”

“Oh shit, you’re right we need to leave.” Jughead said, grabbing the cloak, mask, and voice changer from his girlfriend and throwing it on the coffee table. “Bye mom, love you!” Jughead kissed his mothers cheek quickly as the group headed out of the small house and into the car.

“Sorry bout the noise Ms. J!” Y/N called as Jughead dragged her out.

“Y/N that was so not funny.” Betty’s voice could be heard from outside.

“You’re right, it was hilarious.”

[onett199x]

Your Old Droog | Packs

Your Old Droog is a relatively recent appearance in the hip-hop world.  His debut self-titled album (which I have not heard) came out in 2014, and this is his second album, with production from ID Labs, someone I’m not familiar with called RTNC, 88 Keys, Edan, and The Alchemist, as well as YOD himself.  The immediate comparison that everyone makes with this guy is to Nas, because his voice and accent are extremely similar, maybe even more so than the classic Action Bronson/Ghostface Killah comparison, which is doubly apt here since, like Action Bronson, Your Old Droog is white.  While he has a voice and accent like Nas, his lyrics are closer to the kind of thing you might expect from MF Doom, who he namedrops multiple times on this album.  There are also some guest spots from Wiki (of Ratking), Heems (formerly of Das Racist), Danny Brown, Chris Crack (no idea who that is), and Edan.  YOD has a penchant for storytelling.  The album opens with GKAC, which I thought at first might be a Kendrick Lamar takeoff (Kendrick’s second album being GKMC for short), but it actually stands for ‘Gotta Kill A Cop’, the mantra of his drugged out, paranoid and insane protagonist for whom things, not surprisingly, do not end well.  Likewise, in You Can Do It! (Give Up), he describes three different people whose personal failings kept them from achieving their potential, and in My Girl Is A Boy (which I was afraid was going to be transphobic but actually has nothing to do with gender), he describes the perfect life with a female partner in crime who actually turns out to be a fed and gets him locked up (TIL ‘Boy’ is slang for the feds).  There are a lot of really quoteable, clever lines on this album, and some excellent wordplay.  The beats are fine but nothing super memorable, and most of the guest spots are good (was not a fan of Chris Crack).  I think YOD’s a little taken with his status as a talented white rapper, because he mentions his whiteness multiple times over the course of the album as almost a challenge, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.  That’s a fairly minor criticism, though.  I’d say this is a good album with some decent standout tracks (Bangladesh, Help, You Can Do It, I Only, GKAC) that fans of underground/boom bap hip-hop will enjoy.

[airadam]

Episode 135 : Airflow.

"How it took you thirty years just to sound aiiight?"

- Rustee Juxx

2020 continues...feels like all you can say! I didn't get chance to include any Malik B (RIP) last month, but have fixed it this time with a couple of his best verses, alongside other late greats like Sean P and Aaliyah, plus remembering some truly classic albums. Light on the new releases this time, we dig back into the crates...

Twitter : @airadam13

Twitch : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

JoJo Pellegrino ft. Ghostface Killah and Raekwon : 3 Kings

Coming out of the gate strong on this single, with Ghostface owning the Yountie Tha Noize-produced track in the first few bars! That said, everyone does an excellent job on the mic, including Pellegrino, an MC from the same general area of Staten Island as many of the Wu-Tang - Ghost and Rae included. No pause for a hook, just lyrics on lyrics on lyrics. 

[Alchemist] Twin & Alchemist : Different Worlds (Instrumental)

Ah, the early days of Alchemist! One of the most respected in the game, and one who has been associated with two highly significant crews from opposite sides of the country - the Soul Assassins from LA, and the Mobb Deep family in NYC. This is some of his fairly early work with the latter, a 12" from 2001; this beat is dope, but "Big T.W.I.N.S" on the flip is even better!

The Roots ft. Dice Raw, M.A.R.S, and Co-Op : Clones

One time for Malik B! This is a classic single from The Roots' "Illadelph Halflife" album, packed with quotables from all the MCs, and backed by a stripped-down but ferocious beat. The verses are separated by a chilled-out jazz sample, right before the drums, piano, and bars come crashing right back in. Greatness.

Exile ft. Co$$ : Pay The Co$$

I always rated the cutting up of the Malik B line from the final verse of "Clones" for the chorus here, and this is the perfect position to play it. Cashus King (AKA Co$$) is an MC out of Leimert Park in LA, and this track on the 2006 "Dirty Science" producer project looks like one of his first appearances, if not the very first. I'd have to imagine this isn't an easy beat to work with, as the Exile-produced rhythm lurches and twitches, with a somewhat cursory relationship with the beats in each bar. You've got to be good to make this work, on either side of the mixing desk!

Chuck D as Mistachuck ft. Jahi : freedBLACK

Chuck D was comparatively old as an MC when he first hit the scene, and showed how that was nothing but an advantage as he could take a different perspective to the late-teenagers on the mic elsewhere. That has continued throughout his career, where he brings his experience to bear on every verse - including here, on the "Celebration Of Ignorance" album. There's actually a piece at the start of the track I missed off as it wouldn't have mixed well, but that should be encouragement to buy the whole thing! C-Doc and ID cook up a beat rugged enough for the Hard Rhymer and Jahi, his compatriot in PE2.0.

Nine : Any Emcee

This gravel-voiced MC from The Bronx was first heard on Funkmaster Flex's "Six Million Ways To Die" as Nine Double M before tweaking his name, and eventually putting out a solid debut album of his own. "Nine Livez" is definitely worth a listen, if very much of its time, and this was the second single. Tony Stoute is on production - a forgotten name, who to be fair really did his work within the span of 1995. This is quality work though, putting some boom into a classic soul sample and then topping it off with the Rakim sample for the hook.

Brand Nubian : Allah U Akbar

Actually really proud of how much I nailed the mix into this one 😂 The call is very slightly off the nearest beat, but in the context of the production as a whole it totally works. This was a great track to open the second Brand Nubian album, "In God We Trust". Before it was released, a lot of people thought Brand Nu were done after the departure of Grand Puba Maxwell, but those doubts were swiftly dispelled. Sadat (formerly Derek) X and Lord Jamar were more than capable of carrying the load on the mic, and together with DJ Sincere, the production too.

[Kev Brown] MindsOne & Kev Brown : Nightstalkers (Instrumental)

Anyone who's been doing their homework should be able to recognise that Kev Brown bassline style! Great MPC work as usual out of Landover, Maryland from Brown's production on the collaborative "Pillars" LP.

Raekwon : Spot Rusherz

The monumental "Only Built 4 Cuban Linx..." was released twenty-five years ago this month, and with it being one of my top two Hip-Hop LPs of all time, I couldn't let it pass without including a track. This one is buried late in the album, but would be the best song on any number of lesser releases! It's one of the few Raekwon-only tracks on the LP, and he goes into storytelling mode, with a highly-detailed account of a robbery of a rival dealer. RZA's beat is one of the many, many killers on that album, which might be his best end-to-end body of work ever.

The Roots : 100% Dundee

Needed a little more Malik B, so dipped into what is definitely my favourite Roots LP, "Things Fall Apart". Malik and Thought are locked in friendly mic competition on this cut, on one of the last tracks they'd work jointly on for some time. The beat is heavy on the low end with beatboxer Rahzel doing drums and bass at the same time, and sparkles at the high thanks to the added keyboard contributions of Scott Storch on an early appearance.

Phat Kat : Don't Nobody Care About Us

Detroit all day for this selection from "Carte Blanche". Phat Kat is rawness on the mic, which we were lucky enough to witness when he visited Manchester, and J Dilla backs him with a beat that bangs in a way that the original sample could never have dreamed of! DJ Dez rounds things out with the cuts on the outro.

Black Rob ft. Lil' Kim & G-Dep : Espacio

An anthem for our time, recorded twenty years ago for the "Life Story" album, the first from Black Rob. He was one of the more rugged personalities on Bad Boy Records at that time, which you can probably pick up from the rawness of his opening verse. Personally, Li'l Kim's verse is my favourite, and the beat by Joe Hooker and Mario Winans underscores her well. Also, possibly the only music video involving stunting on mopeds.

Marco Polo : RIP KALIBMA GOD

(sic) - I'm wondering if it should have been "kalimba", but I just work with the track title in front of me! The Toronto native working out of NYC gets much respect in the production world, and his selection for one of the Fat Beats "Baker's Dozen" projects, from which this is drawn, speaks volumes.

Sean Price ft. Cousin Reeks and Rustee Juxx : One Question

An ignorant classic for sure, and a mixtape cut that might have passed you by if you aren't a diehard Sean P fan. A standout on "Master P", where each MC takes a verse to talk smack and increase the crime rate over DJ Babu's production, playing off the vocal sample. Absolutely loaded with disrespectful quotables, at least one of which has to make you laugh!

Aaliyah : Hot Like Fire

It's nineteen years this month (already?) since Aaliyah passed away. This track so good, I was sure I'd played it before on the podcast - but no, so you get to enjoy it this month! This is from the "One In A Million" album, her second, where the combination of Timbaland's adventurous beats, Missy Elliott's writing, and Aaliyah's ability to work with both formed a winning combination. A slow burner with lots of bump.

Clipse ft. Pharrell : I'm Good

"Hell Hath No Fury" is still the best Clipse album in my opinion, but "Til The Casket Drops" was a solid release too. This was the lead single, and The Neptunes give the track a triumphant feel, appropriate for its summer release. 

Massive Attack : Safe From Harm

An old classic from the very first Massive Attack album, "Blue Lines". Masterful sampling (no, I'm not revealing all the samples, just in case) by the crew to concoct a solid groove, and Shara Nelson with the iconic lead vocal. This was the perfect track to open their now-legendary debut with.

The Cool Kids : As We Breeze (Instrumental)

Nothing much to say here - just a dope beat from this Chicago duo, taken from the "Gone Fishing" instrumentals!

The X-Ecutioners ft. Halex The Armageddon : Poetry In Motion

A track very much of its era, when turntablism was picking up traction behind legendary crews like the X-Ecutioners and ISP, and spoken word was having a moment in the sun! The "X-Pressions" LP was not the end-to-end scratchfest that we might have expected, but a varied collection showcasing many different aspects of turntablism, production, and vocals from guest artists. The late great Roc Raida is on production, while poet Halex (who has many versions of her name on different credits) orates on the subject of Hip-Hop as a culture. Certainly no dancefloor track, but a podcast where you listen closely is just the place for it.

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!

[rabidbatboy]

ID PACKS LIST

🥊 ANIMALS

scary dogcat pack

spider pack

bat pack

mutt pack

🥊 MEDIA

scene kid ghostface pack

saw movies pack

dark alice in wonderland pack

resident evil pack

slasher pack

fight club pack

🥊 OTHER

religious rural gothic pack

vampire reaper pack

carnivorous eerie angel pack

masc loser pack

knife/blade pack

fem loser pack

murderous victorian gentleman pack

biohazard pack

flesh/gore/viscera pack