#whirring n' purring

[em1i2a3]

What if the gang were out somewhere and Bob saw someone who reminded him of his father so he starts having a panic attack and y/n has to calm him down <3

Never Let Me Go

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader!

Summary: On a day off, the team arranges to go to a farmers market to do a bit of R and R. But what happens when Bob has an unexpected encounter with a ghost of his past?

Warnings: Spoilers for Thunderbolts (will put this here because there is some plot from the Thunderbolts in here and some of Bob's story in here) Angst baby…Angst, Hurt/Comfort, and some fluff at the beginning. Descriptions of a panic attack, Mentions of Trauma. Bob and Reader are in an unlabeled relationship, they care deeply about one another and they are each other's comfort person they just don’t say they’re in a relationship, there are very minor discussions about sex (nothing graphic or extreme)

Author's Note: I love writing angst for Bob. The sugar puff doesn’t deserve the sadness but writing it is so simple and my brain eats it up like it’s junk food, and things fall into place so easily. Thank you for the request!! I enjoyed writing this very much, and building a backstory and everything. We love creative freedoms lol

Word Count: 5,583

Two nights before everyone’s scheduled day off, the Thunderbolts compound turned into a battleground–but not the kind with blood and broken glass.

No, this one was somehow worse.

It was filled with groaning, dramatic sighs, petty barbs, and the very serious politics of trying to plan a group outing with seven people who had wildly incompatible definitions of “fun.”

The common room buzzed with late-evening heat and lived-in clutter–dim overhead lights flickering slightly, a half-eaten bag of pretzels on the table, the low whir of the box fan doing a poor job of circulating the stale air. The couch cushions were sunken in all the wrong places. Someone had abandoned a trail of dirty socks that led ominously into the hallway like breadcrumbs. No one was taking credit.

Yelena had draped herself upside-down over the back of the couch like a melting spider, boots propped on one armrest, braid dangling down toward the floor.

“How about we don’t do another bar,” She said, idly twirling a throwing knife between two fingers. “Last time we went, I don’t even remember how I got home. And I’m positive Alexei smuggled out at least three ramekins.”

Alexei, currently half-submerged in the compound’s fridge, called out in his usual booming tone, “We didn’t have any here. Useful little things!”

Walker groaned from his claimed spot in the worn recliner, legs extended so far into the walking path that everyone had given up trying to step over them. “I’m all for anything but a cat café,” He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Last time we did that, Alpine almost clawed my eyes out.”

Bucky, sprawled on the other end of Yelena’s couch, arms folded and expression unreadable, didn’t look up from the book in his hands. The aforementioned Alpine–elegant, pristine, and smug as ever–was nestled in his lap, purring like she owned the room.

“You sure it was because you had other cat fur on you,” Bucky said evenly, “Or because she just doesn’t like you?”

Walker rolled his eyes with the resigned aggression of a man who hadn’t experienced real peace since being assigned to this team.

“Oh, please. Like that little cotton ball has a moral compass.” As if on cue, Alpine–silent and serene just moments before–let out a sudden, loud hiss, her ears flattening dramatically. Ava snorted from her perch on the windowsill, one leg curled up beneath her as she scrolled through her tablet.

“Seems like she’s the only one of us with actual standards.”

While the rest of the team spiraled into another round of chaotic banter, you were tuned out–half-listening, half-smiling, but your attention was rooted in him.

Bob was stretched out on the far couch beneath you, lying on his stomach, shirt rumpled and ridden halfway up his back from where your hands had worked their way under the soft fabric. One of his arms was folded under him to cushion his face, while the other reached lazily backward–his hand resting on your calf, thumb rubbing idle, slow strokes over your bare skin like he couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t sexual to either of you. It was instinctive, he just needed some part of him touching some part of you to stay grounded, that’s how it had been since the beginning of your friendship and it led into your odd romantic relationship as well.

You were perched on his lower back, straddling him comfortably, your knees braced on either side of his hips as you worked at the tense knots nestled deep in his shoulder blades and neck. The heat of summer lingered in the room, making everything feel a little slow, a little hazy, and super super hot. Bob’s skin was warm under your palms, and the muscles beneath flexed subtly with every careful dig of your fingers, trying to protest the intrusion.

Bob had come to you earlier that day–sheepishly, voice low–as if you hadn’t touched him a hundred times before.

”G-Got a spot I can’t really shake,” He murmured hand drifting to his shoulder, “Kind o-of feels like someone stuffed glass i-in there.” You’d been hunched over your laptop trying to finish your mission report, but without hesitation you immediately responded.

”Give me ‘till tonight,” You said, “I’ll work them out for you.” And you always kept your word with him no matter how chaotic your life got, because here you were–on top of him, pressing out tension filled knots caused by months of stress, uncomfortable nights on the couch, and bad posture.

He groaned loudly as your thumb found another tight point near the base of his neck.

”O-Oh god–yeah right there–w-what is that?!” You leaned down, mouth close to his ear, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper as your fingers kneaded deeper into the knot.

“It’s from you being curled up on this damn couch all the time,” You murmured, letting your teeth graze the slope of his shoulder before giving him a soft, playful bite right where the muscle dipped, where you had left a mark two nights before.

Bob let out a surprised noise–half a laugh, half a groan–and his grip on your calf tightened slightly. “You bite me, t-then go straight back to causing me unbearable pain, you can’t be giving me these mixed s-signals.” You smirked at this comment.

“I don’t make the rules,” You said sweetly, pressing your thumb into the lump again. “I just remove the knots.” He let out another groan, louder this time–squirming under you like he was trying to make some sort of escape from the sensation of you digging your fingers into the coiled lump.

“Does the sadist and her little masochist have any opinions on what to do for our day off?” Ava called dryly from the windowsill, without even looking up from her tablet. “Or should we give you a safe word and circle back?”

Yelena choked on her water.

You didn’t miss a beat. “It’s ’hot lava,’ if anyone’s asking.”

Bob snorted weakly into the cushion, his voice muffled but amused. “I thought i-it was you who suggested that l-last time.”

“Only because you got too cocky with the hot stones and almost passed out. I told you they would be too hot for your skin and you’d get all sweaty.”

“That was one time,” He mumbled. “And I was fine.”

“Fine doesn’t come with tunnel vision and almost putting your head through a wall…’”

“I hate both of you,” Walker grumbled from the recliner, dramatically swinging a leg off the armrest to sit up. “Can we please pick something before I throw myself out a window?”

“Promise you will?” Ava murmured.

“I think we’re all just a little too warm for rational thinking,” Bucky muttered, reaching up to gently scratch Alpine’s ear as she blinked lazily at the chaos. “We should do something low effort that we don’t have to put a lot of thought into.”

Alexei perked up from the kitchen where he was still chewing through what had to be his fourth slice of cold leftover pizza. “How do we feel about outdoors? I could go for rollercoaster ride. Or smoothie. Something festive!”

Ava finally held up her tablet. “There’s a farmers market across town. Live music. Local vendors. Fresh produce, kettle corn, homemade baked goods. Says there’s a guy who does wood-burned art and fireblowing.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I could go for some homemade pie,” You said, half to yourself, still working your fingers gently through the muscle beneath your hands. Bob twitched a little when you brushed against a sore spot, but didn’t flinch away.

“Mmh,” He hummed, shifting beneath you with a drowsy sigh. “If you’re going, I-I guess I’m in too…”

You glanced down at him, an amused curve lifting your lips.

“Yeah?”

He nodded against the cushion, his voice muffled but sure. “We’re a p-packaged deal, after all…Don’t l-like going anywhere without you.”

You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly.

And then–with surgical precision–you pressed down on the knot you’d been circling, just a little deeper. Bob let out a startled, half-choked yelp, his back arching under you before he sank back into the couch with a whimper.

“I was hoping my c-compliment would stop y-you from doing that.” He groaned, as you let out a small laugh.

“Then it’s set! Farmer’s Market it is.” Ava announced.

——————

Two mornings later you found yourself in your room as the sun rose—half dressed, half awake, thumbing through your closet like your brain hadn’t quite caught up to your body.

Sunlight filtered in through the slats of your blinds, striping the hardwood floor in long, amber bars and cutting soft golden edges along your furniture. The light glowed against the rumpled sheets on your bed, warmed the metal frames stacked against the wall, kissed the edge of the mirror you hadn’t quite cleaned. The air still held the hush of early morning. No shouting yet. No Alexei slamming cabinet doors like he was chasing down enemy intel. No scent of Walker’s industrial-strength coffee-sludge. The whole place felt like it was holding its breath.

The rest of the team was still asleep���or pretending to be–but you and Bob had been up since just before five.

It hadn’t been loud, the way he woke. There was no scream, no flailing, no sheets twisted in panic. Just a sound–a single, sharp gasp. Like his lungs had suddenly remembered they were supposed to be working.

You’d jolted upright before he even spoke, your hand already reaching for him.

He wasn’t panicking. But the way he laid there with his chest rising and falling in quick, greedy pulls, told you everything you needed to know. His eyes weren’t wide with fear–just vacant. Like something had pulled him under, and the shore was still a little too far off.

So you didn’t ask.

You just shifted closer, let your hand curl gently into the hem of his shirt, and breathed with him until the rhythm returned to something human again.

When he could finally speak, his voice rasped against the pillow: “I think I’m up for good.”

So were you.

You’d shared a bed most nights since the early weeks of the Thunderbolts forming–before anyone knew what to do with Bob. Back when he couldn’t stand the idea of being alone and you hadn’t yet admitted how much you needed someone to need you. It had happened gradually–shared exhaustion turning into silent rituals. He never asked. He just showed up, and you let him in. That had been the way he communicated everything he needed.

He only ever slept in his own bed when he wasn’t feeling well–emotionally, physically, psychically. And when that happened, no matter how gently you protested, he always said the same thing: “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He never had.

But you understood. You always did.

So this morning, when he pulled away after the nightmare, you let him. You watched him leave quietly, silhouetted by the hallway light, and whispered “Okay” to the empty air after him.

And now, you were here, scanning your closet, still thinking about the way his breathing had sounded—too loud in the silence, like someone had pulled him from deep water.

The knock came softly. Just three taps.

“Hey,” Bob’s voice came from the other side of the door–low, rough with sleep. “Y-You decent?” You padded over from the closet, lips quirking at the way he still asked for permission to come inside the room.

”It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked, Bob,” You said, twisting the doorknob, “We’re way past the point of asking if I’m decent.” When you opened the door, his ears were already pink.

He stood there in a loose, heather-gray t-shirt that clung faintly to his chest from where he hadn’t fully towel-dried, and a pair of soft navy joggers that hung low on his hips. His feet were bare, hair still slightly damp at the ends, curling around his ears and brushing his jaw. It had grown a lot since you first met him–past his collar now, lighter at the tips from all the sun lately. He looked sleepy, and a little shy, and like something beautiful that had just barely survived the night.

In his hand, he held a single black hair tie looped loosely around two fingers.

You stepped aside, sweeping a hand toward the room in invitation. “Come on in.”

He entered quietly, the door clicking shut behind him, and his eyes drifted around like he hadn’t really seen your room in daylight before—even though he’d spent more mornings here than anywhere else in the world. It was familiar, yet it still made him nervous in the smallest ways, like your presence still overwhelmed him just a little. Like he couldn’t believe you kept letting him in.

He turned to you, holding up the tie.

“C-Could you…?” He asked, hesitating slightly. “You always…Y-You do it better than I can.”

You smiled—soft, fond. “Of course.”

He didn’t need any more prompting. Bob crossed to the foot of your bed and sat down on the floor, like it was his spot–like he belonged there. You sat behind him on the edge of the mattress and let your fingers ease through his hair–combing it gently, smoothing it back from his temples, parting it the way you knew he liked. It was soft, a little tangled at the ends, still warm from the shower. You moved with care, as if you were touching something breakable.

“You’re gonna need a trim soon, got some split ends.” You murmured, running your thumbs behind his ears.

“I like it long,” He said quietly, voice reverberating through the hush like it didn’t want to disturb the peace. “Y-You like it too.”

“Mmm. I do,” You admitted, smiling as you gathered the top portion into your palm. “Especially when you let me braid it.”

“That was once.”

“And you looked hot.”

He ducked his head with a flustered breath that almost passed for a laugh, “Y-You just say that so you can make m-me blush.” You didn’t answer that—just wrapped the tie once, twice, and secured the knot neatly at the back of his head, a soft half-up twist with the front strands falling just the way he liked.

He reached back, fingertips brushing the base of the tie, testing the tension.

“…Perfect,” he whispered. Then, quieter still: “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You paused.

Your hand was still on his hair, your other braced against the mattress. The warmth of his body radiated through the space between you, and when he tilted his head slightly–craning his neck to look up at you–it hit you again, just how much of your heart this man held without even trying.

You leaned forward without a word and kissed his forehead.

It wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t not romantic either.

It just…Was.

Soft. Slow. Steady. Your lips pressed right against the crease above his brow, where his worry lines always gathered, where the night had lingered like a bruise.

He exhaled through his nose, leaning into it like he was trying to memorize the moment. Like it was the only thing keeping him here.

“I’m right here,” You murmured, thumb brushing behind his ear. “Always.”

Bob swallowed, then reached up–fingertips barely grazing your knee. “W-We should get dressed,” He said softly, not quite moving. “Before Alexei starts a s-small kitchen fire trying to make pancakes again.”

You smiled faintly. “Good point. We’ll tag-team the fire extinguisher if we have to.”

He turned just enough to glance over his shoulder. “P-Partner system?”

“You know it.”

——————

After breakfast–which was somehow miraculously fire-free, though only because Bob caught Alexei trying to flip pancakes with a chef’s knife–everyone eventually piled into the SUV like clowns in a circus car. Bucky had claimed the driver’s seat with a resigned kind of authority, while Yelena took the passenger seat, sunglasses already perched high on her head

Alexei and Ava were wedged into the middle row behind them, their usual brand of bickering already in full swing before Bucky had even started the car. Something about what counted as an appropriate booth at a farmers market.

You ended up squished into the very back row–one of the fold-out benches, technically meant for three, but realistically comfortable for maybe one and a half. Bob had climbed in after you without hesitation, knees bumping yours, and Walker–who drew the short straw after loudly insisting he “didn’t have enough leg room and should technically be at the front”–ended up next to you, with his arms folded and his head against the window.

This left you pinned between Bob’s warmth on one side and Walker’s long-limbed discomfort on the other, with nowhere to stretch his legs. You wouldn’t have minded normally–but the heat was already starting to build, and the SUV’s AC unit definitely didn’t sound promising to you.

Bob, as always, had found you without needing to ask. His hand was resting gently on your thigh, fingers curled softly into the hem of your shorts, not possessive, it was just to know you were there. His thumb brushed back and forth in slow, rhythmic strokes just above your knee, and you didn’t say anything about it. You never did.

He was wearing a pale blue t-shirt now, cotton thin and a little too big, sleeves hugging the curve of his biceps, his tied-back hair still damp at the tips where it clung to the back of his neck. He smelled faintly of cedar soap and laundry detergent, and the lingering trace of your shampoo from the bottle he sometimes used without asking.

Walker huffed beside you, shifting his elbow dramatically. “If either of you start making out back here, I’m tucking and rolling out of this moving vehicle.”

Bob blinked, innocent and mild as ever. “W-We weren’t–”

“You will, though,” Walker muttered. “I can already feel the sexual tension radiating off you like a goddamn space heater.”

“Can’t blame them,” Yelena called from the front, twisting around just enough to shoot you a knowing look over her sunglasses. “At least someone’s getting laid.”

“We’re not having sex,” You said flatly, eyes fixed on the fraying seat fabric beneath your thumb. You weren’t lying when you said it. Both you and Bob had your own reservations about the whole act itself, but it didn’t mean neither of you had your moments of wanting to do it then getting scared to ask. Nothing in the compound was a secret so exposing that to the group wasn’t really a big deal…Or so you thought.

The comment earned a beat of silence–just long enough for everyone to register how serious your voice was–before Ava spoke up.

“…That’s worse,” She said, blinking. “You mean all that flirting and massages haven’t gone anywhere?” Bob’s ears turned a shade of red so deep it looked biblical.

You didn’t flinch. “No. Not yet. We do other things,” You said pointedly, still not looking at anyone. “We’re just…Taking our time.”

“‘Other things,’” Yelena repeated, raising both eyebrows. “So you’re edging yourselves now?”

“Okay–nope,” Bucky snapped from the front seat, his grip tightening on the wheel. “We are not doing this. I don’t want to hear the word ‘edging’ in here for the rest of the car ride please.”

“Sorry,” Yelena muttered, not sounding sorry at all. “Didn’t mean to scare Grandpa.”

“You do realize this means the tension is worse than we thought, right?” Ava added, adjusting her sunglasses without looking up from her phone. “You’re not sleeping together yet, but you’re still all over each other like a pair of Victorian lovers with a shared brain cell and a strict no-penetration clause? That sounds like psychological warfare.”

Walker groaned and slumped deeper into the seat. “Honestly, it sounds like a Cold War for sex.”

“P-Please don’t encourage that line of thinking,” Bob murmured weakly, looking like he wanted to disappear into the upholstery.

“Can we talk about this when we’re out of the car so I can make an escape at least?” Bucky muttered, signaling with more force than necessary before changing lanes.

You exhaled, closing your eyes for a moment. The heat of the van. The smell of sunblock and leather and too many bodies. Bob’s thumb–slow, steady–brushing along the inside of your thigh like it was the only thing grounding him. You felt him shift slightly, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned closer. His voice was low, meant only for you.

“Y-You okay?”

You turned toward him slowly, met his gaze. Soft, steady, still a little fogged from the early morning–but so achingly present. Like he never really looked at anything else when you were in the room.

You nodded once. “Yeah,” You said, quiet as the hum of tires on the road. “Just thinking.”

He didn’t ask what about. He just squeezed your leg gently, his palm warm against your skin, and looked out the window like the worst of the day was already behind you.

The SUV kept rolling–toward sun and stalls and small-town charm–and you tried to breathe past the flutter in your chest.

Because you felt that something was off in the air, you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

——————

The farmers market sat at the edge of town like something out of a picture book–sunlight caught in cloth-draped canopies, booths lined with jam jars and hand-poured candles, the air scented with kettle corn, grilled peaches, and the distant trace of burning sage. People moved in lazy loops past flower stalls and chalkboard signs, kids with balloon animals weaved through legs, and a folk band played off to the side under a vine-covered gazebo.

You stepped out of the SUV, blinking against the brightness, the warmth of the pavement radiating up through the soles of your sneakers. Bob was right beside you, stretching once with a soft grunt, hair tied neatly back, putting on a pair of sunglasses that hung low on his nose. You didn’t even have to reach for him–his hand found yours naturally, fingers curling between yours like it was the easiest thing in the world.

The others peeled off in separate directions almost immediately–Alexei making a beeline toward the smell of roasted nuts, Ava dragging Walker to a pottery booth under protest, and Bucky already halfway to the honey stand, which was conveniently located near one of the coffee tents, with Yelena following close behind, with a shout of “I’ll be back if I get bored!”

Bob stayed with you.

You walked side by side, fingers linked, your shoulder brushing his with every step. It was light between you–breezy, easy, with the kind of soft comfort you’d built slowly over time like a house made of quiet affirmations and gentle touches.

At a booth shaded by a white parasol, Bob picked up a toothpick sample of fresh mozzarella and sun-dried tomato, his eyes flicking to you like he was offering you it instead of him, and you shook your head, watching as he immediately popped the little stack into his mouth, slowly biting down on it like he was worried he may not like the taste. His facial expressions were unreadable to you.

“Is it good?” You asked, nudging him with your hip as he chewed.

He nodded, then grabbed a second one for you, a small pleased smile playing on his lips. “M-Maybe too good. W-We might have to come back.”

You grinned, leaning in to bite it off the toothpick, your fingers brushing his. He was right in the fact that it was indeed too good, even for just a little bit of mozzarella and sun-dried tomato. “We definitely have to come back.”

There were fresh apples dipped in honey, a booth with carved soap that smelled like lavender and woodsmoke, a ceramic artist who pressed your hands into clay to make little thumb-heart tokens. Bob pocketed the one with your prints on it without a word.

And then the shift happened, the one that you were expecting from the beginning of the car ride.

It came all at once–subtle, but immediate if you knew what to look for. Bob stopped mid-step beside the stall with the pressed flower jewelry. His hand slipped from yours. His shoulders stiffened like someone had tugged a wire tight inside him. You turned to ask what was wrong–and followed his line of sight, laying eyes on what he was looking at.

The man was tall. Broad-shouldered. His white shirt was tucked into a pair of work-worn jeans, and his arms were tanned from years in the sun. His hair was cut short and neat, parted sharply to the side. And the mustache–thin, severe, like it had been trimmed with a ruler–made your blood go cold.

He was laughing at something the vendor said, shaking a paper bag open. Just a man. Just a stranger.

But to Bob, he was not, and you didn’t have to guess where his mind was going.

You’d seen that face once before–through the dim gray light of a memory that didn’t belong to you, in a space that pulsed like a wound. You’d seen that man through Bob’s eyes.

You’d been caught in one of his shame rooms with him. Not just as a witness–but trapped. Both of you pulled under by the twisting, coiled maze of Bob’s worst fears and guilt. It had taken hours to find a way out–at least it had felt like hours. You’d fought alongside him against illusions that clawed and mocked and whispered. And when you’d finally made it to the attic of his childhood home, where the air didn’t taste like blood and grief, he’d collapsed beside you like his bones had given out.

You remembered the stillness. The way he fixed your hair with shaking fingers. How he apologized–not for dragging you into his trauma, but just…For being like this. For not being able to protect you from what lived in his head.

You’d caught his chin, tilted his face up with a hand soft as a promise.

“Don’t apologize to me, Bob,” you’d whispered. “You’re the one who went through that. And you didn’t deserve a single thing that happened to you… You were just a kid.”

He’d cried. Silently, terribly, eyes shining like shattered glass. You wiped them away with your sleeve and pulled him against your chest, holding him like you could stitch the pieces back together just by keeping him close.

That was when Yelena had found you both, crouched in the attic like kids hiding from a thunderstorm.

Now, standing in the golden light of the farmers market, you saw the exact moment the past cracked through Bob’s present.

His chest rose too fast, too sharp. The edge of a panic attack wasn’t always violent with Bob. It was quiet. Internal. A collapsing spiral. And you could see it now—the way his eyes were locked on the man across the market, not blinking, like if he looked away for even a second the world might split open beneath him.

You stepped closer, slow but firm. “Bob,” you whispered. “Look at me. Just me.”

He didn’t move. His lips parted like he might say something, but no sound came out. His shoulders trembled. You saw the way his hands curled into fists at his sides—tight enough his knuckles were pale, as if his body was bracing for something that hadn’t hit yet.

And then you saw it. The first shudder in his breath.

You reached for him. “Come with me,” You murmured, and gently–without tugging–you touched his wrist. “We’re gonna move, okay? Just here. Just around the corner. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

Somehow, he followed. Wooden, barely lifting his feet off the ground, he let you guide him past the flower stall and behind a canvas tent stacked with baskets of late summer peaches. There was a quiet pocket of shade there, near a fold-out chair and an old milk crate someone had turned into a makeshift stand. The noise of the market faded just enough for you to hear the sound of Bob’s breathing–fast. Frantic. Hitching like he was fighting against his own lungs.

He dropped into a crouch the second you stopped, like his body couldn’t take the weight of standing anymore. His hands clawed into his hair, dragging back against the tied strands, and his whole frame bowed in like he was trying to fold in on himself and disappear.

“Bob,” You said, dropping to your knees in front of him, voice steady despite the panic clawing at your own chest. “I’m right here. I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

His eyes were wide, glassy with unshed tears, chest heaving. “I–I can’t–” His breath caught like he’d swallowed broken glass. “I can’t—get—air—”

“Yes, you can. You can, just follow me, okay? Just follow me.” You reached out and cupped one of his fists–clenched so tight it trembled–and gently started to peel his fingers apart, one by one.

“Easy,” You whispered. “ Give me your hand.” When his palm was open, you pressed it flat against your chest–right over your heart, where it pulsed at a normal pace against touch.

“Feel that? That’s me. That’s real. I’m here. You’re here. We’re not back there.”You took his other hand next, gently, carefully, and placed it flat against his own chest. “Now match me. Just match me, okay?” Bob choked on a breath, sharp and wet, like he was trying to breathe through water. His heart was pounding wild and disoriented–like it was trying to break out of his body.

“I can’t–” He rasped again, and his voice cracked so violently on the last word that tears spilled from the corners of his eyes.

“You can,” You said, firm but soft. “Just one breath. Just one. In through your nose, nice and slow, okay? Just copy me. That’s all you have to do.” You exaggerated your own breath for him–deep, steady, slow. One hand guiding his against your heartbeat, the other pressing gently into his own chest. “Come on, Bob. In.” You watched his shoulders rise shakily.

”Good. Now hold for one, two, three…” You could see tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

“Now let it out.” You instructed. He shook violently as he exhaled, his hands twitching under your palms. You did it again. And again. Coaching him through each one. Repeating it like a litany.

“You’re doing so good Bob…You’re safe, you’re not back there, he’s not here, and he can’t hurt you…You’re not alone…I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

Eventually, his breath started to sync with yours, and his heartbeat began to ease slightly. Some inhales were a bit shaky and hitched, but it was still an improvement. You watched the color slowly return to his face, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders in uneven jerks. His fingers clenched reflexively into the fabric of your shirt, right over your heart, like he didn’t trust it to keep beating if he didn’t hold onto it.

His head dropped. His forehead pressed into your shoulder. And the dam broke.

Silent, shaking sobs wracked his chest—like everything he’d held in since that attic was clawing its way out now. You wrapped your arms around him, cradling the back of his head, letting him bury his face into your collar as his tears soaked into your tank top.

“I’m right here,” You whispered again, rocking him gently. “You’re okay.”

He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. But you felt his arms come up–slow, hesitant–and wrap around you, clutching you like you were the only thing anchoring him to the present.

You stayed like that until the worst of it passed.

Until his breathing settled.

Until his hands stopped shaking.

Until the world tilted back into something resembling solid ground.

And when he finally lifted his head, eyes red and puffy, lips parted with the remnants of a thousand unsaid things–you just brushed his hair back from his damp forehead and kissed it once, like you had that morning, before giving him a small kiss on the lips.

Steady. Soft. A reminder that he was here with you and you weren’t going anywhere.

You stayed with him in the silence, until the panic ebbed like a tide pulling back from the shore.

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

𝙀𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙬

synopsis: after being away and entertaining others, your husband decides to give you a special something

wrd cnt: 1.1k

tags: cunnalingus, oral, penetration, doggy, vulgar, praise, explicit

a/n: if you couldn’t tell been having major writers block + no time to write but this one reeled me back in a bit so i hope you enjoy <3

It was late at night by the time you got home. The house had been quiet all evening, save for the soft hum of your laptop as you explored some new music. But now that the sun had set, there were no more distractions—just the sound of your own breathing, the whirring blade of the fan above your head, and the occasional creak of floorboards beneath your feet.

You heard the front door open and close, followed by footsteps coming down the hallway towards the living room where you sat on the couch. Your eyes widened when you saw who it was.

“Sunday!” You exclaimed, jumping up and running over to him. He looked incredible, even if he was clearly exhausted from working all day. His face was flushed red with desire, and his black suit pants hung lower on his hips than usual, as his belt was quite undone just as his tie.

“Y/n-,” he said, leaning down to kiss you deeply before pulling away. “I missed you…quite dearly”

You replied breathlessly in agreeance, taking his hand and leading him over to sit beside you on the couch. As soon as he sat down, he pulled you into his lap and started kissing your neck hungrily.

“Mmm... I love how good you tastes,” he murmured against your skin as he moved lower down your chest, licking and sucking at your nipples until they hardened under his touch.

To say you were surprised was an understatement, your husband was always quite well mannered, and in control especially of himself.

Before you could express this pleasant concern, be continued further down, pushing your body down and stopping his peppering of kisses just above your waistband.

“Please don’t stop...” You begged softly. “Keep going...”

He chuckled darkly as he pulled your bottoms down, revealing your pretty laced panties.

“Such a naughty girl,” he whispered seductively. “you know happens when you tease me like that, don’t you?”

With those words still ringing in your ears, he slid his hands around to the front of your panties and began teasing them apart until they fell down around your ankles; now placed on each of his shoulders.

His soft hands spread your legs wide apart and leaned forward to lick along the length of your slit.

“Ohh... yes... keep doing that...” You moaned, feeling yourself growing wetter than ever before.

“Mmmm... such a tasty little thing,” he purred, moving one finger inside you while continuing to lap at your clit with his tongue. “Feels good hm? You’re dripping…” He smirked, slipping a second finger inside you, curling them up and down faster this time. “How does that feel baby?” He asked, before returning to suck your swollen pearl.

“So good... oh god... more-...” You panted, arching your back slightly to allow him better access to you.

“Like this?” He whispered, increasing the speed of his movements until he felt you begin to tremble against him.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes!-” You cried out loudly, throwing your head back against the couch cushions as pleasure washed through every part of your body.

As if sensing your impending climax, he suddenly stopped moving his fingers altogether and instead focused solely on licking and sucking at your clit. With waves of pleasure coursing through your entire body, you squirmed uncontrollably.

“Oh my god... yes... right there...” You gasped, grinding yourself against him as best you could while trying not to fall off the couch entirely.

“Mmmmm... I knew you liked this,” he chuckled wickedly, pushing you down onto the couch once again. “Now let me show you something else.”

With those words still echoing in your mind, he stood up and placed a knee inbetween your legs, slowly pushing into you as he got close to you. Grabbing your hand, he gave you hold of his erection, stroking himself with your hand slowly up and down several times before letting you do it yourself.

“What do you think of that?” He asked teasingly. “See what you do to me?”

“Mhm….,” you answered quietly with a small nod, feeling yourself grow hungrier than ever before.

As if he couldn’t waste another second, he dragged you up and pushed your body against the couch, feeling his chest heavy against your back as your breasts pressed up against the fabric of the apolstry.

“Fuck I missed you-“ He says, slowly dragging his cock up and down your folds as you hear his shaky breath.

“Sunday- please…” You mewl, pushing yourself back into him.

“Use your words, my love.” He breathes against your ear.

You groan in annoyance at his teasing.

He chuckles, and then thrusts his thick cock into your tight, wet heat.

It was like a drug, every movement of his hips, every touch of his hand, every inch of his skin against yours was ecstacy.

After a few moments, his pace becomes steady, and soon enough his hips are snapping furiously against yours.

You moan and writhe beneath him, clawing desperately at the sofa beneath you.

He lets out a deep growl and slams his hands down on either side of your head.

His grip tightens as he pounds into you harder and harder, causing your body to shake uncontrollably.

The friction of his cock sliding in and out of your dripping pussy combined with the roughness of his thrusts and the force of his hands against your body, made you see stars.

Your mouth hangs open and your eyes roll back, as you arch your back and thrust your hips upwards, meeting his thrusts eagerly.

Your fingers dig into his biceps, gripping onto him tightly.

With each passing second, you could feel your orgasm building within you, threatening to tear through you any moment now.

You knew that this wasn't going to last much longer.

"Fuck- I'm so close…," you cry out, throwing your head back.

His hand reaches up and grabs your throat, squeezing tightly, and pulling you closer to him.

His thrusts grow even more powerful, and you gasp as he slams his cock deep inside you.

"Come for me then, my darling," he purrs into your ear, his voice low and husky.

He releases his grip on your neck and moves his hand down to grip your ass firmly.

You whimper and writhe beneath him, unable to hold back any longer.

"Fuck-!" You scream, throwing your head back once more and letting the orgasm rip through you.

His cock slides in and out of you faster and faster, as his movements become more erratic.

His fingers dig into your ass as he pulls you even closer, thrusting into you one final time before he explodes inside you.

His hips slow their frantic rhythm as he groans and grunts into your ear, his seed filling you up completely; leaving you tilted over the cushions and wrecked.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[kaprisvn]

ok bet, i needa know

do chasingstars! sun and moon make animalistic-like sounds, like hissing or purring? would they hiss at other ppl taking y/n's attention away from them? purr when they do have y/n's attention?

when i do i usually make the purring a whirring sound, but i think most of the fandom does that lol

Hello anon :D Congratulations on being my very first ask on Chasing Stars! (I'm so honoured <3)

As for the CS! Boys... They are for sure making noises of all kinds. It's directly canon that they both growl (Kellen Goff I love you), so I don't see why not!

I can't justify why the robot would need to blush, so the whirring (or purring) of their fans is kind of a stand in for that, along with general happiness.

As for our beloved lunar boy, he is MUCH more prone to growling and even the occasional hiss. Though, I see him more doing hissing noise when being dramatic, and a growl if he's actually upset over something. (Like losing Y/Ns attention. Like what? I'm not your only friend? Other people make you happy in a way I can't replicate??) They're working on it.

Please put growl.sfx over this drawing lmao

EDIT: HISS SFX CURTOSY OF @spaceboisstuff :DDD

But yeah they are certified Noise Makers™ because I also make weird sounds :3

[ang3lvrse]

Hii I was wondering if I could request leehan ddlg with step-cest?

tried my best, but this is probably not what you wanted... also this will be the first and last time i write ddlg, since i'm terrible at it–

warnings — (0.5k words) step-cest, ddlg (barely), use of a vibrator, mentions of overstim, unprotected sex (don't!), insinuation of piv, let me know if i missed any!

“n-no more, please—i c-can’t–”

your whine was cut off by your own whine, tearing out of your mouth sharply. the loud whirring of the vibrator on your clit was shooting shockwaves of pain and pleasure mixed together throughout your entire body. you were shaking, orgasm after orgasm torn out of you almost forcefully.

“you can. i know you can. besides, you have a safeword—don’t you, sweetheart?” your step brother’s voice was downright condescending, the tone making you clench your thighs together, a sob tearing out of you.

you knew nothing about this situation was normal. but life was never normal—not after leehan came into your life.

this fucked up routine of yours had begun two months ago, right when you first met leehan and his dad—your mom’s now husband. both of you had eyes on each other immediately—definitely not in the way soon-to-be-step-siblings should have. both of your hands were travelling all over each other’s bodies under the dining table. yes, the same table your individual parents were seated in. after all, both of them were too engrossed in giving each other heart eyes to notice what was going on…

which brings you both to now. straight after their marriage, you and leehan had come to an agreement. one which included all of… this.

you let out a loud sob, as he increased the pressure of the vibrator against your clit, the vibrations causing your entire body to shudder. “l-leehan, please–”

he tutted, cutting you off, increasing the speed of the vibrator, ignoring your whine. “that’s not my name. is it, pretty?”

you sobbed, your fists clenching, uselessly wiggling against the handcuffs. “d-da–” you were cut off by your own whine, as he pressed the vibrator even harder onto your clit.

“c’mon pretty,” leehan coaxed. “almost there. doing so good f’me–” another loud whine tore through you, your back arching off the bed, as he quickly pushed you back down with a palm on your stomach, holding you still for him.

“d-daddy, please—too much–” a sound akin to a yelp left you, as he suddenly took the vibrator away. the lower half of your body twitched slightly, quick sharp breaths falling from your lips. the sudden relief made you feel lightheaded—but it was gone as quickly as it came. the sound of a zipper caught your attention.

“my pretty baby needs her reward, yeah?” leehan almost purred, as he pulled his sweats down, along with his boxers. he climbed up over you possessively, lining his cock up to your awaiting hole. “can’t leave her unsatisfied, hm?”

as he pushed the bulbous head of his throbbing cock into you, you wondered just how long you both had till your parents came back home from work.

[tearsofcalamity]

Irl electrical engineer/hobbyist roboticist here who is also down bad for the cyborg cowboy- The level of intimacy of mechanic!reader fixing his internal wiring is OFF THE CHARTS, like, reader having to gently untangle and toy with his wiring while arranging them properly?? All the testing of the sensors that it would take to make him be able to feel again? Reader might as well have to touch every inch of Boothill to make sure that his body is functioning properly. They would quite literally know him inside and out and that makes me FERAL

omfg we got a verifiable ENGINEER here?? everyone GET DOWN

no but fr thank you for this insight this means the world to me . you dont get it . even like non n/sfw wise thats so. LIKE THE LEVEL OF TRUST HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE IN YOU TO GET IN THERE AND DO ALL THAT? THE LEVEL OF COMPLEXITY AND THE WAY HE'D HAVE TO BE FULLY VULNERABLE?

back to horny thoughts that also sets me off w boothill being so vulnerable when what we've seen from him so far is like cocky, devil-may-care attitude and probably puts that up as a facade (esp after seeing his lightcone poor guy) but him just lightly shaking and you can HEAR how loud he's whirring when you get inside (ha) and really work through his wiring. imagine he overheats and you're like WTF

the testing. The Testing. listen here. that's what really gets me. I can imagine him getting antsy even when you're just starting with his shoulders or his arms, but you move to his neck... his chest... a little lower and he's asking if you really need to touch his artificial dick just to test it out. it's like no, he could totally check himself, but am I gonna tell him that uhhh NO I'm gonna be all "nope absolutely necessary to check. something could go REAL wrong if it's off" make him fistfuck me until his insides are literally letting off steam. I NEED TO HEAR HIM WHIMPER AND SEE HIM CRY!!! sometimes I imagine him purring (like an engine, but hey, if catboys are your thing that too) cause his neck is mechanical too so...........

oh and I'm totally groping on his metal ass and rubbing all over it. im licking it. idc. I'm working doubletime to make his ass extra sensitive idc! I'm a robotfucker!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[alienkisser8783]

I'm trying to get back into writing please don't judge me I know it's bad 😭

Yautja/GN! Reader

Part 1

---------------------------------------------------------

After ages of hard work, you had yourself a nice life. A small cabin in the woods, a small farm and garden, and you hunted for meat when you needed.

That was until you started finding blood splatters in the forest randomly.

Was it hunters? A bear?

You didn't know.

A few of your animals started going missing, and your pets acted up at night.

This night, your dog was standing at the glass doors that lead to your front porch. You grabbed a bat, worried something was going after one of your animals. You walked toward the barn silently and heard a hissing sound.

In the dark, you couldn't see what it was, all you could see was light shining off the thing. You could see the shine off its head as it charged you and you swung the bat down on its head, over and over. The thing's blood was bright green and it made the bat start to dissolve. But it was dead. They grabbed a spot light off a shelf, looking around the barn. The thing had killed a few of the chickens. They kicked at it to see if it was still alive. The thing was massive, a serpent, buglike creature. It was shiny black, with a sharp tail and an elongated head. They crouched down to study it.

Where did the damned thing go? He thought to himself, he'd been sent to get rid of a group of loose xenomorphs caused by a human lab. He'd eliminated all except one that had gotten away. He tracked where it had been, discovering a small farm. He activated his cloaking, looking around. The thuds of a weapon landing echoed through the trees. Turning the corner to look into the barn, he saw a human standing there. They were panting, a nearly disintegrated bat in their hand. A kiande amedha lay slain before them. They were blooded. He let out a quiet purr.

You heard a sound and whipped around to look behind you. Worried another one of the things was coming, you clung to your remains of a bat. You saw nothing as you shined the flashlight.

"Hello?" You spoke softly, hoping it was a person instead of another one of those things.

With a quiet whir, something appeared. It was around 8 feet tall, wearing armor, and a mask. You stumbled back, gasping in a breath. The being approached you, and you were backed into a wall. A soft purring sound left its mouth. It didn't attack you, or seem like it would harm you. It walked over to the dead thing, cutting off it's tail with a knife from its side. It approached you again, with the things tail. There was a hiss as it removed its mask. You didn't flinch as this night had been confusing enough. It motioned to a scarred mark on its forehead, and then motioned to your cheek. You nodded, mostly confused and it lifted the tail, marking a scar on your face. It hurt like a bitch, making you wince a little bit. Afterwards the large being dropped the tail. You swallowed.

He had not expected to see a human standing over the corpse of a kiande amedha. He decided he would reveal himself and mark them as they were blooded and now worthy. They weren't very big compared to him, but they had a bit of muscle, from working this farm, he assumed. They were panicked at first when they saw him, stumbling backwards. They nearly tripped over their own feet. He approached, looking them up and down.

You leaned back against the wall, not knowing what to do.

"What was that thing?" You asked.

"Kiande amedha." It growled. His mask translated it into human audio clips. "Hard Meat." It said in two voice clips.

"What are you? Who are you?" You asked.

It pointed at it's chest. "Yautja. Tar'uk."

It then pointed at your chest. "Ooman. Name?"

"I'm Y/N." You spoke.

"Are you injured?" It clicked and the helmet translated into audio clips.

"Not that I know of." You replied.

"Let me see you." His helmet spoke.

He grabbed your arm, lifting it up to look over you. He saw no injuries other than a cut on your leg. You were still confused as to what his intentions were, just watching him as he looked you over. He reached behind his back for what seemed to be a medkit, pulling out a blue gel. He smeared it on the wound and you groaned in pain, sliding down the wall to sit down.

"Ow! Goddamn!" You yell, the gel stung, badly.

He clicked apologetically. He knew the healing gel stung badly, but it would close their wound much faster.

His helmet played a voice clip of someone saying sorry.

They looked up at him, holding their injured leg. The wound was already closing.

"At least you're nice," they sighed.

[reveryfics]

Undercover

Pairings: T'Challa x Male reader

Summary: After learning about a international deal set to go down that could potentially cause a risk to Wakanda, T'Challa is surprised to see someone else has taken an interest in the deal.

A/n: I should mention the reader is hispanic and a international agent working for S.H.I.E.L.D, also men in dresses <3 (I suck at fight scenes)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The air in the Monte Carlo casino hung heavy with the scent of expensive perfume and desperation. T'Challa, a solitary figure amidst the throng of humanity, navigated the labyrinthine corridors, the cacophony of sounds – the clinking of dice, the raucous laughter, the mournful sighs of defeated gamblers – assaulting his senses. Slot machines blinked and whirred, their garish lights a stark contrast to the subdued elegance he was accustomed to.

He adjusted the cuffs of his impeccably tailored suit, a subtle movement that spoke volumes about his composure amidst the chaos. His gaze swept across the room, searching for his target, a man involved in a deal that could potentially destabilize Wakanda. Intelligence reports had indicated the buyer was a man, but the world was full of unexpected twists.

Shuri's voice, a lifeline through the static, crackled in his earpiece. "Any luck on the buyer, T'Challa?"

"Still no luck on a visual, Shuri," he replied, his voice a low growl against the deafening bass of the house music. "Just remember, the source emphasized a male buyer. And be careful."

T'Challa nodded, his senses on high alert. He moved with a silent grace, a panther stalking its prey. The air crackled with anticipation, a palpable sense of greed and desperation hanging heavy. This wasn't his usual stomping ground, but the stakes were high. Vibranium, in the wrong hands, could unleash a wave of destruction the world was ill-prepared to face. He had to stop this deal.

His eyes finally settled on a figure seated at a high-stakes poker table. A man, flanked by a woman whose beauty was almost distracting. The woman, draped in a crimson gown that clung to her curves like a second skin, was a vision of predatory elegance. Her gaze, however, was fixed on T'Challa, a predatory glint in her emerald eyes.

"Enjoying the view, mi príncipe?" she purred, her voice a silken caress that sent a shiver down his spine.

T'Challa, momentarily thrown, managed a charming smile. "I must confess, I find myself quite captivated," he replied, his gaze lingering on her.

He played a calculated game, observing the man, the woman, the flow of the game. The source had been adamant: a male buyer. But this woman… she exuded an aura of power, a dangerous allure that belied her appearance.

He subtly excused himself, following the man through the labyrinthine corridors of the casino. As he closed in, a hand clamped down on his arm, pulling him into a darkened alcove. He reacted instinctively, a blur of motion as he attempted to subdue his assailant.

His eyes widened in disbelief. It was the woman.

"Honestamente, pensé que un princr sería más inteligente.” she hissed, yanking off her wig to reveal a face that was decidedly masculine. "Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D and that pendejo was none the wiser until you showed up.”

T'challa, still reeling from the revelation, demanded, "What does S.H.I.E.L.D want with this?"

"Vibranium is a threat, not just to Wakanda, but to the entire world," he explained, his voice low and urgent. "My mission was to recover the case and return it to you."

A tense silence followed. Cooperation seemed unlikely.

"Let's just say… our methods differ," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He snatched a pair of VIP cards from an unsuspecting patron, handing one to T'challa. "Impressive," T'challa conceded. "Just you wait."

They navigated the VIP section, their presence unnoticed amidst the haze of cigar smoke and expensive champagne. They reached the private room, the air thick with anticipation.

The two targets, oblivious to the danger, exchanged smug glances. "Well played, gentlemen," one of them sneered. "But you've walked into a trap."

Suddenly, the room erupted in chaos. Guns materialized from nowhere, trained on the two intruders. But T'challa and him were ready. T'challa activated his suit, the fabric surging around him like a second skin, transforming him into the Black Panther.

Guards, hired muscle, and even a few disgruntled gamblers joined the fray. Unlike T'Challa even without a suit the other man was a whirlwind of motion in the red dress,he moved with a predatory grace. His movements were fluid, almost feline, a mesmerizing blend of dance and deadly intent. He dispatched opponents with a brutal efficiency, each strike swift and precise.

T'Challa, watching from the periphery, felt a strange thrill course through him. That man, in that dress, was a vision of raw power and captivating danger. There was an undeniable seduction in witnessing this man, so utterly masculine, move with such grace and lethal intent. It was a primal display, a reminder of the wildness that still lurked beneath the veneer of civilization.

Sensing T'Challa's gaze, he met his eyes with a feral glint. A silent message passed between them: This is what I am.

The fight raged on ,the man human weapon, neutralized threats with a chilling efficiency. He used the environment to his advantage, utilizing the slick marble floors to his benefit, sending opponents sprawling with expertly placed kicks. T'Challa, meanwhile, moved like a panther, his movements silent and deadly. He dispatched his foes with a quiet efficiency, his vibranium claws flashing in the dim light.

Together, they fought their way towards the targets,T'Challa secured the case while the other subdued the targets. They made their way back through the casino, the sounds of sirens growing louder in the distance.

As they slipped out of the casino, unnoticed by the arriving police, T'Challa turned to him. "You... you are unlike anyone I have ever encountered," he breathed, his voice husky with a mixture of admiration and something akin to awe.

His breath coming in ragged gasps, merely smiled. "Just trying to survive, Your Majesty."

They stood near the street, watching as police stormed the casino. "If you're ever looking for work, I'm sure we could always use a man with… your talents," T'challa paused.

He smiled, turning towards T'challa and stepping closer. "Just ask me on a date next time, mi príncipe," he purred.

T'challa couldn't even form words before the case was shoved in his hands, and the man turned towards a car that'd just parked. He waved, blowing T'challa a kiss as he got into the passenger seat.

"He's a keeper," Shuri laughed, causing T'challa's cheeks to heat up. "Most definitely.”

[deetheteadrinkingdragon]

WIP Wednesday #5

“Hey… you okay?” She asked, bumping her forehead against his hairline.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” he said quietly. “I just… I like that you’re not scared when I’m here.” He ran his fingers up and down her arm, the rounded tips of plastic claws clicking harmlessly over the ridges of metal, as eyes soft and half lidded gazed at her upper chest.

She shifted her arm to give him a light squeeze. Oh, so that was what it was. He found comfort in this – in knowing he could be this close to her. That she didn’t expect a swift, cold death at his hands. She knew his intentions. He only wanted to give her all the love and affection he had in his heart.

---

Happy Pride Month friends!! 🏳️‍🌈 I've been hearing there's been some less than ideal happenings going on over on Twitter, so to counteract that, you guys are getting TWO soft WIPs today, a Nuzi and a Vizzy one! (Vizzy to follow shortly!)

Soft queer drone writings be upon yee! <3

“Of course I’m not scared. You know I trust you completely, right?”

He smiled up at her tenderly. “I know… That’s what’s so amazing to me.” N nuzzled back into the crook of her neck, his lips first brushing there gently before he planted a line of kisses trailing closer and closer to the join where her neck met her torso.

Uzi snorted, her head feeling warmer as her cooling fans whirred away trying to combat the rising temperature. Still, she tilted her head to let him continue his path, running her fingers back up into his hair. N purred again in delight, nuzzling at the side of her neck softly, before he shifted and planted a tender kiss against her throat. It tickled – the pressure of it felt oddly different here, and his purring rumbled through semi-robotic, semi-organic nerves and tissues she didn’t know existed there. He seemed to be enamoured, caught in a lovestruck daze as he cradled the nape of her neck and kissed her there again and again, from just shy of her chest to the join where it met the base of her chin.

She felt her own chest rumble, a soft trill escaping her lips like the sweet, delicate song of a bird. She watched the lazy hang of N’s tail pick up in pace as it wagged excitedly, and she could feel his lips curl into a delighted smile. Again he kissed her there, though as he grinned she could feel his fangs poke against her casing and she shifted lightly, cupping his cheek as a gentle warning.

“Hey… careful, okay?” She said softly, nestling her chin between two of the eyes on his headband. “I don’t mean it literally when I say ‘bite me’, you know.”

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 8)

Both drones landed in the spire at once, just beating out the morning sun as it rose on the horizon. They both looked back at it, before Uzi laughed and lurched forward, nearly landing in the sun.

“Uzi!” N felt himself move instinctually to her side, only for Uzi to hoist herself up, although still hunched over, halfway holding herself up with the hand on her wing.

“B-brown out. I'm A-okay-y-y.” Her voice glitched although she sounded more bubbly then he'd ever heard her, giggling like mad. And her eyelights exceptionally dim.

“Let's get some some rest then, come on.” N smiled, keeping a lid on the situation that just unfolded and focusing on her well-being.

“Sure” She spread her wings out to fly up to his nest only for them to suddenly retract into her with a snap. Almost sending her careening into the floor, if N hadn't caught her with his arm.

“Heehee… whoops.” She hummed, still giggling slightly, it seemed that on low charge, certain functions got turned off to conserve power. Like her wings, or her sense of balance, or… her sense at all.

Uzi gripped lightly onto his shoulder to keep herself upright, her other hand holding onto his arm that he'd caught her with. She blinked slowly, like she was fighting off sleep.

“Uh, m-i-i-ight need a hand.” She said, looking over at him with a wary smile. Ah, so she was at least partially aware.

‘Right, hold tight.” He picked her up bridal style and flew up to his nest, ignoring both his growing fluster and her “weeee!” as they went up. He released her, and she fell face first into it, before rolling to the side to give him some room.

He sat on the edge, putting his wings away, watching as the low battery indicator on her visor blinked even more frantically. It didn't make sense on why she'd been so low in only a day, unless she hadn't slept at all in awhile.

“Sorry, it's not as soft as yours.” He apologized, although she didn't seem to notice, squishing the nearest pillow in her fingers and letting out another sleepy giggle.

“I like it, you're like a bird…” She cooed before another brown out hit her system, causing her to breifly enter sleep-mode before coming right back out with a stream of happy giggles.

“You need sleep.” He said, taking the pillow gently from her and smiling, taking great care to remain perched on the side of the nest, any contact would likely send him into a flustered mess right now.

“So do you! Come here!” She grinned, patting the empty spot next to her, another blush crept up to his visor, but reluctantly he laid next to her, tossing the pillow aside.

“Is this be-” As soon as he'd gotten comfortable, Uzi shuffled right up next to him, curled under his arm, and her tail wrapped around his leg, much like his had always done.

“You're more comfortable then my bed anyway…” She purred, before her systems all but forced her to enter sleep mode, her grip going slack and all the eyes on her tail closing.

Leaving N to stare up at the ceiling, feeling his best freinds core humming into his side, her vents taking in air, and her soft silicone cheek burying into him.

His core was like a drum, whirring and taking in oil to try and cool himself off, his eyes wide, a more and more noticeable blush stained his face. The more he thought about the day.

He had a crush on Uzi.

And he'd probably had one for awhile, considering the strength it all hit him at once, he felt like screaming, either from his stupidity, or just because of how overwhelming it felt; he wasn't sure.

She mumbled in her sleep, her tail tightened around him. And his core tightened even more, her brought her closer, even if it made his temperature rise a few ticks.

He'd kept that song playing on repeat, letting the image of her wash over him again and again, each time he had something new to admire, her hair turning pinkish blue, her wings shining light between them, the embers dancing next to her face…

Holy hell had he fallen hard.

He moved a strand of hair out of her face before realizing she still had her beanie on, so he gently removed it, letting free her purple and black hair, he felt her tense, before relaxing.

He wanted to card his fingers through her hair, or pull her close so he could feel her core beat next to his, or even just… hold her hand as she slept.

He let out a shaky breath, and his hand tangled in her hair without his conscious input, detangling each strand with his fingers.

This proximity was both fueling his nerves and the tugging on his core. This… did not feel the same as it did with V. Maybe it was because Uzi was already his best freind, that it felt so much heavier in his chest.

“Nnnh… N…?” He froze solid, glancing over at her visor, it still said [Sleep Mode] but she was still reacting slightly to his touch in her hair.

“Shhhh…” It came involuntary out of his mouth, and his hand resumed it's journey through her hair, a small smile made it's way to her face, and it spread to his, his core swarmed with butterflies as her arm wrapped around him, gripping the fur of his jacket and pulling herself ever closer.

She was so cuddly when she slept…

What was he going to do…? She had so much stress on her shoulders right now, she didn't need… this! His weird, awkward feelings that he just now realized he had for his very pretty best freind.

He frowned, he couldn't just tell her… the chances were she didn't feel the same way, she didnt… like stutter, or seem to act any differently then she always did around him. She was… less prickly sure, but that didn't mean much. They were freinds.

So another crush he had to keep to himself, he could do that right? He could just act normal. Be there for her in all the ways he always was and just… not mention it. At least until they figured out everything that was going on. Then… then he'd tell her, and maybe she'd feel the same way? Or… reject him. Like V had.

But Uzi wasn't V. She wouldn't break his heart like that. If anything she'd just laugh! And tell him something like “ew you're so sappy N.” And then it would be over, and she'd know and they would move on.

For now though, his mind was made up, he could keep it to himself, just for a little bit right? Until they found Doll and figured out what was happening. Yeah, yeah he definitely could.

Uzi made a squeak before she began twitching, her tail beginning to constrict tightly around his leg, her body shook, and small beeps came from her system.

“No… no���no…” N was knocked out of this thoughts, replaced with concern, he turned his body to face her, ignoring his strumming core and cupped her cheek.

“Uzi?” He whispered, and although she was still solidly in sleep mode, he heard her whimper, her visor glitching with the solver symbol, he felt her curl in on herself, as if she was terrified.

“N…V…” She murmured, shuddering, fingers balling it fists, breathing getting erratic and uneven.

“I'm right here Zi…” He ran a thumb over her cheek, his other hand pulling her close into his chest, he felt her core whirring as hard as it would go, and another whimper escaped her mouth.

“It's okay.” He wasn't sure why he was talking, he wasn't even sure she could hear him. But it did seem to be working, the slower symbol slowly fizzling out.

“I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…” Her voice was small, weak, and distant. It sounded so scared.

“I'm here, it's okay…” He didn't know what else to say, his tail found her own and wrapped around it in an attempt to comfort her in her sleep.

“H-help…”

He gulped, he wished he could do more, but her systems had forced her to sleep and now it was impossible to wake her up, he had no idea what horror she was experiencing, but his hand found her back, pushing her head into her chest, right above his core.

He felt her tense before one of her hands found the one retreating from her cheek, grabbing it and holding it so tight it almost hurt.

“Leave me?”

Oh

“Never.” He squeezed back, and finally she seemed to settle, the grip on his hand loosened, but now he was tangled up in her legs, unable to move. His face lighting up in a golden blush.

Yeah… he could definitely keep this to himself, no problem…

Next ->

[rosanna-writer]

Karma Is My Boyfriend (1/?)

Summary: Elain Archeron saved countless lives by vanquishing Graysen Nolan, her literal demon of a fiancé. She's a hero, but it's just not fair that being a good witch destined to rid the world of evil has left her tragically, painfully single. Enter Lucien Vanserra, the best cupid in the business, who's been sent by the universe to balance the karmic scales and find Elain the perfect new partner…

Happy Elucien Week! A huge thank you to @popjunkie42 for beta-reading, and my playlist for this fic can be found here. I'm so excited to participate in @elucienweekofficial; we're so lucky to have such a dedicated team of event runners!

Read on AO3 or under the cut!

The new energy in Elain's shop was too sweet to be demonic. It set her teeth on edge—artificial strawberry, discount chocolate, cards fashioned out of glitter glue and construction paper. Nothing at all like the gentle, soothing aura created by the plants lining the aisles of Roots 'n Shoots. Elain felt it following her like a bad smell as she repotted new shipments, packaged online orders, and upsold premium fertilizer to customers who'd wandered in.

By lunchtime, she'd resolved to get rid of it.

Whatever magic was hanging around didn't seem to be a threat, but she hadn't survived three years of fighting evil by taking chances.

She had half a mind to call her sisters for backup; even though Elain was a powerful witch, her premonitions of the future weren't nearly as effective for self-defense as Nesta's telekinesis or Feyre's ability to cause explosions with her mind. But whatever was hanging around didn't seem malicious. Just…cloying.

Elain let her intuition guide her and followed the strange feeling to its source. She walked slowly down an aisle of tall, leafy ferns and kept her eyes peeled.

There—through the leaves, a flash of red. Every molecule in her body seemed drawn right to it, like a compass and a magnetic pole. She hurried towards it.

The flash of red turned out to be long auburn hair pulled into a messy bun. Elain couldn't help but notice the way it gleamed in the sun as she gently pushed a fern leaf to the side to get a better look at the culprit…

And found a mechanical eye staring back.

She squeaked in surprise and jumped backward. The leaf rustled gently as it fell back into place. On instinct, Elain reached deep into her well of power, the same way she did just before vanquishing a demon.

"Well, hello there," the man purred from the other side of the fern.

"Can I help you find something?" Elain said.

He smiled at her in a way that could only be described as radiant. He was gorgeous, and the jagged scar running down the side of his face only seemed to enhance his beauty. Before Graysen, Elain would already have been fluttering her lashes at him.

Now, she just glared in suspicion.

"I think I've found exactly what I'm looking for," he said, which did nothing to set her at ease, even though his expression had gone heartbreakingly soft.

Before Elain could demand answers, he winnowed over to the aisle where she was standing. A risky move—he was lucky there were no mortal customers while the store was closed for her lunch hour.

"Not a single butterfly in that stomach of yours. This is going to be a tough case," he said thoughtfully. He cocked his head, staring at Elain like she was a particularly difficult puzzle he was trying to solve.

"I beg your pardon?" Elain said tightly.

He began circling her like a predator, mechanical eye clicking and whirring. Elain huffed in frustration as her hands settled on her hips. Her strange visitor might not have been a demon, but she didn't have time for anything supernatural with so many orders to fill by the afternoon.

"The meet-cute I engineered just now was some of my best work, but it didn't get your heart fluttering at all. That ex-fiancé left you with quite the wound, didn't he?"

For the last year, Elain walked around with a ragged hole in her heart that refused to close, and to add insult to injury, the entire magical world knew everything about her literal ex from hell. "If you're here to discuss Graysen Nolan, get out of my shop," she said with all the venom she could muster.

"I'm here for you, Elain."

"If you're not an innocent in need of protection, it has to wait."

"Put me to work while we talk, then. I can multitask," he said with an elegant shrug.

She hesitated. The smartest course of action still seemed to be ordering this stranger out of her store, but...she could use the help. And at least he wasn't evil.

Gods, had her standards really sunk that low?

"At least tell me your name." It was irritating that he already seemed to know hers.

He sketched a bow. "Lucien Vanserra, at your service."

"The only service I require at the moment is someone to water my pothos," Elain said with a meaningful nod towards a watering can and row of plants towards the back of the room.

To her surprise, Lucien began filling the watering can without a single complaint. For a moment, Elain watched, telling herself it was to make sure he was doing it correctly—and not at all because he was absurdly beautiful.

She forced herself to turn her attention back to organizing the cards with handwritten care instructions that Roots 'n Shoots included with every houseplant they sold. She could have saved herself time and printed them, but the personal touch was exactly the sort of thing that kept customers coming back to her instead of the big box garden supply store down the road. As she worked, they lapsed into a silence that was almost companionable.

But just as Elain started to relax, Lucien went and opened his mouth again."I thought there might have been an error when the file they gave me said you hadn't had any new partners since Graysen, but now I can see why."

She stilled. "What file?"

"The file that every cupid gets when they're assigned a new charge."

A cupid. Well, that certainly explained why his aura didn't feel demonic, just sickly sweet. Elain had never crossed paths with a cupid before, and she'd been under the impression they were supposed to be a bit more…cute .

"I'm one of your charges?" Technically, Elain was already someone's charge—even after Cassian had broken the rules and married Nesta, he'd remained the guardian angel assigned to protect the Archeron sisters after they'd learned they were witches tasked with ridding the world of evil.

"My only charge, actually. The elders insisted I focus on you and only you, Elain."

"And to what do I owe that honor?"

"You saved the world, and what goes around comes around, sweetie. Offing your demonic fiancé earned you the best and brightest cupid's help with finding a doting new partner."

Lucien said it as if she were supposed to fall over herself in gratitude. But she had half a mind to slap him for the audacity to think he could just waltz into her place of business and treat her like a charity case he'd magnanimously offered to take on.

"A partner is the last thing I need." Elain and her sisters had spent the last several nights rounding up a rogue band of crossroads demons that had been plaguing Velaris's intersections. Casting the vanquishing spells on each street had taken hours, leaving her with precious little time to eat, sleep, and run her store.

It had been the same with the succubi last week, the rabid werewolves the week before, and the banshees they'd spent a whole month rooting out. These days, going on a date was unthinkable.

Lucien rolled his eyes. "You're certainly not going to attract one with that attitude."

That, Elain decided, would be the end of the conversation. She was an Archeron, one of the three most powerful witches ever to walk the earth—not someone who'd allow herself to be condescended to.

All it took was one half-hearted wave of her hand, as if she were brushing away a fly, to activate the wards she'd placed around the shop. Twin vines of pure magic grew from the ceiling, hoisted Lucien up by the armpits, yanked him across the room, and dropped him unceremoniously onto the sidewalk outside. The spell wouldn't let him back in until she changed her mind.

Hopefully, that would be the last she'd hear from Lucien Vanserra.

***

As soon as she got home, Elain marched straight up the stairs of the Archeron manor. She and her sisters had inherited the house—along with their powers and mandate to protect the innocent—three years prior, and the Book of Shadows that never left the attic had guided them through all of it. Instructions for spell casting, potion recipes, taxonomies of every magical creature they might possibly come across…the Book contained it all.

The worn leather bindings creaked as Elain opened it and began searching for the entry on cupids. There wasn't an index; the ancient book was a work in progress by generations of Archeron witches, which meant it was a disorganized mess on a good day. Sometimes, wind would gust from nowhere and just so happen to flip the book to the correct page, but today, she had no such luck.

Hello, Elain.

She jumped, nearly dropping the Book. In her rush to find the entry on cupids, she hadn't noticed the bat hanging upside down from a rafter.

Rhysand—her other, non-angelic brother-in-law. He was a bat shifter that roosted in the attic while the manor had been empty, and though Nesta had been fully prepared to call animal control the night they'd discovered him, Elain had felt horrible throwing him out of his home. But since their family had lost their fortune, the manor was badly in need of expensive repairs, so Feyre struck a bargain: Rhys could stay as long as he paid rent and kept quiet.

He'd married the youngest Archeron sister within a year.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Elain said aloud. Even after years of wielding magic of her own, she'd never gotten used to Rhys's way of speaking mind-to-mind, a power that allowed him to communicate even when he wasn't in a form with proper vocal cords.

He shifted, wings and fur disappearing as he turned back into a man. The claws stayed in place so Rhys could remain inverted—he claimed it did wonders for his back pain.

"You didn't," he said, "and if there's something urgent, I can call Feyre for you."

"It's nothing demonic. At least, I don't think. Do you know anything about cupids?"

Rhys cocked his head, violet eyes sparking with interest. "I've crossed paths with a few over the centuries. They're harmless."

"Are they all that arrogant?"

"Not in my experience."

Elain bit back a frustrated sigh and turned the Book's pages a little more forcefully than necessary. It was bad enough that the Powers That Be had decided that after Graysen, she was so tragically, painfully single that it required divine intervention, but they'd gone the extra mile and sent their biggest asshole of a cupid to "fix" her, too.

"Hopefully there's still a spell I can cast to keep him away."

"Did someone bother you?" Rhys's voice went cold, and suddenly he sounded less like the brother-in-law she badgered about remembering to recycle and more like the terrifying Lord of Nightmares he also was. Elain smiled; it was sweet, in a way—Rhys was fiercely protective of the people he loved.

"Yes, but not like that. Don't go crushing minds on my account."

"What happened?"

"A cupid named Lucien came to my shop today and said he'd been sent to help me find a new partner."

"And I assume you didn't take him up on the offer?"

Elain shook her head. She'd finally found the entry on cupids, which was barely a paragraph long: Benevolent. Responsible for connecting the worthy with their true love.

The worthy. Elain certainly didn't feel worthy, not after her love for Graysen had deluded her into thinking a demon could change. In the end, she'd done the right thing and vanquished him, but…making that choice had nearly torn her apart. She'd come so close to letting him live.

It had been nearly a year, and the sight of Graysen pleading for his life still haunted in her dreams.

"If you hated him that much, I'm sure the cupid elders could always send you another," Rhys said with a wry smile.

"I don't need a cupid. Business is booming at Roots 'n Shoots, and I have my hands full with protecting innocents and corralling you, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta. That's more than enough for me."

"Being busy is all the more reason to accept expert help."

Elain closed the Book of Shadows and glowered at her meddling bastard of a brother-in-law. Rhys smirked back.

She started to go, but a pair of massive, membranous wings erupted from Rhys's back, allowing him to release his talons from the rafter, glide upwards, then land on his feet in one smooth movement. Elain crossed her arms, waiting for him to get out of her way once he'd shifted completely back into his human form.

Despite the irritation that was probably rippling off her in waves, Rhys's expression softened. "More than anyone else I know, you deserve to be happy, Elain. Even if you don't feel like you do."

A lump formed in Elain's throat. That meant a lot, coming from Rhys, who was always staring at Feyre like he couldn't believe his luck. "Love you," she said.

"Love you, too."

Despite all that love, he still didn't move, continuing to block her path to the attic's only exit. "I'm sensing a 'but,' though," Elain said.

"I should warn you that if you don't give things with that cupid a shot, Feyre might try matchmaking you herself. And if Feyre does, then so will Nesta…" He trailed off, letting the implications of her sisters teaming up hang in the air.

"Blackmail is immoral." She felt obligated to point it out, though pesky little things like ethics rarely stopped Rhys.

"Immoral and effective," he said, flashing her one last grin before disappearing into the shadows with a gentle gust of night-kissed wind.

[yeolsaintlaurent]

Nocturnal Reverie ch.11 [PCY]

pairing - chanyeol x fem reader

genre - mature, smut, angst

themes - power imbalance, romance, crime, justice, class divide, politics, sex

synopsis - In the sprawling, dystopian city of Emberhaven, where power and corruption reign supreme, the lives of two unlikely individuals collide in a tale of passion, intrigue, and moral reckoning. Chanyeol, an enigmatic and wealthy scion of the city's elite, finds himself captivated by the elusive Y/N, a cunning and resourceful thief who navigates the treacherous underworld of Emberhaven. Their first encounter, sparked by a chance meeting in a luxurious club called The Velvet Lounge, sets the stage for a whirlwind romance amidst a backdrop of crime, politics, and danger.

warnings - drug use, kidnapping

A/N - i am so so so glad to be back and writing. thank you for reading this series after my long ass hiatus. so many notifications kept popping up during the hiatus about likes and reblogs on Nocturnal Reverie and CVMF and it always made me smile and filled with joy. i am very grateful for all the readers new and old. as always, let me know what you think about this chapter. feedback is always welcome. love you all xx

edit : changed the message at the end

Chapter 11: The Message

Y/N stirred awake in Chanyeol's bed, the sheets cool beside her where he should have been. She reached out instinctively but found only emptiness. Frowning, she glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 11 AM. He must have gone out early. Maybe he had things to take care of.

Yawning, she got up and padded toward the kitchen. Her cat, a sleek, black feline named Kat, greeted her with a purr and a brush against her legs. She picked him up, rubbing his belly affectionately. He purred louder, a comforting sound in the quiet apartment.

"Good morning, Kat," she murmured, setting him down to fill his bowls with wet food, dry food, and fresh water. He meowed appreciatively before diving into his breakfast.

Opening the fridge, Y/N found a carton of strawberry juice and took a long swig straight from it. She smiled to herself, enjoying the small luxuries of Chanyeol’s well-stocked kitchen. His fancy coffee machine caught her eye, and she decided to make herself a caramel macchiato. As the machine whirred to life, her thoughts wandered to Chanyeol.

She still knew so little about what he did for a living. He had mentioned something about cutting off his family and wanting to start a new life, but the details were vague. What could have been so important that he took such a drastic step? He had said it was something that didn’t align with his values, but why? And what exactly had he done?

The rich aroma of coffee filled the kitchen, snapping her out of her reverie. Her macchiato was ready. She poured it into a mug and carried it to the lounge, sinking into the plush couch. She turned on the TV, flicking through channels until she stopped at the news.

The headline on the screen made her freeze. "Apartment Fire in Emberhaven: Possible Arson." Her heart skipped a beat. The image of the burning building filled the screen. It was her apartment.

“Oh no,” she whispered, clutching the mug tightly. Whoever did this was sending her a message, and she received it loud and clear. Lucio’s men. It had to be them.

The reporter’s voice cut through her shock. "We have an interview with the lead investigator on the scene." The camera switched to a familiar face. Minseok.

“We believe the perpetrator is someone we’ve been monitoring for a long time,” Minseok said, his expression grim.

Y/N's mind raced. Was he talking about Lucio or her? She turned off the TV and leaned back, closing her eyes. Things were getting worse. She had to find a way to fix this before anyone else got hurt.

Reaching for her phone, she quickly sent a message to Kai. She waited for a response, but none came. As she was about to set her phone down, a notification popped up from a private number. Her heart pounded as she opened it.

"Come here at 10:30 PM tonight with the money and goods, and all will be forgiven", with a pin to what seemed to be an obscure alley leading to the docks.

A million thoughts raced through her mind. This could be her way out, but it could also be a trap. Whatever it was, it was her problem to solve, her burden to bear. She wouldn’t drag Chanyeol into this mess, not when she loved him as much as she did. She had to protect him, even if it meant facing the danger alone.

At the police station, Minseok sat behind his desk, the clutter of papers and case files spread before him. He was deep in conversation with a fellow officer about the fire when his phone rang, the harsh sound cutting through the room. He picked up the receiver, his expression hardening as the warden's grim voice crackled through the line.

"Lucio has escaped. Four of our officers are dead."

Minseok's face twisted in anger. "What the hell were you doing while this happened? How could you let a high-profile mobster away?" His voice was a mix of fury and disbelief.

The warden's response was muffled, but the weight of the news hit Minseok like a freight train. This was troubling beyond measure. He slammed the receiver down, his mind racing with the implications. They had to act fast.

Grabbing his cellphone, he dialed Kyungsoo. The phone barely rang twice before Kyungsoo answered.

"Lucio escaped," Minseok said without preamble. "We need to accelerate our plans. This is escalating faster than we anticipated."

Kyungsoo's voice was steady. "Understood. What do you need?"

"We need to find Lucio again, and fast. But there's more. The apartment that was torched—it was supposed to be abandoned. But the remains suggest someone was living there. A woman. I don’t think it is farfetched to assume that it could be the girl we saw during the sting."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. Kyungsoo's mind raced. He had his suspicions about who she might be based on his conversations with Chanyeol, but he kept his voice neutral. "I'll handle the matter of the girl. It's my responsibility to find out more about her."

Minseok agreed, albeit reluctantly. "Fine. But I'm increasing the number of people in this case. We need to catch Lucio, and fast. Once we have him, we can move on to Dom."

"I'll keep you updated," Kyungsoo said before hanging up. He couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get even more complicated.

Y/N stood in the dimly lit alley, the shadows swallowing her slight figure clad in all black. She checked her phone screen for the time—10:15 PM. The cold night air bit at her skin as she waited for any message from the unknown sender. She took a deep breath and sent her live location to Kai. She knew he had her back, no matter what. Their bond was forged in childhood, built on trust and countless shared secrets. She smiled at the thought of how she used to entrust him with her precious beanie baby toys and her weekly allowance.

Suddenly, the alley was flooded with bright headlights. She squinted against the harsh light, quickly tucking her phone into her boot. The car door creaked open, and she heard the unmistakable sound of heavy boots hitting the pavement.

"Well, well, well," a raspy, sarcastic voice drawled. "Look who decided to show up."

Y/N's heart raced. Lucio.

He stepped into the light, a sneer on his face, his eyes raking over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "You did the right thing, sweetheart," he said, his voice laced with crude amusement. "Now, why don't you come over here and give me that duffel bag? Nice and slow."

Y/N swallowed her fear and took a tentative step forward, clutching the bag tightly. "Here it is," she said, her voice steady despite the terror clawing at her insides. She approached Lucio, her eyes never leaving his.

Lucio's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. "That's it, nice and easy," he taunted, his voice dripping with condescension. "Gotta say, you clean up nice. It's a shame you're mixed up in all this."

Y/N forced herself to stay calm, to focus on the task at hand. She held out the duffel bag, but Lucio didn't take it right away. Instead, he reached out and ran a finger down her arm, making her shudder with revulsion.

"Such a brave little thing," he sneered, leaning in close. "But bravery won't get you far in this world, darling. Especially not with the kind of people you're dealing with."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes flashing with defiance. "Just take the bag and leave me out of this," she said, her voice firm.

Lucio chuckled, a dark, mocking sound. "Oh, I don't think so. You see, you're part of this now. And there's no getting out."

He finally took the bag from her, opening it to inspect the contents. His eyes lit up as he saw the money and the goods inside. "Well, well, you actually came through. I'm almost impressed."

Y/N took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest. "You got what you wanted. Never ever contact me again."

Lucio looked up from the bag, a sinister smile spreading across his face. "Not so fast, sweetheart. We need to have a little chat first. About your boyfriend."

Her blood ran cold. "What about him?"

Lucio's smile widened. "Oh, don't play dumb with me. You think I don't know who he is? What he is? Chanyeol’s got a lot of people interested in him. And now, because of him, they're interested in you too."

She tried to mask her fear with anger. "Leave him out of this. He has nothing to do with your business."

Lucio laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Oh! Is that what you think? How cute." He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "Get in the car while I'm still being nice," he said, his voice dripping with fake politeness.

Y/N's heart raced. "Fuck you! And what if I refuse?" she challenged, her voice steady despite the fear gripping her.

Lucio's expression darkened, the sarcasm vanishing. "Then your little lover will get hurt. A lot. I'll make sure of it."

As he spoke, Y/N's hand slowly reached toward the knife in her right boot. But before she could react, two large figures appeared from the shadows behind her, grabbing her roughly. She struggled, but they overpowered her easily, throwing her into the car.

Lucio smirked to himself as he turned and got into the car next to Y/N. By now, her hands and feet were tied, and a strip of tape was plastered across her mouth. She thrashed around, desperate to free herself, but it was no use.

"Quiet down," Lucio ordered, his voice cold. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small bag of white powder. He poured it onto a tray in front of him and meticulously cut lines into the cocaine. As the car started moving, he rolled up a 100 bill and snorted a line.

Lucio then turned toward Y/N, gesturing the rolled-up bill toward her as if to offer some. She angrily turned away, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

Her mind raced, searching for a way out. She glanced at Lucio, who seemed momentarily lost in his drug-induced haze. Despite her terror, she knew she had to stay calm and wait for the right moment to escape. Her life, and possibly Chanyeol's, depended on it.

As the car came to a halt, the tires crunching over the gravel, Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. Lucio, still engrossed in his cocaine-fueled haze, clumsily opened the door and gestured for her to follow. The two large figures who had been his enforcers stepped out first, their imposing forms casting long shadows in the dim light.

Y/N was pulled roughly from the car, the cold night air biting at her skin. She was led toward a large, dilapidated building that loomed ominously in the distance. As they approached, the grandeur of the structure became more apparent despite its current state of decay.

It was an old theatre, its faded grandeur hinting at a time when it had been the heart of cultural life. The exterior was crumbling, with ivy creeping up the walls and broken windows revealing glimpses of the interior. The building’s once-majestic façade was now scarred with neglect, but it still retained an air of faded opulence.

The men pushed Y/N inside, and she stumbled into the grand foyer. The interior was a ghostly echo of its former self: ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystals coated in dust; velvet drapes lined the walls, tattered and moth-eaten; and the remnants of plush seating lay scattered about, some torn and others still surprisingly intact.

Lucio led her through the foyer, his footsteps echoing off the high ceilings. The grandeur of the theatre’s stage was revealed as they entered the main hall. Despite the dust and cobwebs, the stage retained its regal charm, with its once-brilliant red curtains now hanging in tatters and the remnants of a lavishly decorated backdrop partially visible.

Y/N was brought to the centre of the stage, her heart pounding with anxiety. The vast space around her seemed empty and imposing. Lucio’s men roughly tied her to a sturdy wooden chair placed in the middle of the stage, securing her wrists and ankles with thick rope. A strip of tape was placed over her mouth, effectively silencing any protests or pleas for help.

Lucio stood at the edge of the stage, his presence looming over her. He gazed around the old theatre with a smirk, clearly amused by the contrast between its former splendour and its current state of decay.

“Now,” Lucio said, his voice dripping with false politeness, “we’re going to move on to the more important part of our business. I suggest you make yourself comfortable, though I doubt you’ll be enjoying the show.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small bag of white powder. He dipped into it with a tiny golden spoon. After snorting it, he turned toward Y/N with a mocking gesture, offering her some.

Y/N turned her head away in disgust, her anger and fear battling for control. Lucio’s smirk widened as he took another hit.

“Just so you know,” he said, his tone growing darker, “if you don’t cooperate, Chanyeol will be the one to suffer. I can make sure of that, believe me.”

He then gestured for the men to leave the stage, and they exited, their footsteps fading into the distance. The theatre’s oppressive silence enveloped Y/N, amplifying her sense of isolation.

Alone on the stage, Y/N surveyed her surroundings with a mix of hope and desperation. The grandeur of the theatre, despite its decay, might hold some hidden opportunities. She had to stay calm and find a way to escape, both for herself and for Chanyeol.

As Y/N remained tied to the chair, the echoes of Lucio’s footsteps grew fainter, leaving her alone in the oppressive silence of the abandoned theatre. The dim light from a single overhead bulb flickered intermittently, casting long shadows that danced across the stage. Her thoughts raced with plans for escape, but for now, she had to wait.

Outside, the night air was crisp and cool, and the city lights shimmered faintly in the distance. Unbeknownst to Y/N, Chanyeol was pacing anxiously in his upscale apartment, his mind a whirlwind of worry. The usual calm of his surroundings did little to soothe his nerves, especially with Y/N missing and the fire at her apartment still fresh in his mind.

Chanyeol’s phone buzzed on the glass coffee table, pulling him from his anxious thoughts. He picked it up, expecting a message from Y/N or a far-fetched text from Kai. Instead, the screen displayed a single notification from an unknown number.

He tapped on it, and the message that appeared was cryptic and chilling:

"2 AM. Come alone, or she dies."

Chanyeol’s heart raced as he read the message, his face going pale. The gravity of the situation hit him like a freight train. The old theatre—he knew where that was. The message was a sinister hint about what was to come, and the urgency in its words made his stomach churn.

He quickly glanced at his watch; it was already past ten-thirty. There was no time to waste. Chanyeol’s mind raced as he grabbed his coat and headed for the door. His phone buzzed again, but he didn’t have time to check it. He had to get to the theatre and figure out what Lucio had planned.

The apartment was left in chaotic disarray as Chanyeol rushed out, his pulse pounding in his ears. He had to find Y/N before it was too late. The message had made one thing painfully clear: the night was far from over, and the real danger was just beginning.

[miss-sturn]

Ghostface | Matt Sturniolo P5

'What's the matter Sidney? You look like you've seen a ghost.'

ghostface!matt x reader

Chapter 5 - The doppelgänger

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8

warnings: knifes, blood, stabbing, doppelganger references...

______________________________________________________________

Standing in the corner of the room, his gaze was fixed on her with an eerie intensity, his lips curling into a malicious smirk, "Hello, y/n. Remember me?"

Her face froze in shock as she limply dropped the telephone from its receiver, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Matt's frantic pleas began to fade into the distance, drowned out by the shrill sound that pierced her ears as head pounded with anticipation, each throb echoing the tumultuous storm raging within her mind.

''Cat got your tongue, y/n?'' he purred, each syllable dripping with a sinister sweetness that sent a shiver down her spine.

this wasn't matt. it couldn't be. no way, she thought, her brain whirring with thoughts. the real matt was on the other side of the receiver.

As he approached her, a satanic grin stretched across his face, she began to back up against the wall, a gasp escaping her mouth as he pulled out a blade from behind him, stained with blood.

the same blade from the party.

"W-whose blood is that?" she stuttered, her voice trembling with fear, trying to buy herself time.

He said nothing, although she could've sworn that a look of darkness crossed his face.

But as she blinked, it was gone, just as fast as it had come.

"Don't worry, darling," he whispered, his tone dripping with malice, "just those useless prank callers." he chuckled darkly as he ran his finger slowly across the blade, never breaking eye contact with her.

"Matt..." she whispered, barely audible, her voice catching in her throat.

"I'm not Matt anymore." he murmured, "I'm the ghostface."

"I'm not who you think I am. I'm your biggest nightmare."

Her face dawned on realisation. This- this wasn't Matt. It was his doppelgänger.

Panic flooded through her as her back hit the wall. Then, he drew back his arm, his face a picture of sick delight, the blade glinting in the darkness.

Before she could act, he plunged the knife into her abdomen, his face inches from hers.

As she recoiled in terror, he drove the blade further into her abdomen with a savage ferocity. Agony exploded through her, stealing her breath and leaving her gasping for air.

"You sick fuck!" she screamed, the words torn from her throat in a raw, guttural cry of pain and disbelief.

"Now I see something RED." he screamed, his eyes glinting in malice as he pulled out the knife in one swift move.

Before he could strike again, she summoned every ounce of strength she had and stumbled towards the door, her blood staining the floor in a grotesque trail behind her.

But as he pursued, his footsteps echoing ominously in the dimly lit room,his foot caught on the tangled mess of the telephone cord, sending him crashing to the ground with a sickening thud.

Seizing the opportunity, she spun round, grabbing the nearest object—a heavy lamp—and swung it at him with all her strength, the metallic clang echoing through the room as it connected with his skull.

Ignoring the searing pain in her abdomen, she limped towards the phone, her hands slick with blood as she dialed frantically for help. But to her horror, she realized there was no dial tone—no signal.

She screams in frustration as she clutches at her wound, desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood. Her eyes widen as she hears daunting footsteps approaching behind her.

Panic rising in her chest, she glances around the room, searching for any means of escape.

But before she could formulate a plan, Matt the doppelgänger appeared before her once more, his eyes glinting evilly as he raised the weapon again.

She braced herself for the final blow, her heart pounding in her chest, when suddenly, the door swung open with a loud creak.

And then, everything went black.

taglist:@lexisecretaccx@itssophiasstuff@junnniiieee07

comment to be added to the taglist a/n: matt pov next chapter?

[rainmoss-emptyspaces]

Overwound

Ticktickticktick, went the doll's key as its Witch wound her up, clockwork organs whirring in reverse as the spring which animated Lucia tightened, gears clicking. She braced for the release, but it didn't come. Curiously, she tilted her head back at her Witch. "Miss? This one is wound…" It trailed off, noticing her metal friend's eyes glowing a little brighter, darting around fast, as she kneeled before a boxy machine with a thick woven cable feeding into her lower back. What, she wondered, was Miss doing to Jun? "Quiet, now, dear," said the Witch, turning Lucia's key even further, noticeably exerting themselves as the tension in their favorite doll's gears mounted. "Jun," they said, snapping their fingers. Jun's gaze snapped up, and she reached back and pulled free the cable, letting it drop to the floor - and following suit, her limbs twitching. The Witch smiled warmly. "Aww, poor thing." In that same moment they jerked the key out from the slot in Lucia's back, just behind her wood-brass heart, and the doll sprang forth toward Jun, its movement tense and shaky. "Jun! Jun! Are you okay? What's that cabl-" Lucia was speaking fast, much faster than normal - louder, too. "Inside voice, Lucia," the Witch chimed, watching the pair of constructs with an affectionate glimmer in their eyes. "This one is sorry, Miss." it spoke quieter, tension still boiling inside, and so it began to roll its wrists and flex its fingers. "Jun?" "Lu-ia. I'- ov-rv-lted. I-" As Jun spoke, her voicebox cracked and her fans whirred up slightly. The machine's wires felt like they were screaming with energy, and it was all she could do to not discharge the excess as Miss had instructed. "Aww, poor little things." The Witch crouched down beside them. "So easy to overstimulate," they purred, dragging a finger down Lucia's chest, over her porcelain stomach, causing the doll to shiver and let out a quiet "please". "So difficult to deny. I've got work to do. You behave yourselves, now.~"

The Witch stood up and left the room, the door closing with a quiet but pronounced click. Body still quivering from desperation, Lucia's eyes drifted to Jun, whose legs were rubbing together as she rocked back and forth. "M-ss is s- cru-l… b-t I d-n't wa-t to d-sa-poi-t th-m…" Her voice cut in and out, fans whirring up even faster with the exertion. "B-t… I n-ed… need t- do s-methi-g… L-cia? C-n yo-… cr-ss th- w-res o- my vo-ceb-x… j-st -or a se-ond…?" Hands shaking, Lucia walked over to its friend, and knelt down, porcelain rubbing against metal as her hands drifted along Jun's neck searching for the catch that released the maintenance panel on her throat. Reaching into the cavity, its finger traced the two thin wires that connected the little black voicebox to Jun's mainframe, causing her body to jerk and a crackling whimper to emanate from the box. With a second finger she pinched the wires gently together, and they sparked. "Mnnhh…" Jun moaned aloud, voice no longer crackling but still shaky as before. "Th… thank you…" Her hand reached up to close the panel, and she shuddered again as it clicked shut. Standing, the doll reached for its friend's hand to pull her to her feet, but the pair collapsed again, Jun landing atop it. Lucia groaned softly, feeling a slight crack in the porcelain on her head, making her ever-so-slightly dizzy. "Lu? You okay?" "Nngh, yeah, just cracked my head a little… Are y-" She cut herself off, looking down and recognizing the weight on her stomach as Jun, laying on top of her and gazing into its glass eyes. It felt a rosy blush dusting its cheeks. "Junie?" A sly, curious smile split Jun's face, and gently, so gently, she kissed Lucia's stomach, then traced her tongue up the doll's navel, across its chest, and shocked her gently at the neck, fans whirring up in response to Lucia's gears clicking faster. Lucia realized, then, as Jun's hand crept up the doll's skirt, that they'd both fallen entirely on purpose.

---

Transcription of Jun's voice, in case you don't understand it:

"Lucia. I'm overvolted. I-" / "Miss is so cruel… but I don't want to disappoint them… But… I need… need to do something… Lucia? Can you… cross the wires of my voicebox… just for a second…?"

[psychiatry-and-poetry]

Letters of Desperation - Neris

Part 1 - Nesta | Part 5 - Eris | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 452

Beloved Nesta,

Every day I train with you is a day so wonderfully spent. I would give up the duties of this Court in a heartbeat simply to spend more time with you, to watch that brilliant mind of yours whirring like clockwork as you try to make sense of the world around you. 

The complexity of your mind, how nimble it is, astonishes me at every turn. Despite being so much younger than me, my own races to keep up with your thoughts. Your sophistication and grace, your elegance and eloquence. I am mesmerised.

Seeing you hone your mind, train it as but another lethal weapon in your ever-growing arsenal has been a sight I have truly been blessed with. You have even managed to astound Maceo. I will admit, that male requires nothing short of a miracle to be surprised. He has seen it all, save for your cunning and quick wit. There seems to be a reason, after all, why you fit in so well with Autumn; with me. The Court of Foxes, the Court of lies and deceit at every turn.

I must commend your training, too. Your determination and grit. The way your magic seems to flow and ripple and arc around my own flames, one cold as ice, the other hot as fire, as if they are two creatures simply reacquainting themselves with the other. Our flames, so deeply entangled as are our hearts, have grown closer over the months. 

I feel such an immense sense of pride every time you train, my love. Not for the benefit of this Court. Where you are concerned, my Court is damned, as am I. You are not a weapon to be used as the High Lord sees fit. First and foremost, you are a person, and you deserve to make your own decisions. It is simply my job to educate you on the implications of them.

Your powers do not define you, Nesta. Remember that. No matter what anyone may say. 

Because I know you. I know your heart, I know how deeply it loves, how deeply it feels, how deeply it wounds. There are many people, my beloved, who say despicable things about you, about me. About us. But you cannot let them get to you. Trust me, if I had spent even a moment listening to all the horrific things they said about me, the lies they spun to help themselves sleep better at night, I would have long succumbed to the darkness. And yet I am still here, aren’t I?

No matter what they say, what utter nonsense they spew, promise me this: you will make your own decisions. 

Avec l’amour plus le pur,

Eris

A/N: I loved writing this, mostly because the IC and Cassian treated Nesta like a dog and paraded her out whenever they needed her, and expected her to be docile and compliant with every one of their childish whims. My bbg Nesta deserves better <3

Part 6 - Nesta

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

[velariscalling]

A snippet of my current WIP…

I am so BUMMED because I wanted to post my full imagine this weekend but it’s become very clear that it’s definitely not going to be ready, but no worries! I’m still working on it, so I thought I’d share a small piece of it to let you know what to expect… enjoy ;)

~✨~✨~✨~

Gritting his teeth, Cassian opened his previously clenched eyes, setting on her with an air of distaste. “Anything else up your sleeve?” The question was dry, sick to death of the games already, but the excitement practically vibrating off Y/N told him she wasn’t finished with him just yet.

“Well, maybe just one tiny detail. You may have woken up from that poison, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still in your system. You’ll die without the antidote.” She said idly, eyebrows raised with a slight mocking pout on her lips as she examined her fingernails without a care in the world.

Cassian startled. He knew there was more to the story, of course there was, but that is not what he was expecting. His mind whirred with a way to get out of this situation, a way to turn the tables in his favour, but he kept coming up short. “What’s the point, Y/N? Huh? You never even told me why I’m here in the first place, I think it’s only fair that if I’m gonna die, I should at least know why I’m going down.”

“Well of course I was going to tell you, I’m not a monster,” Y/N laughed - actually laughed. “You’re here because we can’t have you commanding those Illyrian bastards to victory. Without you, they’re lost, leaving the goal wide open for a win for my side. Silly little baby, aren’t you?” She went to tap his nose - condescending little bitch, Cassian thought, and turned his head to the side with a grimace, which Y/N did not like one bit. That playful grin on her face was gone in an instant, replaced by a face so stoney and cold that even the worst of creatures would be afraid. In that split second of rage, Y/N grabbed Cassian’s jaw with her whole hand and yanked him back to face her where she was suddenly inches away from him. “That was rude, Cassian.”

Then, he snapped. He finally snapped, and her hand around his jaw, commanding him as if she were his superior was the breaking point. Her control was his breaking point as he spat in her face, completely losing his grip on the leash to his anger. But Y/N… oh no, Y/N wasn’t so easily perturbed, and as Cassian’s rage subsided and he watched her eye him with malice, he remembered as much.

“So feisty,” she purred as she wiped her face with her hand, eyes not leaving his pissed expression for a minute. She just loved the way his jaw ticked with anger, and how sharp the lines of his face became as he watched her every move, just like he used to do… well, with less anger and more lust. “You used to love when I took control, Cassian, remember?”

Gods, he remembered, of course he did. He remembered their secret rendezvous, the way they snuck around not to get caught. He remembered how she would crawl on top of him agonisingly slowly, and kiss all the way up his abs and chest, leaving her scent all over his body. Or how they’d wind up cramped in a tiny storage closet, her back pressed against the wall and her nails digging into his skin as he took her as his own, stifling their sounds of pleasure at the mere whisper of someone walking past. But what he loved most was when his face was buried between her thighs as she crossed her ankles, locking him in, his own hips rutting against the bed for any sort of friction he could get amidst the desperation to draw high after high from her.

“Oh,” Her voice dipped in honey shook him out of his reverie as he remembered where he was, hands bound and body poisoned. He caught her eyes once more, and a gasp escaped him as he saw just how blown out her pupils had become, almost sucking up any light remaining. “I think someone still likes that idea.” It took Cassian a moment to realise what she meant, and just how sloppy he had become. During his trip down memory lane, he had allowed his scent to shift, completely exposing just how turned on she still had the power to make him.

To be continued…

[snuffycronotrigger]

CHRONOTRIGGER PART 2

TW NSFW SNUFF FIC, GAY COUPLE

CW MUTILATION AND GORE

Kankri was chained up against the wall, his eyes filled with fear as he looked at the nobleblood standing before him. Kronus stood there proud in his executioners heels, a sadistic smile spreading across his handsome fishy face… In an act of desperation, Kankri tried to break free from the chains, but it was useless, they were too tight. He looked up at Kronus with pleading eyes~ At first… he answered with silence, taking a sharp grey finger (with black nail polish on the end) and running it down the chest of a ragged and bloody rustblood. Kankri shivered at his touch, his heart racing with fear and a strange mix of… Something else… Kronus leaned in close to his ear and whispered, hot breath hot against the skin of the troll traitor. ‘’You’re so cute wvhen you’re scared my little captivwe.’’ Kronus purred, running his fingers through the hair of the shivering troll before him. ‘’I could do anything to you right nowv and you’d be powverless to stop me’’ He tugged the hair, pulling Kankri’s face to meet his own while he stared down into those beady desperate eyes. ‘’N-n9.. please d9n’t’’ he whimpered, voice shakey and full of fear.

Kronus simply laughed, his grip on Kankri’s hair tightening. ‘’Avw look at you begging for mercy, you really are pathetic. You said you’d do anything for tour cause… I wvonder if that still stands true…’’ A cigarette is lit as he releases his grasp on the redblood rebel. Turning away to light it when a meager reply greets his ears. ‘’Please… please d9n’t hurt me, i’ll d9 anything’’ He pleaded, desperation in his voice. Kronus’s smile grew wider as he was enjoying his pleading, before turning back to face him. Blowing a puff of smoke into his face. His scaley fingers snapped and echoed in the room, and an insectoid looking camera in the corner of the room whirred to life. Kankri gulped between gasps of air, before nodding submissively. (Dropping the quirks because translating everything is fucking annoying) ‘’Y-yes… Anything’’ he mumbled. Voice barely audible. Kronus laughed maniacally, clearly enjoying his misery. ‘’Then be a good boy and stay quiet while I have some fun.’ He said, running his hands over his already wounded chest. The cigarette was taken out his mouth like a lollipop.. then thrust like a dagger into the bruised grey skin of Kankri, he roared in pain as the burning sensation hit his nerves…

As for the rest, expect a part three…

Thank you for waiting and reading! Don’t worry, it gets juicier soon