A Masterlist Is In Order I Guess:

“Ask me if I fuck pans and I’ll hit you with one.” Requested by @xmicrxn Free to save. Credit if you use anywhere. Requests are open!

Master List

Below are works that I have re-uploaded, and put in one place for your convenience.

Face To Face I  II   III (coming soon) Lifeguard Touch Starved Christmas Lights SomeDay Social Media AU Masterlist Living Through You Masterlist Possibilities (coming soon) Anniversary (coming soon)

For whatever reason you’re in the closet, you deserve to enjoy pride! 

🥺😭🥰

Surprises All Around

A Dead by Daylight One Shot

Pairing: Ghost Face/Danny Johnson x (GN) Reader

Contents: Fluff & a hint of Smut

Trigger warnings: Mentions of manipulative behavior/stalking/murder/violence.

Summary: Danny always makes sure to keep you on a routine so he knows you'll be ready for him when he shows up to your place. But today isn't one of his days. So why is he here?

A/N: I kept the smuttier stuff vague as shit so I could keep the Reader neutral lol. This was just something I woke up with in my head and wanted to write it down. I usually don't see Danny as a "fluff" character even though I've read a few fluff pieces for him that I love, but idk, I was into it. Hope you all like it! I've been thinking about writing various little fics like this and if there's an interest, I may open up requests for fics and hcs. But for now, here you go!

The way Danny places soft kisses on your neck and shoulder makes you almost tremble as you run your fingers through his dark hair.

This visit was a surprise. Which… In and of itself was a surprise. Sure, you would catch glimpses of Ghost Face late at night on your walk home from the bus stop. He even broke into the store where you work once, after hours, merely to place a picture he had taken of you in your locker. You had been sleeping peacefully in this picture, smiling. On the back, he had written in red marker, Thinking of me? You wondered at the time if he had broken into your apartment that same night just to take that picture. After all, you never wore your baggy pjs when he was over. The ones you were wearing in that picture. At least by then you knew the man behind the mask and it didn’t feel as malicious as it had before.

Those were the kinds of things he would surprise you with. But visiting you at your apartment? When you were awake? He had conditioned you to expect him at certain days and certain times. He wanted you to be ready for him when he wanted you. You were his plaything… His willing plaything. His eager plaything.

As you feel his fingers delicately run along the bare skin of your ribs, his lips now moving along your collarbone, you feel guilty as a soft moan escapes your own.

You knew who he was. What he was. There were times when it came crashing into your consciousness like a freight train. As his hands made you feel so good, you couldn’t forget what else these hands had done. It was harder to put it out of your mind on nights where Danny wanted it rough, but it broke your heart in a particular way when he was gentle. What was the truth and what was the lie was never, and would never, be clear when it came to Danny Johnson. But, fuck, if you weren’t so sure that you saw glimpses of sincerity in the moments where you caught him looking at you, instead of the scary movie he had been so excited to show you, back when you knew him as Jed… Sincerity in this moment, right now, where you could almost swear he adored you as much as you grew to adore him.

After he hears you sigh his name, he runs both of his hands up your body, stopping only a moment to rub gentle, teasing circles on your nipples with his thumbs. He smiles (and you know he does because his lips are on your throat at the moment) as your breath hitches and your back arches slightly, but he continues the journey up to your jawline. He cups your face and presses his lips to yours. It’s a deep, passionate kiss. It’s a kiss that he fears will betray the thoughts he had been struggling with for at least a month now. Of course, it had been longer than that, but he hadn’t been so aware of this growing inner conflict until more recently.

You had been his special little doll. Not his first. Not by a mile. He had been through so many cities and covered so much ground, of course he’d have had numerous people along the way that he toyed with for longer. Just one at a time, both to be safe and not to be greedy. And with them all, he made them feel as though they were special. Told them that they were the only one he ever allowed to see the real him. It was all bullshit, of course, but more so in that they had all only known him as Jed. As Ghost Face.

He just knew, even at the start, that you’d be a favorite for sure. It started the same way with you as it did for them all. He stalked. He left pictures. He let you see him in brief glimpses around corners, making you question whether you had just imagined it. Then he “attacked” you one night, allowing you to escape. Next were the phone calls. And then you met this wonderful man called Jed. He was a balm in the horror movie that had become your life. But Ghost Face? He got increasingly more flirty and suggestive, but never crossed the line into anything forceful. You started to want him, which made you ashamed and confused. He was a monster. You didn’t even know what he looked like! And then there was this other man, Jed, that you felt yourself falling for… Before Danny purposefully left some tiny breadcrumbs for you to put the pieces together. That was always his favorite part. To watch as his lover realized who they had been fucking the whole time.

If you were terrified, but willing to speak to him, he knew he was in. If you attempted to turn him in, you’d die. Too bad, so sad.

But you? It was obvious that you were scared at the time, but you still spoke to him as you would any other person you cared about. That was new...

“Why did you come to see me today, Danny?” you ask, your eyes closed and your voice sounding dreamy from how affectionate he’s being.

“Do you want me to go?” he responds in almost a purr. He gives a playful lick at your earlobe.

You can’t suppress the giggle that bubbles up. “No, this just isn’t one of your days.”

He stops kissing you. Stops all the light touches and needy breathing. It makes you concerned, and though you still remain lying on your back, you open your eyes and look at him to see if he’s mad. Instead, you see him lying next to you on his side, propping himself up on his elbow and looking at you. He looks like he’s considering something, but you learned a long while ago that you won’t be able to figure out whatever his expression means.

Finally, he answers.

“I just wanted to see you.” It’s matter-of-fact, but there’s something else there you’re not quite able to place.

For a second, it feels like you’re talking to your boyfriend. Not a serial killer that manipulated you into falling in love with him (God, you’re scared to admit that you actually did fall in love with him, even after finding it all out). It feels good. It almost makes you want to cry because this is what you wish this relationship was.

“Why? Did something happen?”

He shakes his head. “No. I just felt like I wanted to see you. And I knew you would be home, so here I am.” He looks deep into your eyes as though he’s trying his hardest to find something. “Did you want to see me?”

He’ll never let you see it, but he’s almost worried that his newfound feelings were one-sided. You’re the only one he’s ever known he’d miss if he killed you. And he doesn’t want to have to do that. Whether or not he even could bring himself to do it anymore, that is something he refuses to consider. Deep down, he knows the answer.

“I… Danny,” you begin, but you’re scared to say it.

“Yes?” he asks, a mischievous smile forming on his lips. He begins to lightly graze his fingertips the uppermost part of your thigh, occasionally getting just close enough to touching you the way he knows you really want it, but never following through.

Although you know that he can see it all over your face, that you’re silently begging him to just move his hand a little further to the target, you try to keep your tone even. “Of course I wanted to see you. I’m happy you’re here.”

He knows you’re not lying. The sincerity is almost too much for him to take. In an instant, his lips are back on yours. His hand resumes its exploration of your body, until finally making its way between your legs.

You gasp. You shudder. Your back arches again. As he plays with you, slowly at first (he does love to tease), you moan and call out his name.

Your eyes are shut tight in your bliss, so you don’t see the loving smile he’s giving you.

He’s happy he’s here, too.

I’ve legit got anxiety rn too. Spoiling my plans =w=

I’m begging you to look at this.

Trash only bro

me irl

YES!!

As a library worker, there’s something I want to say to you.

You do not have to apologize for the books you choose to read.

At all.  To anyone.  You owe nobody any explanations; you need no excuse or “good reason” to be reading the book.

You do not have to be ashamed for wanting to read “bad” books.  You wanna read Twilight?  We got Twilight.  Need a banal, cookie-cutter-plot mystery or thriller?  Those are always fun.  Our regulars check them out by the towering stack.  Ask Betty for recommendations; she’s read them all.  50 Shades of Oh Fucking No?  We’ve got it, we even got it in large print.  Have fun.  Check out the rest of our porn too.  Oh, and the sex manuals are a MUST if you want to “experiment” yourself.  Don’t be afraid to ask; they’re here for a reason.

Want to read a book written by a huge asshole everyone hates and agree was a monster?  Yeah, we have those.  No, we don’t think you’re an asshole for wanting to know what was actually written in there, or judging things for yourself.

You are not too old for Diary of a Wimpy Kid, The Babysitter’s Club, or Captain Underpants.  You are not too young for Sherlock Holmes.  There’s nothing wrong with a boy reading The Princess Academy or Sweet Valley High.  There’s nothing wrong with a girl being into The Hardy Boys or Artemis Fowl instead.

You do not have to pull the shame face and offer me an excuse when you check out your books.  I don’t care if I got so angry at that book I threw it against a wall when I read it: you have the right to read it, and enjoy it if it’s enjoyable for you.  THAT’S WHY THE LIBRARY HAS IT IN THE FIRST PLACE.  If we only stocked pure, unproblematic literature everyone approved of, by authors of unquestionable virtue, we wouldn’t have any books at all.  Or music.  Or movies.  It would be utterly fucking boring.  And it certainly wouldn’t be a library.