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catiuskaa · 4 months

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I.O.U. [pinky promise]

SUMMARY: minho’s fear of heights is not alone, because airplanes are also in the equation. but rest assured, lovely strangers like you are there to help him.

TAGGING! @evermourning, i finally finished minho’s vers <3 hope you like it!

TW: slight panic attack, mentions of anxiety, mentions of aerophobia (fear of flying), swearing, [still fluff af].

WC: 3.1k

[★☆✈️☆★]

Everyone that knew a bit of StrayKids and their members knew for a fact that their second oldest hyung had a problem with heights. But, added to the issue, planes where also not really a comfortable idea for the cat owner, as mandatory as they were for his career path.

“We’re on the airport, can we go back now?” He’d joke everytime they had to travel, sometimes earning small giggles from Jisung, Hyunjin or Felix, or teasing groans from Seungmin.

They had been informed that this airplane’s rows had space for two people per row. Normally the situation would be handled by sitting one of the members next to him, and he was fine with that.

“Oh, the seat 16A can’t be used due to its condition in case of evacuation. Excuse us for the late notice, we’ll find you other seat right away.”

Fuck.

Shit.

Fuck.

He had simply nodded, looking at his only hyung with anxiousness on his eyes. Yongbok hugged his arm while Han held his hand tight.

“It’ll be ok, Minho hyung.” Jeongin tried to comfort him. He smiled weakly, wishing for the youngest to be right, but deep down, he knew it was bullshit. He felt dizzy, and he hadn’t even got on the damn plane to begin with. Chan offered to trade seats, but all truth be told, he felt like he needed to do this one on his own. He liked that the members supported him, but he didn’t want to be babied. Even if he would complain about the alleged “lack of empathy” the group had with him —always in a teasing manner— he declined the offer nicely.

He left Felix’s side once the row 16 was behind him, seating in one of the two seats in row 21, as far as he could from the window, even though he could still see the finger connected to the plane and some people coming inside it. He knew that Changbin and Seungmin weren’t far away from him. He’d be ok. Yeah. He could do this. He was Lee Know, pro idol. He had to hold back the awkward giggle that the thought gave him, and snorted lowly.

“Sorry, can I…?” You trailed off, apologetically pointing to the seat next to him. He smiled sheepishly and nodded, feeling his tongue stuck, and connected it to because of how nervous he was, letting you pass through. You sat next to him, smiled kindly and then looked down at your phone.

He stared at you for a bit, a bit jealous of how calm you looked. He was on the edge, thinking of walking out and paying for a taxi. From Australia to Korea? Nevermind. On a second thought, he would pay for a fucking submarine. Or autostop… with boats. Or swim.

At this point, he wasn’t sure if he would mind drowning too much.

“First time flying? You look kinda nervous, mate.” You joked lightly, taking one of your headphones off when you noticed his eyes on you, his fidgeting and his shaky leg.

He noticed an Australian accent rolling off your tone, and the known sound made him relax a bit.

“Oh… s-sorry… eh, no, actually. It’s just… It’s for work, but I don’t really… enjoy…flying.” He stumbled on his words, his hands traveling below his thighs. He felt them cold. And sweaty.

God, this was going to be the death of him.

“Damn. That’s tough. Sorry for you, bud.” You sighed, sharing the shittyness of his situation.

“It’s fine, I guess. You? Work related?” He never was in the mood for initiating small talk, but he desperately needed to cling onto something so he would just stop thinking about the fucking plane.

“Nah. Visited the family, going back home now.” You smiled at him, trying to comfort him a bit. “Hope they pay you well if they make you fly.” You laughed.

He giggled slighlty, and nodded. “Not to brag, but that they do. At least I have that.” You laughed at his honesty.

You presented yourself in hopes of making him feel less awkward. With a slight hesitation, you ended up adding. “Just, don’t be afraid of pulling my headphones off or anything if you need. It’s ok to be scared, mate,” you mentioned with a calm smile. “You know, my sister is terrified of heights. I know its not the same… but stilll. ‘M used to it.”

Minho looked at you as if you had fallen straight from Heaven, all for the right reasons. “…pretty name. Uh. Yeah.” He mumbled messily, to which you laughed. He smiled. “Lee Minho. Don’t tempt me too much, ‘cause I might destroy the seat in a panic attack.”

You giggled, and that lowered the burden on his shoulders a bit.

The conversation died, turning in a comfortable silence, but Minho regained conciense of his surroundings once the plane started working, the vibration of the motors all through the plane. He started shaking his leg anxiously, picking the skin between his fingers. Unbeknownst to him, his breathing pace quickened by minutes. He could hear his heartbeat right on his ears.

Fuck, he couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t-

“Hey, Minho, you there?”

Your soft tone of voice brought him back for a second. You noticed how he eyed to the window behind you, so you closed it. You took out of your pocket your headphones, and bended down to your backpack just to take other headphones and an adapter, plugged it to your phone and gestured to him.

“Care to miss the evacuating instructions? If it makes you feel any better, I know them by heart. Pinky promise.”

He smiled lightly, a tad embarassed, still, a small chuckle left his lips as he took the headphones.

“You choose or I choose?”

He seemed troubled, a bit lightheaded, subconciously focusing more on the plane than anything else.

“We’ll take turns, then.” You smiled.

You played music by presing the shuffle button on your liked songs, skipping until you’d find something to listen to. Bruno Mars came along, and you let it be. It was a safe choice, right? Who doesn’t like Bruno Mars?

When Finesse started playing on his headphones, Minho failed holding back a smile. The known melody caressed his mind, the shaking now turned to tapping to the rythm. You smiled and let him be, feeling better now that your flightmate didn’t look like he wanted to die before departure, and happy that you had been able to help.

You left your phone on your leg, clinging your arm on the the armrest in between both of you. He tried to get comfortable, just to find your hand in the same place as his. He quickly apologized, pink tinting his cheeks, and you brushed it off with a sympathetic smile.

But then, the airplane started going faster, and faster, and the music wasn’t able to cover the sound that the air made when crashing to the metal walls of the aircraft. Minho felt on the edge of a heart attack, and in a desperate cry to just calm down he gripped your wrist, to which you turned your arm to hold his hand properly, caressing his palm with your thumb. It reminded him of what Yongbok used to do, and the familiar thougth calmed his dizzy, crowded mind for a few seconds.

“Hey champ, we’re on air.”

Again, your voice made him open his eyes, ones he didn’t realise he had closed, and suddenly, he recognised the new melody that was playing for both of you.

“…Wonder Girls?” He whispered, staring deeply into your eyes.

You blinked repeatedly, confused, then smiled. “Oh, yeah. You don’t like it? You can change the music if you want…”

“No…! It’s… it’s ok.”

Minho found himself forgetting about flying, focused on the music, without being able to notice his small smile and pink colored cheeks nor how he was humming to the melody.

Half of the flight had passed, which meant 5 hours had passed and other 5 were left. Minho had fallen asleep, one of the headphones hanging low on his neck, the other one threatening to fall down.

Turbulence shook the aircraft slightly, enough for the sleeping beauty to move, head falling to your shoulder. You tensed up, blushed, then relaxed and leaned into him, effort settled on trying to find a position that wouldn’t mean infinite neck pain the moment he would wake up.

“Don’t worry too much. He owes you a big one, but he’s a heavy sleeper. Plane could fall down and he wouldn’t notice.” Another strong-looking young man with black, slightly-curled hair joked. He was waiting in line for the bathroom. He was strangely wearing a black rain hat, inside of the plane. You thought of it as extravagant, but brushed it off.

“Oh, you know him?” You questioned with a small smile.

He giggled, and you knew he was smiling underneath his black mask because of the creases close to his eyes. “You could say that, yeah,” he teased. “We work together.”

“That makes me feel better. He seemed quite nervous before.”

“I hope he isn’t giving you any trouble…” he mentioned with an awkward tone.

“Not at all, mate! Don’t sweat, he’s really kind. Wish my coworkers were this nice.”

He blinked, eyes big, surprise pampered all over the features you could see. “Kind?”

“Yeah…?” You answered with doubt in your tone.

“No… it’s just that, mind you, but no one really describes Minho hyung as kind. Not by a first impression, really... no, but he is, yeah. ‘M glad you noticed, otherwise the trip could be very long.”

You giggled lowly, still slightly confused but happy that at least Minho wasn’t traveling completely on his own.

“Oh, sorry. Seo Changbin.” He tilted his hat on your direction, and you snorted while presenting yourself.

“G’day, mate.” You winked.

“See ya, Aussie.” He teased.

You’d kept on reading in your phone, Minho snuggling into you from time to time which made your cheeks pink as you laughed as lowly as you could, because sleeping when afraid of flying was really one of the best medicines, but suddenly noticed the belt sign turning on. Windows still fully blue, you sighed at the thought of turbulence coming. So you wouldn’t need to move Minho, you clung your feet to your backpack and stuffed everything inside of it, leaving only your small blanket and phone outside, alongside with the pair of headphones. You’d taken Minho’s a while ago, as they had fallen onto his lap.

The armrest was pushed back so Minho could lay on your shoulder better, and you doubted if you should lower it down. You definetely didn’t want to wake him up, that’s for sure. The plane started shaking, enough for anyone to notice, but you focused on putting Minho’s belt on, finally decided on lowering the armrest, setting his arm first and then you made yours link to his as smoothly as you could, holding hands.

You noticed that as the airplane trembled, Minho was waking up.

“Minho, you up?” You whispered, your warm breath on his neck giving him chills.

He tensed up, squeezing your hand as soon as he noticed his surroundings shaking. He suddenly felt small, anxious and in total danger.

“Minho, can you hear me? If you feel like you can’t answer, nod.”

He nodded.

“I want you to concentrate on my voice, can you do that?”

His grip on your hand got tighter as the aircraft kept shaking, but he nodded.

“Do you know how airplanes fight off turbulences?”

“N-no…” he mumbled.

“Basically, the usual protocol is to avoid them.” You started speaking softly into his ear, barely a murmur, tracing shapes with your fingers on the back of his hands and the part of his forearms that could be seen because of the sleeves of his shirt, rolled up just below his elbows.

“There are two ways of dealing with them.” You looked at him, noticing how his eyes were fixiated on the movements your hand made, making you move your gaze to the bracelet he was wearing. “One, they are prepared for it and they avoid it.”

“What if they aren’t prepared?” He mumbled, fear showing through his weak tone. You smiled, because he was trying to pay attention to you and at least a bit less to the airplane.

“Then the pilot goes above or below it, that’s why you feel like the plane is going up or down really fast. But it’s a controlled move.” You noted. “You’re not in danger, Minho.”

He suddenly nuzzled into your neck, trying to hold back tears. He felt safer, but still, his heartbeat kept running like crazy, beating so loud that he could hear it in his ears. Breathing turned like a complicated task as he struggled to keep calm.

“Follow my breathing, Minho. I need you to do that, ok?”

You started breathing in and out at a really slow pace, noticing him following you despite trembling from crying silently into the crook of your neck. A small voice in your head whispered a question, and for a moment you agreeded, because why wasn’t this a bit awkward? Why were you feeling all flustered and worried over someone you met less than 10 hours ago?

The turbulence went away, and the plane stopped shaking.

You moved the hand that was free, the other still holding Minho’s, and you softly stroked his hair. He moved his head back from you a bit, just enough for you to notice the tears on his cheeks. You quickly wiped them away and smiled.

“It’s ok, Minho. It’s over.”

He blushed and nodded, eyes glossy as he leaned back on his seat, his cold hand never leaving your warm one, trying to calm himself. Thank God you were there.

“I’m-“

“Don’t you dare apologize,” you threatened in a teasing manner. “You’re ok. It’s no big deal, really.”

He felt heat rush to his face as a smile plastered in your features. He closed his eyes, flustered, and eventually fell asleep again.

The plane landed while he was sleep. You wondered how much could a person sleep, because out of the ten hours of flight, he slept for almost 6 of them, when you could only manage to rest for 3.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, you made it.” He looked at you, as if something was different, as you walked through his legs to go get your suitcase from the compartment above.

“I didn’t wake up for landing?” He asked softly, voice a bit raspy.

“Nope. Slept through it like a lucky motherfucker,” you laughed.

He started tiding up his stuff in his backpack and thanked when you gave him his own luggage.

“It was a pleasure to meet ya. I’ll see ya again. G’day!”

Minho froze as you walked away. He felt a little sting on his chest, one he didn’t quite understand as he shook his head sideways as joined the rest of the group outside.

But then, a femenine voice called.

“Chris!”

He recognized that voice. That voice that had lulled him to sleep, to a state of calmness that he had never achieved before in an airplane.

“Mate!”

You and Chris shook hands vigorously, patting each other’s backs.

After all, how could you forget your co-star in that tv add from years ago? Your mom still had contact with his mom —as weird as it can sound— and still made funny remarks about it; a long-lasting joke in the family by now.

“I knew your name sounded familiar!” You smiled to Changbin, starting some sort of small talk as the fellow Aussie presented each member.

Yeah. Minho scoffed.

Luck? Most likely?

Unbelievable.

Of course you knew Chan. Everyone knew Chan, for fuck’s sake. He directed himself to Han and Jeongin, not thinking about the fuzzy feeling on his hands when he eyed to yours, as if wanting to hold them again.

What the fuck? What was going on with him?

Their security came by pretty fast, allowing you to tag along with them as it was too early in the morning for anyone to really care. The members walked in front of you, who was ‘caching up’ with Chan.

“So? What do you think?” Chan asked in the strongest accent he could, as a way of making it harder for the rest to understand.

“He’s brave. And kind. I’m surprised he didn’t kick me for being too nosy or touchy.” He gave you a look as he wiggled his eyebrows, and you pushed him teasingly as he giggled. “Shut up, you cunt. You’re lucky I was on the plane.”

“Thanks, mate. I owe you one.” He mentioned sincerely. “And Minho does, too.” He teased, winking at you.

Because it wasn’t mere coincidence the fact that you were so nice to Minho, helping him out. You’d recognised the name, and his face looked thoroughly familiar. As soon as the idol fell asleep you texted your friend, hoping he was using the airplane’s wifi. He replied asking for a favour, for you to take care of the pretty man till landing, because Chris was quite worried about him.

You walked with them until they reached the cars prepared for the group. And when he was just about to run the whole hallway to ask you to wait, begging for someone, anyone, to do something about how the fuck was anything of this even possible or real, you turned and hugged Chan, waving goodbye to the members from outside the car.

Minho and you locked gazes, and you quickly pointed to your left wrist with your cheeks turning pink, leaving the parking and walking towards your own vehicle.

He didn’t understand, but remained looking to your figure from the distance and how it became smaller and smaller while they were exiting the airport.

“What’s that, hyung?”

He turned around to face Jeongin, who was chewing some strawberry gum that the members were passing around for regulating the pressure after the flight, and looked to where he was pointing: his left wrist.

Tied to his black bracelet, the one you’d been fidgeting with, there was a small, light blue ribbon. Something clicked on his head as he now knew what was different: your hair was resting on your shoulders when he woke up. He untied it with utter care on his movements, causing a slight surprise on Jeongin, and Hyunjin —as we all know, curiosity killed the dumpling.

Since when did their hyung took so much care in something so small?

“Well? What is it?” Hyunjin asked.

Minho held back a smile as he read what was scribbled on the small fabric.

‘Think my name’s pretty? I think you’ll like this better.’

Followed by… a phone number.

He smiled, flustered. He didn’t like it.

He loved it.

~kats, who wanted to post because IDK, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!1!1!!1!1!!11

#i love this #stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #soft hours #stray kids lee minho #lee minho fluff #minho fluff #lee minho #stray kids minho #minho x reader #minho x y/n #minho x you #lee know x you #lee know fanfic #lee know x reader

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mint-yooxgi · 5 months

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Promises - Yandere!Kraken!Felix

Yandere AU & Kraken AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Felix X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,958

Warnings: Implied violence and shipwreck, kidnapping, Felix is a type of Sea God in this, mentions of past sexual relations. Tentacles. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Did I base the start of this drabble on the ending scene in Dead Man's Chest? Perhaps. Is this a bit tamer than the others. Maybe. Either way, I still hope you like it! I've been slowly easing myself back into writing, so I'm happy with what I've been able to do. Plus, I just fucking love the banner I made for this hehehe... Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Thirteenth of The Feral Drabbles

They thought they could keep you away from me.

They really thought they could keep you away from me.

It’s laughable. I thought it was a known rule for sailors not to anger the sea, but alas. Here we are.

The frantic screams and shouts don’t deter me for one second. I know what I came here for, and I’m not leaving without you. You’re mine. I warned them what the consequences would be, yet still they refused to give you to me. Even after we promised ourselves to each other! Can you believe that?

Oh, that sounds so harsh. It’s not like you didn’t also choose me. It’s these… these… things keeping us apart. They don’t understand our love. Think I’m corrupting you, or something.

Such bullshit. The only thing I’m corrupting is their ability to live.

They hid you on the third level, thinking you’d be safe within the deepest confines of the ship. Little do they know it’s the worst place you could be. It’s like they want you to get hurt, like they want me to kill you. Such things I would never do.

Still, despite my anger as I tear this floating piece of wood apart, I’m careful. Your safety is my top priority, and I’ve already ensured that. Right now, you rest, cocooned inside a few of my tentacles. Magic surrounds you, ensuring none of their attacks have any effect on me or you. Like hell I’ll allow them to disturb you now. Besides, you passed out shortly after my assault started on the ship, but you don’t have to worry. I’ve got you.

I can still remember when we first met, how you told me you didn’t fare well with sea travel. Yet another offence they’ve made against you. I’ll never forgive them for their transgressions. Sinners need to pay, and I am here to pass my divine judgement on those that would call themselves ‘heroes’.

Do not fear, My Beloved. Once I finish smashing apart this pathetic excuse of driftwood, I’ll take you home.

Where you’ve always belonged.

With me.

These planks are so brittle, it’s almost laughable. Your captor’s pathetic attempts to defend themselves are cute, in a way. If not for the fact that every time I start to pull you out of the wreckage, more of them show up to try and hinder me. I don’t know why they’re so obsessed with protecting you now when they’ve never done so before.

I’m the one who always saves you. I’m the one who ensures you no harm. Not them.

No matter. They haven’t seen everything that I can do. My capabilities far surpass what their puny, closed off minds can comprehend. I’ve got magic beyond the darkest depths of the ocean, strength greater than the harshest of tides. There is no being, save myself, that could keep me away from you.

I don’t even know why they try.

Finally, I’m able to pull you out of that godforsaken wreckage and unleash my full wrath upon these wretches. The boat snaps like a twig as I pull the debris and all remaining survivors below the surface.

None will survive. They don’t get to. I won’t let them.

Honestly, it’s kind of fun tearing stuff apart. I’ve always enjoyed making a mess of things. I only wish you could be awake to see just how strong your lover can be. After all, I’m doing this for you. I warned them about what would happen should they lay their filthy, traitorous hands all over you. I’m simply staying true to my word!

You know firsthand that I’m a very truthful guy. I would never lie to you, My Pearl. I would rather be slow roasted over an open fire than even think to deceive you.

Aren’t I so loyal?

Oh. Right. You aren’t awake to hear my teasing. Teasing which you seem quite fond of whenever I’m with you.

I think you just like hearing my voice…

That’s okay, Beloved. I will speak for as long as you desire me to. Besides, the feeling is quite mutual.

Gods- I can’t wait to see your face when you wake up in our home, and I get to tell you everything that I’ve done for you. Finally, we can be together, free of oppressive opinions and suppressive stares. Where I’m taking you, we can be ourselves, and the magic of my ocean will keep you safe. Eventually, when you’re ready, you’ll even become like me, too.

Won’t that be incredible? Just thinking about it makes my whole body tingle.

Or maybe that’s just the change in depth.

I promise my home isn’t too much further out, and it’s in a safe area. You’ll be able to live here with me free of any restraints. I’ll be your comfort. I’ll be your guide. I will provide for you everything you will ever need.

There is nothing stopping our love now.

I’ll even make sure that no sliver of the wreckage I just caused gets to you. The currents listen to me. They’re my friends, and soon they will be yours, too.

Either way, I’m glad that’s over, because now I can focus on you! I know that you’d be celebrating with me if you were awake, but for now, I’ll simply revel in this sweet victory alone. Having you safe in my arms is enough reward, and when you wake, the true celebration will begin.

Hmm, I wonder what we should do first? Should I take you to the reefs so you can see all of the colourful coral that I’ve grown just for you? Should I present you to the schools of fish that always seek refuge around my house? Get them to revel in your beauty? Or maybe I’ll worship you in the den of our own personal sanctuary, where nothing - no one - will be able to interrupt.

My Beauty.

My Beautiful, Beloved Pearl.

I’ll admit, there’s a certain ring to those names that I enjoy. It calls to me like the cavernous songs of the sirens. An enchantment I can never seem to escape: you.

Not that I want to.

No. Never. Not since the very first time I laid eyes on you.

You’re addictive, you know that? One glance caught my attention. One melodic note of a spoken word, and I was hooked. Your eyes are deeper than the darkest sea, and I could swim in them forever. You hold me, transfixed, with your gaze whenever you look at me, and I never want it to stop.

Honestly, I can never grow tired of you looking at me. I want you to look at me, and only me. I want to be the first thing you see in the morning when you blink those glorious eyes open, and the last thing you see when you go to sleep at night. I want to wrap you in my arms and hold you close, whispering the sweetest words of all the worlds in your ears, and hear you do the same for me in return.

There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Beloved, and I will never hesitate to prove that to you. With me, you will never have to settle for less than what you deserve, for I will always give you every single thing your heart could ever desire.

Fuck- I can still remember the way your body trembled from the very first touch. The more I trailed my arms over your body, letting the tips of my tendrils caress your skin, the more your whole being warmed. You fit so perfectly in my hold, that I long to always touch you - to always be near you, and obey your every whim.

I am but your loyal servant, sent to worship the very depths of your soul. Your entire being calls to me, and I could bathe in your warmth for all eternity. Right now, it’s that warmth that I crave more than anything. That glorious nectar that seeps from between your legs beckons to me. One taste isn’t enough. I need to feel you flooding my every sense once more.

Sweet.

Addictive.

I could spend ages defining it, but nothing could ever truly put into words just how ethereal you are to me.

People always thought my existence was mere myth itself. Rumours and legends only meant to scare those away from pursuing adventure on the high seas. Nothing more than a fable to tell their children at night to ensure they don’t go off swimming in the bay alone.

They have always been, and will always be, wrong.

I’m as real at the tide, as sure as the sand that resides against the ocean floor. There is nothing in these waters as deadly as I am, and all those that oppose us will face my wrath.

Well, where we’re going, we won’t have to worry about being disturbed at all. Plenty of room for the both of us. Plenty of privacy. No one dares disturb that which should be left undisturbed. At least, those smart enough to.

That is, of course, unless I use my magic to let those sirens get a taste of their own medicine. Water echoes even the smallest of sounds, and yours should be heard for miles around. I can still hear your glorious voice calling out my name as you bathed me in your own sacred waters, and I want all to know that you are mine, and I am yours. For all eternity.

I’ll admit… I’m addicted to you, and I can never get enough. Though, from the way I remember your hands clinging to me that night only days ago, I don’t think you can get enough, either.

Good thing we have forever to spend fully satisfying each other!

Ah… looks like we’re finally getting close to home. I can see the familiar drop off up ahead. Don’t worry, Beloved, there’ll be plenty of air for you to breathe inside. I won’t always have to keep you covered in a veil of magic. Though, I would always like to have an arm around you. Feeling your skin pressed against my own is a sensation unlike any other, and I long to never let you go.

Perhaps I should tidy up a little more before you wake. I always have way too much energy after destroying a ship. Something about adrenaline and all that.

Perhaps when you wake up you could even help me with it… You might be a bit tired and disoriented when you wake, but my magic can help with your exhaustion. You seemed to like that that last time I used it on you.

How else could we have gone as many rounds as we did?

Oh, you flatter me by pulling yourself in closer to me subconsciously when I shift into such a basic form. It easier to move around like a human within my home when it’s drained like this, and besides, I haven’t exactly shown you my entire true form yet. The last thing I want to do is scare you as soon as you wake up. You’ve already suffered the trauma of being stolen away from me today. I don’t want to make things worse.

There. All you need to do is rest now.

In my arms? Well, who am I to pull away from My Pearl when you’re clinging onto me so tightly in your sleep?

I truly can never say no to you…

Just rest, Beloved. This creature shall keep you safe, tucked away deeply in his heart for all eternity. Once you open those glorious eyes of yours, our own adventure will start.

Just you and me, forever.

I promise.

#cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #yandere felix #yandere stray kids #yandere skz #yandere kpop #felix smut #felix scenarios #skz smut #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #kpop smut #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kraken au #chubby reader

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kiwisbell · 7 months

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The Impaler

Chief Detective Tim Rockford makes a breakthrough in New York City’s latest serial killer case. The mysterious culprit is in the mood to share more than information.

my masterlist!

pairing: tim rockford x f!reader x max phillips

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: vampires, gothic architecture, slightly dubious consent, implied mind alteration/control, murder, death, blood, threesome, lots of biting, spanking, spitroasting, masturbation, DVP, fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap ur vampire dicks pls), wife sharing, free use kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), exchanging fluids, spitting, disgusting and filthy, max using cringey nicknames for reader’s pussy but it’s charming bc it’s max, handcuffs, light bondage, hair pulling

word count: ~ 7.2k

read on ao3!

a/n: hello, my loves!! i wanted to do something special for halloween, so i decided to slap together a short, silly, unpolished one-shot inspired by dracula! this one is dedicated to my vampire obsession and tim rockford's shoulder holsters. anyway, please mind the tags, and enjoy!!

PREFACE

“No one but a woman can help a man when he is in trouble of the heart." — Bram Stoker, Dracula

“I swear to God, Ron, I’m two seconds away from taking up smoking again.”

Chief Detective Tim Rockford pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling his eye twitch minutely with every pass he makes of the cork board.

The seventh victim in two weeks, and he’s no closer to an answer. Last night, thirty-two-year-old Dean Madison was found by the harbour, a couple shades paler than his family insisted he usually was and with two small puncture wounds in his neck. Otherwise, the coroners didn’t find a single wound on him. Before Madison, it was a couple in Central Park, and before that, a college football player. Their bodies were all found in virtually the same condition, but not one of them is related.

Random. Unplanned acts of violence carried out exclusively at night, predicated on nothing but the apparent desire to kill. The culprit left no fingerprints, no murder weapon, no footprints. There's no motivation.

Groaning as he stands, elder Detective Ron Lauder hands Tim a manila folder. “List of the boats going in and out last night, if you fancy makin’ your eyes cross. I gotta call it here, man. You should go home, too, get some sleep.”

Tim claps Ron on the back. “Nah, man, I gotta file these away first. You go on home.”

“Don’t come cryin’ to me when you fall asleep in your Cheerios tomorrow.” Ron leaves yawning, and Tim hears the door gently click shut in the distance, signalling a familiar solitude in the bullpen.

The other cops know about the case. They all have bets running. Will the chief get it right? Will he get himself killed? When’s the next victim going to show? Tim indulges their morbid little fantasy pool by devoting most of his waking—and sleeping—hours to the task.

He decides to settle in with the logs from the docks. Scanning every line item, he feels his eyelids pulling down, and takes another sip of coffee to stay awake.

One name catches his eye. Demeter.

Tim narrows his eyes, his gaze travelling across the page. The logs only account for the past twenty-four hours, but he's seen that name before. He sets down the file and hurries to his desk, rifling through the top drawer, setting aside his pocket knife and his gun, to produce another file labelled ????

Not very creative, but it’s not like he’s going to label a file My Latest Failure. He opens the folder and scours the paperwork inside for witness statements.

There.

Fuck—here it is. His first goddamn lead.

On the 14th of October, a dock worker watched the Demeter stroll up to the harbour through the water and a man saunter inside, exchanging cash with the driver. The man left with a box. Because the Demeter was listed as a private vessel, the dock worker had reason for concern if the boat was conducting business without a license. He reported this to the police.

Tim eyes the cork board, following the red thread that connect each victim. He curses.

The next day, the boat’s driver was found dead in a Soho alleyway. Two puncture wounds in his neck.

Jesus Christ. Tim’s fingers tremble as he turns the page to continue reading.

If the Demeter is conducting frequent illegal business from that harbour and the client doesn't want anyone finding out, it’s likely that client is exactly who Tim is looking for. And it's even likelier poor Dean Madison was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Give me something. A wire transfer pattern. A paper trail. A benevolent benefactor who keeps the engine running.

Outside, the wind whistles, and Tim blinks away sleep. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a shape pass by the window, and his head jerks up.

There's a bat hanging from the tree outside. The creature stares for a long while, near-incisive, as if telling Tim to go the fuck to sleep. He checks his watch. It’s two o’clock.

More than enough time to head down to the docks.

The next night, just after nine o’clock, Tim knocks on the door of a hulking mansion in Soho.

The Gothic spires of the home stretch to the wispy clouds, the moon taking up a vigil over the grand roof. Arched windows glare down at him. You are a trespasser, they hiss. You do not belong here. The door knocker is shaped like a pair of bat wings, and the ancient, ornate doors creak under the force of his pounding. Overhead, clouds continue to roll in, signalling some fall storm. A shiver racks his body.

A woman opens the door, and Tim’s heartbeat stutters.

You’re beautiful. Your smile is so radiant it infects your eyes, your body draped in a tiny white slip, skin so soft it seems to glow in the light. You briefly assess Tim with those keen eyes.

“Good evening, sir,” you say. Tim licks his lips. Your voice is soft as water.

“Good… uh, good evening, ma'am.” He forgets that he is supposed to remain suspicious and clasps his hands together in front of him. “Chief Detective Tim Rockford. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Oh,” you purr, demurely folding your hands together in a mirror action to Tim, “of course. Would you like some coffee?”

In the movement, he catches a glimmer of the golden band around your ring finger. “No. Thank you.”

Amusement twinkles in your eyes. “That’s good, because we don’t have any.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he says good-naturedly. “What’s your husband’s name?”

“Phillips,” you reply dutifully, nibbling your bottom lip. “Max Phillips.”

Fuck.

He has the right person. He just can't help but wonder if you're a part of it, too.

There’s not a chance. You’re too good. Too beautiful. Your eyes pull him in, waves swallowing the shore, your pupils shrinking and dilating as if speaking to him.

“Have you seen this man?” Tim asks, presenting a picture of Dean Madison, drained of blood and neck punctured.

You frown, but he finds no glimmer of recognition in your eyes, no evidence of an increased heart rate. “Oh, gosh, no. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right,” says Tim. He doesn't know why he bothers, but he hides the gruesome image. He doesn't want to see you upset.

“Am I in trouble for something, Detective?”

Your breasts sit so nicely in that little nightgown, the line of your thighs so tempting under the hem, your skin so fucking dewy he could lick all the nectar from it. Tim blinks hard. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“No,” he says tightly. “Just here to ask some questions. Does the name Demeter mean anything to you?”

Sheepishly, you shrug. “She's a Greek goddess.”

“She’s also a boat,” says Tim. “It’s connected to two incidents by the docks in the past couple weeks.”

“Incidents?”

The curve of your throat would fit his mouth so nicely. You’re beautiful in the way a marble statue is—elegant and poised, carefully arranged, silk dripping like honey off your perfect fucking body.

Tim clears his throat. His head feels foggy.

“Do you mind if I speak to your husband?”

“Maxie?” your sweet voice calls. The sound echoes off the polished walls, petering gently to a lullaby, and Tim wants to rescue you from such a cruel place. “Maxie, there's a man at the door, and he wants to speak with you.”

A man descends the grand spiral staircase, dressed in a suit even though it’s nighttime, adjusting his cufflinks and grinning like a real schmoozer. He’s got the same dark eyes and nose and mouth as Tim, but marked by signs of youth the detective doesn't have. He’s clean-shaven, bright-eyed, lively.

“Evening, Detective,” says Max Phillips. “Hope you haven't been giving my wife any trouble. Hi, baby.”

You beam at him, holding out your hand. Max threads his fingers through yours and pushes himself into your space, playfully nipping your earlobe. Your giggle is intoxicating. Tim wants to be the one making you smile this way.

“Mr. Phillips, have you seen this man?”

Phillips takes a break from crushing his nose in your throat to examine the picture. “Haven’t seen him,” he says, “but it looks like he isn’t seeing anyone.”

“Last night,” says Tim, tucking the picture away, “I went down to the docks and took a look around. You know what I found, Mr. Phillips?”

“This isn't a very fun game, Detective.” Phillips is busying himself with your hair, twirling a lock of it around his finger. You stare up at your husband like he hung the fucking moon and Tim wants to know what it feels like to earn that look.

“I found blood,” says Tim. “Bags of blood from St. Clare’s Mercy in St. John’s. What kind of sick bastard steals blood from a hospital? I wondered. Then I checked the registration and found a name. Phillips.”

The revelation doesn't seem to faze Phillips the way it did Tim. His lips curve in a frown against your temple. “Looks like the detective knows how to do his job.”

You play with your husband’s fingers as if coaxing him to use them on you. “Didn’t mean to,” you whisper.

“Shh, sweetheart, I know.” Max tucks your hair behind your ear, his voice so gentle. “I know you didn't mean to, baby. We all get hungry.”

Tim's nostrils flare. You’re both so indifferent to all you've done—you don't care one bit that you've killed, that you’ve left Tim and all his inferiors scratching their heads and losing sleep for weeks.

He’s got his culprits, all right.

What the fuck do they want with bags of blood?

His lip curls. “Just tell me the truth. We can all work together here.”

“About that man by the docks,” you say softly, stepping forward with a placating smile on your face. “I got carried away, Detective. I never wanted to—”

Tim has heard enough. He withdraws his gun from its holster and points the barrel between your eyes. “Do not. Move.”

Your lower lip juts out in a pout, but Phillips’s eyes darken, playful veneer crumbling fast, at the sight of a gun pointed at his wife. “Now, Detective,” he says good-naturedly, though his rigid posture betrays any sense of camaraderie. “If you're gonna point that gun at anyone, it should be me.”

“That so?” Tim’s eyes don't stray from you. Your eyes are wide as a doe’s, your glossy lips parted in vague shock, your silky nightgown contoured so deliciously to your shape. You smell fresh, roses and perfume, and his head goes fuzzy. Your skin looks so soft, glowing under the orange firelight…

He wonders how you would taste.

His finger trembles near the trigger.

Phillips presses closer to you, his hand sliding around your waist, his fingers splaying over your ribs. Possessive. His eyes are on Tim, and that look—it peels him apart. Tim may be holding a weapon, but he feels powerless to do anything at all.

Fear strikes him true. He should not have knocked on this door tonight.

“You know what I like about people?” says Phillips, idly circling his thumb over your waist while his eyes fall to your pretty face, his other hand twisting your hair around his finger. “I like that they're so… hmm, supple. It's like plucking all the petals off a flower. Can see all the stuff inside with one little pull.”

Phillips suddenly ducks his head and Tim jolts, pointing the gun his way, but the killer only places an open-mouthed kiss on your throat, just beneath your ear.

Tim watches your eyes flutter, a sedated little smile growing on your face, and he wants to know. He needs to know what you taste like.

“That’s more like it, Detective,” says Phillips, playfully nipping your throat before he pulls back. Tim sees a flash of glistening white as the killer bares his teeth and presumes a man as well-off as Max Phillips knows something about veneers. “I know what you want. You don't want to point that gun at my wife, do you?”

Tim’s jaw ticks. He doesn't. He doesn't want to hurt you at all. He wants to make you smile. He wants to slip his hand inside that nightgown and tear it all away to see what's beneath. He wants to put his mouth on you, touch you, do whatever you fucking want him to do.

Phillips chuckles, and a tremor oozes down Tim’s spine. He isn't safe here—he knew this straight away—but there's more to the couple in front of him than they’re letting him know. “Mmm, she has that effect on lots of people,” says Phillips. “Can’t tell you how many men I’ve had to kill just because they decided to touch.” He pinches your ass for effect and you laugh, hiding your face in Max’s neck.

“Is that a confession?” says Tim, gritting his teeth as another wave of your perfume pervades reason.

“Sure,” says Phillips, “it's a confession. But I don't think you want to leave. I think you want to stay here and fuck my wife. Do I get the cash prize, Detective?”

Tim wavers. The door is… It’s right there. He’s standing just inside, could turn around and bolt the hell out of here now, could radio for backup and cuff both of these freaks in two seconds.

He lowers the gun.

“Thaaat’s it,” coos Phillips. “I’ll offer you a deal now. Make her feel good, and I’ll forget about you pointing that gun at her.”

Tim’s cock is stiff in his pants, blood surging downward and away from his brain, his body calling to the siren song emitting from you. He’ll drown in it. There's no turning back. Behind him, the door swings closed, untouched.

You grin at Tim, biting your bottom lip and threading your fingers through Max’s hair. This way, you keep your husband fixed to you, nipping playfully at your throat.

“Do you want to touch me, sir?” you ask him, your voice dripping nectar.

Tim’s jaw ticks. His head inclines in a nod.

“No, no, no, Detective, that's no fun,” tuts Max. “Is it, baby?”

“Mmm, no fun,” you echo, the sound of it melodic, enchanting. “Want you to want it, Detective. Want you to show me you want it.”

Tim nods again, stepping closer, his eyes raking over your body in that little white slip, held in place by Phillips’ hands.

“You're not going to touch my wife with a gun in your hand,” says Phillips darkly. “You’re going to drop it, and then you’ll clean off your dirty fingers in her pretty cunt.”

Tim flicks on the safety and sets the gun on the table just inside the foyer, shucking off his jacket. He doesn't care about the goddamn case anymore. He’s bone-tired, sick of all the overtime he's putting in with no return on investment, and so lonely that it aches. He needs a body to bury himself inside, a sweet, pretty girl to taste. He didn't expect he’d pick the woman he's been chasing for weeks.

He approaches you slowly, taking in the entire length of your body, wondering about the texture of your hair, the softness of your skin. He gets to explore it tonight. He won't waste the chance.

The first touch electrifies his nerves. Your skin is velvet under his rough palms, your head tilting idly to the side as your husband continues to kiss your neck. Tim caresses your arms, memorising the feel of you beneath his fingers, and lets your eyes swallow him.

“Can I kiss you?”

His voice scrapes over your skin and lifts goosebumps, some echo of the bodily instincts you once had in life. You practically purr as you hook your fingers in the holsters straining under his broad shoulders and tug him closer.

“Please kiss me, sir.”

The scent of roses washes down his throat as he cups your face and slants his mouth over yours. Max occupies himself in the junction of your throat and shoulder, canines gently grazing what used to be your pulse point. You moan softly into Tim’s mouth, and his cock reacts accordingly, twitching in his pants as he presses his body against yours to deepen the kiss.

“Tastes so sweet, doesn't she?” Max muses, his hand squeezing your hip. “She’s picky, too. Must like you a lot.”

Tim groans as he pulls you closer, his hand warming the small of your back over the flimsy silk slip. His tongue slides along yours, his fingers threading in your hair, and he grinds his clothed cock into your hip. He eagerly swallows down your whines, consumed by how fucking good you feel against him.

Max’s fangs begin to protrude from his gums as his tongue lavishes your throat, lapping up the sweetness rolling off your body, your hormones, the way you radiate need even though your heart does not beat. His cock prods your ass, confined in his pants, straining to find the friction he needs. You're melting, hands grasping greedily at Tim’s holsters, his button-up, trying to absolve him of his clothes.

He’s so dizzy he can barely stay upright. He belongs right here in your shadow, kissing his way across your jaw, so caught up in the fervour of pleasing you that he doesn't notice the way your pulse does not flutter under his lips.

“Does it feel good, baby?” says Max, his fangs close to puncturing your skin. “Is he doing his job?”

“Yes,” you whisper, lashes fluttering as Tim’s moustache scratches the sensitive skin below your ear. Your fingers curl in his tousled hair, dark and streaked with grey, signifiers of age your Max will never show. Your Max, who wants to taste you even though it doesn’t sustain him, who indulges in the sublime sweetness of your blood just because he loves it.

Tim’s big hands trail down your body at the same time his mouth does, shifting the silk nightgown in his feverish need to feel more of you, bringing the entire thing down to the floor with him in one aggressive tug. You gasp, your nipples stiff as they're exposed to the cool air, your thighs squeezing together instinctively, watching Tim sink to his knees in front of you as if in a trance.

“Don’t be shy, baby.” Max’s hand trails across your belly, palming at your thigh. Tim is crushing his nose into your skin as he kisses the spot where your hip meets your thigh. “You want him to taste your pretty pussy?”

“Yes, Max,” you whimper. “Yes, please.”

His lips ghost across your temple. “Don’t beg me. Beg him.”

Your eyes dip below your body to find Tim staring expectantly at you as he scatters kisses along your belly, your thighs. His pupils eclipse those warm brown irises. “Please, Detective.” You comb his soft hair away from his forehead and bite your lip at the way his taut expression telegraphs unaltered desire. He needs this. He needs you. “Please taste me.”

It's all he wants. His big, broad shoulders ease your thighs open while Max moves to your back, letting you balance against his hard chest. The scrape of the leather holsters on the back of your thigh makes you shiver as Tim guides your leg up onto his shoulder. You’re fucking dripping for him, your pussy glistening with your own arousal, clinging to your inner thighs. Tim’s eyes shudder as he slowly licks your juices clean off your skin, his fingers dimpling flesh.

“How’s she taste?” says Max, his hand fixing around your throat. Your hand overlaps his for a grip on reality, your other firmly wedged in the dreamworld, grasping Tim’s messy hair.

“So fucking sweet,” growls Tim, his teeth sinking into your inner thigh, over your femoral artery.

“Oh,” you moan, your head lolling against Max’s shoulder. “He likes to bite, Maxie.”

“A thorough detective,” purrs Max, his thumb caressing your jaw. “Hard to find that kind of dedication these days. Don’t make her wait, Rockford. She wants you; I can smell it.”

Tim’s nostrils flare—one last breath of air before he sinks wholly under the water. His tongue darts out to part your folds, sliding languorously through your wet slit. You bite your lip at the sight of his strong shoulders wedged between your thighs, his nose pressed hard against your clit as he circles his tongue around your hole. You’re fucking nectar. It's euphoria, the indelible high he will always be searching to replicate.

“Detective,” you sigh.

Tim groans into your cunt, his hand coming down in a hard smack to your thigh. The sudden shock of the slap pools arousal in your core, a pitiful yelp leaving your mouth.

“Sir!”

“The detective knows what this pretty little kitty wants,” says Max, grinning against your cheek. He punctuates his words with a playful thrust into your backside. “He knows you like it rough, honey. You like that?”

“Yes! Yes! More, please, I’ll do anything.”

Max considers this, humming ponderously into your throat. “Anything?”

Tim places an open-mouthed kiss on your needy clit, and you gasp, “Anything!”

“You got a pair of handcuffs on you, Rockford?”

It's a flurry of activity. You're transported efficiently to the couch in the living room, a gigantic jewel-green sectional, your hands bound behind you by two cold metal cuffs. Bent over the arm of the sofa, your thighs are spread, your cheek pressed into the cushion as you're shamelessly bared for the pair of them. Whining, you wiggle your hips, standing on your toes and presenting yourself for someone to make you feel good, already.

“My poor baby.” Max is gently caressing the curve of your spine. “You said you'd do anything. You wanna break your promise?”

“No, no, I’ll be good,” you beg. “I’ll behave, please!”

“Hear that, Rockford?” says Max, still smiling fondly down at you. “She’ll be good.”

Hands grasp your thighs and wrench them farther apart, warm breath—living breath—blowing on your cunt. “Sir,” you gasp, writhing under his big hands, “are you gonna be nice to me?”

Tim licks a bold path through your slit and hums, his head spinning, inebriated from a taste alone. He’s keeping you spread open, lapping up your sweet juices, fixing for his next hit. Making you moan is victory alone. He’ll be more than nice to you.

He fixes his mouth to your clit and you cry out, your hands flexing uselessly in the handcuffs. He suckles at your pearl, every sensation heightened by the fact that you can't move, buried under the weight of all the hands and metal links and pleasure. Max watches, pleased with your behaviour, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. “You’ve been bad, honey. Got a little reckless. We’re gonna teach you how to be good.”

Tim nips your clit, Max’s silent partner-in-crime, and you mewl.

“Like you… know anything… about good.”

“Mmm, and so rude.” Max clicks his tongue in reproach. “Detective, I think you should show my wife what happens when she's rude.”

The tongue licking through your cunt stops, and a garbled sound of protest escapes your throat, your eyes bleeding mascara into the cushion. You pulse frantically around nothing, desperate to be filled somehow, anywhere. You whimper for Tim, Maxie, someone, please—

A hot, wet glob of saliva lands on your puckered asshole, and a gurgled moan leaves your lips as Tim cleans off his own spit with his tongue.

As he swirls the wet muscle around your hole, his hand comes down in a hard slap on your ass, and you squeal, your arousal splattering on his clean white shirt. Apparently pleased, Tim groans, two thick fingers parting your folds.

“Ah! Oh, fuck, sir, please…”

Kneading the flesh of your ass in one hand, the other occupies itself by playing with your pussy, and for the first time, the detective gives you an order.

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands, sinking two fingers into your tight cunt. His voice sounds like the shroud of night, like he knows exactly how illicit this is and fucking delights in it.

The feeling of his tongue on your asshole and his fingers curling up against your spongy walls has you drooling, your thighs trembling around his shoulders. “It’s… ah, fuck… it’s so good, Detective. Fuck, I’m… I’m gonna—”

Max tucks your hair behind your ear so he can see the wrecked, dazed expression on your face. “We’re going to fill you up, honey. Let you prove that you're a nice girl. That sound like fun?”

“Yes,” you moan, trying to maintain eye contact with Max even as your vision blurs with tears, “s’good. Need to come, Detective. Please.”

Tim spanks your ass again, his mouth slurping indecently at your backside, his fingers coaxing you to a high you don’t see coming. Your thighs shake uncontrollably as he rubs up against your g-spot, your mouth dropping open in a silent scream as your entire body seizes.

“There she is,” purrs Max, “such a nice girl, asking before she comes. How does your pretty kitty feel, baby?”

“Mmmsogood.” It's all a jumble in your mouth as your tension dissolves. Behind you, Tim is so gentle, licking up the release that has dripped down your thighs and tastefully avoiding your pussy.

Max caresses your cheek. “Check in with me, honey. You want to keep going?”

You nod vigorously, flexing your fingers. Max intertwines his hand with yours, squeezing. “I want you in my mouth, Max. Wanna make you feel good.”

He grins crookedly, making eye contact with the detective behind you. Tim’s eyes are black, bright as a moonlit lake, his cock tenting his pants. Max isn't much better off. Your body will do that to a man. A woman. Fucking anyone.

He’s just better at controlling himself. He’s had seventy years of practice.

Max’s eyes don't waver from Tim as he speaks to you. “Want our nice detective inside you, baby?”

“Oh, please,” you gasp. “Please fill me up, sir.”

Max cocks his head toward Tim. “I think she's been good enough. Don’t you?”

Tim nods. You have. You’ve been so good. He’ll give you any goddamn thing you want. He’ll throw himself at your feet time and time again if it means you’ll look at him this way. Over your shoulder, you meet his eye, smiling sweetly enough to give him a toothache.

“I’ll be a good girl, Detective.”

The glint of the metal cuffs reflects in his eyes, and he looks like an animal.

Both he and Max shuck down their zippers, but it’s Tim’s hands that grab for you, hauling you backward by your hips and wrapping one large hand around the chain between your cuffs. Pulling hard, he forces your body upright as Max settles in front of you.

You look up through your lashes at your husband, who tangles his fingers in your hair and yanks your head back. You’re effectively suspended in the air by both men, your hips sorely rubbing against the arm of the sofa. It’s intoxicating.

Between your kiss-bruised lips, Max watches your fangs protrude, and he tuts.

“Gonna have to learn to control yourself, baby. Otherwise, this is gonna hurt for me.”

You swallow hard, retracting the sharp points of your teeth back into your gums. Max sings his praises by pulling out his hard cock and slapping it playfully against your cheek. Moaning his name, you begin to drool, the need to please igniting your body into action, your fuse lit from both ends.

Behind you, a warm, hard length rests between your asscheeks, and your back arches as best it can with Tim pulling at your cuffs. “Mmm, you’re so big, Detective,” you croon. “Is it gonna fit?”

Tim tugs roughly at the cuffs, a deep noise like a growl leaving his lips. “Gonna fuckin’ make it fit.”

“Open up,” says Max, guiding his cock to the seam of your mouth. “Open, and he’ll stuff your pretty little cunt.”

You part your lips and stick out your tongue, eager to take your husband’s big cock into your mouth. He’s long, thick, ridged with veins that you could trace with your eyes closed. But he doesn't like it when you close your eyes. He wants to watch you take him.

He pushes the tip into your hot, wet mouth, lip curling to reveal sharp teeth glinting white in the firelight. Your skin is pleasantly sticky with warmth, your mascara smudged beneath your eyes. Tim grasps the base of his cock, smearing his precum through your folds and catching on your clit. You moan around Max’s cock, letting him slide deeper down your throat at the same time the detective’s cock notches inside your cunt and begins to sink inside you.

Tim’s free hand grabs your hip to steady himself. Fuck, you're goddamn tight—warm and wet, your greedy pussy sucks him in, wrenching open around his length. His nostrils flare with self-restraint, the Herculean task of maintaining some composure even as his entire body thrums with the need to take you, to use you like a pretty doll and relieve all his stress.

What the fuck is happening to me?

“She’ll let you,” says Max, and Tim has to blink hard to see the man across from him. “She’ll let you use her. She likes being treated like a cumslut. Right, honey?”

Your fingers flex, locking around Tim’s wrist, and you bob your head around Max’s cock. “Shit, that’s right,” growls your husband. “Feel that, Detective? She’s fuckin’ begging to be filled up. Don’t go easy on her; she won’t be happy.”

Tim feels the rest of you give, and his hips bump into your ass. “Fuck,” he sighs. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The fire's embers crackle against his back. He’s where he belongs.

His first thrust is experimental, watching the way your ass jiggles and your nails dig into his wrist, your throat contracting around Max’s cock. His second is indulgence: a slow drag out, back in, savouring the way your walls suffocate him. By the third, he’s lost control.

He begins to fuck you hard, the momentum of his thrusts forcing Max’s cock down your throat. “Je—fuck,” spits Max, fisting your hair, transfixed by the tears brimming in your waterline, the delicious slide of his length along the walls of your hot throat. “Such a fuckin’ pro. Gonna turn me into a two-pump chump. Gonna fuckin’ embarrass me in front of our guest.”

Tim grits his teeth as he pounds you, relishing his total control over your body, bending it to his will. You're so fucking good, so sweet, and he doesn't know why he ever suspected you.

He should turn in his badge for pointing a gun at you.

You whine around Max’s cock when Tim grinds deep, the head of his dick kissing your cervix, your eyes rolling back in your head. He feels you shudder underneath him and does it all over again, fucking you hard, deep, mercilessly.

You swallow Max down to the base, wiggling your tongue along the vein on his length. “Gonna fuckin’ come if you keep doing that,” he groans, but you're undeterred. You hum, the vibrations coursing through his body, and his balls pull up, emptying his cum down your throat in rhythmic pulses.

“Fuck.” Max pulls out of your mouth just to spill the last of his cum on your bruised lips, painting you white. “That’s my fucking girl. Show me.”

You open your mouth again, tongue lolling out to proudly display his release. He rubs his thumb over your chin and spits into your mouth.

“Now swallow.”

You do, gulping down his cum and showing him your clean tongue when you're done. Max smirks, too damn proud for his own good. “Made you cry.”

You have little room left in your head to bask in his praise. Tim is taking charge, engulfed in the ecstasy of fucking you, his hips punching hard into your ass and forcing your back to bow with the grip he maintains on the handcuffs. Your next orgasm is approaching, your clit rubbing against the arm of the sofa and sending electrical tremors to your core.

But Max is still steel-hard despite his orgasm, watching the way your ass bounces with the force of Tim’s thrusts, your bound hands collected in a useless pile at your back, the breathy moans that leave your mouth. “Gonna need to take a break from breaking her, Detective. I want in, too.”

Some territorial part of him snaps and claws, too consumed by your body to let another man near it. Max clicks his tongue, giving Tim a dangerous smile. “Be careful, Rockford. Don’t get greedy with your treat.”

A strangled “unh” is your input, eyes shuttering as Tim reaches deep inside you again, mounting your orgasm to a foregone conclusion. Max sees the glaze drip down over your eyes, and decides to watch you come apart under a different man’s cock. “Spoiled, honey,” he mutters. “You’re spoiled.”

You come hard, joints locking and thighs squeezing Tim’s where they keep you spread apart. Your entire body jolts with electrical pulses, the pleasure coursing white-hot through your useless veins. He holds you in place, impaled on his dick, writhing around to get as much of him inside you as you possibly can. Tim grits his teeth, a faint whimper escaping his throat. The feeling of your pussy contracting around him, soaking his length, has him dizzy, close to keeling over—the scent of you, the warmth of your tight cunt, the way you coo his name and call him sir. Thank you for letting me come, sir. Fuck, sir, you feel so good inside me. Don’t leave me, sir.

He doesn't ever want to leave this fucking house.

Max slides his palm over your spine and you melt under it. “Come on, honey, let’s get you up. I’m in the mood to share some more.”

You whine as Tim reluctantly pulls out, weeping precum into your used hole. He’s going to fucking die if he doesn't come soon.

He helps you upright, kissing all the way up your spine and enjoying the soft hums of pleasure that emit from your lips. He wants to stay forever. He wants to bury himself inside you and never pull away.

“Mmm, Detective,” you purr. “So strong.”

“Yours,” he grumbles, his plush, wet mouth feverishly tracing a path along your jaw. “‘m yours.”

“Hear that, Maxie?” You beam at your husband, threading your fingers through Tim’s behind your back. “He’s mine.”

Max grins. “Let him prove it. C’mere, honey.”

Tim walks you to the couch and helps you kneel, settling behind you. Sitting in his lap, his mouth on your throat, you watch Max approach, slowly fisting himself. He kneels, too, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit. You gasp his name, your back arching, and Tim uses the opportunity to slot himself at your entrance, sinking you down on his cock with none of the care he took the first time around.

He’s deeper at this angle, grinding up against your front wall, absconding with any attention he had for staving off his orgasm. His teeth nip your earlobe, your jaw, one arm banding around your waist and squeezing your breast.

In front of you, Max grips himself and continues to rub your clit with the head of his cock. You mewl like a cat, and Tim groans, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he hisses, his hips bucking up into you. “Jesus, baby.”

“He’s a blasphemer,” teases Max.

“Good,” you sigh, your head falling back onto Tim’s shoulder. The scent of leather and sweat engulfs your heightened senses, and the erratic thrum of his pulse echoes in your ears. His blood is warm, thick, rich—

Just a taste, you think, your eyes drooping at the very thought. Just one taste. I’ll be good…

Max coaxes you to another high with the pressure at your clit, but when he sees your mouth drop, he takes it away from you. You pout, petulant as ever, and Max mirrors it mockingly.

“One dick inside you isn't good enough?” He shuffles closer, yanking your head back by your hair and kissing you hard. His tongue dips into your mouth, and your fangs begin to descend, catching his lip before he breaks away.

Max prods his lip with his thumb and watches the blood bead, reaching out to smear the small crimson stain onto your lips. Hungrily, you lick it up, the cat with the cream, staring up at him with those faux-innocent eyes.

He snarls, fitting the head of his cock at your already-filled entrance. “Relax.” It’s Tim's raspy voice, mouth still fixed to your throat. You sink into him, letting Max open you up wide.

“That’s fuckin’ it, baby,” says your husband, smoothing his hand over your belly and wrenching open your hole to fit himself next to the detective. “Feel us in here?”

“Unnghhh.” Your mouth is open, your pearly fangs glinting in the dim light. Tim drags his nose up your throat and opens his eyes to study your face in the moment of pleasure.

He barely registers the too-sharp teeth, the blackened veins crawling from your eyes. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It's all he knows as he begins to fuck you in tandem with your husband. His body vibrates with desire. His head is static. He belongs to you.

You’re so full. You're going to burst, and they're relentless, uncaring, caught up in the list and pheromones and perhaps the competition of seeing who can get you there first. You can only manage faint squeaks as they repeatedly take you, your body suspended, a pretty toy they get to use as they like. It’s so erotic that your cheeks burn, your core building with the pressure of another orgasm.

So fuckin’ tight.

Such a pretty fuckin’ doll, letting us use your body.

Gonna take our cum, baby? You gonna keep it all safe inside you?

She’s coming. Looks so pretty when she comes.

Come, pretty girl, and we’ll fill you up. Give you a nice treat.

You no longer know who’s speaking. It's all rolling around in your head, the smell of blood pounding in your skull, the temptation to turn your head to the side and taste the nectar from his throat. Your orgasm devastates you, your body quivering, both men lavishing their tongues and mouths over your skin as they continue to wreck your cunt.

Fingers flex against your ribcage, your wrist, and Tim is coming, his teeth bared against your temple and the leather holsters on his shoulders scraping wetly against your back as he grinds into you and stays there. His hot cum pumps into you, splattering your walls and Max’s cock. His balls continue to empty inside you as your husband reaches his peak, nudging your chin upward so he can sink his teeth into your throat, gulping down your blood.

Max’s head goes fuzzy with your taste, sweet and soft as velvet as it slides down his tongue. You moan at the feeling of his cum filling you up at the same time he depletes you of blood you don't need. They both empty themselves inside you and let your body slump against him. You hear the rustle of a key in your handcuffs and feel them release, falling to the floor.

Max and Tim ease out of you, and you turn around to lower yourself onto Tim’s hard chest, toying with the buttons of his shirt. Behind you, Max scoops up globs of cum that have slipped out of your used hole and stuffs it back inside.

Tim’s eyes are fixed to you, dark and gentle, his hand gently squeezing your wrists. “Did I hurt you?”

“You couldn't hurt me,” you purr, sliding your hands under his collar and threading your fingers through his tousled hair. “You're so sweet to me, Detective. So big and strong.”

He trails his fingers up your back until he can cup your face in his hands, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb. “Your teeth…,” he murmurs, a vague expression of puzzlement on his face.

“You aren’t going to take me down to the station, are you, Detective?” You curl your finger around a lock of silver hair, pouting down at him.

“No, baby.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you. I’d never. You’re safe. Safe with me.”

You beam at him and playfully nip his nose. “You’re a good detective, Mr. Rockford. You’ll find the killer soon.”

He nods vigorously. “I will.”

“And you’ll put them away,” you say, biting your lip as you slowly unbutton his shirt. “Because you're so good.”

“I’m good,” he echoes, unable to tear his eyes from yours. His body feels limp, calm, satiated, when he's touching you this way. The job disappears. The stress disappears, the exhaustion and the malaise. Humankind is a pathology, and you are his cure.

“Max,” you coo, resting your cheek on Tim’s chest and listening to his strong heartbeat. “I like him.”

Max hums, his knuckles gently dragging up and down your spine. “I know, baby. You wanna keep him?”

Quietly, you nod, littering kisses from his chest to his neck. You indulge in the fluttering pulse beneath his jaw. Tim smiles, sedated, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Max nods, giving your ass a playful squeeze. “Okay, honey. Go on—ask him.”

You prop yourself up on Tim’s chest and trail your fingers through his beard. “Do you wanna stay with me?”

Tim’s brows crease. “You want me to stay?”

“Forever,” you whisper conspiratorially, your fingers drumming an eager little dance on his chest. “I’ll make you real happy. I promise.”

Tim sees the points of your canines, the veins bleeding from your darkening eyes, and feels no fear. He lets you tip his head back, baring his throat, and he lets you lick a bold stripe up his neck. My answer is yes, he thinks, and he hopes you can hear him, crawling happily down into a hell that will warm his body for eternity.

Peace overcomes him as your eyes meet his, and your fangs sink in deep, the light slowly dimming to a faint memory.

CASE CLOSED.

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #tim rockford x reader #merge mansion #tim rockford #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #max phillips #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips x you #max phillips x reader #max phillips x f!reader #max phillips x reader x tim rockford #max phillips fanfiction #tim rockford fanfiction

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what-even-is-thiss · 7 months

Text

See I don’t think that the legend of Zelda is the same story being told a bit differently every time because most of the games reference the existence of other games, meaning trains and teleporters don’t exist at the same time but they do exist in the same universe.

Anyways, if we’re looking for a mythological explanation and looking at these games as legends and myths being told by a culture I think it’s more likely that some syncretism and mushing happened between different cultures.

Oh a princess being saved by a knight. That sounds a lot like Lonk and Zeldo that must be them but the people on that island calls them something different and Tingle is there also because they also have a gross man. Those people on the tropical islands have a myth about a young girl pirate captain? Sounds like Zelda and where there’s a Zelda there’s a Lonk so where was he? Must’ve been with that talking boat character they have. Oh no we don’t have a Link but he sounds cool maybe he was working with talking boat.

And eventually through trade and whatnot everyone who follows the Hylia cult is also talking about Lonk and Zeldo and maybe some other characters are common in certain regions like Impa or Beedle or the sorcerer Vati or what have you. And then people are still confused by why everyone’s stories are different and the philosophers look at it and decide it must be the same people reincarnated somehow and the king claims to be related to Zelda, right? Well the coming of Lonk and Zeldo must be coming again soon because the political scene is going to hell right now I wonder if we can find a pattern here if all of these stories are true I think the sky people legend came first no clearly it’s the goat dragon king one that came first no that was the third Hyrule I swear on the goddess statue I will fight you about this in the market if you try to claim that Link was killable don’t tell me you’re from one of those split timeline denominations

#roman said a thing

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themissinghand · 1 year

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Dr. Stone: You're Crazy Like Me, Dumbass

Summary: In which Senku has an older sister (who is just as crazy as him...in a good way of course).

Note: Not related/connected to my current Dr. Stone fic on Wattpad at all. This is just for fun!

Warning: Swearing and lots and lots of sibling energy

"Did you know that some metals are soooo reactive that they can explode when they come in contact with water? Make sure you protect your manhood boy."

The Kingdom of Science certainly did not expect a person to appear out of nowhere.

Especially hanging underside down from a tree.

"Who's that?!" Gen called out, his eyes already focused on the foreign woman.

"An enemy?" Kohaku pulled out her sword whereas the Kinrou followed suit.

"Sister?" Senku whispered out, and everyone snapped their heads to see a dazed and disbelief expression on their leader's face.

"Yo!" The older responded with a cheeky grin, and a hand raised in the air.

She had her white hair tied up in a high ponytail, showcasing their family's signature green hair tips at the ends. A lone hair strip crossed her eyes and curved to her chin.

"Heh, isn't this the lil' shit? You grew!" She jumped down the tree and walked towards the group.

"You guys know each other?"

Senku rubbed his temples.

"Yea. She's my older sister-"

"Sister?!" The woman grinned as she stopped right in front of Senku, and they brofisted as if it was normal, then followed by a noogie.

"O-Ouch! What the heck-"

"It's been a while you lil' shit! I thought you would have died or buried ten feet under!" Senku pulled out of her grasp and deadpanned at her.

"Ha, you wish. Where were you even? I tried looking for you and I couldn't-"

"Oh I came here by skateboard-"

"Skateboard?! Did you just say SKATEBOARD?" Gen's screech was followed by dazed and confused villagers. She pointed to the huge skateboard made of wood?! How?

It doesn't even look like a normal skateboard, in fact, it could be deemed as a boat with wheels at this point.

"Yea, you see, I'm an engineer. So I make shit, attach shit, and fix shit."

She definitely got a crude mouth too; everyone thought at the same time.

"Heh, as expected of the gorilla-" Senku was cut off by the pulling of his hair.

"Hey, shouldn't you be telling me what's going on? Since when did you have so many friends?" She scrutinized every single person around, and others shivered under her look.

"Oi! Stop that! I'll explain later, but we have a war to win!" Senku escaped and then gave her a evil smirk.

"What'cha say we make an evil weapon? With you here..."

"Oh ho?" An evil aura burst forth from the two siblings.

"Gen...we're so screwed."

"Kohaku...we're fucked when he's already our last hope. And now, there's another one?"

"You got an issue? Half and half?"

"Half and half-" Gen spluttered but swallowed his pride when he saw the toned muscles underneath her coat.

"Not bad." Senku acknowledged with nod.

"Unlike you, I work out." She rolled her eyes in response.

"Anyway, where were you exactly?"

"In hell. But now that I'm here, looks like I've reach purgatory-OW!" Senku tased her on her sides, making her jump.

"You-" Before she could unleash her wraith, Senku stops her with a question.

"How did you find me?" Senku asks sternly, and the older sighed.

"Just exploring on my own and I decided that I should find you lil' shit. So I made myself some shit and before I know it, I spot a bunch of weirdos hoping around a big pot and a fucking leak-"

"Oh fuck you."

"Oops, can't hear you over your bushy hair."

Senku rolled his eyes.

"Idiot."

"Leek."

"Baboon."

"Loverboy."

"What? Where did you even get that from!?"

"What? You just looked like one." She simply shrugged with a cheeky grin.

"That's not a sight you see every day. Senku's outmatched." Gen mentioned, while he watched the two siblings bicker.

Kohaku simply laughs and shakes her head.

"He deserves it."

"I'm ten billion percent gonna throw you to the wolves!" Senku almost but roars with steam going out of his head.

"And I'm ten billion percent going to hull your ass to Antarctica!" She mimicked with a girly voice, the complete opposite of her natural deep one. She then looked at Kohaku with a smile.

"You there, you're the lil' shit's wife?"

"W-What? No!"

"Well who gives a fuck. Anyway, explain this war to me. I'll help you guys out."

"Really? That would be great!"

"Yea, explain to me what's going on. And I also need names. I can't be calling ya lil' shit's gf can I?"

"No thank you!"

After a solid explanation of the current situation, Senku's sister tilted her head and yawned.

"So...we're going up against this dude who's like a bitchy communist dictator kid with Heracles's strength," She looked around at the group.

"And the mother fucker who's a huge hypocrite is reviving assholes of his liking in order to kill innocent children like y'all because he thinks technology is absolute shit."

Well that's one way to look at it.

"Uh...translation please? What's a Heracles?" Chrome jumps in and asks while scratching his head.

"It's Tsukasa but stronger." Senku simply says, and Chrome and Kohaku accepts it without question.

Gen sighs.

"Senku...I'm pretty sure it's more than that..."

#dr stone #ishigami senku #drst #gen asagiri #kohaku #senku x reader #manga #anime #tsukasa shishio #season 1 #stone world #female reader

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yuri-is-online · 1 month

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This might just me being tired and dumb, but I kind of get how Ace having a more supportive family would lead to isolation? Like. People who have no family to rely on form their own, and that kind of bond can be beat by very little else. There's not only possibly shared trauma, but there's probably also a shared understanding that "we all we got". It gives a weird sense of hope to see someone else in your situation, someone who relates to you even a little bit, and you want more anything in the world for them to make it out and thrive, and you can trust that they want the same for you.

So with Ace, who's trauma (that we know about) mainly comes from association and the iverblot fights, it's a bit harder to make that bond. He (assumably) got all the love and support that he was supposed to get from his family. And yeah! Sure! He can still seek it out elsewhere! But it's a thing he already has, he already has somewhere to go at the end if the day for comfort.

This is actually a theme that I'm gonna play with in my 80s fic, Deuce is lower middle class, while Yuu is just a slightly glorified version if homeless. Ace is squarely middle class, if not upper middle, he never has to really want for anything. Not like Deuce and certainly not like Yuu.

Learning how to pinch for pennies and find deals are things that makes Aces life more convenient, but it's something that Deuce and Yuu need. And that's where the divide is.

He wants to take care of his friends (he's still in denial) more than anything, but he also feels like there's this weird line he can't cross, with him on one side and Yuu and Deuce on the other. It honestly doesn't help that Yuu has a separate, small friend group outside of him and Deuce that are all in the same "Shit is completely fucked right now but by God are we gonna make it out" boat. A boat that Ace will probably never be in. Ace loves his family and is grateful, and knows exactly how much he lucked out. But he still wants to have that bond. That "the world feels like it's ending but atleast we'll be going down together" type of bond. Comforting Yuu while they cry about not having heating in the winter will never be the same as having to suffer alongside them and know they were in this together. Trying to find the cheapest possible version of a food products with Deuce and discovering knock off brands that Ace would never imagine existing (who the hell made knock off cheerios?) Will never be the same as actually having to rely on those knock off and part time sales, and feeling a sense pride that they were able to save enough money this month that they could actually buy something nice. Ace probably won't ever be on that side of the invisible line.

He'll bring them to his side though. Ace wants to take care of them more than anything. He wants them in his life more than anything. And he'll have them. No matter what he has to do to make that happen.

Sorry if I missread your post and just dropped a huge angst bomb in your inbox! I just have thoughts and there are a lot of AceYuu and ADeuce moments in chapter three and one or two of them digs into this a little.

You didn't misread my post at all I swear we are sharing custody of a braincell because this is just *chef's kiss* exactly what I was thinking.

Having that solid middle class stability and parent's who genuinely love you and each other is nothing to be ashamed of, not that I think Ace has enough humility for that, but it does mean that he has a gap in his understanding for Deuce and especially Yuu's situation. I keep thinking about how he ended up eating those tarts because he skipped a meal over worrying about Yuu and their circumstances, he cares. He is crass and rude with it but he cares! I love how you say he'll bring them to his side of the line, that's exactly how I see him thinking about it.

Ace's isolation (in my view) seems to come from how much more he values his friendship with Yuu and Deuce over literally anyone else in the school. He'd benefit from talking to Jack and Epel more, they also have solid home lives and Jack at least I think has financially stable parents, but those guys aren't his people. For better or worse, for sickness or health, Yuu and Deuce are who he is sticking it out with. He'll never say it in game, but he really does love you both, in what way is of course up to the interpretation of the player.

but you know which one we both prefer frfr

#<3 asks #talking w a friend #twisted wonderland #ace trappola #ace is such a HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH i have so many thoughts #like he seems to really admire both his basketball club seniors (floyd and jamil)#but not trey #he prefers to look up to riddle #but also could you imagine ace trying to have a heart to heart about his feelings with floyd #i feel like it would be a disaster #but i also feel like floyd 100% knows about ace's feelings for deuce and yuu and thinks he has good advice for him #(he doesn't)

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desert-fern · 11 months

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A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 8: The Boat to Riyadh

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: swearing, and I think that's it!

Word Count: 3.3k

Masterlist >> Part 7 >> Part 9

===

The journey was long and unremarkable. No one could do much and there was only so long someone could be cooped up in close quarters before they lost it. Thankfully, only petty disagreements happened, and knowing her team, Bear knew that it could definitely have been worse. For the most part, the Seals were nose deep in folders, trying to cram the smallest detail into their brains about this mission, possible formations, contingency plans, and more.

The pilots on the other hand, found themselves wandering aimlessly through the ship, alternating between bugging their Seal teammates and each other. But it was safe to say that everyone was bored out of their minds and arrival at Jebel Ali couldn’t come soon enough.

Bear groaned, scrubbing her hands over her face in frustration. The numbers weren’t adding up. There was simply no way that al-Hameed had as many people around him as he claimed. If that were the case, the drones that had been launched repeatedly over the area as well as satellite imaging would have confirmed the number she’d been given. Taking a deep breath, she got up and went in search of Flare, her expert in reconnaissance missions and information gathering. Hopefully her Lieutenant could give her some more insight into what was really going on beyond a man’s over-exaggerated body guard number.

“Flare. Mind following me?” Bear asked, finding the young woman with her nose in a book.

“Bear? Is everything okay?” Flare asked, setting the book down and following after her Commander.

Bear nodded. “For the most part, I’m struggling to grasp something and hoped that you could shed some light on the situation.”

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee anything,” Flare replied. “What was causing the issue?”

“al-Hameed’s number of followers at the compound. The IJU doesn’t have many active posts in Saudi Arabia, most are in tribal Pakistan, so unless Khrushov’s people were counted and then, I don’t know, doubled or something so it filled the space for al-Hameed, something else is going on,” Bear told her, pointing at the papers in front of her.

“Weird. Give me a second, let me grab my copies so I can compare because something is definitely off.” The young woman rushed from the room, skidding around the corners and past other Navy personnel as she made for her bunk.

Minutes later, she was back, files in hand. “Okay, so this is the satellite image from this day, that matches. But this is from… huh. I see what happened. You were sent the wrong data, because I have these two dates on images and reports, while you have this other one, from weeks ago.”

“So what you’re telling me, Flare, is that my files were changed?” Bear asked, arms crossed.

Biting her lip, Flare hummed. “I can’t say for sure, but it’s weird that I have this and you don’t. Especially since I sent you everything that came across my email in relation to this mission.”

Rubbing her temples, Bear sighed in frustration. “Okay, thanks. I’m trying to get a hold on roughly how many of you guys I will need for this, so I’m going to copy the numbers I need and give this back to you.” Bear sat back down in her chair, continuing on. “Meanwhile, before you get back to your book, I need you to draft an email to send the second we hit secure service in Riyadh. Tell them to take a look into my account, computer, and tech that is on base. I want to make sure that I haven’t been hacked.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Wonderful, thank you.” She watched Flare leave the room, letting out a huff as she went back to her planning. Time flew by, and now with the correct numbers, she knew that she would need most of the people she’d brought along. Better safe than sorry, she supposed.

For Jake, he was reminded just how much he hated the traveling portion of the deployments. Security reasons meant that outside communication was limited, not that he had anyone he wanted to talk to in the States, and that in turn limited access to the internet. At least it was limited for them, Bear had been adamant that all technology was off. Total blackout. “More like total boredom,” he muttered, standing up from his bunk and wandering off to find someone new to chat with.

His wandering brought him down random hallways until he found himself in a room with the Seals. Fireball, for some inane reason, had taken a liking to him, and they had discovered each other’s preference for rival football teams, which they dug up again and when Jake checked the time, he found that they had spent two hours explaining why the other was wrong. “Dude,” Fireball said, exasperated. “The stats speak for themselves. Your team hasn’t been good fo-” he cut himself off, glancing at the door.

Jake turned, finding himself face to face with Bear. “Bear.”

“Flyboy.”

“Commander, is there something you need?” Fireball asked, glancing between his CO and new friend.

She nodded. “But it can wait. If I stare at any more reports today, my head might explode,” Bear complained, flopping into one of the chairs. “I’d get into it, but Hangman isn’t cleared for this level of information, unfortunately.”

The room filled with silence. No one knew what to say, especially since Bear wasn’t typically one to complain. “I intruded on your space, didn’t I?” she asked after a moment. “Shit, okay. Well, food is ready in like 20 so I will see you guys there.” With a groan, Bear heaved herself up and out of the chair, quickly and quietly disappearing from the room.

Glances were exchanged, before Jake stood. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to mess so all the good bread isn’t taken,” he remarked casually, strolling off down the halls after Bear.

She looked confused when he did find her, wondering why he would ask if she was okay. “I’m fine. I just know that there are things that you don’t necessarily want to discuss in front of your CO,” Bear told him, her brown eyes meeting his green. “It’s kind of sweet that you were concerned though. I appreciate it. But I really am fine.”

He gave her a grin, walking backwards towards the door, wincing when his shoulder slammed into the side of the door. “Ow.”

“You good, Flyboy?”

The signature smirk made its appearance on Jake’s face. “Oh, I’m good, Teddy. I’m very good.”

“Oh fuck you,” she groaned. “That was terrible.”

His smirk grew and he strode towards her, backing her into the table behind her. “I’m pretty sure you’d enjoy that too much, Teddy,” he replied, voice low. Jake caught how her eyes widened, how her cheeks pinked, and the little hitch in her breath with how close he stood, and he relished that his presence was all it took for her to lose some of the rigid control she had on her reactions.

Rolling her eyes, Bear shook her head. Slipping out from against the table, she stood with her arms crossed, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You wish, Flyboy. You fucking wish.”

“Oh I do,” Jake retorted. With one more appraising glance, he left her standing in the middle of the room, shock evident on her face.

“Ugh! That motherfucker!”

===

Nearly 20 days after their original departure date and five days after the incident, as Bear had taken to calling it, the USS Abraham Lincoln made port in Saudi Arabia’s port Mina Jebel Ali.

The deck had erupted in chaos, pilots, support crew, engineers, Seals, and any number of personnel were rushing to and fro, trying to get everything settled for the disembarkation of a fraction of the number that would continue on to the naval base in Busan.

“Flare, Shrike, Bug, Fireball, are your people ready?”

“Yes Ma’am, ready and waiting to fly out. Waiting on your signal to send them off,” Bug replied.

“Send them off. Join your teams, I will do one last check with Captain Mitchell before I join you en route to Riyadh,” Bear ordered. “You are dismissed.”

Four nods from her Lieutenants followed her words before they disappeared into the flurry of movement. Bear watched the helicopters take off, each one carrying nearly ten Seals apiece. It made her nervous, knowing how many things could go wrong. Even if it was just an hour and a bit from where the port. Anything could be waiting the second they flew out of the urban areas.

Steeling herself, Bear blew out a deep breath, catching Maverick by the arm as he went to pass her. “Everything set?”

“Hell yeah. Just having them to do final checks on the jets. Should be out within 30 to 45, depending on whether or not Hondo can get everyone organized enough to send us out,” he told her, glancing over her shoulder at Payback, who was finishing up his checks.

“Get your people together, and I will see you soon, Mav.” Bear clapped him on the back before slipping through the crowd to the last running helicopter that sat on the deck of the Lincoln.

Strapping in, Bear placed the headset on, tucked her bag between her feet before signaling to the pilot. “Let’s get this bird in the air.”

===

The flight didn’t take long and when her boots hit the ground at Riyadh Air Base, Bear hurried over, offering an extended hand to the Base Commander, Air Force Colonel Michael Richmond. “Thank you for hosting us, Colonel. We appreciate your cooperation.”

“It isn’t a problem, Commander. Just glad something is finally being done about al-Hameed,” he replied, shaking her hand. “Do you know your way around?”

“I do, Sir. We’ve had some past missions that have had us based out of Riyadh. If nothing changed since I was last here, I believe we should be good to go,” Bear told him. “I hope that the arrangements for our pilots were communicated in advance?”

“Yes, they were. Admiral Harris was quite clear when he sent the request that it was anything but a request,” Richmond chuckled.

“That sounds like him.”

The Colonel nodded, calling over a few of his people. “Staff Sergeants Miller and Roux will show you to the accommodations.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Settling in only took a few hours. But thanks to the time change, most of her people and the pilots were absolutely exhausted. Luckily for them, it was evening when the last F-18 touched down, allowing most of their personnel to fall asleep quickly.

And they did.

The next morning hit them all hard. It was an early start. Maverick had the Daggers up, doing standard runs and drills to get his people back in the air and work out any final kinks as they practiced the bombing run.

Bear, on the other hand, had allowed her Seals an extra hour of sleep, knowing that in two days, they would be up for hours on end. She figured that a little extra sleep couldn’t hurt. At 0630 though, she walked through the halls banging her fist on all the doors of her people whether they were up or not. Training had to be done, but Bear had chatted with Maverick the night before to ask if her people could visit the swath of desert over which the Daggers were running their maneuvers, and he had happily agreed.

So 45 minutes later, Bear and her team traveled out to where Maverick stood next to an abandoned hangar, where they could see the planes twisting and curling through the air like kites whose strings had been let out a little too far. “Bear!” Maverick yelled over the noise, waving them down. “You’re in for a show! I’m pretty sure that they know you’re here!”

“Well we aren’t exactly a small group!” She yelled back, tilting her head up to watch two planes race past overheard, chasing each other with reckless abandon. “And I’m pretty sure they could see us coming for miles!”

He laughed, waving the group of Seals over to cluster around him. “Throw your packs against the wall, I can maybe use a few of you in running this next series.” Tapping the radio in his hand, Maverick spoke, voice crackling through the comms of the twelve pilots above him, “The Seals showed up. A few are gonna give you information. Listen for your call sign.”

“Copy Mav,” Phoenix replied, twisting over Coyote to dive low enough to wave at Bear and Bug before flying off and allowing her aircraft to hover midair, waiting for the instructions. “I can tell Bagman’s a second away from showing off though.”

“Oh fucking hell,” Omaha swore goodnaturedly. “Now wingmen really will be left hanging.”

“Fuck off you two,” Jake replied, his cheeks a little red. “I’m still this good, regardless.”

A few cackles filled his headset, and down on the ground, Bear could hear the teasing from the large radio inside the hangar. It made her grin, loving the ribbing the blonde man was on the receiving end of, thankful that it was his turn and not hers. “Alright people, who wants to go first?” she asked, scanning over her people. A few hands went up, and Bear glanced back at Maverick. “How many did you need?”

He held up four fingers and Bear picked off four people, who followed her to the radio where Maverick stood. He had written down the instructions he wanted certain pilots to have during the exercise, and passed them over to the Seal leader, who flipped them over, making her people draw blindly. “Okay, Coyote, Raptor has some instructions for you. Go ahead Raptor,” the older pilot told the young man next to him.

He relayed information that he was given with minimal issue. He had turned back to Bear, giving her a huge shrug after, saying, “I have no fucking clue what I just said.”

Up in the air, the Daggers heard his words and laughed. “Hate to break it to you, Raptor, but I could tell!” Coyote teased.

The other three Seals had their turns, each one of them making faces back at their Commander signaling their uncertainty. “Well, this will be fun,” Maverick said. Gesturing them forwards, the pilot began telling them the exercise. “So what we just told them to do, is really the most basic one we have. Coyote and Rooster are dogfighting against Phoenix and Halo. It’s just two minutes, a short one. Make sense?”

The Seals around him nodded and they watched as the drill they had relayed to the pilots began. The ducking, dodging, and weaving of the planes had most of the Seals’ jaws dropping in awe. “This is fucking cool,” Fireball exclaimed, knocking into Flare with how he’d been craning his neck to see. “It’s like they’re dancing.”

“At roughly 7000 feet, going hundreds of miles an hour,” Maverick elaborated, grinning widely. It felt good to show off their skills. And why wouldn’t they? The Seals had already had their turn back stateside.

As soon as it had begun, Coyote and the others slowed. The radio spewed joking insults and proclamations of victory all over the other and Bear delighted in the organized chaos. “Damn,” was all the Seal Commander was able to say. “Wow.”

“Hear that? Bear’s impressed with you all,” Maverick gloated, grinning when he saw the woman shake her head at him. “She’s practically speechless.”

Eyes glinting behind her sunglasses, Bear sauntered forwards, snatching the radio from Maverick’s hands. “As speechless as y’all were after we did our first drill?”

The pilots in the sky burst into laughter. “Sh-she’s got you there, Mav!” Rooster laughed, the mental image too funny for him not to.

Meanwhile, Jake was having a crisis. He loved that Bear was impressed. But he hadn’t done anything yet, and a part of him really wanted to hear her express awe at his skills. And her voice through the headset? Absolutely fucking magical. The lightness of her voice made him grin and want to hear her voice in his ear again. In whatever way he could get it.

“Okay, okay. Settle down.” Maverick was side-eyeing the Seal hard, amusement sparkling in his eyes, knowing full well the dilemma Hangman was having up in the sky. It wasn’t new to him. “Bear, want to do the honors for the next one?”

“Seriously?” Bear narrowed her eyes at him, unsure of what he was playing at.

“C’mon Bear!” One of the Seals yelled and the chant was quickly picked up by the rest of them, Maverick pressing the button on the radio to allow the pilots to listen in, which ended up with them goading her as well, all chanting “Do it. Do it. Do it.”

Waving her arms, Bear shouted over the noise, “Okay! Okay! Fucking Christ! Fine, what am I directing them in?”

A piece of paper was pressed into her hands, and she pulled a face at the words on the note. “Okay, this isn’t fucking legible in the slightest. Flare, you’re always reading the worst handwriting, what does this say?”

“Hangman, Payback and Fanboy, Halo and Omaha, and Harvard, and it looks like Mav has something here about a race?” Flare said, looking at Maverick for confirmation.

“That’s it.”

“Great,” Bear picked up the radio and read out the instructions, calling out the four pilots in question. “From the furthest hangar in the west, over the base and back,” she finished.

“Did you understand any of that?” Jake’s voice came through the speaker and she could hear the smirk in his tone.

“I’m aviationally challenged, not directionally challenged, Flyboy,” she teased back.

“Pretty sure that’s not my call sign.”

“Nope, pretty sure I have the right ‘f-boy’.”

“Oh shit!” Fireball shouted, gaping at his CO. “Bear, you can’t just straight up murder a man like that.”

Bear squinted at him. “Did you forget that that is literally part of our job?”

“Right.”

Up in the sky, Jake was still shell-shocked from her quick comeback. He prided himself in being able to put her off her game, but it seemed that she could do the same just as easily.

“All good up there, Hangman? Haven’t heard confirmation of understanding just yet,” Bear said teasingly over his headset, making him groan in frustration.

“Copy that, Ted-Bear,” he replied, the nickname he had for her slipping from his lips with ease. It was only a forced correction that had him changing it mid syllable.

Glances were exchanged. Jake was acting weird, well, weirder than usual and while everyone had a guess as to what was happening, the other party supposedly involved seemed to be unaffected. If only they knew how untrue that was. The groan Jake had let out rattled through Bear’s head, mixing with the fantasies that ran rampant through her mind late at night. It was bad enough she had to see him in that damn flight suit on a daily basis.

Maverick shouted “Go!” and the planes raced past.

Bear watched the planes take off, racing each other down the straightaway. “Which one is which?” She asked Maverick.

“Far right is Hangman. Payback and Fanboy are second left. Omaha is next to Hangman, and Harvard is far left,” he told her, watching the planes begin to distance themselves from one another.

“And here they come!” Someone yelled from behind her. They were right. The planes raced back towards them with who she thought was Hangman in first place. Her suspicions were confirmed when he gave a shout of victory, whooping with delight.

“Alright, back home Daggers,” Maverick told them. “Refuel, and we’ll come back up this afternoon.”

“Copy Mav,” came the replies, with one pilot replying “Okay dad.”

Bear turned to the Seals. “Grab your gear, we’re going back. We have a few more raid drills to practice before we’re done for the day.”

She nodded to Maverick, who returned the gesture, before Bear led the Seals off at a run in the direction of the base.

===

A/N: So they are in Saudi now! Still going to be a bit before it picks up, but Bear is still a boss bitch! Thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s and @dakotakazansky for reading this part for me!

Taglist: @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @dakotakazansky @horseshoegirl @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @lavenderbradshaw @roosterforme @bobby-r2d2-floyd @bradleybeachbabe @twsssmlmaa @footprintsinthesxnd @fandomxpreferences @dempy @gizmodear @fighterpilothoe @chaoticassidy @eli2447 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @djs8891 @rhirhikingston @sisterslytherinog @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @thegoddessc @sgt-barnesveins @taytaylala12 @urmom-999 @formulapierre @pinkpantheris

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#a gun amonst daggers #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman x fem!reader #top gun maverick x reader #jake seresin x oc #hangman fanfiction #hangman x reader #bear and hangman #controlled chaos squad #callsign bruiser #hangman x oc #hangman imagine #hangman fic

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onceuponastory · 2 years

Text

dark waters - steve harrington x reader

WARNING: Spoilers for episodes 4 and 6.

Plot: When Steve gets pulled under the water, Y/N gets pulled in with him. || Requested by @albeeox Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of being deep underwater for a long time, the possibility for things to grab you without noticing, and running out of oxygen/drowning. If you have aquaphobia, thalassophobia, or any other water/drowning related fear, then this is NOT the fic for you! Also mentions of passing out and almost dying. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: Aside from the addition of reader, I changed things/dialogue around a little mostly cause I was too busy freaking out about Steve as I watched the episode to remember it all, lmao.

Once again, not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

“Dustin said the gate’s likely down there.” Robin announces. Steve gets up, starting to take his top off before the group even says anything else.

“Steve! What the fuck are you doing?!” Y/N gasps, trying to stand up and stop Steve as the boat rocks. Typical Steve, trying to charge into things before thinking about it. It’s brave of him, she won’t deny that...but she also won’t deny that it’s a pretty dumb idea sometimes. Sighing, Steve turns back to her, his bare chest on full display. Y/N tries her best to keep her eyes on Steve’s face, but still can’t help herself from sneaking a peek. After all, Steve is her boyfriend.

“I was a lifeguard and a swimmer, remember? If anyone should check this out, it should be me.” Worry fills Y/N’s body then. No. They almost lost Max. What if they lose Steve too? Noticing the worry on her face, Steve sighs. “I’ll be back soon, alright? I promise. I’ll be okay.” He whispers, squeezing her hand. Y/N can tell from Steve’s eyes he’s not even sure that’s true. Because that’s what their life is now. Fighting supernatural monsters and hoping they make it back safely. This time is no different. Before Y/N can say anything else, Steve bends down, softly kissing her lips. Y/N’s eyes widen. Steve’s hands wrap around her shoulders, and he pulls her close as Y/N kisses him back, savouring it as if it’s the last time she’ll ever kiss him.

Because deep down, Y/N knows this could be the last time she ever sees Steve. And that thought scares her more than anything. Even more than this creep Vecna.

Despite how cold Steve’s shirtless body is, she can still feel an inner warmth radiating from him as he holds her close. And even though she still thinks he’s being kind of stupid by going to find the gate by himself, that’s what Steve Harrington is. He’s warm, he’s brave, and he’s going to help save the world once again. Steve’s warm embrace makes Y/N feel more comfortable, and her anxieties start to fade away, if only a little. Sometimes, Y/N swears she could stay in Steve’s embrace forever, safe from the weight of the world and the monsters trying to destroy it. When Steve pulls apart from her, Y/N comes crashing back down to earth, and she realises that she can’t stay there forever. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Steve presses a kiss to her forehead and jumps off the boat into the dark waters below. Hopefully, he’s right.

A silence falls on the others in the boat as Y/N peers down into the water, trying to see if she can somehow spot Steve in the water below. Her leg bounces anxiously as her eyes scan the water, trying to spot either Steve, or the glow of the gate. She can’t see anything, and her anxiety continues to grow.

“He’s gonna be alright Y/N.” Nancy reassures her, and Y/N can hear Robin and Eddie agreeing with her. Nancy wraps an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. As she glances over at her, Y/N can see the fear on Nancy’s face. Even though they broke up, Y/N knows that Nancy still has a lot of love in her heart for Steve. And although Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t worried about Steve going back to Nancy, she can’t blame Nancy for feeling that way. You never forget your first love.

“Yeah! I hardly know him, but he seems really brave. Stupid, but brave…shit sorry, that’s not helping, is it?” Eddie hisses. Y/N turns to Eddie, giving him a smile. Even if Eddie doesn’t think he’s helping, she still appreciates the support. The group stays huddled together on the boat, waiting for Steve to return. Suddenly, the water around the boat ripples, and Steve’s head pops up. Y/N breathes an enormous sigh of relief.

He’s back, and he’s safe. They’re going to be okay.

“We were right! T-There’s a gate, and-” Steve’s cut off as he disappears under the water again.

“Steve!” Y/N gasps. Almost immediately, his head pops back up.

“There’s something here! It’s got my leg, it’s-” He disappears again. When his head reappears, Y/N springs forward, reaching out for Steve before he can disappear again, despite the pleas of everyone else. To Y/N, they all sound like background noise. All she cares about is keeping Steve safe, just like keeps her safe every day. Y/N grabs Steve’s hand, trying with all her might to pull him out of the water and back onto the boat. Y/N braces her feet, trying to stand as strong and sturdy as a rock. However, whatever has Steve is stronger than them both, and it starts pulling them both back towards the water. Despite her efforts not to, Y/N’s feet start to move.

“Shit!” She hisses.

“Guys, come on! Help her pull!” Robin yells. But whatever’s got Steve is too fast. It pulls Steve back under, too quickly for Y/N to let go. And so, Y/N’s pulled off the boat too. She takes a deep breath, holding it as she disappears under the water with Steve, trying to give them both the best chance for survival. In the chaos and yelling voices, she recognises Steve reaching out for her, wrapping his arms around her body. He’s keeping her safe, even now.

As their bodies sink rapidly, Steve and Y/N hold onto each other, each gripping the others body like they’re a lifeline. Y/N tries her best to keep her grip on Steve, despite him being pulled down quicker than she can handle. Kicking her legs, she pulls Steve back to safety as hard as she can. As she strains, she feels Steve slipping from her grasp more and more. Reaching out into the darkness, she grabs Steve’s hand once more, continuing to try and pull them both back to the surface. Y/N can sense the creature, or whatever’s holding Steve, is getting angry, as its pulls grow stronger, yanking both her and Steve deeper and deeper into the lake.

The water grows darker the more they sink, and soon Y/N is straining to see most of her arms and legs, let alone Steve. Even though her eyes are burning and she can barely see, she holds onto the one constant she has: Steve’s hand. She pulls and strains with all her might against whatever is holding onto him, trying her best to save the boy who’s saved her too many times to count. Her legs kick furiously, and Y/N pulls so hard that she doesn’t even care that her arms are aching, or that she’s getting increasingly more tired. If her uncomfortableness and pain will save Steve, then she just has to deal with it.

But despite Y/N’s efforts, the thing still holding Steve is too strong for her, and he starts to slip out of her grasp once more. Y/N tries her best to hold on tight, but she can’t. With one last pull by the thing holding Steve, she loses her grasp on his hand, and he disappears into the depths below.

“Steve!” she screams, her voice coming out as silent bubbles as the last of her saved breath is released. Y/N’s throat burns as she screams and as the lake water rushes into her mouth. Y/N doesn’t care about that, though. Her mind races.

She let him go.

That thing could have taken Steve anywhere, and it’s all her fault.

Because she let him go.

What if he dies? What if she never sees him again?

No. That can’t happen, and she won’t let it happen. Overrun with guilt and a desire to save her boyfriend, Y/N starts to swim in the direction that Steve went.

Her legs kick rapidly as she pushes herself through the water, using up the last of her adrenaline and swimming the fastest she ever has in her life. Y/N can feel her legs and arms burning, but she doesn’t care. Steve is the most important person in her life, and she’ll find him, even if she dies trying. As Y/N continues to swim, the water gets darker. With it, her anxiety grows. If something was to reach out and grab her just like it did with Steve, she wouldn’t notice. Despite this, she soldiers on, even though she knows that her body and mind just want to go to sleep, and that soon she’ll run out of time. Things brush against her arms and legs, things she can’t identify. It’s scary, but her love for Steve overrides everything. Y/N can feel herself getting more tired, and her lack of oxygen is catching up to her, but she still keeps swimming…although her pace is starting to waver, and she can see dark spots in her vision. Ones that she knows aren’t because of the darkness of the water. By the time she sees the familiar red glow of a gate emanating from the bottom of the lake, Y/N is exhausted. With one last push, she swims towards it.

And then something grabs her leg, wrapping around it tightly. This must’ve been what grabbed Steve. Y/N tries to untangle her leg, but she’s too weak. Just as she grabs whatever has her leg, another wraps around her arm, and then another wraps round her other leg. She tries to swim away, hoping the force pulls her away from whatever this thing is, but she’s too tired, and whatever’s holding her is too strong. In all honesty, by this point Y/N's ready to go to sleep for a while.

“I’m sorry Steve.” She whispers. And then, Y/N’s eyes drift shut, and her body is pulled into the gate.

“Y/N, have you ever thought about getting outta here?” Steve asks. Y/N frowns.

“Out of work?” Steve laughs, the same laugh she’s heard so many times ever since she and Steve started dating. The same laugh that Y/N swears she falls in love with every time she hears it.

“I mean out of Hawkins.” Steve answers. Y/N sighs.

“Honestly, I’d love to leave this place when everything is over. I just don’t know if it will ever be over.” She sighs. Steve wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her back close to him. He presses a kiss to her temple, and Y/N can’t help a smile from crossing her lips.

“Y/N. I don’t know when, but this nightmare will end. We’ll get as far away from this place as possible. Maybe a road trip to California or Florida. Somewhere warm, where we can start fresh and spend almost everyday on the beach. We’ll have our own place, right on the beach, and you’ll wake up to this handsome face every day too.” He teases. “Sounds good, right?”

“Mmm…that sounds great. Like a dream come true.” Y/N murmurs. Steve spins her around, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“In that case, I promise I’ll make it happen for us Y/N.” He smiles.

Y/N knows she’s dreaming. She had that conversation with Steve months ago, even before Vecna showed up. But now, she wonders if her mind is just showing her the happy times before she slips away forever. The life they could’ve lived. The life that they should’ve had. And she didn’t even get to say goodbye to Steve properly.

Yet, as the dream fades, Y/N recognises other noises. “Y/N! Y/N! Please, wake up.” The same voice begs. Only this time, she recognises it. Steve. He’s alive. She’s alive.

Her eyes flutter open, and she sees Steve peering down at her. Once Steve realises she’s awake, a huge grin takes over his face, and he wipes his eyes. “Oh, thank god!” He exclaims..

“Steve…w-where are we?” Y/N murmurs. Steve quickly pulls her into his arms, squeezing her tightly.

“Wait, not so fast! She’s been out for a while, and you’re still hurt, Steve!” Robin calls, but Steve ignores her, continuing to hold onto Y/N. His body shakes, and Y/N can tell he’s crying softly.

“Robin? What are you doing…w-wait, you’re hurt?” Y/N asks, her voice still a weak murmur as she tries to come to terms with what happened.

“We’re in the upside down.” Steve explains. “Don’t worry about me. It’s nothing.” He shrugs. “The tentacle things brought us both here, and they tried attacking us while you were out. I got hurt a few times, but the others helped.” He gestures around the group, and Y/N sees Robin, Nancy and Eddie staring back at her, all looking just as relieved as Steve.

“Y/N, he fucking bit into a bat that was trying to kill you. It was so metal. Very Ozzy.” Eddie gushes.

“Very what?” Steve frowns, and Y/N can’t stop herself from giggling, although it makes her cough a little. “Hey, hey. Don’t strain yourself, alright? Don’t want you getting hurt.” Steve soothes, tightening his grip on her.

“It was metal what you did too, Y/N, don’t get me wrong!” Eddie grins. “You grabbed Steve and tried to pull him back onto the boat with no hesitation, even though that monster was trying to pull you both under.”

“Well, it sure did that.” Y/N scoffs, and Steve chuckles.

“Forgive me for sounding cheesy, but what you two did for each other? That’s true love material right there.” Eddie continues. Y/N and Steve look back at each other, smiling.

“I guess it is, huh?” Steve chuckles. His eyes are full of tears, gratitude…and love. He presses a kiss to Y/N’s lips once more. “I love you so much.” He whispers. “I’m never letting you go, and I’ll never let anything hurt you ever again.”

#stranger things spoilers #strangerthingsspoilers #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things oneshot #albeeox

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