#johnny crack

[espresseo-cafe]

𖦹 ristretto pantry 𖦹

-> a ristretto is a short shot of espresso. at a dj club, you request music to the dj to dance to and drink shots while at it. this pantry has your requested short drabbles, order now to receive some rizz…tretto.. ok that was bad haha ∑d(°∀°d) masterlist

[forsworned]

Being the only female on TF141 is like Simon constantly scolding you for getting into sheningans with Johnny and Kyle while Price sits on his arm chair with a good book, whiskey in hand and him puffing out smoke like a chimney from his cigar like the daddy he is.

"Delete it."

"Why?"

"Cos I fockin' said so."

You cock an amused brow at him as you look up from the embarrassingly cute photo of the skull-masked behemoth fast sleep and cuddling your Hello Kitty plushie. "Cos y'fockin' said so?" You mock his gravelly Manchester accent and it sends Johnny and Kyle into a fit of giggles. And even Price is chuffed by it. It's contagious really.

It lets your guard down enough for him to yank your phone out of your hand deleting the picture with a swiftness that made your eyes ream and your heart jump. You all groan and jeer at him for being a poor sport but he's quite satisfied with himself. Little does he know, you have a few copies of it in your desktop.

[wombywoo]

retro 🪖

[hopelesslonelyghost]

poly!141 where the five of you go out for drinks and on the walk back to the car your heel gets stuck in a grate and when you try to pull it out it does not budge.

all the guys are laughing and poking fun at you. you huff and say “have at it!” and then hop over to a nearby bench and sit there with your arms crossed.

first attempt was johnny. he cracks his fingers and says, “watch an’ learn, lass.” and then proceeds to struggle to free your heel. after about like 5 minutes of trying he gets up, scratches his head and is like “uhhhh ah tried🧍”

one by one, you watch them all have a turn and twisting and turning and pulling, trying to get your heel to come out. but it just won’t.

you TRIED to hold in your laughter. you really did. but witnessing four of the strongest soldiers you know sorely losing against a stuck heel just has you in stitches. clutching your stomach, wheezing and laughing so hard you have to rub your back bc it’s cramping.

and then simon is like “fuckin’ hell!” and gives one last tug and breaks your heel.

and now you’re kinda sad bc you actually really liked them. and now you’re like “soooo how am i supposed to walk now?”

and johnny just shrugs, strides over to you, grabs your arm, yanks you up and uses that momentum to sling you over his shoulder.

you squeak and immediately go to pull the hem of your already very short dress down.

“johnny my ass is out!”

“meh, der’s no one bu’ us, lass. ‘sides, it’s not somethin’ we haven’t seen before.”

you pout.

simon just ruffles your hair and says something along of the lines of taking you to get a new pair.

kyle and john just laugh at the leftover piece of heel still fucking stuck.

“next time we carry you, yeah love?”

“sod off!”

[taetr4ck]

PLEASE MAKE MORE NCT 127 TEXTS AS RANDOM ASS JOBS 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

NCT 127 AS YOUR UBER DRIVER TEXTS !

uber driver!nct 127 x reader, no warnings — crack. taglist form.

a/n : YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND ANON 🫡 i actually love making these so much these are just so.. unhinged 😭🙏🏻 also ty, mark, and haechan’s aren’t mine! (at some parts lol)

taglist : @soul-is-a-strange-kid @haechansbbg @bath1lda @k-labels

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023. / requests open

[frudoo]

Literally obsessed with your Slasher 141 series, its been giving me so much brainrot

I have a few ideas;

reader feels a bit self conscious about her body and the boys make it their mission to show her how beautiful she is in their eyes (could be fluff or smut)

OR

Reader decides to be a brat over text to the boys as they were out for the day, and hides from the boys once they arrive home, resulting in them hunting and chasing her down 👀👀 ( smut and a lil fluff )

This is very self-indulgent because I've been feeling bad about my own body lately. This is for my fellow fat girls <3

Warnings: Mentions of skipping meals, food in general. Self-deprecating thoughts, somewhat poor communication. Fem!Reader is fat (in all of the slasher!141 AU). Fluff!

You’ve been off lately. During mealtime with the boys, you barely eat, just poke at the food on your plate. It isn’t like you—you’re usually the one to cook and try out all kinds of new recipes to share with your lovers, or baking sweet treats to give them after a hard day—so for you to suddenly have no interest in food is concerning. Tonight is no exception. John made your favorite, beef stew and cornbread (a southern delicacy you taught him how to make), but you just mindlessly stir the stew with your spoon, eyes focused on nothing at all.

     “How was your day, dove?” Kyle tries to break you from your trance, but you only nod.

     “Helped a chicken give birth today,” Simon stares straight at you, ignoring the incredulous looks the other three men give him.

     Still, no sort of reaction from you, other than an uninterested hum. 

     “Ah went tae the doctor earlier,” Johnny says next. “Turns oot ah’m pregnant.”

     “Nice,” you deadpan, completely oblivious to the outrageous lies these dumbasses have been telling you. 

     “Enough,” Price furrows his eyebrows, dropping his spoon with a clang. “Darlin’, you haven’t eaten in two days.”

     This time, you listen. Immediately, you rush to defend yourself, eyes narrowed at the bearded man.

     “I’ve just been fe-”

    “Don’t you give me that bullshit about bein’ sick, either. I’ve seen you sick, and it was completely different than this,” he interrupts, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Speak, baby. Tell us what’s goin’ on in that pretty head o’yours.”

     “It’s nothing,” you grumble.

     Simon sighs dramatically, slapping his palms down on the dining room table to push himself up out of his chair. Before you can protest, he picks you up and sits in your seat, then settles you in his lap. You try to wriggle free, but his hold on you is unwavering. 

     “Stop strugglin’ and tell us wha’ the fuck is wrong w’you,” the blond man grunts, strong arms wrapped around your waist so you can’t move as much. 

     “I hate my body!” You blurt, and the room falls silent. “I-I don’t know what you all see in me. I just… I look gross.”

     Tears build in your eyes and spill past your waterline, streaming down your round cheeks. All four men look at each other wordlessly, unsure of what to say. Their silence breaks your heart, and you manage to wriggle out of Simon’s lap. 

     “I’m going to bed,” you mumble, wiping your eyes with your sweatshirt and moping your way upstairs.

     Your bedroom is the furthest down the hall, the longest walk. Usually this fact doesn’t bother you, but with your state of mind the way it is right now, you can’t help but feel like it’s purposeful. You slam the door shut and lock it, purposefully avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror as you flop into bed. It creaks with your weight, and you let out another sob. 

     You end up crying yourself to sleep, clammy face stuck to your pillow. When you wake up, you find that your door is still locked and try your hardest not to burst into tears all over again. Not one of the boys came to check on you last night? It makes you feel even worse—are you that much of an eyesore that they don’t dare come see if you’re okay? The thought makes your stomach churn. A knock makes itself known on your door, pulling you from your thoughts.

     “Dove? Can you let us in?” Kyle’s soft voice sounds from the hallway. “Please?”

     “We wanna talk to you, sweet girl,” Price’s voice comes next, followed by more pleas from Johnny and Simon.

     With a shaky sigh, you oblige, unlocking the door and swinging it open. When your eyes fall on them, you bite back a gasp—they all look exhausted, puffy bags beneath their bloodshot eyes, frowns tugging their lips downward. You can’t imagine you look any better, but still, your heart aches seeing them look so down.

     “Hey, bonnie,” Johnny instantly brightens up when he sees you, and you have to fight the urge to push him off when he wraps his arms around you. 

     “Hi,” you mutter, impartial to the kiss the Scotsman plants on your temple.

     They all trail into your room nervously, and it’s just then that you notice a large jar in Simon’s arms. Your eyebrows furrow as you sit on the edge of your bed, waiting for one of them to speak up first.

     “I want to start by apologizin’, sweetheart,” John begins, sitting beside you on your bed. “We were all… well, none of us were expectin’ to hear you talk about yourself like that, and we panicked. That wasn’t fair to you.”

     You shrug, eyes focused on your lap. Price reaches out to grab your hand, gently running his thumb across your knuckles. 

     “You are absolutely stunnin’. You are the farthest thing from gross, dove,” Kyle sits on your opposite side, grabbing your unoccupied hand. 

     “Ah think ah speak fer all of us when ah say tha’ we love yer body,” Johnny hums.

     “I’m fat,” you frown, and Simon scoffs.

     “Yeah? And?” He narrows his eyes at you. “We like y’like tha’. More t’grab, more t’love.”

     “I don’t understand why,” you whisper, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously. 

     “What’s not to understand?” John squeezes your hand. “You’re soft, and warm.”

     “The fuckin’ best at cuddlin’, too,” Kyle grins.

     “Great tits,” Johnny butts in, earning himself a jab to the ribcage from Simon. “Och- wha’?! It’s true!”

     “Wha’ the wanker is tryin’ t’say is tha’ you’re perfect. For us, in general—y’complete us, love. Your body is jus’ a plus,” Simon concludes, finally stepping forward to offer you the jar.

     “What’s this?” You ask, carefully pulling your hands out of Kyle and John’s. 

     “We spent all nigh’ gatherin’ up pictures of you tha’ we love,” Kyle explains, watching excitedly as you screw the lid off. 

     Inside, the jar is filled to the brim with photos and polaroid pictures—candids of you baking in the kitchen, napping on the couch, tending to the garden or the animals, even selfies you sent to Johnny when the two of you first started talking online. Mixed in with those is printouts of text messages they’ve all sent each other, fawning over you, some of which dating back to even before you met the others. Tears stream down your face yet again, but instead of being sad, you’re overwhelmed with love and joy from these men you get to call yours.

     “I-I don’t know what to say,” you sniffle, setting down the jar to wipe your eyes.

     “Don’t say anythin’, darlin’, just let us hold you,” John murmurs, pulling you onto the bed and wrapping an arm around your waist.

     Maybe being dogpiled by your four huge husbands on an already creaky bed isn’t the best idea, but hey, all that matters is that you’re happy.

[poolboyatthevampiremansionx]

He’s really happy. Such a silly boy

[s0fter-sin]

i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing

and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him

he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)

meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh

just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap

soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”

imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”

[fruithoughts]

ping, you just received a message!

the neos confront you about their name in your contacts

[brat-pack-it-up-boys]

The stupidest best outsiders headcanon I have is that ponyboy is just fucking awful at reading people so everyone he describes in the gang is the complete opposite.

Soda’s actually an asshole but of course he’s nice around pony, that’s his brother

Dally’s genuinely a sweetheart but pony only sees him on his bad days

Pony’s just shit at understanding people

[vicariousresearcher]

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Johnny who’s slowly making progress. Whose tremors in his hands are relaxing. Who’s starting to be able to order food in public again without his stutter doubling over itself. There are still more days than not that he’s using the wheelchair more than the forearm crutches but even with that he’s accustomed to it enough that he’s got plenty of mobility.

It’s been over two months that you’ve been working with Johnny and he’s been thriving as well as a man in his condition can. He attributes this entirely to his god-sent Angel of a nurse. He wouldn’t have gotten too far without you helping him through every stage. Having endless patience and compassion. Not a judgmental bone in your body.

So it comes as a complete shock when you ask him about having his sister or one of the team come up in two weeks because you have to take a shift back at the hospital.

“Why would you n-need that hen?” Johnny's voice is strained despite the joking tone he tries to lighten it up with. “Needing more funds? Am I n-not paying you well?”

You just shake your head, back turned to him while you section out his meds for the week. Unable to see the mounting anxiety in his face.

“Oh, don’t worry about my money. I just need to work on the floor every four months or I have to get reorientated. It’s just more convenient so that when I leave I have a job right away.”

“Already thinkin’ bout leaving me hen?”

You just rolled your eyes at the comment, having gotten to the point of being casual with Johnny weeks ago.

“Only so many football games I can listen to Johnny before I start to go mad. Try changing it up to hockey or baseball once n a while.” You slot the bottles back into the cabinet and the pill box on the counter for easy access. “So it’ll only be two days I’ll be gone and I can get everything set up beforehand. That sound good?”

You look over to him expectantly and Johnny doesn’t have the heart to say no to you. 

No, he can’t do that yet. That’ll freak you out. Get some big reaction. He needs to get you to make the decision to stay on your own.

......

Everything just seemed to go downhill so fast. Relapsing back into previous conditions.

Every other word evaded him to the point of forcing himself into a stewed, annoyed silence from being unable to just get a damn sentence out without ‘sounding like an engine about to give out.’

Waking up to a hard thump and groaning, sending you padding out into the dark hallway only to find Johnny on the ground, forearm crutches on the floor right beside him. Quickly stammering out that he thought he could make it to the bathroom without the wheelchair. He normally does this is just a one off please don’t fuss over him hen-

You having to strip off his shorts to apply moist pads to his thighs after he’d spilled steaming hot coffee on himself. His hands shook too bad to slide under the waistband. He kept apologizing with a look of frustration on his face. Brows furrowed and teeth bared with a hiss of pain yet eyes soft with humiliation as you kept reassuring him that it was okay. This was your job. You were there to take care of him.

He always tries to keep that light tone of his, joking about independence and no longer having a babysitter one day. It makes you want to believe him but the bitterness and scorn in his eyes when seeing even his buddies come by is palpable. 

Even the fun of watching football is sucked out when his brain contorts to see the men as comparisons to his own state. Functional men.

Men that you would never leave, men that you would willingly cling to, men so unlike him.

…..

Johnny’s therapist takes you aside before one of the sessions, asking about the sudden change in Johnny’s progress. If there were any triggers you could remember.

And you should’ve said something. Confessed that the trigger of Johnny’s worsening was the perceived threat of you leaving. But you didn’t. Because if you did then flags would be raised about the inappropriate boundaries being crossed between caretaker and patient and you would be removed from Johnny’s care. And that just would make his recovery worse. 

You were doing the right thing, right? You were just looking out for Johnnys well-being.

[guppybibi]

𖦹 pairing: John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x fem!reader

𖦹 content: Crack & fluff, not proofread, ooc i think

𖦹 notes: more self indulgent fics, posted this later than expected

The phrases “I’m hungry” or “I’m starving" will practically be non-existent to you once you get together with John. You, his missus, hungry? Oh we just can't have that, that's as bad as the world getting striked by a humongous meteor! He needs to make sure his beloved missus is well fed, what kind of husband is he if otherwise?

Don't even move, he's already mixing up a bunch of different ingredients to make some sort of Scottish concoction that's usually either a hit or miss for your personal taste. The next second, you're getting a spoonful of whatever he made stuffed in your mouth.

So when he sees you reject the airplane of food whooshing towards your mouth, a baffled look is on his face. He swore he heard your stomach grumble, he's positive! “Urr ye nae hungry, bonnie? Ah swear ah heard yer tummy rumbling.” He gulped, setting the bowl and utensils aside and going right over next to you.

“I’m alright, not hungry today.” You snappily reply, as if a worm was in your brain telling you to chop-chop. Turning your head over to the TV, you leave Johnny to purse his lips in disapproval. Did you not like the food he made? No, you would've directly told him that. His mind starts to wander, like it was on an adventure to find out what was wrong. Though the grumbling of your stomach pulls him out of his thoughts, alerting the big red ‘worry’ button in his mind.

“Did ah dae somethin’ wrong?” He quizzes, nuzzling his face into your neck. The feeling of his warm breath fanning against your neck making you twitch a bit, but not enough to water down your fiery anger. “You ate the last pudding cup, John MacTavish.” You answer straightforwardly, looking at him right in the eye. Uh ohh..This wasn't good. If he was afraid of anything it wouldn't be guns and explosions, (Though he still flinches at the sound of fireworks sometimes, don't tell anyone that. It's confidential information.) it’d be his angry missus.

“O-oh..did ah, bonnie?” His voice faltering, the sweat beading at his forehead betraying him as it clearly showed his nervousness at the moment. “Don't act stupid, MacTavish! I saw the plastic cup in the bin!” You shout back in an accusatory tone, your brows furrowing while you point at him. If he was a puppy, his ears would be down right now. You could even visualize it, with the way he was pouting his lips in guilt there was no doubt about it.

“C’mon i’m sorry, bonnie..i didnae mean tae eat it, 'twas in th' fridge fur lik' a week.” He apologizes sincerely, gentle eyes all over you. “Ah thought ye didnae waant it anymair.” His expression and tone was making it hard for you to stand your ground, it was blowing out the burning wick of the candle that existed at the back of your mind.

“Forgive me, please?” The Scot pleads, noticing that you were giving in. It was the perfect time to start using the puppy eyes on you. You couldn't stay mad at him for long, even if you wanted to. “Fine..” And with that, he's all over you. Kissing every region of your face affectionately, he really was like a puppy. You could imagine a fluffy little tail wagging right now.

“Ah promise tae buy ye mair puddin..” He was for sure going to keep that promise.

[forsworned]

Okay, okay, hear me out . I neeed a y/n sweet innocent thing who works with 141 (probably computer shit) idk but she wanted to step out her shell & goes out drinking with the boys were she loses a bet with soap & he makes y/n wear a skimpy outfit like those " hot nurse or maid" outfits around the team for a day and it makes price and/or ghost go absolutely feral . The end. Please and thank you p s love your writing.

Author's note: You know normally I do not do these sort of requests because I think that the whole like oh y/n needs to dress in something slutty because she lost a bet schtick is like somewhat demeaning. Like I'm all for it happening to the 141 or whatever but, I put my own spin on it, so even if you don't enjoy it I will but thank you for supporting me anon <3 also screaming at the images I chose for this hahaha

Despite the fact that being in the military was a constant inner battle of not becoming a barrack bunny, it made it a bit easier knowing that 90% of the men were just straight-up fucking whores. So when you lose 7-6 in back-to-back rounds of Blackjack to Johnny, he thinks it's funny to propose a bet that leaves you practically bare-ass naked to every soldier on base.

"'ll be like wearin' a bikini." He says.

To which you can give him a piercing glare that sends an unpleasant shudder up his spine, but regardless he's laughing his ass off. It's not exactly an everyday occurrence that Johnny is winning bets against you so he's taking advantage of the opportunity to embarrass you just as much as you do him.

Wolf whistles and cat calls are heard from the common area that the 141 was currently lounging in, and their ears perk up at the sound of heels clicking against the floor.

"Hell's fuckin' bells, you really wore it, bonnie." Johnny eyes are twinkling and his grin is stretched from ear to ear when he gets a gander at you.

You're wearing the sluttiest maid outfit you could have ever conjured up from many, many, many Halloween's ago when you were in your Chicks Gone Wild Era (iykyk) and Price, Kyle and Simon are flabbergasted by your appearance. Kyle is dropping his spoon that he just stirred his coffee with, Simon is half turning the page to his book and Price just straight up chokes on his London Fog, sputtering it all over his MacBook.

"Fuck you." You mutter, plopping down on the couch next to Simon as you readjust the mobcap on your head. Your dress is riding up as you sit, but you cross your legs and Price is handing you a pillow to cover yourself up to which you sheepishly smile up at him and thank him.

"Why are ye complainin'? Y'look good, bonnie."

"You put her up to this?" Kyle asks, bewildered at the situation unfolding.

"Lookin' good, Serg!" A passing herd of soldiers call out to you as they chuckle amongst themselves and continue to whistle at you.

You shake your head and turn to Johnny with an exasperated look. "Is this what you wanted? To embarrass me?"

"It's not very becoming of you, Johnny." Price murmurs against his mug before taking a sip but it's evident that his face is reddening by the second by your scanty appearance.

"Oh, she does it to me all th' time!" Johnny throws his hands up in half frustration and half amusement.

But Simon on the other hand is silent. He doesn't really know what to say, but he's starting to feel the warmth rushing between his legs.

"L.t., thoughts?"

And Johnny knows exactly what the fuck he's doing while he's shooting him that shit-eating grin that makes Simon want to fucking bumrush the absolute shit out of the Scotsman.

Admittedly this has Kyle and Price's tongues poking their cheeks as they await his answer.

"Y'r a fuckin' slag, Johnny."

And that causes the room to erupt into laughter as you're all clapping your knees and keeling over. Johnny is slightly embarrassed by the jab, but nonetheless, is laughing along. It was nice to have a little laugh in the 141.

[theycalledhimastar]

Thinking of Johnny, but not about how sweet or handsome he is, but all the weird shit he does. Because humanizing these guys gives me life.

☄. *.

I know for a fact that Johnny smells like Old Spice. And not the normal amount, either. Like he uses far too much, and he uses every single product they have. Shampoo, Body wash, deodorant, if they had toothpaste, he would use it. Johnny feels like the type of person to use far too many scents at once, whether it's the same or they clash, doesn't matter because it's an assault on the nose and he never seems to notice.

"Don't I smell fresh? Why ye actin' so put off?" Because you literally smell like the bodywash section of a beauty store, love. That's why.

I *also* know that this man yells, like a lot. Not even when he's upset, he's actually quiet when he is upset. But when he's excited about something, anything, he just... forgets entirely that some people have ears and aren't half bloody deaf from listening to music far too loud. Sport nights are horrible, he sounds as loud as a group of five all on his own.

He has weird ass feet too, take that as you will, his feet are just... weird. I can't describe it, you literally have a rule that he has to wear socks around the house to keep from cringing when he has the dogs out. (idk, I just feel this in my soul)

Moves around constantly, like man will not sit down for more than five minutes, not even to cuddle, he just gets handsy and uses you as a fidget toy. Not in a sexy way either, he will like squeeze the fat of your stomach or thighs like a stress ball. If you tell him to stop, he'll just kind of whine that he needs something for his hands to do.

Will wear the same tee for like, three days in a row if he thinks it isn't too dirty or smelly. Bro is a sniff test connoisseur and it'd be impressive if it wasn't a little weird. Man walks around in the same three outfits and while he looks good in anything, you... aren't really sure how to feel about his odd laundry habits. (And you really really hope that shirts are the only thing he reuses like that.)

(I dunno why I decided to make this, but I thought I was funny lol)

[rooolt]

have yet to stop thinking about the plane ride to Barcelona, aka the worlds most awkward plane ride in the world. Like who do we think sat together? Did Devon talk to any of them, like is she’s friends with any of the other teens? Did Eli and demetri drag other people into their drama, was demetri very obviously trying to avoid Eli, messing up the assumed plane seating arrangements? Was Robby brooding over his missing girlfriend and her dead mom the whole time? Were Daniel and Johnny still beefing or do we think they tried to save face for the kids? Is there any chance that Miguel and Sam were able to just have a nice time hanging out with each other on the flight or did they get dragged into everyone else’s drama? I’m so obsessed with the logistics of the Barcelona trip, not to mention the flight is like 11 hours long if it’s non-stop. it sounds like the trip from hell

[taetr4ck]

THE 'BITCH PASS' WITH NCT 127 !

nct 127 x reader, mentions of wife in jaehyun's part — crack, fluff

a/n : we are so back YAHOOOOO (doing these while blasting country music in my headphones oh we are so locked in)

taglist : @haechansbbg @bath1lda @wonootnoot @jkbabiey @imnotvivi @peterm4rker @dongierosie | taglist form

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023.