#she's got killer instinct

[facethemusic505]

Hot take (maybe?) but Dean was the correct choice in the love triangle and I'm sick of the slander. I'm living my truth as being a CassieDean shipper and nobody is going to stop me ☺️

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

in amami's video in his lab, he specifically tells his future self to be careful regarding his identity as the ultimate survivor because "anyone who finds out who you are is gonna come for you."

the thing is, even if he survived this far, the only person who would know the implications of his talent would be shirogane, the mastermind. the english version of this line implies that she'd have to "find out" about his talent, meaning she wouldn't already know at the start of the game.

this doesn't make sense, as shirogane was a danganronpa super fan before starting v3. even if she wasn't involved in season 52 like some fans speculate, she would have watched the show or at least have been vaguely aware that amami survived season 52 as someone who paid attention to danganronpa news.

amami wasn't, like, all that smart with hiding what he knew, of course. he woke up in a school full of ultimates and was immediately like "i don't remember my talent but don't worry. i'm not suspicious :)))))" his survivor's perk TOLD him there was a mastermind in the school and said "here's some extra info but ONLY share it with someone you trust" and then my man walked into a room full of ppl he barely knows and is like "does anyone here know about this secret information that no one's supposed to know about except maybe the mastermind?" like i think even without the surveillance cameras shirogane could have probably figured it out.

in japanese, he says "キミの正体を知る者は、きっとキミを狙ってくるはずっす," which directly translates to "anyone who knows your true identity will surely come after you." which is. slightly different i think. this implies that shirogane possibly already knows amami's the ultimate survivor, which makes more sense given her involvement with danganronpa in general.

the fact that this warning was in a video that amami would have only found after 4 class trials makes me think shirogane probably wasn't supposed to target amami so early in the game. that makes sense narratively too. if team danganronpa and shirogane wanted a good story, they should have put focus on the ultimate survivor from season 52 as he figured out shirogane's identity. amami getting his survivor perks at all also point to this.

shirogane didn't want to get rid of amami immediately just because he had the potential to find her out. for drama, she should have kept him alive as far into the game as she could have, so he could face off against her at the end of the game. the reason amami warned himself about the mastermind in a video that would be found in chapter 5 was because after 4 trials, it would have been far enough into the killing game that it would start making narrative sense for shirogane to start targeting him.

anyway before i did research on the japanese translation of this scene, i thought that shirogane, like, had her memories of season 52 and at least specifically amami removed. to make it like a fairer fight between the ultimate survivor and the mastermind or smth. but alas nisa mistranslated yet another detail of the game. the japanese line makes things less convoluted. if someone else killed in chapter 1, shirogane would have just held out for several more chapters because her goal wasn't to win the game, but make it fun.

anyway this didn't matter to either amami OR shirogane in the end. amami was basically waving a neon sign around himself saying "IM THE ULTIMATE SURVIVOR." and somehow shirogane or whoever in team danganronpa came up with the first motive didn't think through the contingency plans. and somehow out of 16 people akamatsu was the only one to plan a murder. and somehow amami decided the best way to confront the mastermind, who he thought was making a bunch of dangerous monokumas, was to sneak alone and unarmed into their lair without any way to defend himself.

anyway if these two had thought through any of their decisions in chapter 1 amami might have made it to the end of the game to find his video and then have an epic showdown with shirogane like team danganronpa probably wanted them to. i just know that the moment shirogane beaned the season 52 poster boy in the head she knew she'd be spammed with viewer complaints. poor shirogane. between this and kiibo showing iruma's poop on live tv i don't think she minded when she got her own head smashed in at the end. team danganronpa would have murdered her the moment she stepped out of the school anyway.

[scarecrowdrugs]

The Beast

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

It never ceased to make Randall's heartache, hearing about how distant Emily's family life was growing up, so much so that she barely spoke to her parents, knowing too well that everything she said would simply go in one ear and out the other. It was just so different from his own childhood experiences, how he knew he could always turn to his mother for...anything, really. He knew he could talk to her, ask for her advice, or just simply confide in her, and he knew she would listen. It gutted him to think Emily didn't have the same experience.

"Well, you're a part of this family now," he replied, trying not to dwell on the past (or be resentful of his in-laws), smiling tenderly as he added, "And I couldn't be happier about that: You're a Pace, as far as me and my folks are concerned, and that means the world to us, having you in our afterlives, Emily."

After all this time, in Randall's eyes, Emily had the family she deserved: Although his parents had long made it clear that they never wanted to replace her own parents in her heart, they had nevertheless stepped up to the plate, giving her the familial support she'd long craved. They listened to her, they were supportive of her, they respected her...they treated her like family, because that was what she was. A Pace was a Pace, no matter how they came to be a part of their little clan.

"And I'm sure my uncles and my grandparents will feel just the same way," he smiled, as he pressed a loving kiss to her golden locks: Although she didn't have the worries he and his father did about being accepted, he had no doubt that, by the end of this visit, the Burkes and the Paces would embrace her too.

[only-man-in-the-sky]

kinda want a glass of wine just for fun, but this cat is on my lap and she's really cute so I don't wanna move her

[nejackdaw]

Just watched Sweeney Todd with Bread. They get why I'm like this now

[beeapocalypse]

very tentative new guy images

[abbotsanatomy]

heyyyyyyyyyyyyy are requests open by any chance 🥹 if yes i would love love love a chef!reader x jack and it’s a regular occurrence for her to visit and drop off food BUT but one day she comes in and she’s like i may have sliced something……. THANK YOU you’re my fave blog rn this jack hyperfixation needs to leave my body or else i’ll go crazy💋

⨳ TODAY'S SPECIAL

pairing: jack abbot x chef!reader warnings: depiction of injury and surgical procedure, intentional medical inaccuracies (for the plot :p). not beta'd! author's note: such a fun idea! so honored to be feeding the jack abbot craze

On today's dinner menu was supposed to be roasted rack of lamb, smothered in a rosemary-infused butter, with garlicky oven-baked potatoes. Key word: supposed.

Your carefully curated ritual of making dinner for Jack and bringing it to his work was interrupted by you accidentally slicing your thumb half off. It's what you get for not sharpening your knives when they needed to be sharpened, last week.

Now, you're on the way to the ER for an entirely different reason. You've got your good hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on your leg, with a towel that smells faintly of garlic wrapped around your injury. It only hurts a little, for now. You're sure that'll change when the adrenaline of it all wears off. Or at least that's what you've heard.

You're hoping you can get there and be administered some kind of pain-killer before that pain sets in. Morbidly, the rest of your thumb's in a plastic baggie, that's in another plastic baggie filled with ice, because that's what google told you to do. And in the absence of your doctor boyfriend, you listen to google.

Obviously, you use the back emergency entrance, like Jack's instructed you to do, if you ever happened to find yourself in need of actual medical assistance. You'd fought him on the principle, claiming the whole thing stinks of favoritism and some kind of medical malpractice. Now, with the pain slowly tingling up your entire arm, you can't find it in yourself to care.

The glass doors of the ER open automatically, as you walk in with a chunk of your left thumb in your right hand. You're escorted by one of the EMTs who was standing outside when you drove by. You'd seen her around a handful of times.

“Yeah, so I was making dinner for myself and my boyfriend. You know him,” you pause, as she takes the plastic bag from your hand and nods.

“It just sliced in half. It's partially my fault. I forgot to sharpen my cooking knives,” you go on, as she finds you a place to sit and calls a nurse to grab Jack.

She smiled empathetically at you, “Don't worry. We'll get you taken care of. Dr.Abbot should be here any minute. Just keep your hand elevated for me.”

Although you're about 99 percent sure the nurse walking in behind Jack already told him exactly what's going on, he still looks incredibly shocked to see you sitting there.

“Heeey,” you say, trying to wave the injured hand instinctively.

You quickly realize how bad of an idea that was, though, “Oh, ow. Ow.”

He gives you a once-over, and then quickly instructs the nurse to grab something. Presumably, hopefully, some pain meds. You realize you assumed correct, when she comes back with a few pills and a cup of water.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and swallow the pills in one go with the water.

Jack's just standing there, watching you. When you put the paper cup down onto the side table, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. It's almost like he's putting off looking at your wound, even though he probably knows it's inevitable.

“I had such a great dinner planned. You have no idea,” you boast.

It makes Jack crack a smile, as he walks over to wash his hands. He takes a seat in front of you, and then looks at the rag on your finger expectantly.

“Come on. Let's take a look,” he begins, pulling the towel off, “I heard you kept the rest of it in ice. Good thinking.”

You nod, smiling to yourself at the praise, “Mhm, I know right? Didn't even panic or anything.”

“Oh, I believe you,” he affirms, still inspecting the injury.

In that moment, John Shen pops his head into the room.

“Woah, hey. What's Gordon here in for?” he asks Jack.

The nickname makes you roll your eyes. You really don't even like Gordon Ramsay.

“Sliced my thumb. Unfortunately,” you sigh.

You can't help but ask the one question on your mind right now, “Think you can reattach it?”

“That's what I'm trying to find out, sweetheart.”

You all wait with bated breath. Chopping things up could become infinitely more difficult with half a thumb.

“Yup. Found a vein for anastomoses. We can proceed with replantation,” Jack announces.

“Perfect,” Shen adds, and then leaves the room.

You let out a long sigh, “Oh thank god! I've never been more nervous in my life, I think.”

Jack leans in to kiss the side of your face, “Yeah, I could tell. You have absolutely no confidence in me.”

“No! That's not it. Not at all. You try almost losing your thumb!” you defend.

He grins at you with a tilt of his head. Then he looks down at his prosthetic, and back up at you. His expressions reads, ‘Really?’

You grimace, “Yeah, alright. You win this one.”

Jack makes quick work out of gathering everything he needs and disinfecting your wound. He starts the reattachment process, after giving you a numbing shot that makes you feel nothing from your shoulder downward.

You don't really understand what's going on, but Jack tries to explain as he's going. Frankly, you're too busy intently watching his hands work and admiring how incredibly sexy the surgical loupes he's wearing make him look. It should be criminal for him to look that good, while reattaching your thumb.

“This, right here, might be the hottest you've ever been,” you blurt out.

It makes him pause for a moment. Not in shock, just contemplation.

“Wow. Really?” he questions, the soft curve of his brows furrowed in disbelief.

You can't help but giggle at his tone. Maybe it's the antibiotics making you a little loopy, but how he's looking at you is also incredibly funny.

“I mean, yeah,” you reason, “Sure, sex with you is great, but this might be better.”

Jack just smiles and gets back to work. Mostly because he knows it isn't true; nothing tops the sex you have together. That shit's spiritual. But also, because he doesn't fully get it. He's never understood the appeal that apparently comes with being in scrubs.

Although he's deciding to back down, you need a clean-cut victory. You want him to actually understand.

“Hey, it's totally like when you spend an hour staring at my ass while I make dinner. It's mostly just that, but it's also you appreciating my cooking and how well I do my job,” you explain. “It's attractive!”

“Yeah. Sure, I can see it,” he concedes. It's a win you'll take.

There's a long pause. Just the sounds of the surgical tools in his hands filling the space between you. He's busy taking care of your finger, obviously, but you can also tell he's pondering what you just said.

“You like taking care of people,” is all Jack comes up with. You're more than able to fill in the rest, though.

“It's what I love about you.”

He doesn't need to say it. The words are buried in his tone, in the reverence in his eyes, in the gentleness of his touch on your arm, even though he knows you can't even feel it right now.

So, you nod, and come up with one of your own, “And you are immune to panic. If I hadn't known any better, I'd say you haven't experienced a day of dread in your life.”

That earns you another smile. It takes him five minutes to come up with another thing to say.

The procedure takes much longer than you'd previously expected. Neither you nor Jack were too bothered by that. Anyone passing by with snacks or words of encouragement definitely found how you and Jack went back and forth, subtly trying to one-up each other with your compliments, incredibly cheesy.

The hours you spent in the ER recliner, with Jack hunched over your hand, meticulously gluing you back together, were a love letter to your long-lasting relationship. One you'll cherish for as long as you still have the tip of your left thumb attached to your hand.

[all-my-love-for-harry]

Call Sign: Daddy

pairing; jake seresin x wife!reader

summary; Everyone thought Hangman’s biggest secret was his ego—turns out, it’s a wife, two kids, and a killer marshmallow recipe.

word count; 6.6k

warnings; nothing. fluff, fun, the daggers being chaotic and dramatic

a/n; you ask i deliver! here's girl dad!jake! this was SO much fun to write, i love these kinds of pieces. i am SO down to keep writing for this little family or just dad!jake in general (i am incapable of writing anything short i'm sorry)

masterlist

The new house still smelled like paint and sunlight.

Boxes towered in the living room like a cityscape, half-labeled and already a little rumpled from the drive. The front door stood open to let in the sea breeze, and the soft whir of ceiling fans stirred the scent of fresh wood floors and cardboard.

“Daddy! This one!” Cami’s voice rang through the hallway like a firecracker. Her curls bounced as she darted from room to room, barefoot and beaming. “This is definitely the best one.”

Jake, still in a gray t-shirt and jeans dusty from the move, peeked around the corner with a smirk. “Didn’t you say that about the last two?”

She planted her little fists on her hips. “Yeah, but this one’s got the biggest window. And look—” she ran over to it and flung her arms wide, “I can see everything!”

From the kitchen, you laughed softly, adjusting the baby sling on your chest. Lex was snuggled close, soft and warm against your body, her tiny fist curled against your collarbone. She made a sleepy noise but didn’t wake, lulled by the rhythm of your movements and the muffled excitement around her.

“She’s going to change her mind five more times,” you called over your shoulder. “Minimum.”

Jake walked in and leaned against the doorframe, watching you unpack a box labeled Kitchen - Fragile in your handwriting. “That’s generous. I was guessing eight.”

He crossed the room to you, brushing a hand along your spine in that absent, instinctive way he always had—gentle, grounding. “You good?”

“I’m good,” you said, smiling up at him. “Lex is asleep, I haven’t dropped a mug yet, and Cami hasn’t tried to climb on the counters. I’m calling it a win.”

Jake glanced down at Lex, and his whole face softened. He reached out to cradle her head briefly with one palm, then kissed your cheek. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Flattery doesn’t get you out of assembling the crib again.”

“Worth a shot.”

From down the hall came the unmistakable crash of a box being tipped over, followed by Cami’s delighted giggle. “I’m helping!”

Jake’s eyes closed with a sigh, but he was smiling. “That’s my cue.”

He turned and jogged off in the direction of the chaos, and you watched him go, heart aching a little in that sweet, full way. Seeing him like this—barefoot, hair a little messy, completely wrapped around his daughters—it was everything you’d always wanted for him. For all of you.

“Looks like you’re stuck with us, San Diego,” you whispered to Lex, who sighed in reply.

You went back to unpacking, and in the next room, Jake’s voice rose in a playful protest: “No, honey, that’s not a hammer. That’s a whisk. Where did you even get that?”

Cami shrieked with laughter, and you swore your heart couldn't grow bigger.

The sun had started to dip low in the sky, casting soft gold across the living room floor where half-built furniture lay in various states of disarray. Instruction manuals fluttered open beside tiny screws, wooden pegs, and the mysterious metal contraptions that always seemed necessary but never quite explained themselves.

Jake sat cross-legged in the middle of it all, brow furrowed and tongue caught in the corner of his mouth as he studied the baby dresser. He had gotten the frame halfway done. Maybe. Depending on how generous you were feeling.

Cami, perched on her knees next to him, had a tiny screwdriver clutched in her small hand like it was a magic wand. She wore a tutu over her leggings and one of your old t-shirts, which hung off her shoulders like a dress. Her curls were a riot around her face, and her fingers were smudged with something suspiciously marker-colored.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely, Lex still tucked snug to your chest. She was asleep again, her little cheek pressed to your sternum, one leg dangling out of the wrap like she owned the place.

“Okay, Daddy,” Cami said with authority, poking the air like a tiny forewoman. “This piece goes on top of the other piece. Like a sandwich.”

Jake blinked at the board she was pointing to. “That’s the bottom panel, baby.”

“But it looks like the top.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s upside down.”

Cami frowned, then flipped the piece over with both hands. It clunked to the floor, just missing his foot.

“See?” Jake said, trying not to laugh. “Now it’s a bottom that looks like a bottom.”

You bit your lip to hide your smile.

From his spot on the floor, Jake glanced up and caught you watching. He grinned, wide and slow and just a little sheepish. “Hey, darlin’. How’s the supervisor?”

You adjusted Lex’s head gently and whispered, “She’s napping on the job.”

“Slacker,” he murmured with a wink, before turning back to the pieces in front of him.

Cami leaned in close beside him, pressing her head to his arm as she whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was made Jake laugh under his breath, then glance back at you with mock-seriousness.

“She says we should throw away the instructions and just use our feelings.”

“Oh God,” you said, laughing. “That explains so much about you.”

Jake chuckled and ruffled Cami’s curls. “You hear that? Mama’s roasting me again. Typical.”

Cami grinned like she’d won something, then leaned against her father’s shoulder, tucking her tiny feet under her.

For a moment, everything was still.

Golden light spread across the wood floors. The air smelled faintly of new furniture, baby lotion, and the faint salt of the ocean drifting in through the open window. The soft rustle of palm trees outside, the distant echo of a car door down the street, and the occasional creak of the settling house were the only sounds besides Jake humming tunelessly as he tightened a bolt.

Jake leaned back, resting his weight on one palm and looking up at you.

“I know we’re not done unpacking,” he said, voice low and a little rough with feeling, “but it already feels like home.”

You smiled, walking toward him slowly. “That’s because you brought your girls home.”

He reached up and touched your wrist, brushing a finger over the baby’s foot.

“We’re lucky you came with us,” you said.

Jake looked up at you, eyes soft. “No,” he murmured. “I’m lucky you waited for me.”

Cami blinked between the two of you, then laid her cheek against his shoulder again with a sigh. “Okay, but are we building this dresser or what?”

Jake snorted, grabbing a screwdriver. “Yes, boss.”

And with his firstborn on one side, and the rest of his world standing just steps away, Jake Seresin went back to building his life—one drawer at a time.

The California sun beat down on the tarmac, sharp and dry, but not even the heat could keep the familiar buzz of energy from crackling through the air.

Top Gun had changed. Sleeker buildings. A brand-new hangar. The same stretch of runway, but with fresh paint and a higher security presence. What hadn’t changed, though, was the group clustered just outside the ready room, voices overlapping as they swapped stories, insults, and half-serious bets on who’d forget their callsign first.

“—told you, man,” Fanboy was saying as Jake approached, sunglasses perched on his head and a wide grin on his face. “He puked in the rental van. Twice. And then tried to blame it on the dog.”

Coyote laughed, arms crossed. “Please tell me that was your neighbor and not your cousin again.”

“Nope. Cousin.” Mickey smacked a hand to his chest like he was proud. “And I had to deep-clean the whole backseat before I drove out here with Bowie.”

“Wait,” Phoenix cut in, squinting at him. “You brought your dog across the country?”

“Hell yeah, I did.” He pulled out his phone and showed a picture of a scruffy, golden mutt hanging its head out the passenger window, tongue flapping. “Look at that face. He’s the real MVP.”

Rooster whistled low. “You’re braver than me. I left my plants behind.”

“They were fake,” Bob said dryly, getting a chorus of laughs.

Jake slid into the circle with a nod, arms folded, boots scuffing a mark into the concrete. “What, no one’s moved with a houseplant, a dog, and a messy break-up? Come on, you’re telling me I’m the only one who had a peaceful move?”

That earned a few snorts.

Rooster elbowed him lightly. “You’re telling me you didn’t bring anything?”

Jake gave an easy shrug. “Couple duffel bags. My truck. That’s about it.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “No roommates? No girlfriend clinging to your bumper? No tragic love story in your rearview mirror?”

Jake let out a short laugh. “Nope.”

He didn’t look at Javy. Not directly.

The lie wasn’t heavy—not yet—but it was sharp. Quick. A reflex. The same one he’d used a hundred times over the years. It felt different now, though. Dirtier. Because this time, he wasn’t hiding a fling or dodging a label. He was leaving his family out of the picture.

Not forever. Just… not yet.

Coyote gave a low whistle beside him, too casual to be anything but a cover. “Guess some people travel light,” he said, and if the words held a second meaning, no one noticed but Jake.

“Hangman, a minimalist,” Phoenix said with a scoff. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Jake gave her a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “New year, new me.”

Rooster snorted. “You said that last year.”

“And look how great I turned out.”

They all groaned, but the mood held, rolling easy like a wave that hadn’t quite crested yet.

“Alright,” Maverick’s voice cut across the courtyard from the ready room doors. “Let’s see if you all remember how to fly.”

The squad moved in a pack, still joking as they filtered inside.

Jake walked a beat behind the rest, sunglasses shielding his eyes, the weight of the secret pressing a little more firmly against his ribs. It was only a matter of time before they found out.

But for now?

For now, it was just him, his girls, and the silence between.

[..]

It had been a week since Rooster arrived in San Diego and he was already sick of takeout. His fridge held nothing but mustard, half a lime, and a six-pack of beer. It was time to act like an adult — or at least pretend to.

He pushed his cart through the grocery store with a lazy rhythm, sunglasses tucked into his collar, and a list on his phone that he was half-ignoring. Eggs, coffee, something green… cereal.

He turned into the cereal aisle, already reaching for the same red box he always bought, when a familiar figure ahead caught his eye.

Blond. Tall. Broad shoulders. Back turned.

Rooster paused mid-step.

Seresin?

It looked like Jake — same relaxed posture, same stupidly perfect haircut. But the guy was wearing jeans and a faded t-shirt, not his usual base uniform or something annoyingly designer. Casual. Normal.

Rooster took a step forward, ready to call out a sarcastic, "Didn’t peg you for a Cheerios guy," when the man turned slightly to the side.

And that’s when he saw her.

A baby.

Strapped to his chest in one of those soft, wraparound slings. A tiny baby — maybe six or seven months old, by the size of her — nestled against his chest, dozing peacefully with a pacifier bobbing in her mouth. One of her socks was missing, her little toes peeking out like she’d kicked it off mid-nap.

Rooster froze.

And then—

“Daddy, look! They have the cinnamon ones!”

A second voice. High-pitched, sweet, and excited.

A little girl — maybe five — stood up in the shopping cart seat and waved dramatically at the shelf of cereal boxes like she’d discovered treasure. Her curls bounced as she wiggled, and she wore a pink t-shirt with sparkles on it and denim overalls with a sticker stuck to one leg.

Jake turned to look at her fully, the side of his face now visible, and Rooster’s heart tripped over itself.

No way.

“Alright, alright, Cin-a-mon Swirls it is,” Jake said, stretching to grab the box while carefully balancing the sleeping baby on his chest. “But only if you promise not to sneak handfuls before breakfast again.”

The little girl giggled. “I don’t sneak. I sample.”

Jake laughed under his breath — that soft, genuine laugh Rooster had never heard from him on base — and dropped the box in the cart.

Rooster ducked quickly behind the display of oatmeal, heart hammering.

What the hell did I just walk into?

Those weren’t nieces. That baby was practically grafted to Jake’s chest, and the little girl had his eyes. The same green-gold color. The same crooked grin. The same exact nose.

Rooster peeked around the endcap.

Jake had one hand resting protectively on the baby’s back and the other guiding the cart while she chattered away, telling some elaborate story about a dragon and a breakfast castle. And Jake? He was listening. Actually listening, nodding at the right moments, smiling to himself like this was the best part of his day.

What the—

Rooster stepped back, the shock settling into something sharper. Confusion. Disbelief.

Hangman has kids?

Real kids. Not nieces. Not a girlfriend’s kids. His. There was no mistaking it. That little girl might as well have been a clone.

And he’d said nothing.

Rooster stood frozen, cart forgotten, eyes still locked on the aisle corner where Jake had just turned out of sight, baby and child in tow.

He didn’t approach. Didn’t say a word. He just stood there in the cereal aisle, trying to process the impossible.

Jake Seresin — Hangman — had a secret family.

And now, Rooster wasn’t sure who the hell he’d been working with all this time.

Rooster didn’t remember checking out.

He was pretty sure he paid — probably — because the cashier smiled and told him to have a good day. But everything from the cereal aisle to the parking lot felt like a blur. His brain was short-circuiting, looping through the same impossible images like a broken projector.

Jake. Baby. Little girl. Daddy.

He sat in his Bronco, staring blankly at the wheel. The cinnamon cereal he'd ended up grabbing by accident sat in the passenger seat like evidence.

“This is insane,” he muttered. “This is literally insane.”

He could not be the only one to know this. He didn’t want to be the only one. Someone had to validate this reality — and someone had to help him process what the hell was going on.

Which is how he ended up at the base gym, tossing his keys into a locker with a little too much force, pacing past the row of squat racks, and scanning the room like a man on a mission.

Phoenix.

There she was, finishing up reps on the bench press like a total machine, earbuds in, hair tied back, towel around her neck.

“Hey,” he called, voice slightly too loud.

She didn’t hear.

“Hey!”

Phoenix startled, pulling one earbud out with a scowl. “Jesus, Bradshaw. I almost dropped that on my face.”

“Yeah, okay, sorry,” he said, stepping closer. “I need to talk to you. Right now. Privately.”

She raised one eyebrow and sat up slowly. “What, did someone die?”

“No, but—close. I mean—no. It’s not a death death, it’s just—” He ran a hand through his hair. “Just—can we?”

Phoenix stood, towel in one hand, already skeptical. “Okay, drama queen. Come on.”

They ducked into the hallway outside the locker rooms, still sweaty and smelling faintly like antiseptic and rubber flooring. Phoenix crossed her arms.

“Alright. Spill.”

Rooster opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Shook his head.

“Rooster.”

“I saw Hangman with a baby,” he blurted, eyes wild. “And a kid. Like a five-year-old. And he was grocery shopping with them like it was normal. The baby was strapped to his chest like one of those little marsupial carriers and the kid called him Daddy.”

Phoenix stared.

He waited.

She didn’t blink.

Finally, she said, “What?”

“In the cereal aisle! I thought it was him, and I was about to say hi, but then I saw the baby, and the little girl looked just like him and then she said ‘Daddy’ and I—I panicked, okay? I hid behind the oatmeal.”

“You hid behind the oatmeal?”

“I was caught off guard!”

Phoenix let out a snort-laugh. “Oh my God.”

“I’m serious, Nat. They looked exactly like him. The girl had his eyes. His smile. And he was being all—dad-like. It was weirdly gentle. I didn’t know he had a tone like that.”

Phoenix was quiet for a long second, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “No mention of kids. No ring. No pictures. No weird schedule conflicts. If he has a family, he’s gone to serious lengths to hide it.”

Rooster nodded like a bobblehead. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“Are you sure they weren’t his sister’s kids or something?”

“The baby was drooling all over his shirt and the other one was bossing him around like she owned him. And he was listening. Patiently. Hangman doesn't listen patiently to anyone.”

Phoenix stared into the middle distance.

“...Holy shit,” she said under her breath.

Rooster folded his arms. “So what do we do?”

Phoenix blinked at him. “We?”

“You’re involved now!”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“But you know.”

Phoenix gave him a look. “So what—you want to confront him?”

“No,” Rooster said quickly. “God, no. What if it’s, like, a secret family on purpose? What if it’s some Witness Protection-level thing? Or he’s on the run from the PTA?”

Phoenix barked a laugh. “Okay, calm down, you're not in a TV show.”

“I just—I feel like I stepped into the Twilight Zone,” Rooster muttered.

“And I can’t un-see it. Like, every time he opens his mouth now, I’m going to hear that little girl’s voice saying ‘Daddy.’”

Phoenix scrubbed a hand down her face. “Alright. We sit on it. For now. He’ll crack eventually.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

She gave him a slow, sly smile. “Then we accidentally run into him again. Maybe outside work. Maybe at the grocery store.”

Rooster looked appalled. “You want to stake him out?”

Phoenix shrugged. “What? You already started the recon mission. Might as well finish it.”

Rooster groaned. “This is going to drive me crazy.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Bradshaw,” she said, patting his shoulder. “It already has.”

Jake had been minding his own business. Genuinely. For once.

He’d gotten through the morning flight briefing, his simulation review, and even a cup of coffee without roasting anyone. It was a personal record. But then—suddenly, for no reason at all—Bradley and Natasha started acting weird.

“Hey, Hangman,” Rooster said casually, sliding into the locker bench beside him, half-dressed in his flight gear. “What’d you do this weekend?”

Jake squinted at him, one boot half-laced. “What?”

“Just curious,” Rooster said, far too quickly. “Normal question. People ask each other that.”

Jake stared. “I did laundry. Took the truck in for an oil change. Nothing exciting.”

“Cool, cool,” Phoenix chimed in from across the aisle, leaning against the lockers like a detective interrogating a suspect. “Did you, I don’t know, go to the store?”

“The store?” Jake echoed slowly.

“You know,” Rooster added. “For… groceries.”

Jake blinked. “Yeah. Got some eggs. Why?”

“No reason,” they said in unison.

Jake looked between them, brow furrowing. “Did I miss a memo about getting really into meal prep?”

Phoenix gave a tight smile. “We’re just... interested in nutrition lately.”

Rooster nodded solemnly. “Very into breakfast.”

Jake opened his mouth, paused, then slowly tied his boot. “You guys are so weird today.”

Phoenix pushed off the locker. “So you live around here, then?”

Jake’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Obviously.”

Rooster jumped in. “Yeah, yeah, but like... where?”

Jake pulled his boot tighter. “You wanna come over for dinner, Bradshaw? Is that what this is? You finally caving to my charm?”

“No! I mean—unless you’re offering.” Rooster looked at Phoenix. “He could be offering.”

Jake stood, rolling his eyes. “What is wrong with you two?”

Phoenix played it cool. “Nothing. We’re just making conversation.”

“You’re never just making conversation.”

Rooster crossed his arms. “Maybe we’re trying to be your friends.”

Jake paused mid-zip on his jacket, one eyebrow climbing like it was headed for the stratosphere.

“My friends?” he repeated. “You think this is the first week of kindergarten and we’re picking lunch buddies?”

Phoenix shrugged, entirely unfazed. “Stranger things have happened.”

Jake gave her a long look. “Are you both dying?”

“No.”

“On drugs?”

Rooster smirked. “Only caffeine and a burning need for the truth.”

Jake stared for a beat longer, then shook his head and walked out of the locker room with a muttered, “Y’all are exhausting.”

Phoenix turned to Rooster once he was gone. “Okay, new plan. We’re terrible at this.”

Rooster groaned. “I thought the grocery question was subtle.”

“It wasn’t.”

“He’s too smug. He has secrets and he knows we want to know them.”

Phoenix sighed. “And he’s enjoying the hell out of this.”

Rooster tilted his head thoughtfully. “He might be just confused. That would track.”

They both stood in silence for a moment before Phoenix said, “We need to try again. Cooler. Smarter.”

Rooster gave her a long look. “You gonna say ‘do you have kids’ in Morse code or something?”

Phoenix’s eyes lit up. “...Maybe.”

Jake pushed open the front door with his shoulder, juggling his keys, a bottle of wine, and the pink glittery water bottle Cami had insisted on bringing to preschool. The house smelled faintly of laundry and lemon cleaner, and somewhere in the background, Taylor Swift’s voice floated out from the kitchen speaker.

You were at the counter, barefoot in leggings and one of his old Academy hoodies, hair piled on top of your head like a soft crown of chaos. Lex was in her bouncer on the floor nearby, babbling softly to her toes like they were telling her secrets.

Cami was on the couch with a coloring book and a stack of markers that had no hope of staying uncapped for long.

Jake dropped his keys in the bowl and stepped into the kitchen, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “I survived another day of being interrogated by two weirdos.”

You smiled without looking up from the dishwasher you were loading.

“Phoenix and Rooster.” He opened the fridge and tucked the wine onto the bottom shelf. “They’re acting weird. Like, weirder than usual.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘weird.’”

Jake pulled out a leftover container and leaned against the counter. “Asking where I live, what I did this weekend, if I’ve been to the grocery store. They were so subtle it was almost adorable.”

You bit back a smile. “Huh.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Maybe they already know.”

Jake froze, Tupperware in hand. “Know what?”

You turned and gently nudged the fridge closed with your hip. “About us. About me. About the girls.”

Jake blinked. “How?”

“I don’t know,” you said, scooping up a bib from the table. “Maybe they saw us out. Maybe someone mentioned something. Cami does talk to strangers like they’re long-lost cousins.”

Jake groaned. “Oh God. Did she tell the cashier I’m a Top Gun pilot again?”

“She told the woman at the post office that your call sign is Hangman because you ‘always hang upside down on the monkey bars.’”

He dropped his head to the counter with a muffled laugh. “She’s gonna get me court-martialed.”

You smiled as you stepped closer and gently carded your fingers through his hair. “You said you liked them. The squad.”

“I do,” he mumbled, voice slightly muffled. “Most days.”

“Maybe it’s time they knew the truth.”

Jake lifted his head, watching you carefully. “You think so?”

You tilted your head, soft and teasing. “What’s the worst that could happen? They start calling you Daddy-man?”

Jake winced. “I just threw up in my mouth a little.”

You laughed, warm and easy, and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Seriously. You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. You have a great life. You have a family who loves you. And a baby with thighs so chunky they deserve their own zip code.”

Jake looked down at Lex, who had stopped babbling long enough to blow a spit bubble.

He sighed. “You’re right.”

You bumped your shoulder against his. “I know.”

Cami’s voice floated in from the living room. “Mom! Daddy! Where’s the sparkly purple marker? It’s an emergency!”

Jake shouted back, “Check under the couch! Or in your hair!”

You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest. “Well… when you’re ready, we’re ready too.”

He kissed the top of your head, arms sliding around you with a quiet, grateful squeeze.

The squad had claimed their usual table on the outdoor patio of the base commissary — sun shining, aviators on, trays full of fries and whatever passed for lunch that day. It was the kind of afternoon that made everything feel like summer break, even if they were technically on duty.

“Well, I hope you’re all happy,” Bob was saying dryly as he unwrapped a sandwich. “I checked my mailbox today and it was filled with glitter.”

Fanboy leaned back in his chair, beaming. “You’re welcome. That’s the kind of magic only Bowie and I can bring to a neighborhood.”

“You named the dog after David Bowie?” Phoenix asked, chewing on a carrot stick.

Mickey grinned. “Ziggy Stardog.”

Groans went around the table.

“Unreal,” Coyote muttered. “That’s terrible and I’m impressed.”

“I live to serve.”

Jake was halfway through a burger, content to let the chaos unfold, when Maverick appeared like a ghost with sunglasses, stepping out of nowhere and holding a coffee in one hand like it was sacred.

“Don’t mean to interrupt,” he said, voice easy, “but Penny wanted me to let you all know we’re doing a bonfire tonight. Out by the beach. Her place. Says it’s a welcome-back thing, so don’t bring beer, don’t bring drama, and for the love of God, don’t bring your motorcycles onto the sand again.”

Everyone snickered. Rooster threw his hands up defensively. “That was one time.”

“And it’ll stay that way,” Mav said with a pointed look.

Jake straightened slightly, setting down the last bite of his burger. He glanced around the table, pulse oddly steady. The decision had settled itself sometime that morning between spooning oatmeal into Lex’s mouth and Cami asking—again—when she could meet Daddy’s new friends.

“Mav,” he said, casual but clear. “Is it cool if I bring some people with me?”

The table went quiet.

Maverick blinked, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure. That’s fine.”

Jake gave a little smile and nodded. “Appreciate it.”

Everyone stared.

Fanboy was the first to break the silence. “Uh… what people?” He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t even like people.”

Payback looked mildly alarmed. “Are we being replaced?”

Jake just shrugged, reaching for his drink like this was the most normal conversation in the world.

But Phoenix was watching him like a hawk.

And Rooster was actively vibrating with contained energy, a fry halfway to his mouth, completely forgotten.

“You’re being weird again,” Jake said, pointing his straw at Rooster.

“You’re bringing people,” Rooster shot back, eyebrows in the stratosphere.

Phoenix leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, a slow smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “We talking plural as in roommates? Or plural as in… little people who call you Daddy?”

Jake’s eyes flicked to hers, the tiniest tilt of amusement in them. “I’m just saying,” he said evenly, “if I show up with the most beautiful girl at the party, don’t be surprised.”

Rooster choked on his fry.

Phoenix kicked him under the table.

Fanboy looked around, utterly lost. “What is happening?”

Bob squinted suspiciously. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Jake only smirked and stood, brushing the crumbs off his shirt.

“See y’all tonight,” he said, casual as anything. “Save me a seat by the fire.”

And with that, he walked off — calm, unbothered, and just smug enough to make Rooster groan into his hands.

Phoenix leaned back, arms crossed, a gleam in her eyes. “It’s happening.”

Rooster looked haunted. “I knew that baby wasn’t a hallucination.”

Payback stared between them. “What baby?!”

The house smelled like sunscreen, baby lotion, and a little bit of anxiety.

Cami was bouncing from room to room like a ping-pong ball, wearing a sparkly denim jacket over a pink sundress and clutching her favorite plush unicorn in a tiny fist. She kept popping into the bathroom to check her hair in the mirror, then running back to Jake.

“Do I look okay, Daddy?”

Jake crouched to her level, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “You look perfect, honey.”

She beamed for a second, then hesitated. “What if your friends don’t like me?”

Jake blinked. “What?”

Cami twisted the unicorn’s mane around her finger. “What if they think I talk too much? Or that I’m weird?”

Jake’s heart ached in that split-second way it always did when she got serious. He smoothed her curls gently and gave her that look — the one he reserved for bedtime promises and skinned knees.

“They’re gonna love you, bug,” he said softly. “Because you’re smart, and funny, and you make the best marshmallows on the planet.”

Her brow furrowed. “But we haven’t even made them yet—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jake whispered, grinning. “You still win.”

That got a giggle out of her, and she hugged his neck, throwing her little arms around him with enough force to knock him off balance onto the hallway rug.

“I love you, Daddy,” she said into his shoulder.

Jake’s voice caught. “I love you more.”

You stepped out of the nursery then, Lex already strapped to your chest in a soft carrier, cheeks pink and drool bib firmly in place. She was wide awake and blinking like the golden light in the living room was the most interesting thing in the world.

Cami ran to grab her tiny heart-shaped sunglasses from the coffee table. Jake stood and watched you for a second longer than necessary, just taking it all in.

“How’s Lex?” he asked, crossing the room to meet you.

“She’s been cooing at the ceiling fan for fifteen minutes straight,” you said. “I think it’s her soulmate.”

He smiled and reached out to gently fix the strap across your shoulder, his thumb brushing your collarbone.

“You okay?” you asked quietly, looking up at him.

Jake hesitated. “Yeah. I mean... yeah.”

You gave him that look — soft and knowing and full of the kind of patience he still didn’t fully understand how he’d earned.

“It’s not a bad kind of nervous,” he said after a second. “Just… new. I’ve never brought my family to anything like this. Not with coworkers. Javy doesn’t count.”

“He absolutely doesn’t count,” you agreed.

Jake chuckled under his breath, then exhaled, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “I just… this is the part where it’s not just mine anymore, you know? Where they get to know you. The girls. The best parts of me.”

You stepped in closer, pressing your hand to his chest. “We’ve always been yours, Jake.”

He looked down at you, green eyes a little glassy now. “Yeah,” he said. “But tonight... I guess it starts being real to everyone else, too.”

You smiled. “And that’s a good thing. Because it means more people get to see what I see. That you’re a good man. A good husband. A good dad. And the people who matter? They’ll never forget that.”

Jake swallowed hard and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then one to Lex’s. Then one to your mouth — soft, slow, like a thank-you.

“Alright,” he said, voice lighter. “Let’s go make an entrance.”

“Let’s go blow their minds,” you replied, already grabbing the baby bag.

Cami burst back into the room, sunglasses on upside down. “Do I look like a cool kid?”

Jake scooped her up with a dramatic gasp. “Coolest kid in the whole world.”

Cami giggled into his shoulder.

And just like that, the Seresins stepped out into the soft evening light, hand in hand, baby bouncing, hearts a little nervous, but completely full.

The sun was just beginning to dip behind the horizon when the Seresin family arrived.

The beach behind the Hard Deck glowed in warm amber and rose, the bonfire crackling at the center of it all, with the Daggers scattered around in folding chairs, drinks in hand, laughter rolling easy on the breeze. A cooler full of seltzers sat half-buried in the sand, and someone had already started a playlist that leaned heavy on Fleetwood Mac and bad decisions.

Jake stepped onto the sand first, Lex balanced easily on his hip in a floral romper and a soft pink headband that did absolutely nothing to keep her hair down. She let out a content little sigh and sucked on two fingers like she’d been born for the beach life.

You followed beside him, Cami’s small hand clasped tightly in yours. Her sparkly jacket caught the firelight as she walked, pink sunglasses pushed up into her curls, gripping her unicorn under one arm like backup.

To anyone watching, it was immediate.

They looked like Jake.

Same eyes. Same golden skin. Same confidence — even Cami, who clung to your side but stood tall, taking it all in.

The Daggers didn’t notice them at first.

Not until they got close enough that Bob glanced up and nearly choked on his drink.

Then Rooster turned — already half-expecting it — and froze with his cup halfway to his mouth.

Phoenix elbowed him like don’t say anything stupid but her own jaw had gone slack.

Fanboy actually gasped.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

Coyote just sat there grinning like he’d known all along — because, of course, he had.

Jake stopped just in front of the fire, let the conversations fizzle into stunned silence, and gave them that damn cocky smile — the one they all knew so well — only this time, it was softer. Warmer. The kind of smile that said this is everything to me.

“Evening,” he drawled. “Hope we’re not late.”

Nobody said a word.

Cami peeked around you, her voice small but clear. “Are these the pilot friends?”

Jake looked down at her and nodded. “Sure are, baby.”

You smiled gently at the group, then bent to whisper something in Cami’s ear. She stepped forward a little, still clutching the unicorn, but brave in that way only five-year-olds could be.

“I’m Camila Seresin,” she said proudly. “But you can call me Cami.”

Jake gave a slight nod, then shifted Lex on his hip. “And this little one is Alexandra. Lex, if she likes you.”

Lex burbled in response, blinking sleepily at the circle of stunned adults. Jake’s arm slipped around your waist, pulling you close.

“And this is my wife,” he said, voice soft but certain. “The love of my life. The reason I’m not a complete disaster.”

You gave a small, amused wave. “Hi.”

Phoenix finally blinked. “You’re married?”

“To her?” Payback added, looking between you and Jake like he was trying to process a physics equation with no numbers.

Fanboy leaned forward. “You’re married married. Like… full on?”

“With kids?” Bob choked.

Jake smirked. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“Yes!” they all said in unison.

Coyote just raised his beer and clinked it against Jake’s bottle. “About time, hermano.”

Phoenix gave you a look of genuine bafflement. “I mean, no offense, but you’re… like… stunning. And you married Hangman?”

“I know,” you said with a dramatic sigh. “We all make mistakes.”

Jake pressed a hand to his chest. “Wounded.”

Payback was still staring at Cami, then Lex, then Jake. “They look exactly like you.”

“They should,” Jake said. “Made ‘em myself.”

Phoenix groaned. “Okay, we’re leaving.”

Jake just laughed and tucked Lex’s head against his shoulder. “Cami, wanna roast some marshmallows?”

“Yes please!” she squeaked, already dragging you toward the snack table.

Jake looked around at the still-shocked faces of his squad — his friends now, he supposed — and gave them a rare, genuine smile.

“Welcome to my real life,” he said.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and the flames of the bonfire cast soft flickers across everyone’s faces. Music drifted low from someone’s speaker, mingling with the sound of the waves and the occasional snap of firewood.

It should’ve been a normal night.

But nothing felt normal now that Jake “Hangman” Seresin was casually sitting cross-legged on the sand, marshmallow stick in his hands, helping his five-year-old daughter make the perfect s’more.

“I said not too toasted,” Cami whispered urgently. “Just golden. Like the picture.”

Jake nodded seriously. “Golden. Got it. This is high-stakes work, sweetheart.”

Phoenix nudged Rooster with her foot. “Who is this man?”

Rooster, still visibly reeling, shook his head like it might clear the image in front of him. “I thought he ate protein powder straight out of the tub and slept on a bed of ego.”

“He’s using baby talk, Bradshaw.”

Rooster narrowed his eyes. “And I think the baby just giggled at him.”

“Not the baby,” Fanboy said from behind them. “Me. I’m giggling. This is surreal.”

Across the fire, Jake caught the tail end of the conversation and gave them a smug little look, tossing a marshmallow at Mickey that he expertly dodged.

You were nestled beside Jake on a blanket, Lex sleeping soundly against your chest now that she’d exhausted herself chewing on everyone’s fingers (with permission, of course). You leaned into Jake’s shoulder with a soft smile, watching Cami flit between the snack table and her latest obsession: Bradley Bradshaw.

“Hey, Mr. Rooster?” she called, holding her unicorn in one hand and a half-eaten graham cracker in the other.

Bradley blinked. “Uh, yeah?”

“Can I touch your mustache?”

Jake nearly dropped his beer.

Phoenix howled.

Rooster sat very still. “Um. Sure?”

Cami wandered over and patted it with her little marshmallow-sticky fingers, studying it like a curious scientist.

“It’s soft,” she declared. “Like a cat. You should name it.”

Jake groaned. “Cami.”

“What?” she asked innocently. “It’s just a suggestion.”

Jake shot Rooster a look over her head. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Rooster raised both hands. “Hey. I’m just standing here. With a face.”

You leaned over to whisper, “You’re really going to lose sleep over your daughter flirting with a mustache, aren’t you?”

“She has bad taste,” Jake said grimly.

Before anyone could tease him further, Coyote appeared at Cami’s side with a juice pouch and a twinkle in his eye. “Hey, kiddo. Want to help me find more sticks for the marshmallows?”

“Uncle Javy!” Cami cheered, grabbing the juice and launching herself at him like a tiny cannonball.

Phoenix blinked. “Uncle?”

Jake shrugged. “He’s the only one who knew. Got promoted early.”

“You told Javy?” Rooster cried, scandalized. “You told Javy and not me?”

Coyote slung Cami onto his shoulders with practiced ease. “I’m the trustworthy one.”

Jake smirked. “He didn’t try to follow me home or interrogate me about my grocery list.”

Rooster folded his arms. “That was one time.”

Phoenix grinned. “Still your worst stakeout.”

As the night deepened and the stars came out, the squad began to shift from disbelief into something sweeter: genuine admiration. Watching Jake tuck a blanket around Cami’s legs, kiss the top of her head. Seeing the way Lex instinctively settled in his arms, one tiny hand curled into his shirt. Hearing the way he said darlin’ to you like it meant something old and permanent.

This wasn’t a side of Jake Seresin anyone had expected to see.

But it fit him.

Perfectly.

[stillalivebydemand893]

Wet Dreams

Story:One filthy dream about Erik,now he wants the full confession.

18+(i need a cold shower after this one)

“Why are you avoiding me, Peach?”

Erik trailed after you into the kitchen like a golden retriever in heat. Your face was still flushed from the moment you saw him today in the Campbell’s hallway .

“No,nope. Fuck off.”

You dodged around the counter like a raccoon caught stealing snacks, desperately trying to not think about the vivid, X-rated dream you’d had about him last night,the one that still had your panties uncomfortably damp and your thighs pressed together .

“You’re not even looking at me.” He chased after you, grinning like he knew. Like he always knew.

“And your face is red as hell. Come on, Sweets,don’t be like that. You know I like my prey hard to catch.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet at the word prey.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you shot back, glaring dramatically at the ceiling like you were waiting for God to strike you down with lightning before you died of secondhand shame.

“You two are doing something again,” Julia walked in, sipping a Slurpee like she wasn’t stepping straight into a scene from a smut novel. “If you fuck in the laundry room again, I’m calling the fire department. On your asses. I’m serious.”

“JULES,don’t say it out loud! Jesus Christ!”

You sank into the carpet like it might swallow you whole, mentally constructing your escape route through the fridge and out the window.

“You two are the reason Bobby avoids the washing machine now. He literally has appliance PTSD.”

Julia giggled, entirely too pleased with herself.

“No, I,what the hell.” Bobby entered mid-sentence, blinked at the group, and instantly regretted it.

“Consider it a free sneak peek at our next sex tape. A little preview,” Erik said with his trademark devil-smirk, leaning against the counter with arms crossed and zero shame.

“GROSS, ERIK!”

Julia bolted from the room, already trying to bleach the mental image of her best friend riding her brother in spin cycle position.

“Next one? You guys already have one?! I’m calling my therapist.”

Bobby dropped his soda and power-walked out of the kitchen like his life depended on it.

Now it was just you and Erik.

And that fucking smirk.

Your blood boiled.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“Kinky,” he said, just as you lunged.

But he didn’t even flinch. He just caught you midair,hands locking around your waist like he did this every Tuesday,and pulled you in tight, your legs wrapped around him, your heart slamming through your chest like a warning siren.

And just like that, you melted.

“Easy, tiger,” he chuckled, nose brushing yours as he kissed it.

Goddamn him.

“You are such a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah,” he smirked, “but I’m your pain in the ass.” He winked.

Your eyes rolled so hard they nearly got stuck.

“Now…” He tilted his head, suddenly all slow, sexy danger. “Tell me why you were avoiding me.”

Your eyes widened. Shit. Abort mission.

“Oh hey, look—it’s Paco on the cupboard!”

“Jesus again??” He turned instinctively to check for Bobbys pet turtle, and you bolted. Straight up the stairs, laughter and shame and very bad ideas trailing behind you like smoke.

He stared after you.

“Okay, Peach…”

His voice dropped, low and lethal with promise.

“You wanna play? Then let’s play.”

Upstairs -The Hunt

He walked up the stairs slow. On purpose.

Whistling like a killer in a horror movie.

He knew exactly where you’d go.

You always picked his room.

Always hid under his bed like you didn’t want to be caught.

That only made his cock harder.

“You know, Peach,” he called as he stepped into the room, “I wasn’t really in the mood for cardio today…”

He yanked the curtains open dramatically,just for effect.

Then the closet door.

Nothing.

Until he saw it. A small, failed attempt to shove yourself between his shoes and old guitar case.

He grabbed your waist and dragged you out like it was nothing, spinning and throwing you onto his bed. You squealed. He pinned you down instantly,his hips pressing into yours, arms caging you, one hand gripping your wrists above your head.

You were panting.

He was smirking.

“Now,” he growled, lips inches from yours, “would you stop being a brat and tell me what’s got you running?”

His hips shifted,just enough to press his hard cock right into your already soaked panties.

You gasped.

“Make me.”

Your eyes were darker now,full of lust, challenge, and something else that made his breath stutter.

He stared at you like he couldn’t believe what he was dealing with.

You wanted to be caught.

And fuck, he was going to ruin you for it.

“You sure about that?” Erik’s voice was low, rasping over your skin like smoke and static.

“Because when I make you beg, I’m not stopping until you scream it.”

You squirmed, but he had you ,hips caging you in, thigh pressed right between your legs.

He rocked into you again.

Hard.

The pressure against your core made your head fall back with a moan.

“Fuck, Erik”

“That’s not begging yet.”

He leaned down and dragged his mouth across your neck, tongue hot, teeth grazing just enough to make you jolt. You felt his smirk against your throat before he bit, and your whole body arched off the bed.

“So fucking needy,” he murmured, hand sliding down from your wrists to your throat, fingers wrapping loosely,not choking, just owning.

You gasped.

He watched you unravel under him with the kind of hunger that should’ve been illegal. His hips rolled again,slower now, a deep grind that made the ache between your thighs pulse.

“So wet already,” he said, dragging two fingers down your stomach and under your waistband. He pushed your panties aside and dipped in, groaning.

“You’ve been dripping for me since this morning, haven’t you?”

You didn’t answer.

He slapped your thigh,light, sharp.

“Use your words Sweets.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes,fuck, I’ve been thinking about you since last night,Erik, please-”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.Good girl”

In one fluid motion, he yanked your shorts and panties down your legs, tossed them across the room, and pulled his shirt off. You barely had time to look at him before his mouth was on your tits,sucking, biting, tongue flicking over your nipples until your thighs started shaking.

“I should make you come just like this,” he said, voice muffled against your chest.

“Grind that pretty little cunt on my thigh until you’re crying for my cock.”

You whimpered, grabbing at his hair, and that only made him harder.

He pulled away just long enough to shove his sweats down,no boxers, not a fucking chance,and his cock slapped against his stomach, thick ,pierced and aching.

You bit your lip hard.

“See something you like?”

“Baby I ve been dreaming of this.”you smirked

“Oh, you’ll have it.”

He grinned wickedly.

“But not before I tease the sanity out of you.”

He grabbed your legs, spread them open wide, and lowered himself,his cock dragging along your soaked slit, rubbing slow against your clit without pushing in.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re soaked, Peach. Slippery as hell. One thrust and I’d slide right in, but…”

He rolled his hips. Just the tip pressing, then pulling away.

“You don’t get it that easy.”

“What? No,please, Erik. I’m too horny for games,” you whimpered, already breathless.

His grin was dark, dangerous, maddening.

“Oh, now you’re impatient? Imagine how I felt watching that ass of yours bounce when you walked into the kitchen.”

You blushed so hard it burned. His voice was pure sin,low, taunting, full of promise.

“Brats like you, Peach,” he murmured as he lowered his head to bite your collarbone, “have to earn their fucks.”

Before you could sass him back, he grabbed your hips and pulled you down onto his lap like you weighed nothing. Your breath hitched. You loved being on top,seeing him needy, hearing him moan your name,but tonight felt different.

Tonight, you were the prey.

“Come on, Peach. Earn it.”

His voice dripped control, daring you to take it,if you could.

Your heart pounded. He wasn’t guiding you like he usually did. This was you, raw and exposed, riding him like you were learning how for the first time.

And fuck, he looked so good under you,sprawled out, cocky grin, muscles flexed, dark eyes fixed on you like he was going to devour you the second you slowed down.

You swallowed hard, lined him up, and let his tip slide against your slick folds.

Then,you sank down.

“Fuck-”

The stretch made your body light up, made your walls pulse around him as you gasped into his shoulder.

But right as you tried to ease down slowly, he grabbed your hips and slammed you onto him, bottoming out with one rough thrust.

You moaned,loud,and he swallowed the sound with a bruising kiss, tongue battling yours, biting your lip until it stung.

“I’m getting a little impatient here, Peach.”

He smirked, absolutely wicked.

“You better ride me like you mean it.”

So you moved,hips rolling, thighs shaking as you rode him hard and messy, the piercing in his cock dragging against your walls with every bounce. You saw stars. He never looked away, his eyes glued to your tits as they bounced, hands roaming,grabbing, groping, biting your breast until you cried out again.

You were close. Too close.

And just when you were about to fall apart,he stopped you.

He slammed you down, holding you flush to him, his cock buried deep.

“What-Erik,I was about to-”

“Who gave you permission to cum, baby?”

His voice was like silk-wrapped steel.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that didn’t match the ache he was inflicting.

“You don’t get to come until you tell me why you were avoiding me.”

You dropped your head into the crook of his neck, humiliated, breathless, soaked.

“I… I had a wet dream about you last night.”

The words barely escaped.

He tilted his head.

“Didn’t catch that.”

He spanked your ass hard, just enough to sting. You whimpered.

Oh, he’d heard it the first time. He just wanted to watch you squirm.

“I said I had a wet dream about you last night,” you repeated, eyes wide, lips trembling.

He yanked you into a kiss so raw, so feral, it stole the breath from your lungs.

“Tell me, Peach. What was I doing to you in that filthy little dream?”

“Don’t make me say it,Oh God-” You covered your face with your hands.

He rolled his hips up into you, and you cried out, the friction unbearable.

“God is far away from this hell you’re in, Sweets.”

He licked the shell of your ear.

“Now tell me, or I’ll make damn sure you don’t come at all tonight.”

He smirked. He knew you’d break.

You inhaled sharply.

“You were fucking me from behind… and choking me… and telling me what a good girl I was.”

His cock twitched inside you.

His eyes darkened,gone full devil.

“Show me, Peach.”

That voice. Commanding. Possessive.

It stole every ounce of air from your lungs.

You slid off him,already missing how full he made you feel,and got on all fours on the bed, your back arched, ass high.

He moved behind you slowly, deliberately. Like a wolf about to feast.

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he purred.

“Brats like you have the dirtiest fucking minds.”

He spanked you,hard. You moaned, thighs trembling.

Then again.

Your wetness dripped onto his mattress.

He grabbed your hips, spread you open, and dragged two fingers through your folds,soaking.

“Fuck-look at you,” he muttered.

“You’re dripping down your thighs for me.”

You whimpered.

“Erik… please…”

He pulled his fingers out and licked them clean like he was tasting dessert. Smirked like a man with no mercy left.

“Remember the safe word, Peach?”

He always made sure. Always.

“Yes,” you gasped, trembling. “Now please fuck me.”

That was all he needed.

He slid his cock along your folds—slow, teasing, deliberate.

You moaned, pushing your hips back, needy, desperate for friction.

“So greedy, Peach.”

He chuckled, low and warm.

“But I like you greedy. Makes it more fun to break you apart.”

His hips slammed into yours again, hard and smooth, the kind of rhythm that wasn’t rushed,it was deliberate. He knew exactly how to tear you apart one thrust at a time.

Your arms were shaking, body arching, moans pouring from your lips with no shame left to hold them back.

“Fuck, Peach.”

His voice was wrecked now.

“You take me so good. Like you were made to ride my cock.”

Your only answer was a strangled moan. You could barely breathe from the way he filled you. From the heat. From the way his fingers were starting to drift higher, from your hips,up your ribs,over your spine—until one hand curled around the front of your throat.

And there it was.

That buzz of adrenaline. That high-voltage tension.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, voice suddenly quieter, more focused.

Even now, even like this, he made sure.

“Don’t stop,” you panted. “Please,do it.”

He tightened his hand,not enough to hurt, just enough to control. Enough to take your breath and give it back to you only when he wanted to.

Your head fell back, spine arching like a bow, your body helpless beneath him as he fucked into you harder, hips snapping with a bruising rhythm.

“That’s it,” he growled into your ear. “Be my good girl. Take it. Don’t you fucking run from it now.”

His grip around your neck held you exactly where he wanted you,vulnerable, shaking, right on the edge of too much.

You could barely moan anymore. It came out choked, breathless, needy.

“You love this, don’t you?”

He licked the side of your neck.

“Love being my filthy little toy.”

Your walls clenched around him, the pressure building like fire behind your ribs.

“I’m-fuck, Erik-I’m close”

He slammed into you again, and again, fingers tightening just a little more around your throat. Your vision blurred with heat, skin slick, body writhing under his control.

“Then cum for me.”

That command? It broke you.

You screamed,or tried to. Nothing came out but a cracked gasp as your orgasm crashed into you, legs shaking violently, cunt pulsing around his cock like it never wanted to let go.

He lost it the second you did.

With a broken, guttural groan, he shoved deep and spilled inside you, hips grinding, cock twitching, hand still gripping your throat like your whole body belonged to him.

And in that moment?

It did.

He didn’t let you fall.

His hand loosened instantly, warm fingers stroking your throat gently now, the other wrapping around your waist to hold you up as your body collapsed, completely wrecked.

He kissed the back of your shoulder. Then the side of your neck. Soft now. Careful.

“Still with me?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

You nodded, breath shaking, face buried in the sheets.

“Good girl.”

Face-down. Ass in the air. Hair a disaster.

Somewhere beneath your tangled moans and the aftershock tremble of your thighs, you were pretty sure you’d transcended.

Erik, still behind you, groaned like a man who’d just sprinted a marathon while carrying the weight of his own poor decisions.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted, slowly pulling out of you with a wet sound that should’ve been illegal.

“I think I just blacked out. I saw the fucking void.”

You made a noise that sounded like a dying pigeon.

“You blacked out?” you croaked into the sheets.

“I left my body. I’m pretty sure I was watching us from the ceiling fan.”

Erik flopped next to you, absolutely zero grace, arm draped over his eyes.

“If I die right now, don’t let Julia touch my stuff. Especially not the drawer.”

You lifted your head, squinting.

“What drawer?”

He cracked one eye open.

“...The drawer.”

You blinked.

He blinked back.

“Erik. Is it full of sex toys?”

He didn’t answer. Just rolled over with the slowest, most suspicious nonchalance known to mankind.

“Erik.”

“Babe.”

“Is your ‘drawer’ bigger than mine?”

“…Define ‘bigger.’”

You let your face fall flat into the pillow.

“We need couples therapy and matching safewords.”

Erik reached over and smacked your ass, light and lazy.

“I like our chaos.”

Then, a pause.

“Also… you’re definitely walking funny tomorrow.”

“You literally choked me while telling me I was your filthy toy.”

“Because you are my filthy toy.”

He winked.

You tossed a pillow at his head.

He caught it.

Used it as a prop.

“So. You gonna tell me what else happened in that dream of yours?”

You groaned into the mattress.

“Erik, I already confessed that you were bending me over and praising me while choking the life out of me. You want bonus features?”

He nodded.

“Director’s cut, baby. Deleted scenes. Blu-ray extras. All of it.”

You kicked at him.

He caught your ankle and kissed your calf.

“C’mon, Peach. Give the people what they want.”

“The people???”

“Me. I’m people.”

You couldn’t help it,you burst out laughing, still half-naked, post-sex high, tangled in bedsheets and bad decisions.

Erik leaned over, brushed a kiss to your forehead, and whispered:

“Next time you dream about me, save a seat. I’ll bring the rope.”

[rainrot4me]

what would each pasta's reaction would be when mc finally falls asleep on them (like for the first time since theyre dating)?

hope youre having an amazing day!

✦ . jeff the killer

“…Oh. Damn.”

He freezes. Not because he’s freaked out—but because you actually trust him enough to knock out on his chest, soft breathing syncing with his heartbeat.

He blinks down at you like, “Are we fucking serious right now?” But his hand instinctively rests on your back, holding you gently.

“Guess I’m not that scary, huh?”

He won’t move until you wake up, and God help anyone who tries to disturb you.

✦ . ticci toby

Soft panic mode activated

Toby was mid-sentence when he noticed your weight settle on his shoulder. Your breathing slows. His mouth clicks shut. He stares at your face—peaceful, relaxed—and his whole system short-circuits.

“You’re…as-asleep?”

He carefully adjusts his posture so you won’t be uncomfortable. He gets this little shy smile, rubbing the back of his neck. His tics quiet down like they don’t dare wake you.

He may or may not mutter a whispered “Night, babe,” even though you’re already out cold.

✦ . eyeless jack

Silent reverence.

You’re lying against his chest, the sound of his steady breathing lulling you into a dream. Jack knows the moment you fall asleep—and he goes completely still, one hand resting over your waist.

He listens to your heartbeat and feels…strangely human again.

“You trust me,” he thinks. You trust the monster.

He doesn’t say anything. He just brushes his fingers gently through your hair, over and over, until sleep takes him, too.

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Protective stillness.

You slump against him on the couch, a film flickering in the background. He thinks you’re just cuddling—until your head tilts with that unmistakable weight of sleep.

At first, he doesn’t react. Then his shoulders relax. His hand shifts to cradle your side.

“…You picked a hell of a place to doze off,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to it.

He watches over you like a guard dog, arms wrapped around you tight and safe.

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

Soft awe and a hidden smile.

You’re tucked against his hoodie-covered chest, exhaling softly. Brian’s arms are around you without hesitation—like muscle memory.

He blinks once, twice, and then leans back slowly, letting you sink deeper into sleep.

He doesn’t speak. Just presses the softest kiss to your forehead and lets his fingers trace your spine in slow, soothing lines.

If anyone enters the room, they get a look that says don’t. even. breathe.

✦ . kate the chaser

A soft grin and an even softer heart.

You fell asleep with your face buried in the crook of her neck, completely limp in her arms. Kate stiffens for a moment—not out of discomfort, but surprise.

She wasn’t expecting that level of trust.

“…Shit,” she whispers, half-smiling.

She settles deeper into the couch, making sure you’re supported. One hand brushes your spine, soothing and slow.

“Sleep easy. I’ve got you.”

✦ . ben drowned

Absolutely speechless for 0.5 seconds.

He was mid-rant about a boss fight when your head dropped against his shoulder. At first, he assumes you’re just snuggling—until you actually fall asleep.

“…Wait. Are you asleep right now?”

A flush rises on his cheeks. He pauses the game. (Yes. Actually.)

He gently adjusts the blanket over you, glancing down with a lopsided grin.

“God, you’re cute. Nerd,” he mumbles, then wraps his arm around you tighter, game forgotten.

✦ . clockwork

Grinning like a menace and melting like butter.

You drift off mid-conversation, curled up in her lap, and Natalie just beams.

“Oh? That comfortable, huh?”

She talks softly even though you’re asleep, thumb brushing your jawline as she studies you like you’re something rare.

There’s something sacred about the moment—you, safe and sleeping in her arms. Her voice drops, playful but low:

“You’re all mine like this, aren’t you?”

✦ . laughing jack

Still, quiet—eerily tender.

You’ve fallen asleep tangled in his patchwork coat, cheek smushed into his chest. For once, LJ doesn’t say anything.

Not a joke. Not a giggle.

He just watches your sleeping face, expression unreadable. His gloved fingers gently push a strand of hair out of your eyes.

“…You’re something else, you know that?” he whispers.

Then he wraps both arms around you, protective and possessive, and leans back to let you rest.

✦ . slenderman

Unmoving, otherworldly calm.

Your head has lolled against his shoulder. Your breathing is deep. Slender registers this fact in full. And though he doesn’t sleep, he shifts his form just slightly—softer, warmer, more solid—like a living cradle.

He stays still, his aura dimming until it’s nearly imperceptible, so you stay asleep.

He says nothing. But his hands rest over you, palms heavy and unmoving, a barrier between you and the world.

꩜ .ᐟ

[bewitched-hours]

Forsaken | Chance x Mafioso x BunnyCryptid!Reader

Figured I'd try a little mix after my last post and I wanna be more daring but I'm still worried about reactions tbh... ANYWAYS ENJOY-

The Reader's pronouns here will be She/They (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝)

Slight warning for obsessive behaviour and maybe even yandere? Idk if I did it right though-

You felt a little humiliated.

You were a Cryptid, yeah, and intimidating to most...

But you also had the appearance of a huge bunny... Which made the intimidation factor rely on your size rather than your appearance.

It was humiliating but you dealt with it, opting to just stay away from Robloxians and hiding away in a park where you could hide.

Even in your Robloxian form though, you still had the ears and tail. You looked ridiculous but at least you could still eat whatever you liked, given you were technically a prey animal too.

Naturally, it was a shock when you fell asleep enjoying the warm sun and woke back up in a cold cabin, surrounded by strangers. Your black fur and red eyes made one of them call you a demon jokingly, which you rolled your eyes at.

But you still didn't want to trust any of them. Instead opting to hearing them out at least and giving them your name in a creepy tone. You were hoping they'd leave you alone for the most part after they figured out your abilities were mostly healing and speed based so they expected you to work with Elliot.

Lucky for him, he made sure to tell you you don't need to work with him if you didn't want to. It wasn't lucky because you would've been hostile but the moment you revealed your Robloxian form was when one of them fell for you. And he fell HARD. You were luckily too absorbed in your own thoughts to notice his staring though as you simply went out to explore.

Chance was quick to follow, trying to make small talk but flinching as you stomped the ground in indication not to be bothered right now. That didn't stop him from trying at least a couple more times but he eventually got the message and let you be. Although maybe he shouldn't have.

Because you immediately began exploring further out, ignoring earlier warnings as you figured you'd be fast enough even if something happened with your sensitive hearing being as good as it is.

What you couldn't have known was that there was a killer both silent in their step and would take a special interest in a bunny cryptid like yourself.

You were pretty far out already by the time you decided to try the different plants of this hellscape. You were curious if they tasted any different but they were surprisingly exactly like what you would have back at the park. Although, that made your leg stomp a bit in frustration as you actually kinda looked forward to experiencing new tastes.

And then, a twig behind you snapped.

You were already about to run but shortly pulled back by the scruff of your fur, which was just one of those furry scarfs that one would see celebrities sometimes wear while you were in your current form.

You instinctively curled up and held onto the scarf for dear life, not wanting to risk losing it only to accidentally get married by Selkie standards. You didn't exactly dare to scream since you were pretty sure no one would hear you as you closed your eyes and waited for a world of pain...

Except... It never came...?

You looked hesitantly at the man holding you and he just smirked at you. "Gotcha, little bunny." He chuckled, amused as you looked a little disturbed, unsure wether this was better or worse...

"Ya must be new, the name's Mafioso." Really? What kinda name is that? You honestly hoped he didn't choose it himself so you could at least try to feel pity for him.

You were hesitant to give your own name but sighed, figuring even though he's a killer, you might get out alive if you play nice. "[Reader]... Can you... Maybe let me go?" You asked cautiously, not wanting to risk his temper but feeling your hands getting sore from holding so tightly onto the scarf that was your fur.

"What's wrong with this?" He asked lightly, clearly amused by your struggle but you just told him you were of the Selkie variety and he seemed to understand, letting you to the ground but refusing to let you leave.

Welp, you found yourself in some deep shit now...

Or... Maybe not...

With a bang, you were suddenly dragged away, leaving Mafioso behind as you were brought back to the cabin by none other than Chance.

You were gonna ask how he knew where you were but he cut you off.

"You were suddenly gone and I wandered around to see where you went and saw you two just in time." His voice almost sounded jealous, but you decided to brush it off for now. Not because you didn't believe he was but rather that you thought he was more jealous because the killer was being friendly with you and not the others.

You decided to thank him, even bowing as you were accustomed to being formal. Old habits from when you were a palace bunny in the old times, being showered with anything you wanted and more all in exchange for your services as a companion. He was a little flustered but told you it was the least he could to to help another survivor.

Right... That was your role now.

Nonetheless, you decided to take the rest of the time to yourself until your first round. You weren't exactly tired but you did want to explore. Chance did say he wanted to go to sleep but you kept feeling eyes on you as you rummaged through the kitchen and eventually made yourself a salad. Why? Because you were in the mood for tomatoes but eating them as is gives you a weird feeling.

But you still couldn't shake of the feeling you were being watched, no matter how many times you checked...

And it persisted over time. Strangely enough, you never really worried when Mafioso was the killer. He seemed to completely ignore you most of the time but at some point Chance seemed to be shown mercy too. Or- at least LMS...

Yeah, Mafioso obviously didn't like losing, you got that. But you had better chances when you were always LMS. It was still painful as shit but it was better than what Elliot had to go through all the time because he was usually the designated healer. Poor guy...

What did surprise you that some rounds, Mafioso would even mutter an apology- HOLD ON WHAT-

Not only that but Chance started getting more clingy. At first you were annoyed but now it was just routine. Get the round done, watch as Chance ran right to you to call you his good luck charm and discuss with the others what the plan should be for the next round once you all knew who was being summoned.

And when you and Chance happen to get to be amongst the ones not chosen for a round? Well...

He'd insist on grooming your fur or even brushing your hair. It took weeks for you to give into his demands but the sensation always made you tired enough that you would sometimes just fall asleep right then and there.

But if you and Mafioso were out of a round while Chase was in?

You two would just have a nice little chat in the spot you met and return before the round ends with random stuff on you to make the other survivors less suspicious of your activities. Most of them just shrugged it off as a Cryptid thing of some kind but Chance knew.

It was just that by the time he figured it out, he and Mafioso had made a deal behind your back. A deal to keep you safe and share you between them.

The shock came when you caught them both chatting in the spot you would usually chat up Mafioso in. You didn't exactly mind it but their embarrassed expressions had you take a different meaning to the scene.

You actually teased them, thinking they were secretly dating.

Which... They were but they weren't embarrassed about that.

You had wanted to turn around and leave with a chuckle but they both decided to stop you and it surprised you enough that you stopped dead in your tracks to look at them again.

Chance had been the one to stop you and he immediately got nervous as he had to let your hand go. "There's more..." You just looked at them confused as they both began to hold your hands and hid their faced under their hats. Admittedly, it was adorable... WAIT NO-

You got a little tense as you heard Mafioso speak first. "Little bunny, we want you all to ourselves..." Hold on what-

"You're more than a lucky charm, your beauty is addictive and we've been hooked on it for so long..." HOLD ON-

"Please, let us be the only ones to make you happy... We know it's selfish but we can't share you with anyone else..." Why was your face flushed red now...?

You could've sworn you heard chance mutter something about the other survivors being 'unworthy' or something but you were too flustered to care. Your brain was raising all kinds of red flags but for once... You decided to follow your heart. As impulsive as it could be.

"Fine..." You barely uttered out your response before they both gave you a cheeky kiss on the knuckles. Though, you quickly pulled your hands away. "I'm not a damn damsel!" You exclaimed, still flustered as they stood up again and Chance was the first to steal a kiss from your lips. It came unexpected but you allowed yourself to melt into it, only to pull away and have Mafioso lift you up by your waist to steal one too.

Great, you got yourself into quite a mess but they weren't nearly done, feverishly taking turns holding you and kissing you like it was a competition. All the while your brain was turning to mush. Able to think about nothing but their kisses. Just as they wanted.

Sometimes they'd even sneak in a kiss against your ears or brushing their hands so gently over your skin that you'd get goosebumps.

They were actively trying to get you as addicted to them as they were to you...

You could've also sworn they were discussing something about the next round whenever they gave you a minute to make sure you didn't suffocate between them...

I might have issues- (╥﹏╥)

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[matt-murdockk]

Stealth

pairing: matt murdock x Black Widow!fem!reader

words: 3.5k

summary: Retired from your old life, you had comfortably settled down at Hell's Kitchen running a bookstore next to Nelson & Murdock. When your past comes knocking at your door again, you pray to god it doesn't affect your relationship with Matt. 

warnings: cussing, lack of proofreading (rip), canon typical violence, it’s mostly action, fluff, and comedy 

a/n: going through the matt drafts like my life depends on it lmaooooo enjoy <3

——————————————————————————————————

Blood dripped from your busted lip as you looked up from your knees, another blow snapping your head to the side. Your assailant loomed above you, fists still clenched, breathing heavy. You laughed at him, knowing that even after his efforts and all that he's putting you through, he is either going to walk away without the information he's in search of, or he's not going to be able to walk away at all. 

"I'm asking you one last time, bitch. Where is she?"

"Go to hell," you sneered, your voice dripping with malice. 

Before he could react, you surged upward, slamming your shoulder into his gut. He stumbled back with a grunt— off balance just long enough for you to twist, swing your leg out, and sweep his feet from under him. He hit the ground hard, and you didn’t give him time to recover. You dropped your weight on his chest, drove your knee into his ribs, then slammed your forehead into his nose with a sickening crack.

He yelled, tried to shove you off, but you were faster— rolled to your side, hooked your tied wrists under his chin, and yanked back with everything you had. His head snapped back. The struggle was short. One last jerk, and he slumped beneath you, out cold.

You sat there for a moment, breathing hard, blood on your tongue and your pulse roaring in your ears. You managed to free your hands, the binds falling away. Instinctively, you brought one hand up to rub at the angry, red mark circling your opposite wrist— thumb pressing into the sore skin as you exhaled through your nose, steadying yourself.

Slowly but carefully, you staggered towards the dresser and pulled out the burner phone you had stashed away, to be used only in case of emergencies. You called the only other number on the phone, your voice strained but low. 

"Yelena. We have a problem." 

——————————————————————————————————

"Mac and cheese? I make really good mac and cheese."

"No, Yelena. I'm good."

"Suit yourself."

You sat at the counter of your kitchen, icing your split lip. Yelena rummaged through the pantry, letting out a satisfied 'a-ha' when she found a box of Kraft mac and cheese tucked all the way at the back. You know, the usual routine after you get rid of a body with your colleague from ages ago. 

"So, is now a good time for you to tell me why a guy broke into my apartment asking for you, or..."

"You sure you don't want my mac and cheese? Trust me, it's really—"

"Yelena." 

"Alright, fine. I may be on the run from the Ranskahov brothers."

You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face, jaw tight and eyes closing in defeat. "You're what?"

"It is no big deal, I can deal with it."

"No big deal? Yelena, a man broke into my apartment at midnight and we just got rid of his unconscious body."

"Your point being?"

"Wh— This is a big deal!" you exclaimed, unable to comprehend how she was so relaxed about it.

"Relax, Sunshine. I got this under control, I promise."

You stared at her, slack-jawed. “Clearly, you don’t. I just took a punch to the face in my own apartment because of your mess.”

She shrugged, unfazed as she stirred the mac and cheese with a wooden spoon. “Well, technically he was already in your apartment. You were just... surprised to see him.”

You set the ice pack down with a thud. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, grinning. “What happened to that sharp reflexes, stone-cold killer, don’t-mess-with-me energy? Getting soft?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You think I’m out of touch?”

Yelena tilted her head, weighing it. “You’ve been... domesticated.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

She considered you for a beat, then gave a small, amused nod. “Alright. Point taken.”

You leaned back, arms folded. “Let’s end this. You and me. Whatever's left of the Ranskahov crew— we shut it down.”

Yelena raised her hands in mock surrender. “Your words, not mine. I’m just here for emotional support and cheese.”

Then, a beat passed. She stirred the pot idly, quieter now. “You sure you're up for this?”

You gave her a look.

“No, I mean really,” she said. “You're not worried about the lawyer finding out?”

You froze, just for a second.

“It’s been, what— five, six months?” Yelena added, not unkindly. “You think he’s gonna notice if you disappear for a day or two?”

You glanced down at the counter. “It’s not about him noticing.”

Yelena shrugged. “So what is it?”

You didn’t answer right away. The silence between you filled with the soft bubbling of the stovetop and your pulse in your ears.

“It’s just... different now,” you said finally.

Yelena gave you a knowing look. “I mean, no one’s gonna know. It’s what we do, isn’t it?”

You looked up at her.

“Ghost in, ghost out. We finish what we started.”

“Let the record show,” you said, getting to your feet, “I’m helping because you nearly got me killed. Again.”

“Let the record also show,” she said, sliding a bowl across the counter to you, “I did not ask for help.”

You took the bowl, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself— soft, almost reminiscent. There was something familiar about the moment. The crappy mac and cheese. The bruises. The adrenaline still fading from your bloodstream. For a second, it felt like the old days. Like the good parts in between the hell you went through. 

Yelena caught the look immediately. “Aha,” she said, pointing the spoon at you. “You missed this.”

“Shut up.”

——————————————————————————————————

The next afternoon, your shop smelled like cinnamon and dust— paperbacks piled on mismatched shelves, the old ceiling fan overhead rattling faintly in protest. In complete contrast to your past, you had made quite a home for yourselves at a cosy little corner of hell's kitchen, snuggled right next to the Nelson & Murdock office.

Matt sat across from you at the little table in the back corner, his cane resting against the chair, his jacket draped on the back of it. 

The two of you had made a habit of lunching here once or twice a week— sometimes with food, sometimes with nothing but stubborn cases and terrible coffee. Today it was takeout from the Thai place around the block.

You pushed your noodles around with your fork, watching him sip his tea like it wasn’t hot enough to melt steel.

“So,” Matt said casually, “about tonight— I was going to ask if we could rain check.”

You blinked. “Oh— yeah. I was going to say the same thing. I’ve got some errands to run."

He nodded. “Foggy dropped a mountain of files on my desk this morning. I’ll be chained to the office most of the night.”

He said it too neatly. No stammer. No sigh. No frustration about the files. Just a clean, compact sentence, tied with a bow.

Your eyes narrowed— just barely. There it was. That was his tell. You almost knew it by heart now. He didn’t fidget, didn’t shift in his seat. He stilled. Too polished. Too calm.

He was lying.

You smiled like you believed him.

“That’s a shame,” you said lightly, taking a sip of your water. “I was kind of looking forward to it.”

“I was too,” he said, and he meant it— just not the way he said.

You nodded and changed the subject, let it drop between you like nothing had happened. If he noticed anything off in your tone, he didn’t show it. Eventually, he gathered his things and stood.

“I’ll call you later?” he offered.

“Yeah,” you said, standing with him. “We’ll pick a better night.”

He reached for his jacket, adjusted the fold of his cane, and turned to leave— when the bell above the door jingled.

Yelena stepped inside, sunglasses perched in her hair, a paper bag in one hand and a too-innocent smile on her face.

“Aw, look at this. My two favorite nerds.”

Matt paused mid-step. “Yelena.”

“Mr. Murdock,” she said brightly. “Fancy seeing you here. Hope I’m not interrupting any... legal bonding.”

You deadpanned. “You are. But don’t let that stop you.”

Matt chuckled under his breath. “I’ll leave you to it.”

You watched him leave— pausing just long enough to lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips, quick and warm, like punctuation at the end of a long sentence. Then he was gone.

Yelena waited a full beat after the door shut before turning to you with a look.

“You lied to him, didn’t you?”

You picked up your half-finished drink and took a long sip. “Only because he lied first.”

Yelena looked thrilled. “Ohhh, this is gonna be fun.”

——————————————————————————————————

The docks reeked of salt and rust, the fog rolling in heavy over the water like it had something to hide. Yelena crouched beside you behind a stack of shipping containers, her braid pulled tight, her knives already slick with someone else's blood.

"Four more on the upper level," she said, voice low and steady.

"Two by the crates, one pacing by the boat," you added. "Third’s probably on lookout.”

Yelena grinned. “Just like Budapest.”

“I’m not reminiscing with you while hiding and smelling like fish.”

You were already moving— silent, efficient. Two guards down in under a minute. A third turned, startled, just in time to catch Yelena’s elbow in the face.

You were halfway to the second stack when a thud hit the ground behind you. A figure in red.

You turned, ready to strike.

"Easy," came the familiar voice.

Your heart skipped once. Just once.

Daredevil.

Yelena straightened beside you, blade still in hand. “Dude. What the hell.”

“I’m not here to get in the way, I swear,” Daredevil said, tone even, unreadable. “We could work together.”

You exchanged a look with Yelena. Her brows lifted, daring you to call the shots.

"Fine," you said. “Just, don’t slow us down.”

He nodded once, readying himself— then tilted his head slightly in Yelena’s direction.

“She's new. Who’s your friend?”

Yelena smirked, stepping past him with a gleam in her eye. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

And then you moved— no time for anything else.

The fight was fast, chaotic— muffled grunts, broken bones, steel against skin. You worked like you'd never left the field. Knife, fist, elbow. Yelena at your side. And Daredevil... flanking, striking, always just in the right place at the right time.

But that was the problem.

He was too good.

He moved like he didn’t even need to look at the layout. God knows if he can even see anything through that mask. Dodged a swing from behind without looking. Tilted his head slightly every time someone approached, like he heard them coming—

And when you shouted, “Duck!” mid-sweep, he reacted a beat faster than sight could manage.

Your chest went cold.

Blind. Bruises. Lies. His voice. Your eyes locked on his masked face mid-spin and suddenly, everything clicked.

Holy shit.

Holy. Shit.

Matt.

You didn’t miss a beat— kept fighting, didn’t let it show. But you knew. And he didn’t know you knew.

And Matt? He was noticing things too.

The precision in your hits. The way you landed without sound. Your balance. Your calm. The way your heartbeat never spiked, even in the thick of blood and noise.

He’d heard it before— more than once, in quieter moments. In the space between conversations at your bookstore, when you handed him a cup of coffee and your fingers brushed his. In the office, when you laughed at something Foggy said and tried to hide it behind a file. He’d memorized your rhythm without ever meaning to.

And now, in the chaos, it was unmistakable. His chest clenched mid-fight.

You.

The realization hit him like a punch to the ribs, followed by an actual punch to the ribs. He quickly recovered and retaliated, still lost in his thoughts.

That was you moving beside him— calculated, silent, lethal.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to be like this. But you were. You moved like someone who didn’t just know violence— you had lived in it. Adapted to it. Survived it. He could hear it in the way you breathed, the way you anticipated hits like you'd studied the fight before it even started.

It clicked halfway through the second wave of men— when you threw your body in front of his and took a hit that should’ve been his. You winced, gritted your teeth, and kept moving like nothing happened.

He ducked under a pipe and drove his fist into a man’s gut, head spinning now for a different reason. You weren’t just the girl next door with the most cozy bookstore in the world.

You were trained. Conditioned. Deadly.

Widow, he thought. Of course. Of course, you’re a Widow.

The realization didn’t slow him down— if anything, it made him faster. He pivoted to cover your blind side just as you lunged forward to disarm the final gunman. Back-to-back, two silent protectors tangled in a storm of fists and steel and fury.

The last guy went down hard. Silence followed. Heavy breathing, the clatter of a gun skidding across the dock. You turned to look at Daredevil—

But he was already gone. Just like that.

Yelena jogged up behind you, wiping blood off her knife with a rag. “Okay,” she panted. “That was not part of the plan, but it was less of a shit show than I expected." 

You stared at the empty space where he’d vanished.

Your heart was still racing, but for a very different reason now.

“I… I think I know who that was,” you murmured.

Yelena raised an eyebrow. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging.”

You turned to her slowly, wide-eyed.

“Dude,” you said breathlessly. “You’re not gonna believe this.”

——————————————————————————————————

You slammed the door behind you, tossed your keys into the bowl by the entrance, and stood there for a second, wide-eyed and winded.

Matt. Murdock. Was. Daredevil.

You turned slowly to look at Yelena, who was flopped dramatically on your couch, one boot already off, the other halfway dangling.

"Okay," you said, pacing. "Okay. Okay."

Yelena raised a brow. “That’s a lot of okays.”

“He knows. He knows it’s me.”

"Did he say that?"

"No. But— he was there. Fighting next to me. You don’t just forget a person’s rhythm like that.”

“Alright, Mr Miyagi, calm down,” Yelena muttered. “Did he see your face?”

“No.”

“Then he doesn’t know,” she said with finality, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl she'd found somehow. “But you know he’s Daredevil?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Well... that’s fun,” Yelena said. “Kinky. Do you guys roleplay in the suit?”

You threw a cushion at her.

She ducked it easily, grinning. “Relax, Sunshine. He doesn’t know. We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

The next morning

You woke up to a single text on your phone.

Matt: We need to talk.

Your stomach dropped.

You stared at the screen for a full minute, then looked at Yelena, who was eating cereal out of your favorite mug like it was her house.

“He knows,” you said, voice flat.

She peered over the rim of the mug. “About the Widowing or the lying or the whole knife ballet by the docks?”

“All of it.”

Yelena snorted. “You’re being dramatic. He’s a man. I promise you he noticed nothing.

——————————————————————————————————

He didn’t knock.

You looked up from the counter of your shop just in time to see Matt step through the door— coat slung over one arm, jaw tight, his whole presence coiled and deliberate like he’d been rehearsing this confrontation all the way over. Your chest tightened. Behind the mystery section, Yelena dropped into a crouch like she was on mission.

“Hey,” you said cautiously.

Matt held up his phone. “Got your message.”

You blinked. “I didn’t—”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Right. That message.”

He moved to the counter, leaning forward just slightly. Trying to keep it civil. It wasn’t working.

“You lied to me.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“Fair enough,” he said flatly. “Last night. The ‘errands’ that somehow involved you taking out the entire Ranskahov crew with a very familiar blonde.”

Yelena’s voice drifted from behind the shelves: “Rude, I was extremely subtle.”

“You stabbed someone while humming Toxic, Yelena,” Matt said flatly.

“It’s called multi-tasking,” she shot back. "Wait, how'd you know I am blonde?"

Matt exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration leaking through his carefully even tone. “I thought I could trust you.”

You blinked, surprised by the weight behind the words.

“I don’t understand why you’d lie to me about something like this,” he went on. “You disappeared for a night, showed up in the middle of a takedown like it was routine, and didn’t think I’d figure it out?”

You crossed your arms, jaw tightening. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Matt’s brow creased. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been lying to me for months, Matt,” you snapped, eyes narrowing. “So forgive me if I don’t feel guilty for keeping one thing to myself.”

Yelena’s voice chimed in helpfully from behind the shelf. “Technically two things. You also said you were allergic to cats and we both know that’s a lie.”

Matt didn’t even look in her direction. “This isn’t the same, (Y/n).”

“No?” you shot back. “Because I remember you brushing off every bruise, every night you vanished, every time I found blood on your shirt. But when I keep something close to the chest, suddenly it’s a betrayal?”

He looked away for a beat, jaw clenched.  You stepped around the counter, folding your arms. “Yeah. So let’s not throw stones, Daredevil.”

Yelena raised a hand. “I’d like to throw one.”

“Shush,” you and Matt both said in unison.

“You really want to stand there and pretend like you’re on the moral high ground, Matt?”

Yelena popped her head up just long enough to say, “Oooh, he’s going to need ice for that burn,” then ducked back down.

Matt turned back toward you slowly, the fight draining from his posture, replaced by something quieter. Something closer to hurt.

“I’m not mad that you can handle yourself,” he said, softer now. “I’m mad that you didn’t let me in. That you didn’t think I could take it.”

You stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “Funny. I could say the same thing.” 

Yelena coughed meaningfully. “Anyway, since we’re all being honest now, can I get a ruling on whether this is a breakup or foreplay?”

You and Matt both groaned.

Matt turned toward her. “Do you have to be here for this?”

“Yes,” you and Yelena said at the same time.

You exhaled through your nose, some of the tension bleeding out of your shoulders. “I didn’t keep it from you because I didn’t trust you,” you said, voice quieter now. “I kept it from you because I didn’t want to ruin this. Whatever this is.”

Matt nodded slowly, like he understood— because he did. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

A beat passed.  

“I just didn’t want you in this world,” Matt said after a moment. “Not this part of it.”

You sighed. “I know. And I didn’t want you to see that side of me, either. Not if I didn’t have to.”

A pause. Something gentler settled between you.

“So what now?” you asked. “We just… go back to pretending we’re two normal people who work too much and flirt in the office kitchen?”

Matt smiled faintly. “That wasn’t pretending.”

You mirrored it. “Fair.”

He shifted on his feet. “We’re both good at lying. Maybe too good. But I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

“Me either.”

Another pause, not quite awkward. Just full. 

From behind the shelf: “Boring. Now either make out or fuck. I need to know what genre this is.”

You and Matt turned to her in sync.

“Get out,” you both said.

Yelena grinned. “Love you too.”

She made for the door with a dramatic little bow. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” you muttered. 

After the door shut behind her, the silence felt warmer. Softer. Matt was still observing you, his expression a little looser now, the storm behind his eyes finally settling. You stepped into his space without thinking. His arms slid around you like they’d been waiting for exactly this. 

Your cheek pressed lightly against his chest. “Well,” you murmured, “now what?”

Matt’s hand traced a slow line up your spine. “She gave us options before she left.”

You glanced up at him. “Options? Sounded more like a to-do list to me.”

A small, crooked smile tugged at his lips. “In that case, I have some ideas.”

[meenaxskz]

blackout in skz dorm | skz imagines

genre: crack warnings: language (i think ??) | mention of a ghost story ! pairing: platonic!OT8 x 9thmember!oc (meena king) summary : one peaceful night in the skz dorm… until the power goes out. now it’s nine idols, one candle, and zero survival instincts. a/n : wrote this for halloween last year and now I'm posting it on april fool's day... because I can. It's so stupid but I hope you enjoy it !

It was nearly 11PM.

Felix was curled up under his blanket, phone three inches from his face, giggling at a TikTok where a frog got slapped by a leaf.

Chan was in his room with headphones on working, like he was about to drop the next national anthem.

Meena sat cross-legged in her room upstairs, eyes glued to her Switch screen as she screamed at virtual enemies.

Han was in the shower, mid song, full drama, soap in his eyes.

Hyunjin had half a green skincare mask on and was dancing to some R&B track in the other bathroom.

Changbin was doing late-night squats in the hallway while blasting music in his headphones.

I.N was microwaving something very suspicious in the kitchen.

Seungmin was lying on his bed, deep into a murder mystery novel, highlighter in hand.

And Lee Know? Folding laundry silently in the dark like a serial killer.

---

Then...

Boom.

The dorm went pitch black.

Total silence before chaos :

“…hello?”

“…who touched the lights?”

“DID SOMEONE UNPLUG THE BUILDING??”

Upstairs, there was a loud THUMP THUMP...CRASH.

Meena, from the darkness:

“…I’m okay! Probably!”

Footsteps scrambled everywhere. A door creaked. Then a scream...

"WHY IS IT SO DARK I WAS NAKED"

A flashlight flicked on, casting a shaky beam across the hallway.

“Was that Han screaming?”

In the kitchen, I.N’s voice piped up, panicked.

“My noodles aren’t done!”

“They’re probably glowing now” Seungmin muttered somewhere in the dark.

“Don't joke...this is how horror movies start” Felix whimpered.

“It’s probably just a blown fuse” said a voice.

There was a long pause.

“…What’s a fuse?” -probably hyunjin

---

Everyone began staggering toward the living room like blind zombies. Meena limped in, one sock on, holding a Switch in one hand and an ice pack in the other.

“I fell down six steps. Maybe seven. I lost count.”

Chan, unimpressed “Again?”

“Shut up.”

Felix practically launched himself into the nearest couch cushion. “What if it’s ghosts?” he whispered.

“It’s not ghosts” Seungmin said, already digging for candles in a drawer.

“Are we sure though?? Because the fridge whispered something to me before the power cut.”

Chan opened the balcony door to check outside. The city skyline was just as dark. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, it’s the whole block. Looks like a general outage.”

“Cool cool cool” Han muttered. “I’m cold, half naked, and I smell like eucalyptus. Great night.”

A phone flashlight suddenly lit up Meena’s face from below. She shrieked.

“PUT THAT LIGHT DOWN.”

Hyunjin strolled in slowly, still shiny-faced and calm. “My face is marinating. I can’t even move my cheeks. Don’t startle me.”

Lee Know entered last, calmly, not even using a flashlight. He sat on the couch like nothing was happening, folding socks in the dark.

“Y’all are acting like electricity never existed.”

Meena pointed. “Why are you so calm?”

He looked up with deadpan calm “Because I am the ghost.”

Felix clutched Hyunjin immediately. “WHY WOULD HE SAY THAT.”

“I swear if someone breathes down my neck I’m swinging” Changbin muttered, now wrapped in a blanket.

“We need snacks” Meena said.

“There’s no microwave” I.N replied solemnly.

“Then we die hungry” Han groaned.

Chan finally lit a candle. Everyone stared at it like it was the holy grail.

“We’ll wait it out here” he said, voice calm but eyes tired. “Let’s not panic.”

Jisung scoffed “I’m already panicking.”

---

They all sat around in the dim flicker of the candle, slowly descending into a group cuddle pile of chaotic limbs and whispered theories.

“…Okay but like… if one of us was possessed, who would it be?”

Everyone looked at Lee Know.

He didn’t deny it.

---

20 minutes later, They accepted their fate. No power. No Wi-Fi. No hope. So naturally, they dragged all their pillows, mats, and blankets into the living room like they were prepping for war... against boredom.

Within 10 minutes, it looked like a kindergarten sleepover, but messier and louder.

Felix was already clinging to Meena’s side, tucked under the same blanket and whispering, “If the power doesn’t come back in an hour, I’m legally allowed to cry.”

She patted his head. “You’re already halfway there.”

On the other side of the room, Han sat cross legged, balancing his dead phone on top of a raw potato.

Chan looked up from the candle he was babysitting. “...Jisung. What are you doing.”

“SCIENCE” Han said dramatically. “You can power a clock with a potato. I saw it in a documentary.”

“That was a third grade science fair project” Meena pointed out.

“Exactly. If it worked for 9-year-olds, it can work for me.”

He then started poking the potato with a fork.

Seungmin sighed loudly from his corner. “This is why we can’t have power.”

Hyunjin was face-masking from memory, mumbling, “I swear if my skin breaks out because of this blackout, I’ll sue the entire country.”

Chan sat on a cushion like the stressed dad he was as Meena casually braided part of his hair. He didn’t stop her. He was too tired.

Lee Know was lying on the floor with a pillow over his face. He hadn’t spoken in twenty minutes. Some assumed he had entered a meditative trance. Others assumed murder was loading.

---

Eventually, the silence got too loud.

“I’m bored” Meena mumbled.

“Same” said like, four people at once.

Meena looked around. “Wanna tell ghost stories?”

“NO.”

“NO THANK YOU.”

“WHY WOULD YOU SUGGEST THAT WHEN WE’RE ALREADY IN THE DARK.”

Felix tightened his grip on her arm. “You hate me.”

“I love you, but also, this is character development... so who's going first ?”

Everyone looked around.

Lee Know didn’t move.

Chan looked like he wanted to but also didn’t want to emotionally relive anything.

Then...

Han sat up. His eyes narrowed.

He cracked his knuckles.

He smiled.

“I got one.”

A collective groan rippled through the group.

“NO”

“HE’S BEEN WAITING FOR THIS”

Meena grinned. “No no. Let him cook.”

---

Han leaned in closer to the candlelight, casting a perfectly dramatic glow on his face. He dropped his voice low.

“Okay,” he began, “this happened during our second year of training. Late at night. At the company.”

Everyone immediately got quiet.

Even Lee Know moved the pillow half an inch.

Felix immediately gripped Meena’s arm tighter.

Han continued.

“So, you know the third practice room? The one with the old mirror that’s kind of warped on the edges?”

Everyone nodded. Everyone knew that room. It had weird energy. Always too cold. Lights flickered for no reason.

“Well, I was there one night, working on lyrics. Alone. The lights were on. The hallway outside was dark, but I had the door cracked open a bit so I could hear if someone walked by.”

He paused.

“Only no one walked by.”

Another pause.

“The lights… went out. Just the practice room. Not the whole building. Just that room.”

Felix’s voice came out in a whisper. “Like right now?”

“Exactly like right now.”

Hyunjin shifted in his seat and rolled his shoulders. “I’m not scared, but like, can you get to the point?”

Meena side-eyed him. “You just tucked your knees into your shirt.”

“It’s cold.”

Han ignored the interruption.

“So I’m sitting there, trying not to freak out, right? I get up to leave. I grab my bag, go to the door... except when I try to open it…”

He looked around the group.

“…It doesn’t move. Like someone’s holding it from the other side.”

Felix let out a squeak and immediately slapped his hand over his mouth.

Meena patted his thigh. “You wanna go pee before he keeps going?”

“SHUT UP”

“I tried again. Nothing. So I turn around. And I swear to god there’s a girl in the mirror.”

Dead silence.

“She’s not moving. She’s not blinking. She’s just standing there, behind me.”

Someone inhaled sharply. It might’ve been Chan. It might’ve been all of them.

Han continued, calm, too calm.

“I spin around. No one’s there. But in the mirror? She’s still there.”

Hyunjin cleared his throat. “Okay but like… sometimes mirrors are weird...”

“Her reflection smiled at me,” Han cut in, voice dead serious. “But I wasn’t smiling.”

Felix was visibly trembling now, his eyes wide, both arms wrapped around Meena.

“If she shows up in our mirror I’m sleeping in the fridge,” he muttered.

Han leaned in closer. “I bolted. Kicked the door open. Ran into the hallway. No one was there. Not a sound. Just me and my heartbeat and, this is the worst part, I dropped my phone.”

A gasp. Possibly Meena this time.

Chan whispered, “No way.”

“I had to go back the next morning with staff to get it. You know what I found?”

Everyone leaned in slightly.

Han smiled darkly.

“A smudge. On the inside of the mirror. Like a handprint.”

The room fell into horrified silence.

Even Lee Know, from beneath his pillow, muttered, “Okay. That one was solid.”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Fake. Made up. Drama queen.”

“Your hand’s shaking.”

“It’s a muscle twitch.”

“I can literally hear your goosebumps.”

Felix turned to Meena, eyes glossy. “What if she’s in our mirror right now?”

“Then she can help pay rent.”

A beat passed.

Han sat back, clearly satisfied.

“So… who’s next?”

8 voices replied at once.

“NOT.”

---

Then...

CREEAAAAAK.

A long, slow, floorboard-creaking, horror-movie-grade sound from upstairs.

Everyone froze.

Eyes wide. Bodies stiff. The candle flame flickered like it knew it was about to witness trauma.

“…Did anyone else hear that?”

“I didn’t imagine it, right?”

“I would LIKE to imagine it, actually.”

BANG.

Something fell upstairs. Maybe a picture frame. Maybe a demon. Unclear.

Han immediately ducked behind Chan like he was bulletproof.

Felix curled tighter into Meena’s side.

Hyunjin physically picked up a pillow and used it as a shield.

Even Seungmin looked mildly startled, which meant internally he was screaming.

“Okay,” Chan said, standing up slowly like a brave yet internally sobbing leader. “Let’s not panic”

“Bro, something is moving up there.”

“Your leadership is not helping.”

“Can ghosts open drawers??”

“I think that was your skincare shelf, Hyunjin.”

“THEN IT’S PERSONAL!”

---

They immediately began the “who’s going upstairs” battle royale.

“Hyunjin, go check!”

“Why me?!”

“You’re tall, ghosts don’t fight tall people!”

“That’s not a thing!”

“Chan’s the leader, he should go!”

“I lead in music, not horror scenarios!”

Lee Know didn’t even lift his head. “Not me.”

“YOU LITERALLY SAID YOU’D FIGHT A GHOST BEFORE.”

“I said if I was already possessed, maybe.”

Then all eyes turned to Meena.

Changbin pointed at her like he’d just solved world hunger.

“Noona should go.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You always watch spooky shit! You’re used to this!”

Meena pointed at him with deep offense. “Hello?? What happened to chivalry??”

He shrugged. “It died the moment that noise happened.”

She folded her arms. “Okay yes I watch horror. Which is why I know we don’t split up and go investigate sounds alone!”

Everyone nodded. Fair point. But still no volunteers.

Eventually, Meena stood up with a dramatic sigh, grabbing her blanket like a cape.

“You’re all cowards.”

“Correct.”

“Yup.”

“Please survive.”

She took two steps toward the stairs when...

A hand grabbed her wrist.

“Wait!”

It was Minho.

She turned, eyebrow raised. “…You coming with me?”

He looked her dead in the eye.

“…No. You forgot your phone. For the light.”

He held it out casually.

Meena stared at him. “Wow.”

“You’re welcome” he said, going back to his pillow nest like nothing happened.

The room watched in silence as Meena climbed the stairs, flashlight bobbing, muttering under her breath the entire way.

Behind her, the boys waited at the bottom of the stairs like nervous cheerleaders with trust issues.

“Do you see anything?”

“Are the walls bleeding?”

“Text us if you die!”

“Text you if I...WHAT?”

---

Meena rolled her eyes, whispering to herself “Bunch of grown men, scared of creaking wood.”

She slowly turned the flashlight toward the hallway.

Everything looked normal.

Bedroom doors slightly open.

Nothing on the floor.

Then another soft sound.

A faint tapping.

Coming from...her room.

Of course.

Back downstairs:

Felix was hiding inside a blanket fort.

“I’m not scared, I’m just… protecting myself in case the ghost chooses violence.”

Changbin was standing behind Lee Know’s pillow throne.

“She better come back soon. Or I’m sending snacks as bait.”

“Snacks??”

“Yeah. Spirits love carbs.”

“Do they?”

“...I would, if I were one.”

Upstairs, Meena slowly pushed open her door.

Her flashlight scanned the room…

…and landed on the source of the sound.

Her curtain rod had fallen, knocking down a pile of books onto the floor. A pair of her headphones dangled from the edge of her desk.

She stared at the chaos in silence.

Then whispered:

“Seriously? That’s it?? That’s the horror movie jump scare??”

She turned around...

...and immediately screamed.

Jeongin was standing right behind her.

She smacked him with the blanket.

“WHAT THE HELL—”

“Don’t yell!! I thought you died!!”

“WHY WOULD YOU FOLLOW ME?!”

“I didn’t want to die downstairs with those idiots!”

---

Back downstairs, all they heard was :

“WHAT THE HELL”

“DON’T YELL!!”

“STOP BREATHING SO LOUD!!”

“I’M SCARED TOO, OKAY??”

Seungmin sighed. “So she’s fine.”

“Or she’s fighting a demon.”

Ten minutes later, Meena came stomping back downstairs with Jeongin trailing behind her like a kid.

“It was the curtain” she announced, tossing the blanket off like a cape.

“A CURTAIN?!”

“That’s what almost made me cry??”

“I want a refund on my emotional damage.”

“Hey” Meena said, pointing at Jeongin. “He’s the one who came up and gave me a heart attack.”

He frowned. “You’re welcome for checking on you.”

“You scared me more than the actual ghost would have!”

“You’re not mad, right?”

“…Only a little.”

Chan clapped his hands. “Alright. Crisis averted. Let’s not do ghost stories again.”

Han looked around “But I have another one-”

8 voices in unison:

“NO.”

⤷ main m.list ❟

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations. Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

[clare-875]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do this cute idea, where The One Piece boys (Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid) x female reader, but the reader is a short queen (shoutout to the short queens out there), like she has a petite and slender figure, a small chest size, and is 5'4 or below? How would the boys react? (It can either be them comforting her being self-conscious about her size or maybe some fluffy or comedic shenanigans, cutesy stuff, etc.)

Short & Sweet (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Law, Kid, Sabo)

_____ Pairings: Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader; Ace x Reader; Law x Reader; Kid x Reader; Sabo x Reader Summary: Their reaction to having a small girlfriend Warnings: Fluff, some angst & comfort, Female Reader A/N: This was such a cute idea, I hope you like the fic! 🥰 [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 2: Shanks, Crocodile, Mihawk, Katakuri, Smoker, Killer] _____

- Luffy -

Luffy pays little mind to your shorter stature or petite figure, in fact, if you bring up to him that at times you felt insecure, he would be utterly confused. At the end of the day, to him, you were the woman he wanted by his side when he became the King of the Pirates; his Queen if you will. So it didn't matter your looks as much your devotion and compassion and love mattered to him. In fact, if you ask him specifically, he would realise how much he adores your smaller form.

You were so easy to cling to as he flung around islands for adventure, and the way you looked up to him every day brought forth a warm feeling inside of him. He always had the natural instinct to protect the crew and that extended especially to you, but he would never cease to be in utter awe at the sight of your strength in battle, deceiving your opponent with your image. He would almost look at you with pride and not waste a second to compliment you.

"Shi shi shi. [y/n], you're so cool!"

- Sanji -

Sanji thinks that you are just perfect. The way your smaller form clings to him when he embraces you, the way you look up to him with utter love in your eyes, the way you meld into him just right. In the kitchen, he may even purposefully put things on higher shelves just so he had the luxury of being chivalrous towards you. Although this got annoying at times and you had to tell him off, it was all good intentions. He wanted to dote on you and spoil you and adore you.

If you were ever insecure about your height or figure, he was quickly there to reassure you. It is almost to the point where you don't even have the time to be insecure because Sanji is screaming compliments to you every other moment of the day. His favourite moments would be spent in the kitchen with you sitting on the counter as he cooks. He would pass you different foods to try and you would never cease to stop his heart from pounding just at the sight of you.

"My love, you are too beautiful for my heart to bear!"

- Zoro -

Zoro again is someone who pays little mind to the stature of his partner. However, he couldn't deny that he simply adores the way you look up to him with your glistening eyes or the way your smaller form clings to him in the depths of the night. It is all he needs to breathe. You are so dependable and courageous even with your smaller stature that he is always proud to call you his partner. Zoro will never say it, but the first time he saw you in battle, your smaller form deadly as opponents fell like flies to your feet, he was in utter shock. He doesn't think he had loved someone more.

If you ever bring up your insecurities with him, he will look to you like you have lost your mind but in secret, he just doesn't know how you could ever feel that way, you were so perfect. Though he does not know comfort, he would surprise you with murmurs under his breath about how you are beautiful and flawless. In saying this, if Zoro knows that you do not mind, he is not above teasing you. He secretly adored the way you pout and cross your arms when you face away in mock annoyance at him, but it does nothing but reaffirm the fact that you were too pretty, even if your anger was pointed at him.

"You're fucking cute when you're mad babe."

- Ace -

Ace adores your smaller figure and he finds you the most adorable thing he has laid eyes on. At times you have to pry his warm hands away from you because he just adores the feeling of having you in his hold every moment of the day. The way he has to lean down to capture your lips. The way he holds your smaller hand within his in the dark night, tracing patterns on your soft skin. You were just perfect to the man, and he never ceased to tell you and show you just that.

If you bring up your insecurities, Ace will be shocked, and quite frankly disappointed in himself for not having noticed or reassured you earlier. He is quick to utter comforts and envelop you in the depths of his warm arms. His heat almost engulfs you because of your smaller form, but you secretly adore the sensation of just feeling him in times when your mind is not kind to you. He would caress your hair and litter kisses from your forehead to your lips.

"You're perfect love, just the way you are."

- Law -

When you first asked to join Law's crew, he couldn't lie, he was sceptical at first due to your smaller stature. Maybe concerned was a better word as he knew the toils that came with being a pirate at sea. However, when you had surprised him with your valour and strength, there was no question that you just had to join his adventure upon the sea. Now, he could not imagine being on his adventure without you. Your smaller hands that carve through his hair, the way you hold him before you sleep, the way you blush as you look up to him after he kisses you.

If you ever bring up insecurities about yourself and your image he will be quick to reassure you of how perfect you are to him. "But did you see Robin and Nami, they looked so-" He would interrupt before your pretty mind worries too much. "They're not you love." And he means his words. How could you ever doubt yourself when your figure is what fits just right to him as he embraces you. Your smaller hands caress his face so gently, he felt as though he did not deserve it. You never failed to get his heart rate to pick up. Even the crew looked in wonderment at how you could melt Law's walls so easily.

"You're too good to me love."

- Kid -

Kid would never be the type to admit it but he secretly adores you and your smaller form. It gives him such a strong feeling of wanting to protect you and wanting to dote on you that he struggles to maintain his stoic composure around you. When he first met you, you were confused as to why he seemed so angry to you - angrier than usual compared to how he treated other crewmembers. However, it is only later that you learn from Killer it is because Kid was so enamoured by you that he didn't know how to control that feeling.

Kid will always deny, but he adores the way you would cling to him in the depths of the night, or how you would hold your smaller hand in his. He adores your figure even more, so perfect to hold and to touch. If you bring up your concerns about your figure or stature to him, he will seethe and growl in complete denial. "What the fuck are you talking about?" But his strong facade will crumble if he sees you are actually insecure about your slim figure and your height. If the two of you are in a quiet space he will be quick to place you in his arms as though to hide you from the thoughts plaguing your mind.

"You're perfect, I'll fucking kill anyone who says otherwise."

- Sabo -

Sabo is also one to not mind the height or figure of a partner so much, but he adores your smaller form more than you could know. He is good at hiding the way his heart rate picks up like nothing else when you look up at him with your beautiful eyes. He has to stop himself from leaning down and pecking your lips right then and there. You were beautiful, strong, perfect, and his. What else could he ask for in his partner?

He adores comparing your hands to his and holding you to him, your head resting perfectly on his thrumming heart. His want to protect you in battle is strong, but his want to see you fight in battles brings forth an awe that is stronger. Sabo could never let you compare your figure to others or let your insecurities become too much to bear. To him, you were just perfect and he would always make sure to reassure you whenever you confided in him. He would caress you gently, murmuring comforts into the depths of your hair.

"You, my love, are beautiful. No one can compare to you"

[crimsoncandy04]

While fighting Scaramouche's robot, some of our clothes got ripped, and Scaramouche then did what he wanted until the reader couldn't take it anymore~

You watch as a giant metal hand suddenly comes crashing down from above and falls onto Traveler.

You scream out his name as you watch him try to get up while Scaramouche reels back to strike him again from inside the mecha bot. Yet even as you draw your blade and try to rush over to block it, you know you're already too late.

Nahida interferes. You notice a small movement from Aether's arm as if he was trying to get your attention and gesture to the small goddess. Telling you to help her instead.

You don't hesitate. Aether always had a plan. He always ended up okay.

But what about the dendro archoness?

You quickly use your electro vision and warp yourself across the floor as fast as you can. Grabbing onto Nahida and pulling her with you out of sight to safety.

However, you just barely make it.

And in the process of rescuing the goddess of wisdom, Scaramouche had slammed his enormous metal fist into the ground again and nearly smashed you flat. But instead of doing that, the oversized mech appendage had merely scraped your side and left not only your entire right arm aching, but your entire chest now completely exposed as well.

You sat Nahida on her feet as you quickly tried to gather the remaining pieces of your dress top and yank it over your shoulders to give yourself some modesty, but you didn't have time as Scaramouche swung at you both again when he heard you swear from your hiding place.

He missed again but only because this time, Nahida protected YOU instead.

She saw your distressed expression and immediately tried to use her own power to shield you but it wasn't strong enough.

Nahida is out cold much like Traveler a few meters away.

And now you kneel before The Balladeer all alone.

Injured.

And with your tits out.

Basically.

You quickly try to cover yourself with one arm instinctively as you struggle to your feet, grasping your blade as you prepare to go out with some dignity and die fighting for your friends at the very least, however instead of hitting you again or using any elemental attacks to obliterate you to pieces on the sanctuary floor, Scaramouche seems to have a different kind of death prepared for you and uses his giant metal hand to reach down and quickly snatch you up by the belt hanging from your waist.

You are hoisted hundreds of feet in the air and dangled before the face of the vile robot as the controller capsule slowly opens to reveal the face of your most likely killer. Scaramouche.

He gave you a smug and condescending look as he brought you closer to him.

"I find it rather laughable that a strong warrior like yourself is reduced to such a lowly state!"

You try to slap him with your injured hand but he just grabs you by the wrist instead.

"look at you. Exposed to your enemy like a common whore! Heh. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised though."

Scaramouche reaches with his free hand and pinches one of your nipples hard.

"This body of yours was never one of a fighter's. At least like this these exaggerated...assets of yours will be put to a much better use."

You wince as Scara continues to fondle your tits roughly.

"What the hell are you doing Balladeer!?" You sneer. This was low even for him.

He just chuckles at you.

"enjoying the rewards of a victorious battle sweetheart. You shouldn't be surprised. Everyone says you're the Traveler's woman you know? And I beat him. I'm just taking what now belongs to me."

He moves his hand from your breast to your stomach. Slowly moving down until his fingers caress against your pubic mound. You brace yourself as you feel Scara slowly dip a finger into your womanhood, followed by another. He moves slowly at first. Maintaining eye contact with you at first as he gazes down at you with a teasing look.

He knows you can't do anything to stop him.

And he's enjoying it.

"I hate you!" You hiss.

Scaramouche just grins cheekily as his fingers curl inside you and cause you to squeak a little as you quickly try to yank your hand free from him so you could silence yourself and save what dignity you had left.

"We'll see if you still feel the same way when I'm done with you angel."

Scara continues to play with your pussy as you blush and struggle to keep your lips sealed. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing you were enjoying this.

He didn't deserve it!

Yet he seemed to almost know intuitively.

"don't bother acting like you don't love this. You might as well drop this stubborn act now because the more you resist, the more pleasure I'll inflict upon you." You feel your insides tighten as he begins to rub against a sensitive spot inside of you and finally you falter.

"Please don't. This feels too good! Please this isn't fair!" You whine as he keeps up his pace and softly hums to himself as he listens to your plea.

"beg me, you filthy parasite. I want to hear you beg me to make you cum as you make a mess on my hand. Maybe after that, I'll release you."

You feel your gaze fall from his as you struggle to form words. You couldn't say such lewd things. Wasn't Aether still just below you? What if he heard you? You forced yourself to maintain your silence.

Your orgasm was hitting you seconds after that and only after finger fucking you through it completely, did Scara slip his hand away from your dripping sex and bring his fingers to his mouth as he licked them clean.

"I think I enjoy the way you taste mortal. Perhaps I'll have to break my promise and keep you after all."

You tried to retort with what energy you had left but Scaramouche was pulling you into the robot with him before you could even process what was happening.

You were slammed into the furthest glittering wall as the opening closed behind you quickly. After that you felt Scaramouche grasping your thighs as he spread your legs wide and slid in between them.

"There's something I've always wanted to try. Don't worry, I've heard human women are delicate creatures when it comes to this type of thing. I won't break you here sweetheart."

You heard the sound of fabric rustling in the darkness. Felt your skirt being lifted as he teased the tip of his cock against your slit.

Oh archons.

This was actually happening.

The Balladeer was going to fuck you.

Like actually fuck you.

You felt your breath hitch in your throat as he slowly slid his large length inside of your tight cunt.

"ah~ your cock is...scara it's too big!"

You could almost feel the shit eating grin that was on his face.

"I know angel. It's but one of the countless ways I am superior to humans. "

You feel him thrust into you then. Moving slowly at first to let you adjust as he continued to hold your legs apart.

Surprisingly enough, he knew how to move his hips. And when he picks up the pace a little, you finally lose yourself and moan softly as Scaramouche fucks into you as deeply as he can.

"You're taking me so well. I'm surprised."

He thrusts a little harder as you gasp and moan a little louder.

"Scara you're hitting against my g spot too much!" You whine cutely. He just silences you with a quick kiss. His lips trailing from your mouth to your neck. He whispers into your ear in a sultry tone.

"you seem to be enjoying it though dear. So I plan on fucking you for as long as I want." He emphasized his point with a rather rough thrust against your sweet spot. Causing you to cry out as you feel yourself reach your peak again.

Yet he just continued.

After a few hours of this you swore you were going insane. Every thrust felt like it was more intense than the last. Your used cunt made the most unholy squelching sounds as Scara continued to fuck into your oversensitive pussy like you were nothing but a mere toy for him. You had lost count of just how many orgasms he had forced out of your body and at that point you didn't really care anymore.

Was this really that bad?

Archons his cock felt better than anything you had ever imagined.

Scaramouche had used his body to pin your knees next to your head on either side as he held your hands with his. It was a rather intimate position but you didn't think too deeply about it.

Because as you felt him gently kiss your neck and continue to pound into you, you felt like you were made for this.

Was this... what it felt like to go crazy?

"Scara please...I can't take anymore ~" you moan sweetly as you struggle to get your point across.

He kisses you again before responding.

"you'll take it until I say you are finished. Now just let go sweetheart. Give yourself to me fully. Don't worry about anything but what I'm giving you." He murmured before biting into your neck and thrusting even faster into you.

You wanted to say something. But you couldn't find the strength to anymore.

Scara's cock felt so good.

You wanted him to fuck you more.

Until you went insane.

You reached up with your good hand and held onto him as you begged for another kiss pitifully.

This wasn't that bad of a fate.

Perhaps a life as the fuck pet of a false god...was truly one you had always been destined for.

He was the everlasting lord of arcane wisdom now after all. Of course he was right about something like that and he had even been generous enough to have helped you fulfill such a destiny himself too~

Why had you ever lifted a sword against such a wise and benevolent god?

At least now you were where you were always meant to be.