#OH GOD IT'S BREACHED CONTAINMENT SO BADLY

[venacoeurva]

tee hee hee [lays in barrow nook]

[batsplat]

feel free to completely ignore this ask but i’ve been reading through your tennis posts and. god!! thank you!! so many great takes. i love this sport and will probably die watching it but the atp is really so dire at the moment and the wta is… well, it’s a lot better (mainly bc it actually has a competitive top ten with fun personalities), but i still think the rivalries could be more compelling

but if we’re talking about narrative atrocities then the atp is clearly mostly at fault. i find it crazy how so many people on tennisblr love sincaraz? just. nothing there to grab onto. way worse than fedal. i don’t really enjoy their match up stylistically (peaked with uso 2022 but these days it feels like all there is to say is “wow these guys really can hit the ball hard”. the most compelling angle i can find on them plotwise is that brief period of time around the china swing where it seemed like sinner was finally leaning into the bromance with alcaraz but only as a pr tactic to distract from the doping thing. bc at least that’s kinda messy

and i also like meddy but that’s been. um. a bit excruciating lately. truthfully my real fav is dan evans so this is possibly my own fault for not picking someone who looked even vaguely like a slam contender to back

i do have to say i find alcaraz’s flopping kinda compelling though. there’s clearly a mental struggle/adhd lack of focus there that a lot of people attribute to him being 21 but idk if he’ll ever iron out. i think there’s a realistic world in which he keeps peaking for a couple of tournaments a year but otherwise falls off & is dramatically overtaken by sinner/maybe fonseca/some other people & is kind of a precursor to their era… on the other hand maybe he’ll pull it together and i’ll just sit here with dan evans

oh please, my average ask response time is about 4-6 months but for tennis hater asks that dives down to under 24 hours. (pretend like I actually answered this in 24 hours. I would have if it hadn't been NYE.) I too obviously do not get why sinner/alcaraz are so popular, I mean I didn't get why federer/nadal are so popular so this is just a continuation of a theme for me. it's all been downhill since sampras/agassi, I keep saying. I don't even WANT to be annoying about this, I try not to be that picky, it's just that I thought we were getting a chaos era post big 3 for at least like,, a couple years. this is my issue right, I'm not even saying sinner/alcaraz and federer/nadal are ontologically evil (maybe), I'm just saying that if you win THAT much, you'd better have some insane narrative juice to keep it interesting. and quite frankly, the number of athletes in the history of sports who could make me enjoy that level of domination is probably in like,, the low double digits at best. but these guys aren't even trying!! for shame

as for popularity, idk, I guess people will just like any blokes who are good at sport. I don't really know what goes on in tennis tumblr, I never sought out that community (though I think some of my posts kinda accidentally breached containment, which is!! fine!! you guys are welcome! but also don't take any of my mouthing off seriously pretty please) BUT my general sense is that it's a lot of love for two tennis rivalries that I personally find... well. eh! well. now look, I do have to admit that I prefer my sports rivalries with a bit more antagonism and bitterness and resentment, I love a good feud. but it's not a non-negotiable requirement! I think the most important thing for me is having... well, stakes. I kind of need to feel like some of these losses are making a part of the loser's soul die with it. like they want and need it so badly and it'll also hurt if they lose. the most infamous encounters aren't just great because they're great in sporting terms, but they're great because they meant something to the athletes involved. you don't get a do-over, it's not just one of many encounters, it's something a bit sadder and uglier and broken... that's where the narrative juice comes from, the stakes. if you don't care then why should I, right

and this is broadly my issue with sinner/alcaraz. like,, if they lose, they'll be fine, right. obviously they really want to win, but it's also recoverable. they don't get sick at the thought of losing to each other. it's not a low point for them, it's not something they struggle to put behind them, it's not something that eats away at them. idk, sue me, I want the angst! I also think the rivalry peaked at uso 2022 - and it's not just because the tennis was so excellent, it's because it genuinely felt like sinner might have lost an opportunity and wouldn't be able to make up for it and it looked like it hurt. (I mean, I knew he'd make up for it because I have always had faith sinner would eventually be a multiple slam winner, but y'know for the non-enlightened people.) that was actually the most compelling stretch of the rivalry for me! where sinner was still kinda frail (bodily weakness as a substitute for a personality but we move) and was an okay player who only peaked when he played alcaraz. so there it was kind of... alcaraz really invested in a rivalry with this guy who isn't quite good enough to keep up until he's playing alcaraz. fine, it's not 'symbols of unity in a divided nation until one accused the other of cheating and the other said they'd never been friends at all' levels of narrative juice, but you can work with that. whatever. except obviously even that has been ruined because sinner doesn't even have the graciousness to still suck. I'm sick of these people!! sick to my stomach

and yeah I mean the drug thing is what counts as narrative tension these days... I did enjoy how sinner/alcaraz stonks briefly plummeted with alcaraz's extremely lukewarm response to sinner's little clostebol situation. similar to my schadenfreude when federer didn't show up to nadal's retirement, it's the little things in life. I honestly sort of stopped paying attention to men's tennis after uso so I didn't really know about the *gestures* asian swing sinner/alcaraz situation, though I suppose that would be theoretically interesting. it's not even that I think cold-blooded guys like sinner are inherently boring, it's just him specifically that's boring because he never DOES anything. henin was cold-blooded!! she would do anything to win, including some pretty blatant cheating! we used to be a proper sport! and while I broadly agree that I think the wta isn't like,,, at its PEAK potential - beyond the protagonists just being way more interesting as people than the atp lot, I do also think there's a couple very key differences between something like the sinner/alcaraz rivalry and, say, the swiatek/sabalenka rivalry

first off, I've stress tested this and know for a fact that iga does become less palpable for me if she isn't fallible - we tried this out in 2022, I got bored of her, I didn't hate her like I would an atp player but it did feel pretty tedious to me. NOW I am extremely hooked and cannot WAIT to see what year she'll have. I'm rooting for her!! I know I've said this before but igatha and sublanko really do benefit from how much they're visibly fighting demons. angst is good, struggle is good, they both look desperate to beat each other. I don't support broadcasters showing backstage video of them after their defeats as a matter of principle, but we've had one us open where we've seen aryna demolish a racquet after a defeat followed by another us open where we've seen iga cry and... it's humanising. I care because they're fallible and quite frankly a lot of the time they seem like they're barely holding it together. introverted vs extroverted, both intense but in completely different ways, massive contrast in everything about them including how they express their emotions - but they both frequently look like they might die if they don't win the next point. if I were on either of their teams, I would be working very hard on their ability to regulate their emotions (and tbf sublanko has gotten better at this). objectively, you do want to be a sinner-type on the court. but I am not being employed by any professional tennis player (open to requests though) and As A Fan, on-court disasters is what I want

secondly. I saw this going around a few days ago --

-- and my immediate response was 'aww'. which, idk, I obviously wouldn't have that reaction with sinner/alcaraz, or indeed any current men's rivalry. I did some self-examination to check whether this was just the misandry talking, but I think the crucial difference to me is that... well, they did dislike each other for a while! it wasn't a FEUD but it was definite tension. and now they've played a bunch and now they're getting warmer towards each other, and it feels more meaningful since there's actually an arc. and they're two interesting characters with an interesting relationship and I want to see where it'll go. it's not noughties wta but crucially the tennis is fun AND and and I don't go into every single tournament thinking one of two players will win it. now, if that were the case on the wta tour, then I probably would need iga and aryna to step up their narrative juice game. but as it currently stands, we're good

and on the alcaraz point.... I mean, maybe. ideologically, I am a big believer that people pay too much attention to slams. but idk, men's tennis kinda kills me on this because I've watched djokovic faff about at various tour-level events for years before locking in the second it gets to slams. if we're being honest in men's tennis it kinda is all about the slams because that's the tier that has been so completely and violently gatekept for so long. so I know that alcaraz fans do have to deal with some ups and downs but also like... I can't lie! at this point I would quite literally sacrifice at least a toe, possibly even two, for someone I like to have a bad year where they win two slams! my sympathy is limited! and then if anything it's even MORE annoying for me because I don't LIKE following the sport week in week out if I don't feel like I'm being emotionally rewarded for that commitment because none of that shit matters anyway. I think ideally you have a bunch of storylines on tour level that culminate in the slams. but in men's tennis, it feels like there's always only one show in town. you can fool yourself for a while that there isn't, but reality always inevitably comes calling

to actually engage with the substance of the alcaraz point and take my own emotion out of this, I do think it's true that alcaraz is 'underperforming' to some extent and a lot of it's psychological. my nuclear hot take about the jcf relationship is that I'm happy for everyone who thinks the dynamic has lovely vibes, but it's a lot of credit being given to someone who came in when the most important work had already essentially been done and still hasn't exactly fixed alcaraz's shot selection. alcaraz's floor is still too low, when he plays badly he plays really bad - and maybe it is partly a concentration thing, but I really don't think it's an unfixable problem. if it were completely a concentration/motivation thing, an ability to peak for big finals that falls away elsewhere, then maybe yes, but it's way more concrete and basic things where I feel like he rarely gets the balance quite right. a lot of the times it doesn't matter because he's so obscenely talented he really doesn't have to be playing the percentages, and I do agree on principle with the idea you don't want to overly regulate him to avoid taking his love for the game. but... you do need some patterns, you do need to make your plan a and plan b not so violently different, you need to come up with some ways of modulating your levels of offence that aren't 100% attacking absolutely everything or just using your athleticism to chase after balls. there's room in between! galaxies of space in between! and look, I'm old-fashioned, I also don't like how much ferrero coaches alcaraz because I don't think that's how tennis should work. but I'm not one of those people who thinks alcaraz is some hack fraud who would be 'exposed' without ferrero - I do however think it's a crutch and one that alcaraz should probably rethink for his own sake. because fundamentally, coaching can only do so much in the moment. talent and instinct are great, and maybe alcaraz just doesn't need more than that to make his choices for him. but if I were working on that team, I would be taking a long hard look at his decision making within points, and I wouldn't wait until he's in the middle of the point to do it

(but also I think he'll be fine because he's just that good lol, like if he's physically okay I really struggle to see all these other players overtaking him. maybe this is big three brain talking but idk just feels deeply unlikely)

as for the actual alcaraz/sinner match-up, I do think it's Fine but also we have to be honest with ourselves here and say that they've played one great match and played a lot of great... moments. that miami (?) 2023 point everyone remembers, it's great, but also the match it was in wasn't exactly a classic - and that's been one of the better ones. the roland garros match last year was actively terrible and nobody will convince me otherwise. it is vaguely interesting in that it's two very offence-inclined players who express that inclination in very different ways, and alcaraz is constantly dancing on the line of attempting to overhit against sinner. but also... idk, linear bashing isn't exactly my favourite style anyway in men's tennis and it's... you're not really allowed to say this as a tennis fan, but I don't really emotionally connect with alcaraz's tennis. my brain knows how brilliant it is, my heart doesn't feel it. I've tried, I really have. idk... maybe it's because he's just too talented, something in me almost feels like it devalues it, like it's making the impossible mundane. I just need more tension, even though he's been a loose cannon this past year I never really believe he's going to lose until he's lost. I get why his tennis makes everyone go crazy, but idk. I think I need to feel the possibility of failure to enjoy success. I can appreciate alcaraz's shots, I do very often, there's a backhand slice on the run passing shot he hit on some clay court a couple years ago I still regularly think about. but alas, my heart remains cold. what can you do

anyway. that's my first tennis hater post of the new year. people seem to keep coming back for more. extremely unenthused about men's ao (djokovic playing monfils later on in the year of our lord 2k25, they need to take this sport out back and shoot it), extremely hype for the girlies. I'm actually FINE with not being a MASSIVE fan of any of the top players, passionately rooting for scrubs and just enjoying the drama at the top as a mostly neutral bystander - which is ideally what you'd get from a dan evans stan-type gig, but unfortunately that doesn't really work if you actively despise most of the top players. I have no real opinions on fonseca as yet, I'm not really a huge wunderkind person in general unless they're so juiced up on the narrative they're on the verge of overdosing, but also where I'm at with sinner it might end up being some type of enemy of my enemy arrangement. or maybe I'll find him even more annoying!! lord knows I was rooting for sinner in that uso 2022 match. I had this moment in like 2017 where federer was making his comeback and I realised I'd had enough - and then eventually I got lured back in with the promise of the nextgen. the less said about how that's going the better. this situation isn't getting better I reckon... the time has come once again. it is what it is

[ohbuckie]

ALPHA SIGMA WHATEVER-THE-FUCK | B.B.

Summary: Bucky’s a douchebag frat brother, but Christ, is he delicious.

Warnings: smut, bathroom sex, drinking (both parties are sober and able to give consent), mention of drugs

Word Count: 1.7k

Bucky Barnes. Conceited, loud, irritating. Built like a Greek God—with that perfect jaw, and those thick forearms, and that firm chest. All of his t-shirts are a size too small, and he’s never been caught wearing a baseball cap forwards, or without a protein shake in his hand.

“Hey, Y/N,” he jogs to catch up with you, “what’s up?”

“Walking.” You answer dryly. It’s unsurprising, really, that he just randomly bumped into you. He always seems to.

“Where?”

“To class.”

“I won’t keep you long, then.”

“Please don’t ‘keep me’ at all, Bucky. What do you want?”

“I’m having a party tonight. Thought you could come. Wear something cute.”

“Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes, you are.” You step up to the building that your class is in, and turn to him to speak. “I’ll come if I don’t have to bring anything.”

“Perfect. Beach theme.”

Of course it is. Any excuse for every girl there to be wearing the smallest outfit possible.

“Okay, whatever.” You step through the door, and hear him again before it closes behind you.

“Wear that blue bikini top you have!”

“You’re a freak, Barnes!”

—

You show up in the bikini top he mentioned, but only because your roommate, Natasha, told you it looked better than the other ones. You’re wearing an unbuttoned tropical shirt over it, and shorts on the bottom, which is a lot tamer than some of the other girls in the house, dressed in only bikinis, or a t-shirt with just bottoms. You won’t allow Bucky to see you like that without working for it first.

He greets you at the door, dressed in only swim trunks and sunglasses and holding a can of cheap beer. His best friend, Steve Rogers, steps up behind him to greet Natasha, who he so obviously wants to fuck. He takes the bowl of veggie dip that she insisted on bringing from her hands and gestures for her to come inside. You roll your eyes.

“What, you got a crush on Stevie?”

“He makes it so obvious how badly he wants to bang her.” You explain, thinking maybe he’ll take the hint. He doesn’t. “Where are the drinks?”

“I’ll show you.” He waves you inside and leads you to the counter through the sea of people already in the house, pointing to where all of the containers of mixed drinks are, telling you about what’s in them. You’re really only paying attention to the way the muscles of his back interact, how they tense and move as he moves his arms to point and turns around to look at you while he speaks. “You listening?” He grins.

“Wha- uh, yeah, of course.” You feel your cheeks heat up, and you hate that he caught you staring. If he wasn’t so insufferable, you’d have slept with him by now, but he insists on being the biggest douchebag anybody’s ever met.

“You want me to get you a drink?”

“No, thanks. I’m perfectly capable.”

“Yeah, okay. Alright, I’m gonna go find Sam. Maybe he doesn’t have a stick up his ass.”

You scoff and find a cup, filling it with whatever the last thing Bucky showed you was; sangria, probably. It’s much too strong, but you don’t mind so much—it’s not like you came here to be sober.

It doesn’t take long for Natasha and Steve to loosen up enough to be grinding on each other—Steve’s chest pressed against her back, his hands on her waist, his lips on the side of her neck. Bucky and Sam are playing beer pong with a few other brothers, yelling everything they say and spilling drinks on each other.

You’re only a couple in—far from drunk—but the way that Bucky’s personality takes up the entire room is far more intoxicating than any alcohol in this house. He has streams of beer dribbling down his chin and chest, and perhaps it’s a little unhinged. but you want nothing more than to lick it off.

You step over to him and he instinctively puts his arm around your waist. “You wanna do this one?”

“Oh, no, I’m not-”

“No, no, come on, I’ll show you.” He stands behind you and takes your wrist in his hand, pulling it back to where it needs to be. “Be gentle with it. Use your wrist more than your elbow.” He places the ball in your hand, and trusts you to do the rest, standing back with his arms crossed over his chest. You flick the plastic towards the gathering of Solo cups across the table and, miraculously, falls into one. Bucky throws his arms up and cheers for you, watching Sam drink across the table.

He looks down at you with a smile on his face, and it goes straight to your stomach. You stick to him for the rest of the game, taking his turns and letting him keep his hands on you. You realize his hands have never been on you before, but you very much like it; he knows where to keep them.

When you win, you take the opportunity to kiss him, feeling overly confident from the adrenaline that comes with an entire room of people cheering for you. His lips are soft, and he holds you close, with one hand on your back and the other on your waist. He’s a decent kisser—not too slobbery, like most other frat guys—and can keep his tongue to himself, for the most part. One of his friends shoves him playfully, and you pull away from him, giggling.

“You’re not drunk, right?” He asks, pushing some of your hair behind your ear.

You shake your head. “Are you?”

“Nope.” He takes your hand and brings you to the hallway near the bathroom, pushing you against the wall and pressing his lips to yours again. His hands cup your cheeks, and this time, his tongue makes an appearance. It moves along your bottom lip, making its way into your mouth. He tastes like beer and smells like Irish Spring, but it acts as a pheromone of sorts, and makes you want him even more.

His knee slides between your legs and presses against your core, and you wrap your arms around his neck to try to get closer, if that’s even possible. His breath fans over your cheek and his thumb rubs your cheekbone, but before anything allows this moment to be sweet, somebody pats Bucky on the back and informs him that the bathroom is now free.

He wastes no time in pulling you through the door, nearly slamming it behind him. Your lower back hits the counter and sends a pain up your spine, but you quickly forget it when his hands move down your torso and stop at your ass. He kisses down your neck sloppily, holding your head back by your hair. He pushes your shirt down your shoulders, urging you to shimmy it off of your arms, which you do.

“Turn around.” He breathes, running his fingers through his thick hair.

You stare at him, distracted, before processing his words and doing as he asked. You bend over the counter and feel him reach around you to unbutton your shorts, letting them fall to the floor.

“You wore the matching bottoms?” He chuckles, hotly kissing the nape of your neck.

You shrug. “They’re cute.”

He responds only by saying “Uh-huh,” and tugging them down past your thighs.

“How many girls have you fucked in here, Barnes?”

“That’s not relevant.” He mumbles, and you hear his belt hit the floor. “Drawer next to you is condoms.” You open it and find what you’re looking for, holding your hand behind your back with the packet between your fingertips.

He unwraps it quickly and takes a moment to roll it down his cock before he rubs the tip against your pussy, earning a surprised gasp from you. Slowly, he breaches your entrance, and he’s a lot bigger than you expected, with how big of a douchebag he is.

“Fuck, Bucky.”

“I’ve been telling you we should fuck.”

“Shut up.” You moan. “You’re ruining it.”

He grabs onto your hips and pulls you backwards, bottoming out completely. He starts thrusting shallowly, and you can feel him staring at where your bodies meet, watching himself disappear inside of you like he’s wanted to for so long.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so hot.” He moans, deepening his thrusts and picking up the pace.

You look down at your hands—pressed against the porcelain, slipping back and forth every time Bucky fucks himself into you. There’s powder beneath your fingers, but you decide you won’t try to guess if it’s cocaine or something else.

You hear his skin slapping against yours, echoing off of the walls, surely loud enough for anybody outside to hear. “God, Buck, it feels-”

“So fucking good.”

You nod. “Uh-huh.”

He continues fucking you, so that your pelvic bones dig into the counter in front of you, and your toes just barely reach the floor. He takes a fistful of your hair and yanks your head backwards so that you’re staring at the mirror.

“Look at me while I fuck you.”

It makes you swallow hard and clench around him, and it’s probably the first time you’ve ever done something he’s told you to do without any hesitation. You look at his concentrated face, the sweat gleaming on his forehead and chest, his teeth digging into his lower lip to keep himself quiet. He’s never been so dedicated to something in his entire life.

You feel him hit a spot inside of you that’s never been touched before, and it makes you cry out. “Goddamnit, Barnes! Fuck, I’m close, don’t stop!”

“Was not planning on it.” He says, snapping his hips until your knees buckle and shake, and you tell him you’re cumming. He fucks you through it, and finishes in the middle of your orgasm, pushing himself all the way into you until he spills everything he has into the condom. “Fuck.” He mutters, and pulls out of you, tying the condom and tossing it in the trash can next to the toilet.

You stand straight and gather your things from the floor—your button-up, your swimsuit bottoms, your shorts—before putting them back on and turning to face him. “I didn’t think you knew how to do that.”

“How to do what?”

“Make a girl cum.”

[allegra-writes]

Black Magic Girl

Peter Parker x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut

The request:

PLS! I have this request I was thinking about for a while and it’s like te reader is a witch that casts a spell on Peter, it’s kind of like a truth spell that also lowers inhibitions, and he literally ravishes her because of it cause he’s wanted her since he first met her and now he literally cannot control himself.

And:

I have read so many Peter Parker fanfics but the one I want soooo badly is where Peter Parker gets suuper dominant. Do you think you could write it? Pleaseeee 🌸

MY MASTERLIST

"Got me so blind I can't see

That she's a black magic woman

And she's tryin' to make a devil out of me"

- Black magic woman, Fleetwood Mac.

"Peter? Peter…" Your voice reached him like through a haze, or like he was underwater, your increasingly frantic tone cutting through the fog inside his head. "Please, Peter, please just… just open your eyes…"

He didn't want to, he truly didn't want to, his head was killing him and his stomach felt queasy. Almost as if he was hungover, but that wasn't possible.

"Ow… ouch…"

"Oh, thank the gods!" You almost sobbed in relief as his eyes fluttered open.  He was ok. You helped him sit up on the floor, and he smiled, a little loopilly, at you.

"Hey…" He greeted, leaning heavily on you, so close that you could feel his warm breath on your face, "Wha- what happened?"

Peter frowned, taking a look around the interrogation room: the metal table, chairs and even the prisoner were overturned and laying messily around the both of you.

You flinched,

"I was trying to cast a spell…"

Oh, yeah, the spell, he remembered now. The herbs, the chanting, the rose-gold light.

"The truth spell," He recalled, "You were trying to cast a truth spell, for- for the asgardian dude…"

"Yeah…"

"What happened?"

You sighed,

"It kinda… exploded I guess"

"Kid! Are you alright?" Tony and Steve came running from the hallway, no doubt having seen the whole thing through the security cameras.

"Fine, Mr. Stark," He stood, steadying himself with your help, "just a little dizzy"

"What about you, doll, you ok?" Steve hovered over you and you could swear a soft growl vibrated in Peter's chest "This is our fault, I knew we shouldn't have let you try this alone"

You controlled the urge to roll your eyes, it was always like that with the Captain, he was always babying you, underestimating you. You hated it.

"I'm fine"

"But the spell backfired, it-"

"No… I don't think it did" You interrupted him, "I mean, it didn't hit me, it didn't knock me back like…" You trailed off. Like it had done everything else .

"Woah, Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good" Peter stumbled, both you and Tony holding him to stop him from falling face first on the floor.

"Kiddo, what is it? Talk to me"

Peter babbled intelligibly. You cursed.

"What? What is going on, y/n?" Tony questioned, visibly worried, ignoring Steve's automatic language protest.

"I-I think it worked. His pupils are dilated, we need to take him to the med bay, fast!"

"Why? I mean it's just a truth spell…"

"It's not just any truth spell" You snapped, "It's like… like a gallon of alcohol all at once, it loosens your tongue by lowering your inhibitions to the point of nonexistence! You tell the truth because the filter between your brain and your mouth disappears!"

Peter looked positively green now,

"Oh, shit! Take me to the med bay, take me to the med bay NOW! Mr. Stark, please!"

Tony's eyes flickered between you and his protege's terrified face, he knew exactly what Peter was afraid to tell you.

And he actually thought it was about time.

"Sorry, underoos, prisoner is waking up, we have to start this interrogation right away" he apologized, sounding anything but sorry, "but you can walk, it's not that far, you can lock yourself there until the effect wears out."

"Oh, princess, go with him, would ya? Make sure he doesn't get into any trouble on the way" Tony added as an afterthought. You nodded and took Peter's arm as you guided him out of the room, none of you paying any mind to the super soldiers protests.

"Please, you don't have to do this" Peter tried to disentangle from you once you were far enough from the older Avengers ears, "I- I can make it to the bay by myself"

You scoffed,

"Is that true?"

"No, I just wanna get away from you fast" Peter blurted out. You stopped dead in your tracks.

"What? Why?" You tried to keep the hurt out of your voice, you really did.

"Because" His breathy voice in your ear sent an unexpected shiver down your spine as he leaned even closer, putting more of his weight on you, "I don't trust myself near you right now"

You gulped. There was something in his voice, something you couldn't put your finger on. Something primal, almost dark. The shift in him was so sudden it left you stunned, dazed.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"I mean it takes me a lot of self control to keep myself away from you" He explained, between gritted teeth, the struggle clear in his tone, "and I can feel that control slip away… I don't know… how much longer can I keep it together"

You turned to meet his eyes and you found them darkened with lust, with barely contained desire.

"What if… what if I don't want you to stay away from me?"

A helpless noise left his throat, a wordless surrender, as his will finally broke, as he crushed his lips to yours. He nibbled at your lower lip before licking it, before coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. You felt your body come alive, every nerve ending screaming for more, more of the taste of his tongue, more of his body against yours. You snaked your arms around his neck and felt his twist around your waist, one hand splayed on your back, pressing you closer. He started pushing you, walking you back, but instead of hitting the wall like you expected, you both kept moving. It wasn't until the back of your thighs collided with a metal table that you realized he had guided you into another interrogation room.

You grabbed onto the table to stop from falling back on it, and Peter took advantage of that to shove his pelvis against yours, forcing you to sit on it as he stepped between your legs. You gasped for air as he released your lips. He disentangled one arm from around your back. You heard, more than saw, the spider webs that closed and locked the door; you hadn't noticed he was still wearing his web-shooters under his black stealth suit. Another hiss, and the security camera was out.

"Peter… what are you doing?"

He ignored your question, capturing your lips again, pressing himself harder against you, his erection against your center making what was on his mind perfectly clear.

You pushed at his chest until he freed your mouth,

"Peter, wait, we can't" You tried to reason as his lips traced their way down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, undoubtedly leaving marks. "You're under a spell, this isn't you!"

"But it is me" He contended, catching your hands in a vice-like grip, "I wanted you for so long… and you want me to, I know it. I can smell it on you" He whispered the last part against your lips, tongue peeking out to lick at the corner of your mouth.

"Wh-why didn't you…" You tried to focus your swimming head enough to make sense, "You never said anything"

Peter was on you again, kissing you with a ferocity you would have never believed the sweet boy capable of.

"I couldn't" He grunted, when he finally broke the kiss, "you're their little girl. The baby of the group. Their innocent little princess, who can do no wrong…" He shook his head, "And the things I wanted to do you. That I still want to do to you…"

You bristled at his words, you weren't even the youngest one. Peter was, actually. And he was twenty-three. If he was treated like an adult you didn't see why you shouldn't be. You wanted Peter to fuck you, not to put you on a pedestal.

You met his eyes, almost defiant.

"I'm not that innocent"

He licked his lips,

"Aren't you?"

You shook your head no,

"Show me" You demanded, "Show me what you've been dreaming of"

Peter smirked, grabbing your chin almost painfully,

"Ask me nicely"

"Please"

That was all it took, one word and he was unleashed, taking your hands and tying them at your back with another swoosh of his web-shooter, ripping open your plain white blouse, tiny pearly buttons flying everywhere. He buched it around your tied wrists, before taking a step back, admiring his work.

"I fantasized about this," He confessed, "every time we worked together at the lab: You, sitting pretty on the worktable, all tied up for me…" his eyes never left you, you flushed chest, your nipples hard behind your lacy pink bra, as he placed his palms on your knees, slowly sliding them up, "About slipping my hands under this ppretty pink skirt…" his thumbs met above your cotton covered crotch and he pressed, the fabric quickly becoming damp.

A soft moan left your lips as he rubbed up and down your slit. But it was muffled by a sticky substance suddenly covering your lips.

Peter chuckled at the dirty look you threw him. He lowered his head, breath hot on your breasts,

"I dreamed about gagging you up so they wouldn't hear your moans as I…" He brought his tongue out to lick one pebbled nipple above the coarse lace, "Yeah, just like that" He praised the muted noise you made, before bringing his hands to your chest, ripping the flimsy fabric from your body like paper scraps and really diving in, sucking and biting and bruising. He wasn't being delicate with you, he wasn't coddling you and treating you like you were about to break like everybody else. And you loved it.

He bit down on the swell of your breast and you looked down, surprised to see he hadn't drawn blood. He soothed the hurt with his tongue, looking up at you. You were gorgeous, all caught up in his webs, breathing hard and glossy eyed, already looking ravished.

He stood to whisper in your ear, as his fingers tugged your underwear to the side,

"I pictured burying my hard cock between your legs..." two long fingers breached your entrance and you let your head fell on his shoulder, "Over… and over… and over…" he punctuated every word with a sharp thrust of his fingers in and out of you, and suddenly you were glad he had gagged you. Otherwise you were sure everyone in the compound would have heard your wantom moans.

His thumb found your clit and your head fell back again and Peter took the chance to lift your skirt. The vision of his fingers glistening with your juices, gliding in and out of your pussy half covered by your white cotton panties, tableau vivant of your defiled innocence was too much for him. He took his hands off you, opening his fly and lowering his boxers just far enough to free his hard, throbbing member, impaling you in one go. You tried to get away from the sudden intrusion on instinct, he was way too thick, way too long. But he hooked his hands behind your bended knees, pulling you forward, farther down his oversized cock.

"Oh no baby," He scolded, "good sluts take what is given to them" his crass language made you shiver, and he smirked, "Don't you want to be my good little slut?"

You nodded, and his expression softened, as he snaked a hand around your back, bringing you closer, cock sinking into you deeper, inch by painfully delicious inch. Once he was buried to the hilt, he placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

"You did so good, baby girl. I knew you could take it all." His praise warmed your insides, and you relaxed into his embrace.

"Can you still make sparks with your hands tied like this?"

His question struck you as odd, but you concentrated in creating the flickers anyway, a shower of pretty lights all the answer you were able to give him.

"Good baby girl. I know I should have told you this before, but if you ever need me to stop or I do something you don't like, make red sparkles and I promise I'll stop"

You nodded your head, and he kissed you again, slowly starting to move his hips, dragging his cock almost all the way out, only to push his way back in, a little harder, a little faster every time.

"Oh baby girl… feels so good…" He moaned, "knew this would be… the best pussy I ever had"

You leaned back, bracing yourself on your bounded hands behind you, opening your legs wider, offering yourself to him.

"Yeah, like that… you like this, don't you? Like me fucking you… but sluts like it hard… and fast"

You made a noise of agreement, and he picked up his pace, hips driving into you, cock stabbing into you with no mercy. The pornographic wet sounds of skin slapping on skin resonating in the soundproof room, the sight of your pussy, juicy and red, swallowing his dick over and over… Fuck, he could see himself moving inside you, your skin rippling with every thrust, every intrusion of his massive cock. He was close, and you were too, he could tell by the way you were tensing up, the explosion imminent. But he wanted you debased, he wanted you desperate. He wanted you begging for it, begging for him.  

He wanted to ruin you.

He slipped out of you, taking a step back, leaving you empty just as you were about to fall over the edge. He chuckled darkly at your stifled cry of protest, wrapping his hand around himself, pumping it up and down his length.

You looked thoroughly wrecked: cunt fucked open, hair a mess, clothes hanging in rags around your frame. So fucking beautiful and obscene, that only a handful of strokes later, and he was painting your chest on white ribbons, marking you with his come. He grabbed your chin again, lips pressing to your webbed ones and somehow, that felt dirtier than everything he had done to you so far.

You sobbed into the kiss.

"What is it baby girl?" He cooed, fingers delicately pushing your hair away from your sweat covered forehead. "You want to come?"

You nodded frantically. Peter applied something to your lips, dissolving the webbing. He took a step back.

"Show me how much you want it"

You didn't need to be told twice, jumping from the table and falling to your knees in front of him. You made eye contact as you nuzzled his length, and saw his sharp intake of breath. You hid your smile at his little display of weakness, at the small crack of his façade of dominance.

"You know how to do this?"

You scoffed,

"I'm not a virgin!"

"I know you aren't" He cupped your face, and you twisted to capture his thumb into your mouth, "You truly aren't that innocent, are you?"

You shook your head no, releasing his digit with a pop.

"Show me how dirty you are baby girl"

A new challenging look shone in your eyes,

"As dirty as you dare to make me. Use me, Peter. Fuck my face, please"

Fuck.

He was hallucinating, he had to be. Years of watching porn, of daydreaming of you and the filthiest fantasies his brain could come up with hadn't prepared him for this, for the reality of you on your knees for him, asking him to…

Fuck!

He caressed your cheek, his other hand tangling on your hair, angling your head just so. Your lips fell open and he entered your mouth, far slower than he had entered you. He had to take it slow, otherwise he wasn't going to last, not with you still staring up at him, angelic doe eyes bright and big and adoring. He started rocking his hips, withdrawing only to surge back, a little deeper each time. You tried to suppress your gag reflex, but every time your throat constricted around him it only seemed to spur him on. Breathing was becoming hard and your eyes started to glisten with unshed tears.

"You look… so beautiful… choking on my cock" His words were strained, as you tried to massage his shaft with your tongue to the best of your abilities, drool dripping down your chin. "Prettiest little slut… ever"

You hummed, pleased, and the vibrations got him cursing out loud. He would have liked to enjoy that sinful mouth of yours longer, but he could feel the rise building again, and this time he didn't want to waste it. He had to come inside you, show you who you belonged to.

He slipped out and helped you stand, massaging your jaw and cheeks with his fingertips, before pulling you close for another earth shattering kiss. You melted into it, into him. The feeling of his clothed body against your naked skin got you reeling.

"Please" You gasped into his mouth, "Peter… please"

"God, baby girl, you beg so pretty!" He turned you around, bending you over the table. The cold metal felt delicious against your fevered skin. You felt him move behind you, flipping your skirt over your back, rolling your ruined panties down your thighs. Not being able to see him, not knowing what would come next, made it all the more exciting, your body trembling with anticipation.

His rough palms grazed your ass, grabbing handfuls of your globes, spreading them apart.

"Fuck, baby girl, you're pretty everywhere…"

One of his hands left you as he guided his cock between your folds. He felt even bigger like this, his girth stretching you in all the good ways. You were so wet that he had no problem building up a fast rhythm right away, his cock gliding in and out smoothly, your body offering no resistance as he laid it into you hard, taking hold of your bound hands for leverage, easily moving you to meet his implacable thrusts, fucking you mercilessly.

You bit your lips, trying to reign in your moans and sobs.

"Oh no, baby girl… let me hear you… let them hear you"

You were to lost in the pleasure he was inflicting upon you to be able to form a coherent question but he must have sense your confusion, because he explained,

"The cap has a crush on you... did you know that?.. He hates it… makes him feel like a dirty old man" He leaned over your back, to place a filthy lick up the side of your neck, his punishing pace never faltering, "What would he say if he saw you like this… covered in my cum, moaning like a slut, taking my cock… God you take me so well, baby girl" it was him the one moaning the end of his sentence out.

To his surprise, you giggled,

"Oh god… he would have a heart attack!"

"You don't- don't care?"

You started moving with him, fucking yourself back on his cock,

"Rather be your cockslut… than his princess"

Peter growled, and suddenly he was on your back, his weight pinning you down. If you thought he was fucking you hard before, it was nothing compared with the pistoning of his hips now, as one of his hands fisted in your hair, turning your head so he could attack your mouth with his, and the other slid underneath you, finding your clit, rubing it in quick short strokes, almost painfully. The heat became almost unbearable, the coil tightening fast, your toes curling. You couldn't breath, trapped as you were under the onslaught of his cock on your already abused pussy, filling you over and over, owning you.

"Yes! Like that, give it to me baby girl… I can feel you coming… who's the one that's making you come?"

"You!"

"Say my name" He demanded, lifting you from your feet under the power of his thrusts, "who's the only one who fucks you like this?"

"You are, Peter!" You cried as your orgasm exploded. But he didn't stop, couldn't stop, not when he could feel your walls starting to squeeze him again, thight, so thight stars were exploding behind his eyelids.

"Louder, scream for me, baby girl!"

It was too much, his cock impaling you so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs, the cruel pleasure setting every nerve ending on fire, his moans and groans in your ear as he used your body ruthlessly and unforgiving, the new climax crashing on you, stronger and more intense that the first one.

"PETER!" You heard yourself scream, felt his hot seed deep inside you… Right before the world went black.

…

The next morning, you woke up in a bed that wasn't yours, wrapped in arms that cradled you like you were something precious, and fragile, but for the first time, you didn't mind. You vaguely recalled the soft cotton of your ruined top cleaning the mess between your legs, Peter's bare chest as he dressed you in his own t-shirt to preserve your modesty. As he gathered you close, carrying you bridal style to his bedroom. But you did remember the hot bath, your back to his chest, nested between his legs, hands exploring, caressing, soothing marks and bruised spots.

And you remember the love making, the both of you insatiable now that you finally had the other in your arms. The tender promises exchanged in the sacred darkness before sunrise.

Needless to say, you were in a good mood, not even Tony sending knowing looks your way, and Steve, avoiding looking at you and Peter altogether could sour your mood. They didn't matter. Or rather, Steve didn't matter. He was in love with his own version of you, with this image he had created in his head and you weren't sorry to shatter it to pieces. Tony was Tony, and you knew he was happy for his protegee.

It wasn't until you got inside your own lab (if you could call that the half greenhouse, half library), that your mood was shaken.

"Master!" You froze in the doorway as you saw your mentor, leaning back casually against one of the tables, looking at something on his Starkpad, "You- you're back early! I thought the council was still-"

"Those old hags are still arguing with each other" He interrupted your anxious greeting, "I grew bored of them. But now I am thoroughly entertained"

You knew it was your turn to talk, to ask what was it he found so interesting. But your words died in your throat. Your hands started to sweat, and you dried them on the skirt of your pretty pink sundress. Peter had been very insistent: Only skirts and dresses from now on, he wanted you ready for him anywhere, anytime. You felt yourself heat up and tried to get a grip; this wasn't the place, nor the time for such thoughts.

Loki finally raised his gaze from the screen, blue eyes piercing through you.

"Tony asked me to take a look at this footage, find where you went wrong and correct you" he snorted, "As if I need his input in how to best train my apprentice…"

He motioned to you to come closer, playing the video again for you.

"Do you want to know what I found, my little enchantress?"

You didn't reply. You didn't have to, anyway. He didn't need it to continue.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Your work was flawless, as usual"

You dared a smile,

"Thank you, master"

He smiled back, amused, and you breathed in relief as you realized, he wasn't mad at you. He was pleased by you. "It does beg the question, why did your spell explode?"

Your smile turned into a smirk, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Because I wanted it to, of course"

He laughed, boisterous and loud and for a second, he reminded you of his brother. He was delighted, not because you had finally caught your little spider in a web of your own weaving, he couldn't care less about the boy. No, he was pleased that you had, at last, started following his advice, the one he had given you so long ago, one night you had come to him frustrated to tears, after the Avengers had refused yet again to take you into a mission with them, leaving you to paperwork and babysitting.

"I almost preferred it when they were afraid of me! At least back then they respected me…"

Loki had tsked,

"Oh, no, none of that! Always let them underestimate you, my little enchantress. Let them think you're the delicate flower in their garden, but be the serpent under it "

… And what a charming little serpent you were .

The end.

Buy me a coffee

[knifeshoeoreofight]

Part 3 of ?

(part 1 here)

(part 2 here)

They fall into a pattern after that. Sid works in the labs during the day, going over previously gathered data and doing just enough to keep Bettman thinking that all is well. Natalia teaches him the staff rotations and camera locations to allow him to reach the observation room without being caught, and they meet up there in the middle of the night to discuss their plans.

Natalia just calls the being “malysh” most of the time, but Sid had wanted to call him with his name. The being had only laughed in a riot of color and explained that Sid had no hope of replicating it with human vocal cords. Much of the being’s communication, aside from color and telepathy, he explained, was subsonic, at frequencies too low for human ears. 

“Evgeni,” Natalia says firmly, in order to move the conversation along. “Good Russian name. Can call you Zhenya for small.” 

I like it the being--Zhenya-- had replied, radiating mental warmth in response. 

 “Zhenya,” Sidney had said, testing the sound of it in his mouth. The lights on Zhenya’s body had all flickered in response. 

Now, they have the rudiments of a plan. Zhenya needs some of the equipment on his ship, badly. 

My kind, he explains. We….adapt, easily. I can stop your gravity and atmosphere... from killing me. But I need my ship. 

Their communication comes so much easier now. Sid wonders if there’s some kind of link or connection that grows stronger with use. He knows that it still takes effort and that Zhenya has to rest after long sentences, but the gaps are becoming shorter. Zhenya’s personality, vibrant from the first, comes through even more clearly now. Sid can see why Natalia is so fiercely protective of him, and he aches thinking about the suffering he’s had to endure until now. 

I will be able to assume an almost human biological form he tells Sid one night. Tell me...what is considered good, to your species? In a person’s form. 

His lights are all soft yellow and his eyes are wide and innocent-looking. Suspiciously so. When he imitates a human facial expression it’s deliberately done. 

Sid flushes. “You mean, like, what is aesthetically pleasing? Or um.” 

Lights pulse, a rainbow of other colors flickering through the yellow. Your species is very focused on...reproductive availability, correct? 

“Oh god,” Sid says, feeling his face heat up even further. “Uh. Well, height is considered pretty important, for guys? And, um.” 

Reproductive organ size? Zhenya says, still wide-eyed and butter-yellow with what Sid is beginning to think is faux-innocence. 

“Such a dick,” Sid blurts. His face feels like it’s on fire. 

Not yet Zhenya sends, smugness radiating from the words like bad cologne. 

“You told me last night that your people have monitored our radio and television signals for decades,” Sid accuses. It had floored him to learn, but it explained Zhenya’s ability to speak human languages, albeit telepathically. “You know exactly what is considered attractive to humans.” 

I only want to program the DNA successfully, Zhenya claims.

“Uh huh.” Sidney rolls his eyes, but has to smile as Zhenya’s lights edge toward pink. “Sure you do.” 

***

Sid has more than a few overwhelming fears about their plans. 

“If I disappear at the same time you do,” he says, one night about two weeks in. “They might come after me once I return home. They’ll be watching my place, probably.” He feels terrible even bringing this up. Zhenya and Natalia are both risking so much. 

Once I have adapted Zhenya tells him, lights flowing down his skin in a way that seems intended to comfort and reassure. I will still have some of my abilities, and my technology. I will be able to protect you. 

“You’ll be staying with me?” Sid asks. “After this?” 

Zhenya goes very still. If. If you consent. 

“Of course,” Sid says. He feels a strange sense of relief. The scientist in him, of course, wants every opportunity to continue to learn about extraterrestrial life, and the rest of him has begun to grow...fond of Zhenya. His curiosity, his surprising playfulness. His affection for Natalia. 

Sid leans his forehead against the glass. He’s exhausted from weeks of fractured sleep and strung out nerves. They’re alone tonight- Natalia’s husband has a cold and she stayed home from work to care for him. 

Zhenya leans his forehead against the glass as well, making one of his low, rumbling hums. 

It was my dream, he thinks wistfully. All my life. To come and study this planet. I’m not ready to leave it. I just need to be free of this place. 

“I know,” Sid says softly, and tries something new. Just like the times he sends thought Zhenya’s way, he tries to send the complicated bundle of emotions lodged in his chest. Fear, affection, resolve. 

Sid is all Zhenya sends back, and the glass between them trembles with sound that Sid mostly feels, rather than hears. 

He has the strangest sense that there’s more that Zhenya would like to say, but he holds his peace, moving instead to the less emotionally fraught topic of the facility’s containment breach protocols. 

***

After a while, there isn’t anything more to discuss. There is only the execution of their plan. 

Their saving grace is that due to the paranoia of those running the facility, nothing so much as a laptop camera is allowed in the observation room. They decide then, that getting through the window is their best bet, as they will have at least two hours between guards making security checks of the room. 

Sid has access to the equipment storage area for the research department. He manages to steal a reciprocating saw and an acetylene torch easily enough, hiding them in one of the equipment lockers close to the observation room. He packs a backpack with only the absolute essentials, and makes his way to where Zhenya is waiting for him, tense and pacing as they wait for Natalia to arrive. 

When she arrives, she wastes no time. She presses a wrapped package of food into Sid’s hands and kisses him on both cheeks. Sid has to swallow and clear his throat before he can ask her how preparations went. 

“Pipe is blocked in office block. All cleaning staff go there, big mess.” 

Sid nods. They have to get Zhenya out, then time their race to reach the hanger just right to avoid security patrols. 

Natalia pauses, then presses something heavy into Sid’s hands, wrapped up in what appears to be a flowered tea towel. 

He goes cold all over when he realizes that it’s a handgun. 

“I’m take from guard’s room,” Natalia says. Her expression is worried but her gaze is flinty. Whatever it takes, her eyes say. 

Sid’s hands shake a little, but he checks the safety, and tucks the weapon in the waistband of his jeans. The reality of it is, he doesn’t know how to use a gun properly, and the guards here are most likely going to bring him down and ask questions never. Some of the tension leaves Natalia’s shoulders though, and that is enough. 

The plexiglass of the viewing window proves insanely difficult to deal with. It emits billows of noxious-smelling smoke as it melts, and when Sid has to alternate between the torch and the saw. His shoulders and arms are burning and sweat is running off him in rivers as he grits his teeth and shears through the window centimeter by hardwon centimeter. They’re cutting a diagonal across one of the corners, hoping for the sealant to fail and make for fewer cuts. 

His brain is just an endless loop of come on come on come on come on as beside him Natalia starts to murmur what sound like prayers. 

A glance into Zhenya’s enclosure shows smoke collecting at an alarming rate. His lights are flickering a sick green-yellow that turns Sid’s stomach with worry. 

Finally. He hits the edge of the window and starts in on the massive bolts on the frame, working his way down from the top as Natalia starts in on the ones on the bottom. 

They’re not going to have enough time. There’s no way. Sid wedges a crowbar under the edge of the frame and heaves on it, with a strangled grunt. Natalia grabs on as well and they both haul on it as Zhenya pushes on the opposite side. 

There’s a horrible squeal of metal on metal, and, miraculously, the frame gives. The plexiglass falls out of it with a thud.

“Go, go!” Natalia cries. She pushes Sid’s bag at him and he throws it over his shoulder. He turns and holds out his arm to support Zhenya as he folds himself through the gap. He’s lighter than he looks, as if he’s hollow-boned as a bird. 

Quick.

He extends a tendril to Natalia and she holds out her hand. Sid watches in puzzlement as Zhenya’s lights flare. 

It is an honor, Natalia  he says. 

Natalia’s eyes are wet as she hurries them out of the room and down the long corridor to Zhenya’s ship. Sid can hear an alarm start to blare in another part of the complex. 

“Be safe,” Sid tells her with a final kiss to her cheek. She nods, and takes off. She has to make it to an electrical panel that will allow her to throw the fuses for the hanger bay. 

Come, Zhenya tells him, and they take off down the endless hall, sirens and flashing lights now blaring around them. Zhenya stumbles, and Sid has to haul him upright. 

As if in a slow motion nightmare, just as they turn a corner and the hanger doors come into view, Sid registers a guard standing there, raising a radio to his lips. 

Sid reaches for the gun before he can think. Sweat-slick palms, nothing but the drum of his heart in his ears. 

He fires. The shot goes wide, the guard swivels, bringing up his own weapon. 

Sid fires again. The guard goes down, clutching at his leg. Before he can reach his dropped weapon Sid kicks it away. He wants to lean over and vomit. 

Later.

The guard’s key card opens the doors for them, at least, and as they run inside, the lights all go down, save the faint glowing ones on the ship itself. 

Past the electric barrier erected around it, up into the gaping entryway that opens at Zhenya’s touch. 

Hold on Zhenya thinks tersely at him, as Sid half collapses against a bulkhead, lungs burning. 

The ship hums to life, and Sid sways on his feet as it rises into the air. Zhenya is standing inside a curved, organic looking arch, a web of light rising around him as the ship turns, screeching and throwing sparks as it brushes the hanger walls. 

The doors are corrugated steel, and Zhenya had told them that his ship can break through. Sid still closes his eyes as he hears the thrum of the engines increase in pitch. Nothing around him had looked anything like an identifiable jumpseat or safety harness, so he just braces himself against the bulkhead. 

Then the ship’s sudden acceleration presses him back into the wall like an enormous hand, there’s a jolt, an awful shearing sound of metal on metal, and the floor beneath Sid tilts. 

The ship is shuddering, G forces pushing on Sid until the edges of his vision start to go dark. He might be screaming. Everything is sound, and roaring, and pressure. Time itself seems to stretch.

Then, easy as a sigh, the pressure lets him go. The floor rights itself, the engines calm. 

Sid is on the floor on his hands and knees, panting for breath. When he can raise his head again, he looks up, out of the cockpit window.

Beyond it is deep, velvety black- too deep and dark to comprehend, spangled with a billion points of light. 

The stars.

***

Sid is lightheaded with residual adrenaline and his hands shake with fine tremors. His eyes greedily devour the sight outside as he stands in front of the main viewing-window- the blue of the sky going cold and deep at the very edge of space, the infinite blackness beyond the fragile curve of the earth.

“Zhenya,” he breathes, and turns to look at him.

Zhenya is manipulating the web of light that must make up the controls, but he seems unwell. He’s hunched over a little, and his breathing seems rasping and labored.

Sid realizes, with a flood of guilt, that he’s able to breath perfectly, and that the gravity of the ship, after the press of rapid acceleration had ceased, feels normal to him.

“Zhenya,” he says urgently. “The life support systems. You’ve set them to human parameters, haven’t you?”

Zhenya blinks at him, slow. You would suffer ill effects from my species’s ideal parameters.

“Maybe of atmospheric composition,” Sid says. “What about gravity? Does your species need higher or lower gravity than humans?

Lower.

Sid sighs in relief. “That’s fine then, my species has done great in zero-g, even, without too many ill effects. Go ahead and change it.

Zhenya does something, and Sid grins like a child as his feet slowly leave the floor. Zhenya sighs, taking a deep, rattling breath that sounds, to Sid, relieved.

“This,” Sid assures him,”Is so fucking cool. I’ve dreamt of stuff like this, space and weightlessness, my whole life.”

Zhenya’s lights pulse, and Sid feels a swell of wordless affection wash up against his thoughts.

Zhenya just feels so fond when he looks at Sid. Sid doesn’t know quite what to do with that so he turns to look out of the window again, just in time to see the Baltic Sea slide by underneath them.

Something occurs to him. In all this planning, they hadn’t considered-

“Uh, where are we going,” Sidney asks.

I need time for the adaptation  Zhenya replies. I still want to conduct my research. I could take you anywhere. I have earth resources we can use.

Sid has to stare out the window at that a little. Instead of northern Norway, he watches the reflection of Zhenya’s lights, gone gently blue and pink.

He’s sitting in a spaceship. He’s sitting in a spaceship with an extraterrestrial and he’s on the run from a shadowy government organization. He shakes his head.

“I don’t even know,” he says softly, and for some reason, he thinks, “I shot someone today,” and his hands start to shake.

Sidney. Zhenya moves to stand behind him, and he rests one of his long-fingered hands on Sid’s shoulders.

He can feel...regret, he thinks, bleeding across the connection of their minds. He turns to face Zhenya.

“I’m so glad we got you out,” he says decisively. “I am.”

You are… Zhenya pauses. Extraordinary. You and Natalia. You have both risked so much for me.

His eyes are fathomless, his face as unreadable as it ever is. But the pulse of his lights and the warmth in his mind tells Sid everything that his expression won’t.

Sid, for some reason, feels his own face heat. “It was the right thing to do.The humane thing.”

Humane, from the word for your species Zhenya thinks, and his mind does something that feels a lot like the equivalent of a smile. You humans are creatures of such staggering contrast and potential.

Sid can’t meet that steady gaze anymore. He looks out of the window again. Are they over the North Atlantic?

“So this adaptation,” he asks. “What is that going to entail?”

Natalia brought me a hair of her husband’s and one of her own. I will be very nearly as if I had been their son.

Sid shakes his head in amazement and feels a curious sense of loss. All that Zhenya is, all of his otherworldly beauty, compressed into a human shell. Necessary to live on earth and fulfill his dream, perhaps, but still.

I look forward to a mostly human body Zhenya goes on. I will only hold up to the most rudimentary medical scrutiny, but I will definitely stop being killed by your environment—at least not any faster than you. He flickers his lights wryly.

I will need to spend about an earth month in a nutrient bath as my DNA is re-programmed and my body restructures itself. The DNA from Natalia was the final piece, the rest of the scaffolding was already completed as part of the preparation for this expedition.

“You guys really can just rewrite DNA, huh,” Sid says, shaking his head.

Our technology for genome manipulation arose out of necessity, Zhenya explains. My people were dying out. After we discovered space travel, we discovered that almost everything foreign to our planet caused our DNA to mutate. We were fragile. Luckily, we developed the technology before it was too late.

Sid cannot help but think,for a moment, of children dying of cancer. Of his grandfather losing his mind to Alzheimer’s.

I’m sorry, Zhenya says, having probably ascertained some of that from Sid’s thoughts. The ability to accept radical gene therapies and be effectively re-written is a particular trait of my people’s DNA. Our technology would not be of any use to humans, to my regret. You are noble to think of it.

“Ah, well,” Sid says. “We’ll have to muddle through on our own, then.”

Zhenya flickers at him, then tilts his head to one side.

You grow tired, he says. The extensive telepathic communication is hurting you.

Oh. Now that he’s paying attention, Sid can feel the beginnings of a headache throbbing at his temples.

“We never decided where we were going.” He has to laugh a little.

We will stop at your abode, and then-- Zhenya doesn’t finish the thought, but Sid gets a quickly stifled mental flicker of... palm trees?

Wherever you would like, Zhenya defers politely.

“It’s your research trip.” Sid smiles at him. “What was your plan?”

Zhenya’s lights glow excitedly. In my research I encountered several cultural artifacts of popular entertainment set in Miami. One in particular seemed to imply it would make an excellent hiding location for those involved in espionage and covert operations.

“Are you….talking about Burn Notice?”  Sid says, and laughs. Why is that so cute? “Face it, you just want to go to the beach, eh?”

Maybe so Zhenya replies, and his mental tone is a warm as a smile, even if his slit of a mouth doesn’t move.

“Sure, let’s go.” Sid winces as a bolt of pain stabs his temples.

Rest, Zhenya tells him both in word and in a soothing ripple of light. I shall take you to your home and we will then travel to our next hiding place after you have gathered your belongings. Please. He motions to an entryway in the rear of the cockpit.

When Sid goes where he’s bidden, he finds a handful of compact rooms. One is dimly lit, with soothing colors playing over the walls and a white, squashy blob the size of a king mattress on the floor.

Just to be sure, Sid hollers up the hall. He doesn’t want to end up sleeping in the equivalent of an alien toilet. When he receives the affirmative that it is, in fact, a bed, he puts down his pack and takes his shoes off, studying the weird, organic shapes of the room’s mysterious furnishings.

He snorts out a laugh when he notices, enshrined in a wall niche, a little collection of earthly looking doodads including, of all the fucking things, a Funko Pop figurine. He goes over to look and the objects make him smile. There’s a pine cone, a dented tin can of baked beans, and a postcard from Seattle. He knew Zhenya was fascinated with Earth but this tenderly displayed cluster of random artifacts just drives it home.

The bed is strange. The surface feels like silicone rubber and velvet had an oddly comfortable lovechild, but it’s pillowy and soft and he drops immediately off to sleep as soon as he lays his head down.

***

Sid.

Sid jolts awake as though his name had been spoken aloud, not just into his mind.

Zhenya is leaning over him.

How is your head?

Sid’s head feels a little like it usually does after a big headache- sort of like it’s a fishbowl made of brittle glass that he needs to be careful with. But it’s manageable.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Where are we?”

The roof of your apartment building.

That wakes him up. “Okay, nice. Are you coming in with me?”

Zhenya’s lights flicker excitedly. I would love to finally visit a private human domicile.

Sid smiles. The thought was accompanied by the same feeling of giddiness he imagines you’d get from a kid walking into a toy store.

***

Sid’s apartment is thankfully on the top floor, and they get Zhenya inside without incident. Zhenya does something with some sort of scanning device and his thoughts pulse with concern.

We should not linger. This building is being surveilled.

Fuck.

Go Zhenya tells him. I will keep watch.

Sid’s place is dim with all the shades drawn, and the still air with its closed-for-weeks smell adding to the surreality of it all as Sid makes his way through his rooms with a pounding heart.

What do you bring with you when you might be leaving life as you knew it behind for good? He grabs a duffle bag, then decides he doesn’t have time to be tidy and finds a garbage bag in the kitchen. He can organize later.

A couple changes of clothes, his backup hard drive, a photo of his parents. Does he take a bottle of shower gel? It’s not like he’s leaving the planet (ha). There’s going to be a CVS or something in Florida.

In goes his favorite quilt that his grandmother made him. A coffee mug he’s fond of from his sister. A stack of research materials and books that he’d hate to lose. There’s no reason he can’t keep working. A few more things get shoved haphazardly into the duffle and the garbage bag.

Just in time he realizes that he should probably grab his birth certificate and social security card. Just in case he really never comes back. Shit, what about rent? If he keeps paying rent, can the Russian organization that held Zhenya hack in and find out, tracking his credit card usage?

Too much to think about now. He’ll have time. He’s supposed to be in Russia for another month, in any case, and it’s paid in full.

He has everything he can’t do without. He takes a last look around. He has the strangest feeling that he’s never going to see the place again.

He shoulders the duffle and nods at Zhenya.

“Let’s go.”

***

[sm-entertain-me]

Special Delivery (M)

Contains: Mark Lee x (f) reader, adult language, sexual themes, smut, best friend!Jaehyun, delivery boy!Mark, marking kink, fingering, begging kink?, light cum tasting, unprotected sex, creampie, crushes to lovers!au.

Synopsis: There’s a new delivery boy at your favorite pizza joint and he just so happens to be the person you were hopelessly in love with during high school.

“You will not believe who I just saw delivering pizza for Giovanni’s last night,” Jaehyun’s voice shouted excitedly from the opposite line, clearly excited about it. Usually you didn’t really buy into anything Jaehyun had to say, mostly because he would be talking about girls non stop, but you decided to humor the poor horndog.

“Who, Jae?” You asked in a voice that showed absolutely no hint of interest whatsoever as you cuddled a bowl of popcorn on your couch, scrolling through the multiple titles that shined brightly at you through your darkened room. Tonight you were feeling adventurous and decided to look for some horror movies, remembering that Yuta told you to check out the new zombie flick Train to Busan. You wondered why he was so into horror, probably because Sicheng forced him to watch as a tradeoff for watching anime.

Jaehyun’s unimpressed huffing could be heard on the other line, you imagining his eyes glazing over while his lips formed a thin line, “Seriously, Y/N. Here me out. It’s about a guy this time, a guy you actually know.” Let it be known that this is the first time Jaehyun would be calling you at way past 11 o’clock at night and not talking about a girl he was either interested in fucking or already was. Yes, Jaehyun was the kind of best friend that would call you for some sex advice as he’s fucking the poor girl. What a breach of privacy.

“Oookaay, fine then,” You responded, your voice slightly muffled due to you shoving a handful of buttered popcorn into your mouth. “Who’s this guy that I supposedly know?”

You could practically hear the smirk forming on Jaehyun’s lips, hearing a faint shuffling sound on his end of the line as he seemed to perk himself up before the familiar name left his lips, “Mark. Lee.”

The name caused your eyes to widen and your heart to race as memories of the man in question flooded your head. You remember the way Mark would help any of the students in class with their homework if needed, always eager to help those around him with a kind smile and charming demeanor. Jaehyun and Taeyong would constantly tease you from how you doted over the poor kid, in turn causing your cheeks to shine a bright red in the presence of Mark. The only reason they teased you so much is because you would never talk to the kid but claimed he was the hottest person you had ever seen. 

Oh yeah, definitely the hottest. While Mark was always super kind to those around him and acting all innocent in a classroom setting, he was someone different when it came to sports or any rendition of gym class. The way Mark’s face would harden as his eyes focused on the ball of any sport, mostly basketball, the thin layer of sweat coating his forehead from a game well played, his hair flowing whenever he ran, and most definitely the times he would lift his shirt up to dab the sweat off of his forehead had you feeling some type of way. You’d seen his abs many times, but you wanted to see much more...

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?” Jaehyun called out, interrupting your salacious thoughts of Mark and his drop dead good looks. 

“Oh, uh, y-yeah. Yeah I’m listening, Jae,” You responded as you raked a salt laden hand through your hair, silently cursing to yourself as you had to get up and wash the salt out of your locks in fear it might damage your hair. Why is it every time you think of Mark, a person you never even talked to outside of asking him for homework help, has you acting like a total ditz?

“Yeah, sure you were. You were imagining all the ways Mark would fuck you, you screaming out his name ‘Oh Mark, yes Mark!’” Jaehyun cried out, raising the pitch of his voice in order to mock you. And this is the kind of treatment you get from having such a nice friend like Jaehyun. “Oh and by the way, I ordered you a pizza. Should be there real-”

Before Jaehyun could finish his sentence, you heard the loud ringing of your doorbell sound off through your apartment, a look of fear washing over your face as you nearly dropped the phone out of your dampened hand. “Jung Jaehyun! You fucking ordered a pizza knowing Mark is the delivery guy? You are such a shit friend!” You yelled to your phone, hoping that the volume of your voice couldn’t be heard outside the walls of your apartment just in case it was Mark. To be fair, Giovanni’s has quite a few delivery guys so it’s a slim chance that Mark would be the one delivering to you... Right?

A slew of venom laden curses flew from your lips before you bid Jaehyun a rather hate filled goodbye, telling him how much of a dick he was in the process. After a few choice words, you sighed to yourself as you yelled out to the mystery deliver guy on the opposite side of the door, “Coming!” You had to make sure you had the money ready because knowing Jaehyun, he would have you pay for the pizza you didn’t even want in the first place.

Your nerves were getting the best of you as you stood in front of the door, hands shaking as you extended your arm outwards to grab at the doorknob. A small swallow of your pride was all that was needed as you gripped the cold metal in your hand, turning it slightly and pulling the door open to reveal the one person you didn’t want to see given the redness still on your cheeks. 

Mark was standing on your porch carrying a box of pizza that adorned the restaurant logo with a small receipt paper attached to the top, wearing a slimming red shirt and black slacks with his hair slightly askew underneath the hat. Even though he seemed like he was dead tired and exhausted from running around delivering pizzas, he still managed to cause your throat to tighten after all this time.

He must not have gotten a good look at you as he glanced at you, down at the box, and then snapped his head back at you with widened eyes and his mouth slightly agape, “Y/N? Is that you? Oh my god, I haven’t seen you since high school!” 

You were genuinely surprised Mark remembered you given the limited times you interacted with him, only sharing a few words with the guy. But still, you weren’t going to turn down a chance of speaking to your high school crush, especially since he asked you a question and it would be quite rude of you to ignore him.

“Yep it’s me,” You began, taking your hand and rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly as you admired the grey stone of your porch instead of looking into his eyes. “I’ve been doing alright these days, just going to college and living my best life.” Damn it, why do you have to be so awkward?

Fortunately for you, Mark took your awkward comment as humor as he chuckled slightly, his eyes managing to trek over the entire expanse of your body. He allowed his eyes to trace up your bare calves all the way up to your thighs, tilting his head to look closely at the fabric of your shorts, then continuing his way up to admire your slightly exposed midriff thanks to your holding your arms to your stomach. As Mark’s eyes finally got to where he wanted them to be, he licked his lips at the sight of the tops of your breasts peeking from your tank top. Long story short, Mark really liked what he saw.

“I know this is a little straightforward and kind of unprofessional but...” Mark began, slinging the box to his other hip to lean forward, looking you dead in the eye with a look that had exuded nothing but pure, unadulterated sex. “I’d really like to come in and catch up with you, if that’s okay with you.” You simply nodded at him, taking the pizza from him and opening the door wider to allow his frame to slip in, letting go of the breath you were holding in the minute he stepped into your apartment.

Sighing to yourself, you rounded the counter of your kitchen and set the pizza box down quickly realizing you still had to pay Mark for the delivery. “Hey, how much do I owe you?” You asked out loud, not paying attention to where he was and hoping that he could hear you no matter what part of the apartment he was deciding to explore at the moment. But the answer never came as you felt two hands cage you in on either side of your hips, hot breath fanning the nape of your neck, and something long and hard pressing into your ass. So this is what Mark meant by catching up.

“Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to fuck you?” Mark asked huskily, one of his hands moving to the back of your head and moving a section of your hair to the side to press his lips firmly against your neck. A slow chuckle escaped his lips when he heard your breath hitch, egging him on to lick a strip of your neck while leaving tender love bites on his way up. Goosebumps formed on your skin immediately as you stood there, wondering what to do as Mark left blossoms of purple of your neck, pulling his lips off of your neck momentarily, “And I know how badly you’ve been wanting me to fuck you. The way you would look at me during gym class, how red your face got whenever Taeyong and Jae would even mention my name...”

As Mark’s voice trailed into thin air, he allowed one of his hands to release the wood of your counter to push his fingers against your clothed clit, rubbing slow circles into you as you moaned wantonly into his ear. “F-Fuck, Mark,” You breathed out hastily, your hand flying up to grab on the back of his head just for the sake of holding on as he pushed harder against the throbbing bud. Mark was determined to wreck you.

Mark continued to rub you closer to your release, making sure to push his raging hard on in between your cheeks to feel his length continuing to grow with every moan you made. He could tell you were getting close to your release from how hard you were digging your nails into his skull while looking at your other hand that turned stark white from the hellish grip you had on the counter. A smirk found its way onto Mark’s face as he leaned forward, his lips barely touching the soft lobes of your ear, “Tell me how bad you want it, I want to hear you beg.”

“M-Mark,” You stammered, pleading with him to not force you to beg. No matter how much you wanted Mark to ram his cock so far into you that he would have you walking sideways for two hours, you weren’t one to beg. But goddamn, the way that boy flicked harshly against your clit had you ready to grovel. “Fuck! Please Mark! I need you to fuck me, please! I-I need it. I need you inside of me, I can’t take it anymore.” Suddenly, the pleasurable feeling of his fingers bringing you to your edge was gone. Before you would whine in protest, you were slung over Mark’s shoulder as he made his way through your apartment, trying to guess at which door led to your bedroom.

When he finally found it, Mark threw you onto your slightly messy bed, immediately stripping off his uniform shirt to reveal his toned torso. He looked the exact same as he did in high school and you weren’t complaining as you licked your lips, looking up at his eyes with blown wide pupils. Mark’s gaze narrowed at you as he bit his lip slightly, taking a slow breath as he began his orders, “Take your clothes off. Now.”

Being the good girl you are, you quickly stripped out of your shorts and tank top, lying completely bare for Mark. As his eyes looked over your body for the nth time tonight, his lips formed a devilish grin at the sight of your arousal coating your slit and the inside of your thighs, a sight that had his cock twitching wildly in within the confines of his pants. 

“Damn babygirl,” Mark’s voice called out as he began to work at the belt of his pants, making sure to keep eye contact with you. “You look good enough to eat... But we’ll save that for later. I need to be deep inside you now or I’m going to explode.” Although you love the idea of Mark’s tongue flicking against your heat at the speed of light while sucking your clit into his mouth, you weren’t going to deny his request of filling you up right now.

When Mark finally got his pants off, your eyes widened at the sheer length he possessed. He wasn’t too thick, actually just the perfect thickness for you, and he had a more than decent length to him. The tipping point was the beads of precum rolling down his shaft and onto his hand as he gave himself a few pumps, chuckling at the look of wonder on your face as he approached you with nothing but lust on the brain.

Mark quickly joined you on the bed, planting you firmly underneath him as he ran a finger up your slit, bringing the finger to his mouth to taste you for the first time. You watched as his eyes rolled back from your arousal coating his tongue, a soft groan emitting from his throat as he looked at you, “You taste so fucking good. Next time, I’m eating you out until you’re shaking.” Next time?

Although Mark wanted to pound into you immediately, he was actually quite caring of your pain threshold as he eased himself into you, not wanting to move his hips until the look of discomfort left your face. It’s no secret that Mark is easily the biggest you’ve ever taken, so of course it’ll take you a minute to get used to him, but you nodded him along anyway. 

As Mark drew his hips back to pull his length out, he watched your face relax from getting used to the delicious burn inside of your walls to accommodate his length. It must’ve fed his ego as he was not nice when it came to ramming back into you, forcing you to choke out a gasp as your arms wrapped around his shoulders to dig your nails into his back. 

Mark was relentless as he rammed his cock deep inside of your clenched walls, throwing his head back from how tight you were for him. He was enamored with the way your walls clenched tightly around his length as well as the squelching sound of your pussy taking his cock, letting Mark know just how turned on he made you. 

“Why didn’t I fuck you sooner?” Mark asked rhetorically as he looked down at your innocent face, completely fucked out from how well Mark was fucking you. Your eyes were hooded, hair a complete mess from the harsh strokes at the cock of Mark Lee, and your cheeks shined a bright red. Almost as red as you would get when Taeyong and Jaehyun would tease you. But joke’s on them because now you’re getting dicked down by the person you’ve been wanting to fuck since sophomore year.

You were convinced that this was going to be just a hit it and quit it situation, but the way Mark was fucking you was something you’ve never experienced before. He was so passionate when it came to you, taking languid strokes to feel you completely, leaning down and giving you passionate kisses on both your lips and neck, and lacing his fingers with you as he pounded into you. It was all becoming too much for you as you felt yourself letting go.

A white heat ripped through your body as you arched off of your mattress, pressing your pert nipples flush against Mark’s torso while screaming his name to the high heavens, breathing heavily as stars began to flood your vision. Mark simply watched in amazement as his name fell from your lips like a mantra, getting lost in both the way you keened for him and the way your walls clenched tightly around his wonderful member. The sight of you being so vulnerable for him and the feeling of sheer euphoria pulsing through his body forced Mark to cum deep inside of you, velvety ropes of cum painting your already slick walls as he moaned your name into your ear, crying out for you.

You two must’ve blacked out for a little bit because you found yourself coming back to your senses to a passed out Mark on your bare chest, his cock still inside of you and beginning to soften. A smile fell on your face as you ran your fingers through his brown locks lovingly, listening to the small snoring sounds he made as he cuddled into your stomach. Wow, he really was beautiful. Such a shame you never acted on your feelings sooner. 

As you were stroking Mark’s hair, he began to wake by raising his head to look up at you with his adorable doe eyes, a small smile finding its way onto his fucked out face. “Hey,” You whispered, returning his smile. 

Mark nodded at you as he looked over at the clock on your end table, silently cursing to himself. He was probably late getting back to work and finishing the rest of his deliveries of the night. Actually, he would be very late since he was supposed to be out on two more deliveries but never showed. But to be fair, he was pretty busy giving you an orgasm of astronomical proportions. 

“Do you have to leave?” You asked quietly, your fingers still entwined with a particularly curly lock at the top of his head. 

It took Mark a while to try and contain his laughter but ended up failing, finally admitting to you, “Actually, I got fired this morning, but Jaehyun called me and said to deliver something special to you.” 

That slick son of a bitch.

[nenestansunsthings]

Incident 239-A, Excerpt Four

wow this one took a while. there's an iris here, though, so i feel like it's okay!

.

The walls of the site were wooden.

Some sort of anomalous effect, Iceberg deduced, scanning the dark material. Not touching it. He would not make that mistake. It was likely caused by SCP-4231's anomalous capabilities, specifically a typical stress response. So Wojciechowski had not managed to sedate it, then. The failure would be noted.

The fact that the bullet shells scattered across the floor were non-lethal was noted as well. That was likely not an anomalous effect. So the attempts to stop this termination were non-lethal as well? He hadn't expected differently of Wojciechowski, really. Gears would not appreciate that his hypothesis had been correct.

Gears. His assistant would prefer that he come back unharmed, wouldn't he? Objectives clicked into place in Iceberg's mind. Personal safety would have to be a concern, then. Not a priority, exactly, but a concern nonetheless.

Protecting 239, on the other hand, was a priority. Subduing 4231 was a priority. So he would take whatever measures were necessary.

The comm in Iceberg's ear buzzed, receiving an incoming signal. He allowed it through. "Status?"

"Iceberg? Oh, thank fuck." Wojciechowski's voice came through in a nearly inaudible crackle. It was strained, Iceberg noted. Injuries, then, were likely. "You have to stop Arlens. He's going for-"

"239. I'm aware." Iceberg's eye twitched slightly. "Status, Wojciechowski."

"Alive. Beat-up. Did you know Lens liked locking people into empty containment cells? Or breaking their ribs?" Wojciechowski coughed. "I sure fucking do. He tracked me down and shoved me into a room with no shadows. Fuck knows where James Talloran is. God, when I find him--"

"We'll address your revenge later. Where is 4231?"

"Jesus." Wojciechowski swore. "Don't call him that!"

"I'll call him what I like, director. Where is it?"

"He is going for the butterfly chamber." The other man laughed. "Not that he's getting in. I made sure of that. He'd have to cause a CK-Class scenario to get in, and... well. He likes his being 4231 about as much as I do."

"Do you really think we can rely on its discomfort with a number? It blew up your doors, Wojciechowski. It deserves to be an SCP right now." Iceberg's expression was almost cold enough to be called a scowl. Almost. "Evacuate your personnel. I will handle your breach myself."

The comm was silent.

"... you're going to kill him?"

"If it's necessary." And it almost certainly was. "Evacuate your men, Francis."

Iceberg could practically hear the silent fury on the other end.

Finally, finally, Wojciechowski answered.

"No."

"Then neutralize it yourself," Iceberg ordered. "I don't have time for your sexual tension. Get it under control and make sure it doesn't cause a goddamn breach. I will handle 239 myself."

"... Fine." Wojciechowski growled on the other end. "Don't get in my way. You're a very replaceable man, Doctor Gilles. That assistant of yours deserves a promotion anyway."

"I'd be happy to sign one for him," he responded. "Get your pet project under control."

There was the sound of a comm being crushed under rubber soles.

Iceberg sighed, turning his own comm off. The dramatics. Honestly. If he didn't want his pet SCP terminated he shouldn't have let it try to kill a little girl.

Especially not that little girl.

Iceberg stepped through the halls with a purpose, a hand on the grenades hanging from his belt.

"Damn it!" Butterfly slammed a fist against the closed door to 408's containment cell, anger burning bright inside him. He could feel the flickering life of his butterflies inside, the familiar feel of it only fuelling his fury. "G-d damn it, Clef. You and your g-ddamned lockdowns."

The 408s couldn't get out. Not with those protections. Butterfly had a feeling what was in place had been set up a long time ago, and it hadn't been meant to keep them in.

No. It had been to keep him out.

Damn Clef. Damn his director, planning and planning and lying his way through questions, through explaining what protections were on what. Damn the fact that terrifying competence had been turned to...

To what? To the whims of a little girl high on her own power, not even knowing what she had turned him into?

Fuck her. Fuck 239. Fuck this whole mess. When he found that girl, he was going to rip her to shreds.

Butterfly's hand slipped down the reinforced metal of the door, going down, down with his hope.

Hopeless. This was hopeless. He'd never get to her. Was he already too late? The alarm had probably alerted other sites, too, so he almost definitely had Iceberg on his trail. And even if not Iceberg, even if it was someone he could subdue without issue and get past to kill 239-- could he even do it? Could her powers overtake his? Could she look at him, twist him, turn him into something beyond his worst nightmares because he made her think of a monster?

Could he even do this?

... Not without help. Not without allies. And without the 408s... did he even have any?

The room was silent around him. Cursing him. Mocking him. He didn't. He didn't have anyone. The SCPs would have been evacuated and fucking Francis was against him and- and--

"... You look like you need a little help."

Butterfly jerked, spinning swiftly to find a young woman standing in front of him. She didn't so much as blink when he leveled his sword to her throat.

"... Iris Thompson."

"In the flesh," she responded, deadpan. "Lower the sword, Benjamin Kondraki. We need to talk."

"Don't call me that!" Benjamin Kondraki was a dead man. He'd died with his wife and he'd died with the thought that his son was a monster to be contained. "Don't you ever say that name again."

"Sorry." Thompson smiled. At least, it looked like a smile. His depth perception was shot to hell, of course, and his third eye stung with heat, but he swore even past that it looked more like a snarl than a grin. "This isn't the right world to be calling you that. But, well, with that name or not... I'm offering you an out."

"An out?" As if he'd trust her. 239 had never seen her, yes, but Thompson was personnel. Dating Francis's own daughter. Why she'd side with him over her site and her girlfriend he hadn't the slightest idea. "Spare me the bullshit, Thompson. What do you want?"

"It's obvious, Doctor Butterfly," she said, enough surety in her voice that he strained to hear anything inhuman past that. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing but the dregs of a dead god inside her. "I want you to win."

That made him pause. "What?"

"There are tunnels the director doesn't know about. Meant for Factotum use. O5 use," she explained. Something in her voice tired as she did. "How did you think I stayed hidden while they evacuated? The Council thinks it hides its things well, really. But it's easy to find them when you have all the time in the world. And we both know how much time I had."

"... Damn. 3999 really did a number on you, didn't it?" He remembered back when she had first come to the site, when she was still nervous and kind of snappy and excited. Now... well. "Where are they?"

"Right here." Thompson reached out, taking him by the wrist and tugging him past a corner to find a large door where there once had been wall. It hung open to reveal a tunnel, leading down, down, down. "And turn off the voice, Butterfly. No-one here's scared of you. Except maybe you."

"... Asshole." His voice, past the anomaly echoing it, was weak. Raspy. "How the hell did you find this?"

"I killed O5-6 in it a month ago. How else?" She pulled him in. "Do your best, Doctor Butterfly. Leave me a corpse to burn."

And didn't that send chills down his spine.

"Wait," Butterfly called, stopping Thompson as she walked away. "Why are you doing this?"

It took her a few moments to answer. The tunnels loomed empty around him.

"I like watching reality benders die," she answered simply. The door closed before him.

... Ominous. But helpful. Butterfly shook his head, descending into the dark of the tunnels. Hopefully she only wanted 239 dead. Hopefully it didn't extend to him.

But if it did...

Butterfly shook his head, looking through the tunnels. They seemed to match the halls of Site 17 enough, didn't they?

He wasn't exactly a stupid man. He knew his enemies-- friends?-- were dangerous. He knew it'd be risky to fight them without help.

And, well... 408 wasn't the only group of butterflies on-site.

Butterfly turned left, headed for the enclosure storing SCP-3209.

Iris Thompson travelled the halls with barely a sound. She knew well how to avoid making a sound on these floors, covered in wood or not. In her pocket, a six-sided die sat wrapped in her handkerchief, familiar and unturning.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" she heard Francis Wojciechowski demand in front of her. Iris did not look up. Instead, she shrugged, her fingers playing idly on that die.

"I'm with Butterfly on this one," she said softly, pulling the die out of its cloth. "That girl did something, that's for sure. The only thing to do now is stop it."

Francis scowled. He was hurt, Iris noted, with badly burned hands and broken gear, and he walked with a limp that screamed of a broken leg. "Iris. She's only a kid."

"And you're only a man." Iris met his eyes. "I could kill you without flinching."

"You wouldn't."

She shrugged. "Get out of the way and I won't."

Stubbornly, Francis stayed. Iris sighed. "Fine. Make your choice."

The die landed on three. And the hallway flooded with water.

[avengers-nextgen]

32, 9 and 15 for Natasha and Sage

“Can someone please explain to me, in small words, why I’m being assigned to this mission?”/ “Wait, something doesn’t feel right”/ “Don’t tell me you’re fine! I can see the blood.”

— — —

Sage wasn’t sure why she needed to be in Fury’s office. In fact, she wasn’t sure why he wanted her there at all. Sure, she was a better person now, but she had stabbed him. Still, she found herself sulking down the hallways until she arrived. But only then did her confusion worsen because the only other person aside from Fury within the room was Natasha.

“You asked for me?” Sage frowned, trying not to sound bored.

“Yes,” Fury nodded, “you and Rogers have a mission.”

Of all the things the bald man could have said...he said that. Blinking slowly, Sage tried to sort out her confusion. “I’m sorry what?”

“You and Natasha will be taking care of a mission,” Fury repeated, slower than before.

“I got it,” Sage snapped, “but can someone please explain to me, in small words, why I’m being assigned to this mission? I mean, I don’t normally go on adventures without people my own age.”

“Did you call me old?” Natasha asked, arching a brow.

“No!” Sage huffed, “I’m just confused. That’s all.”

“I’m pairing the both of you together because Natasha has experience, and you have an arsenal of powers that may be useful in making sure neither of you die. Besides, it’s about time you and the rest of the kids start handling more dangerous scenarios.” Fury explained, shuffling papers on his desk.

“We handled Prometh-you know who-and that was dangerous.” Sage reminded.

“Yes, but I’m referring to threats other than a god like man working on some weird political and ideological agenda. I’m talking about stealth missions,” Fury sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “From what I’ve heard, you’re not very...stealthy.”

“I think she understands,” Natasha interjected, quick to cut the conversation short lest the two erupt into a full blown argument. “Just brief us.”

— — —

“Oh this thing is stifling,” Sage groaned, extremely in happy about the wet suit she was wearing. Apparently, though she wasn’t sure why, the base they needed to breach was under water in an unmarked cave system.

“You get used to it,” Natasha smiles thinly.

“Yes, but your normal suit is this tight,” Sage remarked.

“That’s because as a spy you lean that baggy clothes are a hindrance. They have a way of setting off alarms,” Natasha smirked. “A friend of mine wore cargo pants. Set off booby traps and got impaled by a metal rod.”

“Where in gods name were you?” Sage stammered.

“Russia,” Natasha shrugged. The older woman simply checked over the small oxygen tank and mask. Then, without asking, she began checking over Sage’s gear. “Always double check equipment. SHIELD is good about maintenance but you never know. The last thing you want is a mask to break when you’re dozens of feet under water.”

“Right,” Sage nodded, albeit awkwardly. Despite herself, she still wasn’t entirely comfortable around Alex’s parents.

“Drop zone is below, lowering ramp,” Maria’s voice came over their ear pieces. The sudden noise startled Sage. She’d forgotten all about the device.

With a groan that shook the empty cargo hold, the ramp slowly lowered revealing calm waters below. Natasha was the first to move. She edged carefully to the lip of the ramp before leaping off and splashing into the water down below. With a grudging sigh, Sage followed.

The water was cold, or at least colder than she’d expected. She watched as Natasha pulled on the mask and took a few test breaths. Mimicking the procedure, Sage gave a thumbs up indicating she was set to descend below the surface. With a confirmatory nod, Natasha dipped below the surface of the water.

Following closely behind, Sage found it difficult to keep pace with the agent. She was never particularly good at swimming but she’d always been able to manage. However, something about Natasha allowed her to streamline quickly through the water.

— — —

It wasn’t long until they reached the cave system. It’s mouth was dark and gaping like a waiting predator, but with little hesitation Natasha pulled a large light from her belt to illuminate the darkness.

Weaving through the submerged terrain, Sage worried they’d get lost, but nearly an hour later the rocky world around them shifted to strange slick metal. They’d found the foundations to a structure looming above.

Natasha’s beam of light glanced off the metal surfaces exposing a grill in the ceiling. Was it a ceiling? Sage wasn’t sure what to call it. Pausing beneath the hunk of metal, the spy studied it with care before motioning Sage over. Though it was hard to understand, Sage finally understood Natasha’s pantomiming. She wanted her to melt the welding lines. With a tentative nod, Sage produced a green flame. It flickered out for a moment before growing brighter with Sage’s concentration. Frankly, she’d never made fire underwater before.

Following the welding marks, the water began to bubble as metal soon released its hold. With a grunt, Natasha tore the grill from its resting place. Clambering up through the opening she turned to help her young companion out of the water. Removing the mask and slipping it into her belt, Natasha surveyed the area. “We’re on a low level. Probably the lowest one if it’s connected to the sea.”

“So we move up?” Sage asked, shaking the water from her hair.

“Mm,” Natasha nodded, carefully padding down a dark expanse of tunnel managing to make little sound. Sage found the ability to walk silently much more difficult. The combination of the wetsuit, the equipment, and being cold had thrown off her natural stride. “We need the third floor. Can you detect a way to get there?”

“I can try,” Sage nodded. Closing her eyes, she searched the environment for any source of chaotic energy. Nothing came to light. Resorting to a new method, she attempted to do a trace spell-something her father had taught her quite recently-which allowed her to retrace any recent event that’s taken place within an hour’s time frame.

Fortunately, someone had been down on their very floor within the hour. The uniformed individual, made two right hand turns leading to a flight of stairs. It wasn’t much but it would do. Relaying the information, Sage kept close to Natasha as she took the lead.

Moving slowly up the winding metal steps, they neared a large heavy door. With a small wave of the hand from Sage, the lock melted and Natasha eased the door open. The room was dark aside from large running databases. “I don’t know what any of this is. You should’ve brought Fox.”

“Please. Both of you on this mission would make us all dead,” Natasha snorted, eyeing up the technology. “Besides, I know my way around.”

Holding her hands up in surrender, Sage let the spy take charge. She was certain Natasha knew more about this stuff than she ever would. Thankfully, Sage was right, and Natasha was able to locate a wide cube of metal with flashing lights, connecting cables, and a small screen flashing codes.

“Is this what we need?” Sage asked.

“No, what we need are the codes. We need to get a copy of them. That way e can analyze the order and frequency of them. Figure out what exactly this machine operates,” Natasha explained, skimming her fingers over different nooks and crannies. She paused, flipped open a latch, and removed the outer frame. If Sage wasn’t confused before, she certainly was now, because the insides of the device contained even more lights, wires, and green plastic cards.

Feeling about, Natasha located a thin plastic card. “This should keep the machine running long enough for us to get out of here before they notice something’s wrong.”

“What’d you take?”

“This little card programs for a coolant system. It’ll keep things from over heating. It runs on a cycle. What we really need is this-“ Natasha rather violently stripped another piece of plastic from the machine. “A back up coding system. It won’t stop the machine from running it’s just a safety mechanism Incase the original codes are compromised.”

“Great, let’s go,” Sage nodded. Heading back the way they’d come.

“Wait,” Natasha cautioned, catching Sage by the arm. “Something doesn’t feel right. This place is too empty.”

“We have to get out of here one way or another,” Sage sighed, “but I can try teleporting both of us back-“

“No, your strength is important,” Natasha shook her head. She remembered how haggard Sage looked the time she’d saved Alex from drowning. How exhausting it was to make sure they both ended up where they needed to be.

“Then we’ll be careful,” Sage decided, and although she wasn’t excited about it Natasha lead the way back to the lowest level. Only as they rounded the corner a series of gunfire sounded off. Acting on instinct, Natasha grabbed Sage by the collar and flattened her back against the wall.

“Don’t move,” Natasha warned, listening closely for the gunfire to die down. “Damn I knew they’d be here.”

“Well, we’ll have to move eventually. Otherwise we’re sitting ducks,” Sage hissed, flinching at the sound of a bullet piercing the wall by her head.

“Then I’ll give you cover fire. But don’t do anything you don’t have to. Our main job is to get out of here. That’s it,” Natasha warned, peeking around the edge of the wall. A stray shot rang out as she ducked away. “We only have one exit.”

Steeling her nerves, Sage gave a nod and darted around the corner. In an instant two silver blades settled snuggly in her palms, but they left as quickly as they’d appeared finding their marks in the chests of enemies. Behind her, Natasha’s gun sounded off suppressing the enemy.

Eyes glowing, Sage managed to set the uniforms of the attackers aflame though it wouldn’t hurt them too badly, as she hadn’t set the entire outfit on fire. It was just enough to cause panic and distress. Still, a few of the enemy were brave enough to hold fire.

“Let’s go,” Natasha breathed, running up beside Sage and shoving her towards the hole they’d climbed through. Slipping inside, Sage struggled to pull her mask on before reaching up and tugging Natasha down into the water. The two swam like mad before finally shooting out of the cave system. And though the light was dim, Sage was grateful for the sun. But she noticed a thin trail of copper in the water. Eyes narrowing, she noticed the source of blood. It was a wound in Natasha’s side.

— — —

“Are you okay?” Sage asked, chucking her mask aside as soon as they’d re-boarded the plane.

“I’m fine,” Natasha insisted.

“Don’t tell me you’re fine! I can see the blood,” Sage frowned.

“I’ve been shot more times than how old you are,” Natasha chuckled, “I’ll be fine. Now sit down and enjoy the ride back.”

Though Sage wanted to protest, she listened. If anyone knew whether a gunshot wound was serious or not-it was Natasha. “You’re crazy.”

“Eh,” Natasha shrugged, flashing the young girl a smile. “Everyone has to be. At least a little. Where else would the fun come from?”

Though she tried to fight the smile, Sage couldn’t help herself. Maybe Natasha wasn’t too bad after all. Or at least, not as intimidating as she’d thought.

[soartfullydone]

Well, well. If it isn't the little mouse come to rummage around once more in my things. Oh, no please. Don't get up. I'd love to see what is of such interest to you on my desk. Last I checked, it was a mountain of requisitions from Urban Development. Do close your mouth, pet. You could give give some men the wrong idea. Hm? Why so surprised? Did you really think I would be unaware of the comings and goings in my own office?

ahaaaaa bite me cassie

*

Rufus Shinra’s office wasn’t as obnoxious as his father’s, but an air of pretentiousness lingered all the same. Melody felt that way about most executive offices. It seemed like anyone in Shinra who breached past the managerial level acquired a new suite big enough to fit their ego inside, the size of the space in direct correlation with the amount of money most of them didn’t deserve to make.

Namely because they weren’t in said office working often enough. With higher-ups, it was always arriving late and two-hour lunches and leaving early. Melody didn’t know what was stronger: her lack of surprise or her disappointment that Rufus appeared to be cut from the same cloth.

As Mayor Domino promised, Shinra’s heir apparent was absent, and this, too, gave her conflicting feelings. Relief. Frustration. However, her disgust was aimed entirely at herself.

Just get this over with.

Walking on the balls of her feet to minimize the clacking sound of her heels, Melody darted across the room, feeling immediately off-kilter.

She couldn’t remember ever seeing so much white. The tiled floors, the seamless stretch of wall, even the great expanse of his steel desk—the room was an uninterrupted blanket of white. The company’s usual selection of marble had been completely rejected for this room, for even the whitest marble displayed veins of black and gray. There were no deliberately placed accents, no splashes of color save for the odd item on Rufus’ desk. A black fountainpen. A silver paperweight shaped almost as perfectly as materia. A discarded, canary yellow paperclip. Then, there were the stacks of papers—Melody recognized the cover page on one stack instantly—the three computer monitors, the leather chair pushed into the desk, all of them white.

It was this chair Melody slid into, attempting to ignore how unnerved it all made her. There was nothing personal. No paintings on the wall, no shrubs in the corner, no pictures of family or friends. There was an entire wall that was a window, which displayed Sector 8 through Sector 2 in dazzling silver as sunlight beat down on steel and stone. Thank God. This was a room one could go insane in without such a view. She had never seen a space that was so clearly used be so cold and clinical at the same time; hospitals had more life.

It’s possible our dear Prince Shinra will be a little more careless on his own turf. Most employees are that arrogant, Mayor Domino had said wryly.

What am I looking for? she’d asked.

Anything.

Melody didn’t have much time. She’d originally guessed she’d linger no more than five minutes, but Domino’s warnings—not to mention her past experiences with Rufus—had scared her down to three. She tried the desk drawers first, only to find them all locked. The one that wasn’t held nothing but a keyboard, and a quick inspection failed to uncover any poorly-hidden notes containing computer passwords or other intriguing information. The computer was locked, too, and a quick keystroke put it back into sleep mode. Her hands flew across the papers on the desk, thumbing through them rapidly.

New recruit considerations for the Department of Public Safety, most of them unfavorable. Performance analytics for weapons prototypes from Scarlet’s department. Melody’s eyes snagged on the schematics and armaments list for a mechanical monstrosity labeled “Project Airbuster” before she was forced to continue on. She reached to move aside the one handful of papers containing information she already knew when, inexplicably, the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

“Well, well,” Rufus Shinra said, his lips ghosting the shell of her ear as a strand of his blond hair brushed her cheek. “If it isn't the little mouse come to rummage around once more in my things.”

Melody twisted around—or tried to. The Vice President had other ideas, his hands gripping both sides of the chair and holding it steady, his body an uncompromising wall. She was locked in and going nowhere.

“Oh, no, please. Don’t get up.” Rufus smirked, his tone polite and mocking at the same time. He knew he had her caught. As if to boast this knowledge, he shifted just enough so he could lean over her left shoulder and cage her in further as he pretended to examine the spread of documents. “I’d love to see what is of such interest to you on my desk. Last I checked, it was a mountain of requisitions from Urban Development.”

With a smooth sweep of his hand, he gathered that very mountain she’d messily dropped in her shock at hearing him—feeling him—just behind her. He straightened the papers and feathered through them, the pages skipping across his thumb. “A scintillating read, I’m sure, but...” His sidelong gaze caught hers before it dipped, skimming down her neck, tracing her clavicle, caressing the swell of her breasts. Finishing his lazy inspection, his crystal blue eyes found hers again, searing this time. “Rather than suffer more of Tuesti’s thinly-veiled pleas for financial backing, I’d rather find you waiting for me here, on my desk—but not today.”

Melody had an iron-clad defense ready, but her lips parted in surprise, a blush spreading across her face at how casually Rufus could talk about fucking her. At how intimately she remembered what his cruel mouth could do to her flesh, how quickly his skillful fingers could make her come. She hated how easily he could fluster her by merely mentioning it. She hated how he could dangle the possibility in front of her only to yank it back without any true regret at all.

And most of all, she hated how badly she wanted it—wanted him—anyway.

Rufus regarded her with half-lidded eyes before leaning closer, setting off a new wave of panic and eagerness within her. Was he actually, finally going to kiss her? Was she finally going to discover what he tasted like? He tilted up her chin, and Melody’s knuckles turned white from squeezing the chair’s armrests. His lips were a breath away from hers when he chided, “Do close your mouth, pet. You could give some men the wrong idea.”

He released her with a flick of his fingers and straightened, his focus returning to the desk with a more worrisome air of assessment. At least, Melody should have been worried, should have been busy double-checking that she had put every document back in the exact spot she had first found it. Instead, she was leaning back in the chair, dazed and barely holding onto herself inside her own skin. Little mouse. Pet. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to know how creative he could get with names for her. Gratefulness that she had avoided reaching some point of no return with him again warred with the urge to see how far she could push him until he took what he wanted.

Instead, she steered her resolve toward the plan and managed, “I didn’t mean to bother you, sir. I— I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Hm? Why so surprised?” replied Rufus coolly. He was frowning suddenly at the assessment report from Weapons Development. “Did you really think I would be unaware of the comings and goings in my own office?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what,” he said, his voice and eyes frozen as he turned to advance on her, “are you doing here?”

Melody stood so quickly that she pushed the chair free and clear from her. She meant for her hands to raise in a placating gesture, but they became the barrier against Rufus’ chest to halt him from coming closer. (Not that they could truly stop him. Not that some part of her wanted to cling to the lapels of his jacket and pull him flush against her, imploring him to take, take, take.)

“The proposal!” she exclaimed, her thoughts scattered. “In your hand.”

A crease appeared between his blond brows, doubtful and contemplative at once. “What about it, Miss Westfire?”

Her stomach flipped with a thrill at his put-on formality. She loved how he humored her, but God, how she hated him for how he played with her. “A team member of mine thinks she included a page from another report in there by accident. She was freaking out, so I offered to get it back.” She looked down at the Urban Development proposal, concern flitting across her face. “Assuming you haven’t already trashed it.”

“I haven’t looked over it at all.”

Melody ignored that dig. She crossed her arms, feigning calm as Rufus flipped through the pages much slower and more thoroughly this time.

“Is this what you’re after?” Rufus pulled a page free, and a glance at its surface showed a half-formed spreadsheet, its cells missing numbers, with notes penned in flowing cursive across the bottom of the paper. It also lacked the distinctive formatting that the proposal was required to have and clearly displayed on its other pages.

Melody sighed, relieved. Even though she’d planted the page herself, a part of her had believed wildly that it had somehow vanished. “Yes. Thank you. She’ll be so glad.”

She went to take the page, but Rufus wouldn’t relinquish it. He asked, “Which team member lost this again?”

Her smile thinned. “I didn’t say.”

“Then say, Miss Westfire.”

“I would prefer—”

“I don’t care what you would prefer. Imagine if this held trade secrets, SOLDIER patrol routes, blueprints of our reactors. Now imagine if this information fell into the hands of Avalanche.” Rufus pulled, and the page ripped in an uneven half between their hands. Crumpling his half, Rufus tossed it on the desk, the completed proposal landing with a thump beside it. “Our company—my company—can’t afford this kind of carelessness. Tell me who it was.”

“So you can do what?” She let her half flutter to the floor, her heart pounding in her chest.

“I would think that was obvious,” Rufus said, dragging his chair back. He sat facing her, elbows braced on the armrests and his fingers laced together. “I’m going to fire her.”

Blood rushed in her ears. No, no, no. No. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Seeing her indecision, Rufus smiled and leaned forward. “Tell me, Melody. Tell me now, or the one I’ll be making an example of will be you.”

Her fists clenched at her sides. If she bit down any harder, she thought she might shatter her teeth. Rufus’ eyes glittered before he shrugged, unconcerned. “Pity. In that case—”

“Rainy,” Melody bit out. “It was Celeste Rainy.”

Rufus’ smile sharpened. “Good girl.”  

“Want me to send her up, too, while I’m at it?” she snapped, enraged at him. Enraged at herself.

“Oh, no. I don’t mind handling all the unpleasantness for you. You’ve done enough.”

Yes. Yes, Melody had, and she had nothing to show for it except getting a faithful, hard-working employee fired over her lies and schemes. Sick to her stomach, she went to leave, uncaring that the Vice President hadn’t dismissed her yet.

He caught her with an arm around her middle; he didn’t even have to rise from the chair to do so, but he did anyway. “Now, I can’t let you go with you looking this upset. What about your reward?”

“I have a lot of work to do.” She refused to meet his eyes. If she did, he would know exactly how much she despised him. More than likely, it would make him happy, and the last thing on Gaia she wanted was Rufus Shinra’s happiness.

“Work, she says.” The tips of his fingers traced the line of her neck. “Everything you do… In the end, it’s all for me.”

She went to protest, incensed, but his hand tightened around her and drew her into him. She felt his leather, fingerless glove press into the nape of her neck, his thumb caressing her racing pulse. Racing because his mouth was lavishing cruel ministrations to the column of her throat, his kiss hot, his mouth sucking hard enough to leave marks on her skin. She gasped as he rose higher and higher, his teeth scraping the underside of her jaw. Each kiss was a new way to claim her, and she was helpless against any of them.

At some point, her knees had buckled. Rufus’ arm was around her waist, pinning her against his chest. One of his legs was in between both of hers, and she moaned, the heat of his thigh driving her temporarily insane. Melody rolled her hips, wanting that delicious friction. Rufus bit her earlobe sharply.

“I said, not today.”

He let her go, removing himself enough that she was forced to get her legs under her. They felt shaky, but she managed. Her hand rose to inspect her neck, which felt utterly ravaged, and it was enough to bring a hint of sanity back. “You call this a reward?”

“You’re never satisfied,” Rufus noted, smiling as if he was satisfied. “That must be why we get along so well.”

He strode to the door of his office, expecting her to follow, which she naturally did. It was her only escape route. She frowned when he opened it for her like a gentleman. “That wasn’t your reward. I’m still debating what it is you deserve.”

Those words caused butterflies to flutter and a chilling dread to settle in her stomach all at once. When she was level with him, she asked archly, “What was it then, besides unwanted?”

Rufus traced her lips with his thumb, felt her shudder before she could stop it. “Don’t lie now.”

He leaned down, so they were looking nearly eye to eye, icy assurance versus burning resolve. “It was a warning, my dear. You’re good at this game, better than most, but you’ll never be able to play it like I can.” His smirk was sharp and prideful. “Next time you want to play spy with me, take greater care with your pawns.”

[nix-needs-coffee]

Unwritten

A journal on the floor is an open invitation.

Thanks Krispy and Hannah for the direction on this one. Sorry it took so long.

AO3 Link

“Catherine, is that your book on the floor?” Anna asked as she entered the living room from the kitchen carrying an oversized bowl of cereal. With her spoon, she was pointing at the book lying near the door to the hallway on the opposite side.

“No. It isn’t mine. I’ll get it before someone trips on it, or worse, Jane sees it in the middle of her floor,” Catherine feigned outrage as she rose from the couch, her faux-indignation turning mildly into genuine irritation when Anna dropped down in the spot she had only just been occupying, crunching loudly on her Cheerios.

She bent to scoop up the book, but stopped abruptly upon seen the cover of the book.

“Nope. Nuh-uh,” she yelped, backing away from the book as though it might snap at her, shaking the hand that had reached for it as if it actually had.

“What? What’s happened?”

“I know whose book that is.”

Anna’s concern over Catherine’s initial panic melted away even as Catherine continued to shake her hand. “Okay. I don’t really care who it belongs to,” entirely nonplussed about the situation, she spoke around a mouthful.

“Don’t you recognize it?” Catherine hissed, still very agitated and wiping her hand on her shirt.

“Erh, no actually. Should I?”

“Yes. Of course you should! It’s Anne’s!”

Anna raised her eyebrows and shrugged a shoulder, perplexed at Catherine’s bizarre behaviour, but not interested enough for her to explain or elaborate.

“She uses it. You know? To write things in.”

“Oh. Like a diary?”

“Anne Boleyn would never keep a diary. It’s a journal.”

Anna took a breath to argue the semantics of diaries and journals, but thought better of it and closed her mouth around another spoon of cereal. She chewed slowly hoping the conversation would taper off into a comfortable silence.

It did not.

“We aren’t supposed to know it exists,” Catherine whispered with a conspiratorial glint shining in her eyes.

“You going to read it or something?” Anna inquired, thoroughly enjoying the series of emotions displaying in rapid succession across the other woman’s face. They seemed to range the gamut from utter joy, confusion, anger, and disappointment.

“What do you think she writes about? Do you think we’re in it?” Catherine’s expression settles for a bit on curiosity.

“Probably,” Anna surmised, setting her now empty bowl on the coffee table in front of her. She leaned herself back, kicked up her feet, and closed her eyes.

“But what do you think she’s said?” Catherine was still staring at the book, as though it might catch fire at any given moment.

“It’s right there. If you want to know that badly, just pick it up and read it,” Anna waved a dismissive hand in the direction of the journal, and cracked one eye open just enough to see Catherine’s form through her eyelashes. She watched as Catherine’s hand seemed to reach out on its own accord before it was snatched away and held tightly to her chest again.

“Do you think she keeps track of all of her inane ideas in there? Maybe it would be good for us to expect what she’s going to do next?” Her tone was hopeful, as though she were waiting for permission from Anna, and what better reason to sanction such a breach of trust than to be prepared for whatever antics Anne might be getting up to.

Anna shrugged noncommittally. She was already getting bored.

“Do you think she’s met someone? It might be filled with her fantasies about getting with them! Maybe we should read it so we can help her get what she wants?”

“You, better than anybody, know that Anne does not need any help getting what she wants, Catherine.”

“What if she’s written poetry? Really awful poetry with lines like, ‘You’re the only sunshine in my life.’”

Anna lifted her head and looked at Catherine with a somber expression. “‘But sunshine burns.’”

The terrible line had not been something Catherine had been expecting and it caused her to double over in laughter. “Yeah, something like that or, ‘She felt paper thin, as if their breath was enough to blow her away to the clouds.’”

Catherine’s joy was contagious and Anna found herself unable to contain her laughter alongside her.

“Wait! Here’s another, ‘She slept on a mountain of pillows, bones beneath their silk,’” Catherine shrieked tears racing down her flushed cheeks, barely able to form words around her gasps for air.

“Why are her bones beneath the silk if she’s sleeping on a mountain of pillows?” Anna guffawed.

“It’s poetry, Anna. It’s not supposed to be literal!”

Anna restrained herself for a moment, and with composure and calmness that surprised even her said, “‘He was acrylics and she was crayons.’”

“Oh no, that is exactly something that Anne would write,” Catherine wheezed, flopping down roughly next to Anna on the couch.

So caught up in the euphoria of imagined poetic ramblings, they almost missed the sound of the front door being slammed open. Sobering the mood entirely, they both flung themselves into the most casual positions they could physically shape into.

Stomping boots ran through the hallway, past the living room entry, and took the stairs two at a time. A bedroom door was pulled open so violently, they weren’t sure how it still remained on its hinges. The sounds of items hitting the floor as they were strewn about were nearly masked by the incessant stream of cuss words emanating from the room.

Catherine silently gestured toward the book on the floor and pointed at Anna.

Anna wildly shook her head and pointed at Catherine.

Catherine held her hands up pleading first Anna and then God to make a miracle happen and somehow move that journal somewhere that wouldn’t incriminate either of them.

Before a solid plan could be made and enacted, the boots were once again on the stairs, pounding out their descent so loudly that Catherine was sure plaster was going to start falling from the walls.

The fun was officially over, and Catherine lamented the lost opportunity to read some of Anne’s terrible poetry for herself.

***

“How did this get there?” Anne bellowed as she entered the room spotting the journal immediately in the middle of the floor.

“How did what get where?” Catherine looked at her innocently.

“My journal. How did it get on the floor?”

“You must have dropped it or something. I hadn’t seen it,” Anna said almost too kindly.

Anne regarded them with suspicion, clutching the book to her chest and breathing heavily. She narrowed her eyes and tried to read through the masquerade the others were putting on.

Deciding that the worst could already have happened, Anne backed out of the room without taking her line of questioning any further. She climbed the stairs again, stepping over the entire contents of her wardrobe on the floor, and found the notes she needed inside the journal.

After ensuring the door was closed and locked, she turned her radio on so she could make a call in secret.

“Hi, yes hello, I have a booking for you to cater a party and I was just calling to confirm the final number.”

Anne could still feel her heart hammering in her chest at the thought that she had almost lost all of her plans for the celebration she was planning for Catherine.

[porkchop-ao3]

Red-Handed

I drew Ice Cream Rick in a lace jockstrap a while ago, and it got me thinking about some other little quirks he might have besides his sploshing kink. This fic is the result of that thinking. Its I.C/Reader, NSFW and contains cross-dressing (underwear specifically), sex toys, and kind of pegging?? You’ll see. 

This pairing is fun to play around with in smutty fics, their relationship is so strong and they have so much trust and understanding in each other, I doubt there’s much off the table when it comes to their sex lives haha. 

Enjoy!

-

Rick was a man of distinct tastes. I knew that even before we lived under the same roof, but once we did his quirks became more and more inclined to reveal themselves. I'd welcome his honesty in telling me but unfortunately every new thing I found out about his tastes seemed to happen by accident. Perhaps there are always some things that no matter how comfortable you are with a person, you endeavour to keep to yourself. Though, so far, having the truth about certain things coming out had only improved our relationship.

It'd been puzzling to realise that I'd been going through far more pairs of underwear since moving in with I.C than normal. They just seemed to appear in the washing basket without me even realising I'd worn them, and I'd go to my knicker drawer to find stocks low far too regularly. I wasn't doing anything differently, I wondered if I was going mad. Until one day I actually counted them since the last time I had done the washing, and found nine pairs of underwear when there should've been only six. Curiosity got the better of me and I counted I.C's boxers. There were just three pairs.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. It added up to Rick wearing my underwear. Huh? It wasn't as if they looked similar to his, surely he wasn't confusing them with his own. He was a lot older than me, but he wasn't going senile just yet. Was he running out of his own and reaching for mine in desperation? No, his underwear drawer was practically full.

Oh.

Now that's certainly unexpected. If he's not doing it by accident, he's clearly doing it on purpose, isn't he? He's going out and wearing my underwear on a regular basis, expecting me not to notice. A small smirk appeared on my face where I was kneeling on the floor sorting through our dirty clothing.

I kept quiet about it, unsure of how to bring it up without embarrassing him. Part of me hoped he'd tell me himself, let me know exactly why he was doing it. Of course my mind jumped to conclusions, thinking he got some sort of thrill out of it, but I couldn't be certain that was the case… bringing it up and asking him if he was turned on by wearing women's underwear seemed like a daunting task at best. So I waited, stewing over it but all the while coming to terms with it. The thought becoming all the more appealing to me in an odd kind of way. It wouldn't have been the first time that Rick had opened my eyes to an interesting kink.

So a few weeks passed, my underwear was still being stolen, Rick still wasn't opening up about it. I had almost reached the end of my patience and was planning to ask him about it, when it happened. Tailor had been extremely busy that week and I'd been spending more hours at his studio than I had in my own home. I.C knew this and was as understanding as anyone could hope for, so I figured when I finished earlier than usual on a Friday evening it'd be a nice surprise for him.

That could've ended badly for a variety of reasons; I could've walked in on him making a huge mess, laying around in his underwear like a slob, heck, having an affair! But none of that happened, of course. Instead, I came home to find him upstairs in our bedroom, alone, dressed in nothing but one of my white lace g-strings face-down-ass-up on the bed. At first when I walked in I didn't know what on earth to do! I simply gasped and stumbled backwards, hand missing the door handle as I went to slam it shut, his image still very much there in front of me despite my attempts at giving him his privacy. He'd yelled in surprise, bolting upright on the bed. My eyes immediately were drawn to his groin, where his cock was hard and pressed upwards towards his belly by the fine triangle of lace just about containing his balls.

As soon as I saw him like that, my whole body flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, it was a strange but enjoyable mix. I didn't know whether to walk away or join him, I was caught between the two options, just standing still in the doorway. Rick shifted uncomfortably on his spot, kneeling on the bed, and tugged at the front of the thong in a vain attempt at covering his erection.

“All I can say is, I'm sorry,” his words were the only thing that managed to pull my attention from his cock, and I looked up at his face. “Just give me a minute and I'll- I'll change and we can talk about this.”

“You don't have to change,” I blurted out, unthinking. I guess my mouth made the final decision about whether I was liking what I saw.

“Well I gotta do something,” he laughed sheepishly, uncomfortably.

“Just sit down, let… let me just figure out what I have to say,” I murmured, walking into the room and dragging my hair out of my face.

Rick remained still, continuing to kneel. I paused and looked at him, puzzled by his hesitation to move. After a few moments of strange eye contact, he let out a breath and dropped his eyes shamefully to the bed, reaching behind himself. I couldn't be shocked at that point, when he retrieved a slender dildo from his body, and dropped it behind him. Only then, did he slump down onto his backside, his face burning a bright shade of red as he avoided my eyes.

I truly had no clue what I could say to him to make him feel better. It was clear to me that he was mortified, and Rick wasn't a particularly easy man to embarrass. I wondered what it said about me that my pussy was throbbing at this point, my hands were shaking and my heart was pounding with an intense mix of adrenaline and arousal. I decided to throw words out of the window for now, and slipped out of my jacket, placing it down on a chair by our dresser. Rick still wasn't looking at me, his hand on his forehead as he leaned his elbow on his knee, hiding his face from me. He wasn't even aware when I lifted my dress over my head and discarded it too. I approached the bed in my bra and panties, climbing up and shuffling over to him on my knees.

Rick's eyes widened when he realised what was happening, and I lifted his chin up to guide his lips to mine. His surprised sound met my ears only a few moments before his hands lifted to my waist and he leaned back a little, opening up to me once again. I never wanted to see his shameful retreat into himself again. I opened my mouth and played with his tongue just a little before breaking away.

“I feel like you're having far too much fun for me to let you hog it all on your own,” I said to him, my lips curling suggestively. A quiet groan escaped him, one of relief and pleasure.

I drove forwards, forcing him to lay back underneath me as I straddled one of his thighs. My hand wandered south as I kissed him again, I stroked my palm up and down over his cock, slipping down to cup his balls inside the thong. He moaned a little louder, lifting his hips and pressing into my hand. I smiled against his lips and then wrapped my hand around him, jerking his cock steadily and feeling his body tense at the pleasure. I broke the seal of our mouths and moved back just enough to look at his lidded eyes and wet, parted lips. With my free hand on his shoulder I pushed him back completely, then slid down his body until I was eye level with his cock.

I dragged my tongue up his shaft, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him; his hands clenched into fists around the bed sheets. Tilting my head and keeping my eyes on his face, I tongued his cock into my mouth and slid down its length with a soft hum. As I sucked him I slipped my hand between his legs, following the string of the thong back to his asshole that was slick with lube. I stroked my fingertips over the passage, feeling him clench as breathy moans surfaced above me. I knew that I.C liked a bit of ass play, I'd fingered him a number of times in the past but we hadn't really explored any further than that. It was partly why I hadn't been surprised to catch him using a dildo, he wasn't shy about exploring his own body.

Carefully easing a finger into him, I brought my other hand up to his chest where I played with his pierced nipple.

“Ahh, fuck!” He hissed, fidgeting under all of the attention. “God, that's so good.”

I hummed, pleased, in response and rocked my finger against his prostate once I'd found it. It wasn't hard to make him tick, he was panting and groaning with every sweep of my mouth on his cock, every movement of my finger, every squeeze of his nipple. It was unbelievably satisfying to make him react in such a way, writhing on the sheets and chewing his lip until it was puffy. I pulled off of his cock and sat up, shuffling in closer between his legs.

“Lube up that dildo again, hand it to me,” I told him breathlessly, my mind reeling with possibilities now that this side of him was opening up.

Looking slightly stunned, Rick felt around behind him and did as he was told, holding the slick phallus out to me. I hadn't seen it before, either it was new or he'd been very good at keeping it hidden from me. It was a milky flesh colour, realistically designed, a little on the smaller side of average, and it had balls sitting atop a suction cup base.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” I asked, licking my lips and holding the dildo against my pubic bone, glancing down and admiring the sight of it there.

“Ohhh fuck yes,” he hissed, spreading his legs wide for me. I arched forwards, keeping the dildo against my body as I pressed the tip against his opening. I rubbed it back and forth there for a moment before breaching, easing the toy into him gently. Shifting my position so I had one leg kneeling, the other bent at the knee with my foot on the bed keeping me steady, I started to rock into him.

It'd be a lot easier with a strap on, but I managed to keep the toy positioned at my groin and it was worth it. It felt more intimate this way than it would if I was simply using my hand, and Rick seemed to like it too, lapping up the view with a deep, aroused intensity in his eyes. The whole thing was probably about as enjoyable for me as it was for him, even without any physical stimulation. I had my hand positioned in such a way that my index and middle finger were straddling the dildo, and they pressed against Rick's ass when I buried it deep inside him. For a while, I pictured that the dildo was my own cock, and imagined how it would feel to actually fuck him. Moaning aloud, I bit down on my bottom lip and looked back up into Rick's eyes.

“Is that good?” I asked him sweetly. He nodded his head sharply, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“Keep going, d-don't stop,” he gasped.

“Don't you worry,” I smiled, thrusting into him faster, watching his eyes squeeze shut and hearing his breath hitch. Holding the dildo to my groin, I penetrated him with the motion of my hips, and the act made me feel something different to anything I'd experienced in the bedroom before.

I felt powerful, in control, but at the same time; nurturing. Like I was taking care of him, like I was giving him what he wanted and needed and pleasing him. Knowing that what I was doing to him was causing all the sounds he was making; his cries of pleasure, the precum dripping from his cock, the flush in his skin. It was all so satisfying, so hot, I moaned again and fucked him harder. His sounds were loud and desperate, needy, and so arousing. I stroked my free hand up and down his torso, rolling his nipples between my fingers, feeling the flex of the muscle in his abdomen every time I hit his prostate just right, squeezing his thigh. I found myself doing all the things that he would do to me when we made love.

Leaning forwards, I planted my mouth on his, kissing him hungrily while he continued to moan freely. I was so grateful that he didn't feel the need to hide his pleasure from me, I wondered if he'd be as open with his words as he was with his sounds. I broke the kiss, but remained close to his face.

“I've noticed that some of my underwear has been hijacked,” I told him with a smirk, seriously out of breath. This was quite a work out, no wonder he kept his figure a little easier than I did. “I knew it was you.”

“I-I-I'm sorry, baby, I don't know what to tell you,” he gasped, sliding his hands up my sides to my chest, he fondled my breasts through my bra.

“Does it turn you on, wearing women's underwear?” I asked, moving to press some kisses to his neck. It was a little hard to multitask with my hips and my kisses, so I switched to just using my hand to fuck him for a little while. Plus, I was getting tired. I wasn't used to that kind of activity!

“Mm, it's because it's yours. The fact that it's women's is by the by,” he breathed a short laugh, a smile crossing his pleasured expression.

“You've been stealing it since we've moved in together, comfy?”

“Not particularly, but that just means I never forget that it's there. I'm con-constantly reminded that it's your panties I'm wearing.”

I hummed a quiet laugh, “How naughty.”

“You must think I'm a bit of a creep, huh?” He murmured, his words a little wobbly. It was clear he was struggling now to keep focused on the conversation. His hands had slipped under my bra, he was playing with my breasts with none of the finesse he would be using if he was doing it for my sake. I let him grope me all he needed, looking down between our bodies at his leaking, flushed cock. He was gonna cum soon, I could tell.

“Hmm, no. A little quirky, yes, but I knew that anyway. I like it, I think it's pretty hot. How many times have we been out in public together while you've been wearing my knickers?” I questioned, shifting to sit cross-legged between his thighs and getting a better hold of the dildo so I could pick up the pace. He gasped and his back arched, his cock jumping. It all looked so obscene, with my g-string still clinging to his tightening balls. My panties clung to the wetness of my pussy, leaving a damp spot.

“Fuck… a few times,” he admitted, closing his eyes and frowning in concentration. He was trying to put off his orgasm. I gently stroked my palm from his balls to the head of his cock and back, light stimulation that wouldn't have affected him much otherwise. As close as he was then, though, it drove him wild. “I'm gonna cum!”

“When have you done it? Gimme an example,” I said, releasing his cock again.

“Ahh, ah, shit! Wh-when we went to see that movie the other day. I couldn't concentrate, I popped a boner halfway through the film just thinking about it, wh-when you had your hand on my thigh.”

I giggled in satisfaction, rubbing his balls again. A high pitched whine left him and his hips lifted on the bed. His belly was wet with precum and I leaned forwards to lick some away, pausing to kiss the head of his cock before I pulled back. He loved that.

“You should've told me. We had that whole row to ourselves, I could've tugged you off right there,” I indulged, squeezing the base of his cock and pulling upwards once.

Rick practically growled, his hips jolting as I let go, cum shooting forcefully from his cock as I continued to pound his ass through his climax. He shot ropes of cum right up to his chest, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly, his jaw tense and a cacophony of grunts and whines leaving him with every jump and spurt of his cock. Intense was an understatement, watching his release. My pussy ached.

“Mmm, good boy,” I whispered unthinkingly, giving his cock a few gentle tugs to tease residual drops of cum from him. He made a soft, whimpering sound, and I let go of him.

He laid there, panting like he'd just run a marathon. I gently removed the dildo, leaving it between his legs as I moved to straddle his hips, his softening cock nestled against my wet panties. I bent down and peppered kisses along his jawline as he came down.

“Mm, sorry baby, my dick’s not getting hard for a long time after that,” he murmured, brushing a hand through my hair.

“I don't need it to,” I purred, laying down on him. I felt his cum against my chest, it did nothing but turn me on even more. Slipping a hand between us, I repositioned his cock so that it was out of my way and I could press my clit against his pubic bone. I knew in my state, it would not take much.

“Ohh fuck, that's so hot, I can feel how wet you are,” he groaned as I gyrated my hips, rubbing my clit against him. I moaned softly, my pussy clenching and throbbing, my panties providing a little bit of friction.

Rick trailed his hands down my back to my ass, one hand squeezing my cheek, the other slipping down and stroking the seat of my wet panties. We moaned in unison. His fingers continued their gentle teasing of my slit through my underwear as I moved quicker, humping against him like my life depended on it. I held eye contact with him as I moved, replaying the moment he'd shot his load all over himself in my head, letting that mental image push me closer to the edge.

“I'm so fucking horny, I'm gonna cum just from this, just from thinking about what we just did,” I told him breathlessly. He licked his lips and shuddered, pressing his fingers between my folds, dipping slightly into my opening panties and all.

“You liked that? It's gonna make you cum?” he whispered, looking incredibly turned on by the knowledge.

“Fuck, yes. Deeper,” I knew that our circumstance didn't allow for him to put his fingers properly inside me, but all I needed was for him to pump them slightly, tricking my body into thinking he was. I groaned and arched my neck, looking up to the ceiling. I could feel my panties absorbing my moisture, getting drenched, feeling better and better against my folds.

“We're buying a strap on. W-w-we're doing this again, right baby?” Rick asked, nibbling gently on my neck.

“Yeah, baby. Definitely,” I sighed, clenching my muscles and feeling pleasure ripple through me. “Oh god, that's it! I'm close!”

“Mm, that's right. Use me all you like, grind on me and cum,” he growled, his fingers moving more fervidly. I gasped and came, muscles tensing and releasing, tensing and releasing, filling me with that sweet bliss that had me waking the neighbours with my sounds. “Fuck, that's good. So fucking hot.”

I kissed him as my body started to come down, a the pleasure subsided and a pleasant warmth settled in my core. We made out for a while like that, and soon Rick rolled us over so he was on top, my legs automatically wrapped around his hips. He stroked his hands over my hair as we kissed, and continued to do so when we broke away.

“We should clean up,” he whispered.

“We should,” I half-heartedly agreed. Neither of us moved and we shared a laugh.

“You're not mad about me stealing your underwear?” He asked me.

“No. Just make sure I have some for me to wear,” I smirked and reached down to squeeze his ass cheeks playfully.

“Will do,” he winked at me, then nuzzled into my neck, kissing and tickling me into fits of laughter.

“And as long as I can steal yours.”

“What's mine is yours,” he grinned, rubbing his nose back and forth against mine. I giggled like a kid and jerked back.

“Come on, get off of me, let's run a bath,” I smacked his ass and he made a sultry noise.

“Do that again,” he teased and I pushed him off of me with a snort.

“How about you do that to me?” I countered, cocking a brow as I rose to my feet and undressed completely in front of him.

“That can be arranged, here I am having all my sordid fantasies spilled by accident. That's two of my kinks you've successfully sniffed out. It's about time you share some of yours,” he wiggled his brows.

“Well, I guess we just discovered one of them. Pounding you in the ass.”

“I could live with that,” he said after me as I sashayed into the en suite bathroom to run us a bath. “But besides that?”

“You wanna know my kink?” I called over the sound of the running water. “You'd run a mile,” I snorted.

Rick came up behind me – still wearing my thong – and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Try me,” he whispered, tickling my neck with his nose. I paused and smirked.

In a breezy tone I promised; “One day!”

[miscellaneousmoontoffee]

MoonToffee A monster in Paris AU

The full timeline and some notes ( contains swearing and gets kinda lazy towards the end! ) (( another note Chauncey although mentioned sometimes doesn’t come up much in the AU cause there wasn’t much need, so sorry pig-goat lovers! ))

Characters

- Moon = Lucille - Toffee = Francoeur ( both monsters toffee's just a lot more cunning but I think in this AU he's going to be a lot more open and slightly naive because of the circumstances ) - River = Raoul / Emile ( Raoul's place in the story-ish and Emile's more cautious behavior but without his romance of Maud. ) - Mina = Victor ( the antagonist that's pretty full of themselves and could potentially/go mad, I think they fit each other pretty well ) - No one = Maud ( since river is going to be following after Raoul in terms of loving Moon/Lucille there is no need for a Maud plus no one really fits her much anyway ) - Count Mildrew = Albert ( both background characters and kinda up their respective asses ) - A solarian soldier = Pate ( Pate is the inspector/right hand man of Victor btw ) - Comet = Carlotta ( both the main female leads mum/mother figure ) - Chauncey = Charles ( Chauncey in this AU of course still belongs to moon but she tells him to keep an eye on the river, plus she lets him hang out with the professor cause they both have fun together, aka the prof needed a smart animal companion (( mad scientist aesthetic man )) and Chauncey wanted more food than moon gave him )

Loose plot

- River wakes up daydreaming about being together with moon then is like oh i forgot something ( you can choose what he forgot ) so he goes downstairs. - his dad is like "hey son can you help me run some errands?" obviously this was not a question so river hops in his dad's car and they drive off to do the thing. - his dad drops him off at the lab to deliver some eggs and says he needs to go do some other task and that hes gonna go and he will pick him up when hes done, and River is like "dad I’m just giving some dude eggs i can go with ya" - so his dad goes well actually the guy is out of the country and hes sure they dude wouldn't mind if river went in and looked around, wink wink nudge nudge. - river gets the message and his dad drives away. - He goes in and is like okay I'm glad I went to do chores today this is awesome, and then a pig starts chewing on his trousers and hes like " Chauncey?? what are you doing, does moon know you're here?!?" and Chauncey says nothing cause he's a pig but he tries to push river to the exit but river doesn’t pick up on this hint. - so river goes "Oooh do you wanna explore with me little buddy?" and Chauncey is like 'no leave' but river goes into the lab anyway. - the look around for a bit and river starts drawing stuff that looks cool ( the drawing is bad but he wants to  remember what stuff looks like ) -he finds some potions and is like "ooh I wonder what they do???" so tests one out on a seed that says "instant growth potion " on a label. - it of course grows and he's like wow but walks back to see it better and knocks some potions over. - Chauncey goes to try and stop the potions but steps on a lizards tail and it gets scared and runs under where the potions are falling ( river of course doesn't notice this ) - crash, boom, smoke! - river gets up and sees the shadow of a lizard man and is like " AHHHHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" so it runs away so river draws it before he forgets then runs out to the front to get home, not caring that his dad said he would pick him up he's not waiting for that thing to get him! - unfortunately he drops a handkerchief which crudely had his name stitched into it and leaves back to his house. - A couple of days pass and the lizard monster starts showing up in the papers. - an investigation is started over the mysterious explosion at the lab and the new monster that appeared the very same night. - the cheif investigator tells mina loveberry 'bout this and she's like "yes, now is my chance to rise to the top!" - they look around and find River's handkerchief.

- Cut to moon, and her club is looking for a new act/singer and it's not going well. - so one of the waiters, a real smug bastard, is auditioning and it's just him singing badly about how amazing he is and telling her that she's welcome for the free performance of a god. - and she's like "yeah... no thanks I don't really think the club is really the right fit for you." - so hes like " FINE I'M TOO TALENTED FOR THIS LITTLE CLUB I'LL GO FORM MY OWN CLUB! ( *bender voice* with blackjack and hookers! ) - so she's like " yep you are way too good for us, I worry if you joined I would be out of a job. goodbye now! " - Cue Mildrew seeing toffee and freaking out trying to go back in but still being really vain ( ' PLEASE LET ME IN I'LL EVEN SIGN YOU AN AUTOGRAPH!!! ' ) - It doesn't work out so he jumps a nearby fence and books it. - Toffee is like what is that awful ringing noise is it this? and then proceeds to ring the doorbell a million times just too ' make sure it's this '. - So Moon opens the finally all like " YES Mildrew what is it- of holy fudging schnitzels " - she accidentally hits it with the door and is apologizing profusely as she goes to help the ' person ' up. - sees its the lizard person and freaks out, bolts and locks the door. - hears it singing a sad song ( more bitter about the people than the original though ) and is like oh it can talk???? also it has a godly voice???? - she gets an umbrella and tentatively opens the door and apologizes and welcomes this creature in out the rain. - he is suspicious but goes in anyway because its better than freezing to death in the rain - so she awkwardly starts conversation " Soo I'm sorry about hitting you with the door and leaving like that, I just got a bit.... panicked. but might as well start with names, mines moon " - and he just kinda sits there and she picks up that ‘oops he doesn't have one’ so she looks around and is like I have to call him something. - then she looks at a box of toffees a fan had given her and is like " Since you don't seem to have a name would you like me to call you toffee? I'm not the best with names but I need to call you something. " - so he goes ok, and she says that if he wants to stay in Paris he should probably have a disguise.

-cut back to river and someone knocks on his door. - he goes and opens it and it reveals officers who see his drawing of the monster in the lab on his wall and he is arrested. - they bring him to mina, and he starts pleading not to go to prison and that it was all an accident. - ( they also brought Chauncey who was staying with River) - he panicking blames the pig and chauncy narrows his eyes as this will be remembered for later.... - Mina tells him not to worry and that by creating a monster he has actually helped her in one of her secret projects and she gives him a badge of honor. - River leaves and then is like "now that I have this badge I have the confidence to go to one of moons shows and maybe I can try and woo her with my badge!" - so he goes to see her and due to the fact that Mildread is still pissed at moon he gives river the best seats in the house cause he is bad at revenge, so river thinks its his lucky day! - he sees the show and was hypnotized by moons song so he decides to push his luck by going to talk to her back stage. - during the time river was being arrested moon got to see a lot of what Toffee could do and who he is;

. he has a pretty wry sense of humor . he is rather naive in the way of society and social cues . he's also really smart and a quick learner . she also gives him his disguise ( his hair isn't a wig ) . he is pretty fuckin' strong . really stubborn . takes a while for him to trust her but when he does he's pretty clingy . he is vain about his hair and constantly brushes it to lay flat, it always curls at the ends anyway. . he REALLY likes suits. and is rather cuddly.

- so the performance is about to start but he doesn't want to leave her side and sit with the band so cue the scene in the movie. - they actually perform and they end up dancing together on stage, and she refuses to admit to her self that her face felt a little warm when he looked at her with such a loving look while dancing. - back to after the performance and river comes over nervously to congratulate her for the awesome performance, and goes to shake toffee's hands when he spots his tail. - he shrieks and moon puts her hand over his mouth and drags him and toffee back to her dressing room. - she tries to tell him that she knows he's the monster and he's not awful at all. - but river starts freaking out so she slaps him and tells him to get a grip man! - he calms down a little but is still like how are you so calm - so moon tells him why toffee is not dangerous and he calms down properly. - unfortunately for them Mildrew overhears and he now has a better idea for revenge against moon...

- the police arrive soon moon leaves to greet them and try to distract them, while river has to hide toffee. - so Moon goes to the door and is like " oh Mina I wasn't expecting you, what are you doing here? " - And Mina's like " sorry mud sister but this is serious business, where are you hiding it? " - and Moons like fuck she already knows its here somewhere. so she plays dumb " hiding what? I don't have anything to hide. " ( as she sweats bullets ) - and Mina already knowing that moons lying just barges through with the inspector and the 'troops' - Mina instantly tries to go to moons dressing room but moon cuts her off " okay Mina I'm sorry but if you go in there we can't  be mud sisters it's a blatant breach of my privacy. " - and Mina calls her bluff and goes in anyway. - Moon is like fuck everything's over they found him... crud. - so when she goes in to make her last stand she is surprised that they are nowhere to be found, and so is Mina. ( surprised that is ) - the inspector comes in and says they haven't found anything so Mina stands silently for a while then goes and pleads to moon to be mud sisters again. - moon still a bit high on adrenaline from then panic says yes just to get her out of the room and they leave after arresting Mildrew for basically pissing Mina off. - moon sighs and says that they can come out and the cost is clear after Mina and the others leave. - she then gets spooked as toffee pops out of her piano, so she lends him a hand and then checks to make sure nothing's broken in her piano. ( storing lizard men in your pianos isn’t a good for pianos kids ) - river then falls down the chimney coughing from all the soot and toffee warily gives him a hand up. ( the start of a beautiful friendship! )

- the next day Mina opens the Montmartre Funicular ( its a escalator/elevator thing on a hill I think ) - the trio ( plus Chauncey ) planned last night that they are going to fake toffee's death on the opening day so people won't look for him and he can live a normal life. - so Mina introduces moon who is going to sing for the opening. - so halfway through singing river loudly shouts " oh my god it's the monster oooh nooo! " - so the crowd starts panicking and Mina is like ' It’s my time to shine! ' - then Toffee hops down and picks up moon bridal style and roars viciously - and moon is all like " oh noooo it's got me, whatever shall I do? " - one of the 'soldiers' tries to shoot toffee but Mina tells him not to as he could hit her blood sister. - then she remembers that river had conveniently given some ' anti monster grenade ' earlier so she throws it and smoke spreads everywhere. - when the smoke clears the monster is gone and the crowd rejoices their savior (the crowd lead by river and moon of course ) - but then Mina spots a scarf caught in the trapdoor and opens it to reveal toffee.

- moon freaks out so her and river shout at toffee to run, as they themselves make a break for it. - river had conveniently brought his dads car/van to get there ( with his dad's permission of course ) so they hopped in and booked it as toffee went the other way so there would be less people chasing him. - luckily Chauncey had already been waiting in the car so they didn't need to wait for him to get in. - so they speed down the street narrowly avoiding obstacles, one of which ended up making river loose his ' fashionable ' straw coat to a horse. - unfortunately for them a hook ends up grabbing their car and they look up and who is it other than Mina and an exhausted looking soldier peddling their FREAKING AIRSHIP LIKE MINA YOU REALLY DIDN'T NEED A WHOLE FUC- - so moon has to climb out and try and get rid of it cause river is driving. - unfortunately for her it's way to heavy and she almost ends up falling off several times, but fortunately ( finally something good for these poor characters ) toffee was making his getaway very near to them so he hopped down on the cars bonnet to help moon pull off the hook. - but because things can never be easy it doesn't work and Mina ends up lifting the car off the ground. ( also moon falls back onto toffee's chest, cue blushy blushy BS when they think back on this at a later date,a scenario which I have obviously not written ) - so they are currently panicking as moon and toffee precariously make their way back inside the van so when they inevitably fall they won’t be as injured. - so Mina drops them in to the seine to try and drown toffee, currently forgetting that her mud sister ( however traitorous she may be ) was in there. - luckily when they start sinking river's father had been planning a boating trip so he had oars in the back. - they paddle to the Eiffel tower before they drown and make it, only loosing River's dad's car along the way. which in the end maybe worse than drowning in the long run. ( for River at least )

- river mourns the car and they make their way up the tower unsure what to really do now other than try and get as far away from Mina as possible. - Mina shoots the airship and she lands on the Eiffel tower, the soldier only just making it out alive by jumping into the seine. - the trio reaches the top when toffee starts to feel weak and moon notices that a lot of his scales are falling off, and she gets worried but slings his arm over her shoulder and asks river to help her carry him to the top. - they are almost at the top when they are stopped when moon placed toffee down for a bit to rest her arms and she hears a gun click. - Mina demands they hand over the monster and toffee makes a run for it up a ladder to the very top of the tower, so Mina brushes harshly past moon to run after toffee. - unfortunately for moon she was standing too close to an edge and got pushed over but managed to grab the edge. - so river goes to try and help moon but somehow also falls over, hanging only onto a spare belt he tried to lower down. ( hey it’s always handy to have a spare belt y’know? ) - luckily they forgot Chauncey was there because he was trailing behind them the whole way up the tower, so he pulls them both up and moon rushes for the ladder after hugging River and Chauncey. - River goes up too but a bit slower and more careful, after almost falling to his death he didn’t really wanna take another chance after all. - Moon goes up there only to see toffee get shot by Mina and fall to a lower level. - before Mina can look over and make sure he's dead the police inspector comes over and arrests her after the ‘soldier’ who was peddling the airship called the other police officers to arrest Mina for leaving him for dead. - moon vaguely sees this but doesn't stick around long, she rushes back down past river (who had only just gotten up here) to find where toffee fell. - she only found his clothes and no body. - It doesn't really register that he could have escaped because of the shock so she just cries - river finds her and comforts her and she brings the clothes back to her dressing room as to not forget him.

- the next day she realizes she has to perform but she is still overcome by grief, so she picks up his scarf to at least wear if she has to perform when she feels wiggling. - she carefully unwinds the scarf and inside there is a lizard. a lizard missing its middle finger. - overwhelmed by joy she tells river and him and Chauncey go to get a potion that will turn him back to his bipedal form permanently. - so he turns back and after hugging him really hard and him apologizing ( what for though? upsetting her? IDK ask him ) she asks if he wants to go sing with her and he says yes. - they perform and at the almost end of the dance she kisses him, just a light peck but a kiss none the less. - river is semi-heart broken yet had kind of seen it coming for a while now. - and toffee goes beet red as the crowd whistles. - while her mum squeals that her baby had finally found a partner! - END

Notes + extras

- Moon cuts off toffees finger when she was cooking with him at one point but then constantly apologizes for it later, he of course forgives her but she does it anyway and he likes making little jokes and jabs at her about it. - Although when we first see River it looks like he's bad with the cold due to the amount of clothes he's wearing, he is actually really good with the cold and was constantly almost overheating but wanted to impress moon with clothing items that his friends told him were cool. of course they weren't very cool all in one outfit. - when toffee first transformed he got his hair, he doesn't know where from but he thinks there may have been some hair on the floor when he got hit by the potion. - Moon takes star's role as Mina's mud sister since star isn't here in this AU. - cause river was distracted when he was watching moon performance before he knew toffee he didn't see the way they ( moon + toffee ) looked at each other but looking back he can definitely see 'it'.  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) - due to the potion making toffee human it also increased his regenerative ability from being a lizard to new heights ( for example, if an ant were human sized it would have super strength ) (( no this doesn’t really come into play into the story )) - after the kiss on stage Toffee and moon share another kiss in her dressing room ( nothing like that get your mind out of the gutter! ) - Chauncey was staying with River before he got arrested because when he left the lab scared he brought him so he wouldn't get hurt but then was too shy to give him back to Moon. - Mina calls the police her ' troops ' in reference to the solarian warriors. possibly why no one wants her as mayor...

[hellssecretary-blog1]

SCP AU - Mask of Indifference

SCP Cuphead AU

Folder File is archivist at “Inkwell Isle” site

Maddie (@ xhcly-shenanigansx ) is SCP - 1907 mentioned Dr: Mike, SCPs - 1471 (Nightmare, @universal-multimuse) and SCP - 1793 (Baroness von Bon Bon)

--

File was leaning against wall, trying to calm herself. But she knew it was fruitless, paper cranes floating around her reminded her on that. It all starred with the nightmarish SCP that got attached to the young doctor. And then the confection based scp he was also observing getting in the fray and breaching her containment too. Cuphead and his brother had lot of work to do, but managed to safe everybody. Barely.

File was badly hurt. Not that anybody knew. Nightmare made her relive her worst memories, enhancing them to absurd levels rendering her useless in the breach that followed. She knew she never burned in the flames that destroyed site 35. But it still claimed life of her parents and many others. She was lucky Devil saved her. But still...

Shaking her head she briskly walked to her office, grabbed SPC foundation issued book reader with Good Omens bookmarked and moved to Maddie's cell. She needed to calm down and needed it right now. The paper crane flock following her doubled in size.

When she arrived at Maddie's small flat, she knocked and without waiting for call, File walked in, cranes still following. Her nerves were extremely frayed, her mind reeling so when she didn't saw the angelic entity she panicked. Bile rose in her throat and File was about to notify entire base that their sanity anchor was gone.

She didn't hear silent footsteps behind her. Maddie was out making sure to calm down other personnel around the base. It was her duty after all and she took pride in it. She didn't expect to see the archivist in her room, twitching and with flock of paper cranes quickly swirling around her, creating small storm of paper. It also seemed they were turning in to something else entirely. Something bigger and more dangerous.

"Miss File?" Maddie never saw somebody turn around so quickly. Folder relaxed so much upon seeing her that she sagged down on floor, with small smile on her face. Swirl of paper around her turned in to small floating paper crane flock once again.

"Oh, thank god, Maddie. I thought you..." File shook her head and stood up. No need to dwell on such foolish ideas. She was already feeling much better in SCP's presence and slowly walked to small chair she always sat on.

"You thought what, luv?" Maddie frowned and sat on her favorite chair, plush one with lot of pillows, decorated in pale blue laced cover.

"It doesn't matter now. I bought Good Omens, we ended almost at the end. I might read it till the end now, if you want to." File turned her head around and started to read out loud. It calmed her, feeling like somebody was listening and not needing to think about what she was reading. It was nice.

Till they got the the part where fire started. Maddie instantly noticed how File tensed. Her eyes grew wide and once again every paper crane around her started to swirl wildly, morphing in to a huge mass.

Maddie quickly stood up and moved to frozen File. She put her hands on others cheek, since direct contact made her calming powers even more influential.

Folder slumped down in her seat, one shaking hand reaching out to grasp Maddie's

"Do you want to talk about what happened? You seem to be shaken by it."

"I... I... shouldn't, it's confidential. Only members of 05 know the whole truth." File licked her lips, not letting go of Maddie's hand and averting her eyes to the side. She shouldn't talk with SCP so freely, especially about such horrible event as destruction of SCP Foundation site. But this was Maddie, angel in flesh.

"I'm not forcing you, luv. But it's your powers that are rebelling against you." Maddie was like serene statue, her eyes blue and full of understanding and silent encouragement.

"Was there when site 35 was destroyed. The only survivor. Few people survived, but all of them are dead now. If it wasn't for somebody, I would be long gone. Like my parents. Saw them walk out of the fire, like two human torches.

Calling me, inviting me in their burning embrace. That damn SCP, Wrath of Fire. She escaped and set everything ablaze. Turning anybody who burned in her flaming sirens. That is how site 35 was lost. It burned down. It's still burning. Corpses calling out your name and sweetly inviting you to them." File didn't know she was crying, only when Maddie dried her tears with small handkerchief, did she look up at her.

"Nightmare escaped. He showed you yours memories. And it affected you more than you can admit." Maddie stated, sitting next to File, never letting go of others hand. File simply noded.

"Enhanced it too. I still can hear their voices in my nightmares. Now even in waking world. That was reason I was send to site without fire related SCPs, if you don't count Grimm." File didn't say whole truth, it was best if Maddie didn't know that Devil saved her and Wrath had hands in Maddie's capture. That was all confidential and her burden to carry.

"You can sleep here, if you want to. I will make sure your sleep is peaceful. Or we could ask Mug..."

"Don't! They already reset and made safe point. I cannot ask them to do more. Beside I believe they wouldn't be able to stop Nightmare in state they were when I last saw them."  File shook her head, not wanting to explain what happened to her to higher ups. She couldn't face Devil right now. And she passed by brothers on her way here. They looked at her with fearful eyes. She didn't want to know what happened in previous timelines.

"You should take holidays, luv. Leave and for some time be alone and let others bugger off." Angel poked passing by crane, making it spin in the air, before it corrected itself and continued in its slow orbit around Folder File.

"Cannot. I'm under surveillance." File glared at the cranes, who still floated around as if their creator wasn't glaring at them. "But.. if you wont mind, I will take a nap."

Maddie wanted to ask about the surveillance, but File already slumped down in her chair. The only thing Maddie could do was to ensure File got her rest.

[floramodus-archive]

begin disaster ==>

floramodus fuckfuckjfuck DAVE!!!!!!

clockworkkatana what whats up

floramodus my microscpe exploded i cant see theres glass and blood everywhere i dont wanna die again but i cant SSEE!!!

clockworkkatana whoa fuck wait what

floramodus the nuclear reactor battery in my scope combusted and i couldnt contain it all in time and it blew out my retinas and i think shattered my lens i dont know i dont know!!!!!!

clockworkkatana um fuck okay hold still ill be there in just a second

floramodus be careful i dontt know how b a d the glass went

clockworkkatana dont worry ill put on shoes just stay still a second okay? dont move

floramodus ggot that covered i kinda stopped trying when i got a shard of goddamn GLASS in my hands!!

clockworkkatana ill take care of that too just keep breathing for now im on my way

clockworkkatana "Keep breathing" is advice both to her and yourself, and you try best to follow it as the transportalizer warms up, dumping you unceremonious on the receiver pad a universe away. You swear to fuck, if another friend dies (or even is badly injured) you're going to have to break something. A fundamental force of the universe, maybe. You'res still workshopping.

"Flo?" you say, voice steady as you please, slowly opening the door to her room. You hear the crunch of glass underfoot and know you've found the right place. "It's me. It's Dave. Talk to me, Flo."

floramodus Even blind and panicking you can't help but hiccup a laugh at his voice. God, your a mess. "I know its you, Dave. It's not-" You spit out another mouthful of blood, voice wavering as you take off your glasses to cover your mangled eyes with your equally bleeding hand.

"It's not like I was expecting anyone else," you finish, twisting your body to face where you heard him enter. As casual as you tried to look you felt like you could scream; Thank fuck the explosion hadnt of hurt your ears, because seeing nothing but red and black reminded you too fondly of your time in the horrorterrors. You fumbled to find the chair with your other hand, gripping the leg when you found it. "I hope you werent working."

clockworkkatana You wince at the blood - fuck, there sure is a lot of that, huh? - and fail to summon a reassuring smile you know she can't see. "I don't know what your life's like," you counter, taking careful steps towards her, avoiding as much glass as you can manage, "best to make sure you knew it's me and not some rando, yeah?"

She turns to face you and oh good lord you think you've actually had this nightmare once or twice. How about fuck. "Jesus," you murmur under your breath before clearing your throat and raising your voice for her to hear: "Nah, don't worry about it. Not a lot's more pressing than this, don't stress about me." You reach out to place a hand on her shoulder, kneeling down beside her.

floramodus The contact snaps you farther back into reality, or breaks the overall shock. What ever the case, your still left with the throbbing pain actually hitting you for the first time. Fuck. You spend a minute trying to level your breathing. Maybe think of something witty and cool to respond with. You fail, but you'd doubt he'd give you shit for it.

"I didn't think I was doing anything dangerous," you whimper, taking your hand off your face as you try to push yourself up onto your knees. Your rewarded with surprise! More glass in your knees and the sensation of shards tangled in your tail. Keeping you head low trying to spare him more imagery then he has to see, you find his arm to touch something not laced with goddamn glass. You cant even feel yourself crying but you have an inkling you are. "I was just updating some information and I still managed to fuck up. I dont wanna die again.How else am I gonna fix this?"

clockworkkatana You are so bad at bedside manner. You take a breath and swallow down the discomfort, though, you have more important things to worry about. "We're gonna figure it out," you say, and you can almost believe yourself, saying it. "Just. Okay. First things first, we're gonna get you out of here and get you cleaned up. Sound good? Leave the worrying about to me, I can handle that."

You're still mumbling what are supposed to be reassurances when you rise slowly to your feet, sliding her arm around your neck. "Just relax and keep to breathing, yeah?" you say, carefully picking her up off the broken glass. "I got you from here." Your apartment hasn't needed to double as field hospital since Briar came back, but you've kept the kits well stocked just in case. "You don't have to fix this," you reassure. "Leave it to me. You're not gonna die again. You didn't fuck this up. S'not your fault. I'll handle this. Just let me do that, alright?"

floramodus "Don't you ever get tired of being the one to handle everything Dave?" you mumble, hissing through your teeth. Helpful as getting off a floor coated in glass was the urge to crawl right back into a ball was almost too tempting. Instead you grip tighter to him, trying to keep most of the blood off. From the smell alone you doubt its worth the work. Doesn't stop the worry from needling physical responses out of you.

"You spend so much of your time fixing things. Things that werent your fault and shouldnt be." You lean your head against him, ears flicking as you listen to him try- and fail- to appear as composed. "You can handle alot but do you ever ask if you should?" Before you even let that tangent fully settle you bring up your defense, with a breathy laugh. "I know this pickle I've gotten myself into isn't the time to question your motives I much appreciate not being a pin cushion till I expire. Your much warmer than the floor anyway."

clockworkkatana Don't you? But, then, if you won't, who will? (Or, you suppose, if you don't handle things, what are you supposed to do? Stand by and watch things happen? Never seemed your style.) "It's worth it," you reply, and you suppose it's answer enough.

It's difficult, carrying a goddess in your arms and scrolling through transportalizer coordinates to find the one that leads back home, but somehow you manage, face dour as Flora laughs. "I'd rather bear the brunt of it if it means you lot don't have to. And - don't talk like that. You're not expiring. We don't have expiration dates and you're hardly that far out if we did."

floramodus You'd roll your eyes if they werent throbbing with the rest of your skull. A classic Dave response, one you expected, but it had to be said. No use to argue with a knight after all. Instead you yawn, it twisting into a sigh. You were tired in many many ways. "I won't argue with the Time player about death dates but you know what I meant! I'm just saying being with you is a much better alternative than was my other options were."

You jump hearing the transportilizer whirring to life, having lost your awareness of your surroundings. It made you shiver, knowing where the thing was in the map in your head but not being able to pinpoint it visually. Especially when the smells switched in an instant, throwing your generally clear sense out the window. You shook your head, trying to stamp down the shaking. "And considering it feels like the horrorterrors are gonna tear me apart again, I don't particularly wanna see my other options if thats alright with you."

clockworkkatana You guess you smile at that, a lip curling with a huff of breath. "Yeah, I guess you got me there." Artemis and company give a chorus as you step inside, watching as you carrying Flora through the apartment towards Briar's room.

You still think of it as hers, anyway, and you've hardly touched it since she left, but she won't be back today or tomorrow or maybe ever so you guess it's alright to use it for its intended purpose when you rented this place. That is, a place to not bleed all over the floors and ruin your deposit. "Fine by me," you say, depositing her very gently on the bed. Talos appears in the doorframe, and you get him to go grab the medkits while you focus on getting her sorted. "Don't worry, alright? I'm right here and I got you. You're gonna be fine."

floramodus "I think at this point your saying that more for yourself than me," you chuckle, despite still shivering. Smooth, almost like you weren't having a panic attack so bad your chest felt like it was collasping. Like you couldnt feel your own pulse in between seizing pain. Tucking yourself close once you were set down, you cocked your head trying to pinpoint where you were in Dave's house. You have been here a million  times but this place smelled like Briar and stale iron more than the usual scents.

"This is Briar's old place isn't it," you murmur, wiping the collecting blood off your face with the back of your hand, clenched tight enough you felt your nails digging into the cuts on your palms. Normally you wouldn't even breach that subject if you could help it but he could throw you a bone here. He could have taken you to Briar's for all you know. Though you think you couldn't have paid him enough to do so.

clockworkkatana You scowl and shoot her a scathing glare that she can't see. "I might be," you reply, taking the hint and slowing yourself right the fuck down. "Doesn't mean I don't mean it, though." Talos returns, setting down a heavy bag and rifling through supplies you've had kept safe as a just-in-case ever since you got your own place. Thank your upbringing for that, you guess.

"Oh, uh. Yeah," you falter for a moment before you shake yourself and find the bandages to wipe away the blood. You cough, finding some tweezers to start plucking the shards of glass from her skin. "Her, ah. Old room, from when she crashed with me. Yeah, why?"

floramodus It takes you a minute to get coherent enough to reply to his discomfort, due to the fact as soon you heard metal you jerked yourself back on the bed. Of course when your arm doesnt want to take your weight you fall onto your side with a hiss. Right, at Dave's. Not a doctor. Doesn't stop your pulse from trying to escape your mortal coil.

"Uh, nothing, I just smelt her is all. I just wanted to know where I was." You hated how pathetic that sounded, how pathetic you were at the moment in general. "I just smelted blood and Briar and I know thats not something I've smelt here before. Ive never gone in here, haven't had to." You didn't have to ask if this is where she had been when she came back. You could smell it. Even coming to the internet after the aftermath you could almost picture the disaster from the mosaic the smells made. It was uncomfortable almost, not organic.

clockworkkatana Ah. Right. You'd been trying not to think about how the air in here was still a little stashed with the weight of her. "Oh. No, yeah. This is her room. I haven't gone in here much since she moved. Not for like a set reason or anything I just haven't. Really had a reason to I guess." Do you sound as pathetic as you think that sounds? Eesh. Maybe stop thinking about it and focus on the task at hand.

"But no, yeah. We're still at my place." You spare a glance at her eyes when you dab at the blood with another bandage, wince at the red film that sort of leaks from her ducts. "At risk of asking maybe the dumbest question ever, how, uh. How are you feeling? How's the pain? I have stuff for it. Advil, oxycodone, morphine, the works. I'm working on the glass right now but. Talk to me, Flo."

floramodus "You say risk like theres a chance it wasn't dumb, Dave," you huff in a good natured way, glad for a segaway over you two trying to fumble over a charred bridge still smoldering with embers. You were never good at that. Which is why you guess the bridge of how you ended up like this is still left dry rotted. At least you had enough answers to satisfy your morbid curiousity. "It hurts. bad. I'm cold and i cant stop shivering. I want go to bed. I'm sleepy. It hurts. Did I mention it feels like I shot myself?"

You try sit up but get as far as shoving yourself up an inch before your slip back down. The more tired you got the more sitting still made you nervous. Like every second that crawled past was gonna drag you with it. "Whats the diagnosis doc? Am I gonna have to go to the rainbow bridge to fix this?" you said, yelping at the last few words as he pulled out a sizable chunk. Note to self: bulletproof glass.

clockworkkatana "Do you want these fucking drugs or not," you fire back, cracking a grin as you reel back from potentially dive-bombing into angsty horseshit again. "But. Yeah. Okay, I can work with that. Just let me get the rest of these shards out-" the words are eclipsed by a particularly tricky sliver that feels bad just to watch abscond from her skin, nevermind how it must feel on the extraction, "-and I'll let you rest. I can give you something for that, too. I'll even let you borrow my good blanket, alright?"

She shifts as you drop another shard into the little bowl you're containing them all in, and you put a hand on her shoulder to ease her back down. "Don't move, alright? You're gonna be just fine. I'm gonna patch you up and you'll be right as rain, no rainbow bridge required."

floramodus "I've never had pain meds in my life but at this point I'll take anything- it'll keep me from BITING you at least," you growl, the irony of your bared teeth not lost on you even as you fight the urge to snap his hand. "I'm doing my best here ok," you continue, as if your hands werent aching from tension, "But you know damn well I'm not gonna take anything of yours unless were sharing it Dave." Were you afraid of being alone and blind? Maybe. He didn't have to know that. He probably already did. Your friendship was infuriating like that.

You tried to think of a conversation that would fit in between the silence and not sound stupid, but really, what wouldn't? Sure lets talk about the weather while your laying here, blind as a bat, whimpering as you scratch at your own eyes because they felt like goddamn sandpaper. Real casual.

"It's hell actually caring that you exist," you finally say, turning you head to look at him. "Before I made such progress when I didn't care if each time I died it could end up just. Now? its so frustrating that every option is a dead end! Even with all the knowledge and equipment I have I'm failing Bec again and again just like I failed David, Rose, John.........All of you when I couldn't just find a goddamn solution and be able to stop!"

Another piece, another panging spasm. "The saddest thing is theres solutions all around but guess what? I don't want any of you hurt. Not if I tried to play the game again, you using that damned book of yours. Why can't that be solace enough to quit? Why do I still do this? I've probably learnt too much from you." you conclude, turning your head back around with a sigh.

clockworkkatana “I know, I know,” you begin, though she beats you to the punch and drops you with a couple of bombshells that have you sighing and silent. The morphine is right where you left it from last time, and you rattle the bottle a little in your hand, toying with the cap. “I don’t need morphine.”

The hand on her shoulder cups her face - you don’t know anything about anything but you don’t think scratching at her eyes is going to help things - for a moment before pulling away, and you match her sigh with one of your own. “You aren’t failing anyone,” you say, and you mean it, really you do, but even to you the words sound tired. “The game just fucked you, straight up. You shouldn’t have to torture yourself over reworking and reverse-engineering this fucking. Planet-ending crock of eldritch horror straight from a Sims-addicted serial killer’s fantasy fever dream to try and undo what basically amounts to fate bullshit and destiny /fucks/. That shouldn’t be on you, Flora.”

You pluck what you think is the last shard of glass and drop it unceremoniously into the bowl, waving your hand in the air in a gesture she can’t even see. “Don’t even talk about playing again, dude. I know you’re hurting for answers but for real. Don’t mess with that. I’ll take the stupid book and whatever it did to Briar over you going back in there any day of the week.” At the mention of the tome, you glance over to see it resting on the cleared-out space of Briar’s desk. As though it’d been there all along, beckoning. “What could it do to me, anyway.”

floramodus You crack a small smile at his colorful tangent, knowing realistically he was right. It wasn't your choice to play. It wasn't your choice to die. And yet, here you were. Fumbling with your hand, you wave it like an unsure dog until you make contact with his arm, gripping it. "It could do a hell of alot to you Dave and you know it. You don't what it does you've said it yourself. Do you think I could live with myself if it did something?"

You let go, moving your blood stuck bangs off your forehead, wincing at the pang of pain that radiates up your forearm. "I survived losing everyone I care for Dave. I thought that was the worst that could happen. I know I'm wrong about that. If something hurt you id easily find something just without thought. You don't know how much you've made this life worth living. It's an option, yeah, but you've got to look at yourself and know that."

You lay your arm back down on your stomach, sucking air in through your teeth. Who knew being covered in glorified papercuts would sting so much? "But don't worry, I won't play the game again. That I can leave in the past and not be discontent."

clockworkkatana You shrug to that. Hypothetically, from what you know? It could do a great fucking deal of a lot. Briar’d only used it as last resort, and look what she had to show for it. Then again, so had you, and you’d seen no adverse side effects, aside from the one where she moved out. “It wouldn’t kill me,” you reply. “Besides, I’ve used it before. How do you think I brought Briar back?”

You wince in empathy, shaking out the morphine pills and pressing them gently into her hand while Talos exits to grab her a drink. Then you wince again, when her words process. “Come on, Flo,” you begin, a pang of guilt racking you as she carries on. “I care about you too, you know that. And that’s exactly why I’m bringing it up: I want to fix this, and the book is… it’s good at fixing things. You wouldn’t lose me for that - no one would.”

You make a hum of appreciation at the appeasement of that particular nightmare. “We don’t have to do anything right now. We don’t have to make any decisions yet. But we’ll figure something out. Maybe it’s the book, maybe it’s another way. But we’ll find a way to fix this. I promise that.”

floramodus You let the tension ebb out of your shoulders at his affirmations, but still let a frown creep through. Yeah, he had brought her back, but you knew things like that, never worked the same way twice. However, if he insisted everything would work out, you were inclined to believe him. Many drunken and wounded nights in the past year had proven his words correct; Everything would be ok if you believed him.

"Not like I'm in the right place to be making any important decisions" you joke, giving the pills a tentative sniff. Dave could have given you cyanide for all you care, but the sharp scent of sulfate and stale wrongness still sent a shudder down your spine. Gross. "But your right, nothing we can do tonight anyway. I just-" you pause, trying to prop and pull yourself up so you could take these pills without choking, and manage to pull yourself up just enough to be able to slump your weight on your elbow. You take  By then you didn't know how to finish that statement, so you throw the pills in your mouth and chase them down with the water Talos brings a few minutes later into your pondering. What did you wish for? To be able to be better at being the powerful god you wanted to be? Or that he would have been David, giving you someone that actually cared enough to try? "I just care too much, but thats always been my problem hasn't it?"

[hookysblog]

BACK TO AMERICA May ‘17

Our American Airlines flight is cancelled from Manchester, gone tech!

So we are transferred to British Airways via Heathrow, which actually works out better for us;) It’s a direct flight to San Francisco, we were due to change in Dallas….. every cloud eh? A lovely brand new plane too, very comfortable and as it’s a day flight, sleep escapes me….. Which I will regret later;(

We land and navigate Immigration easily, but when we get to the luggage roundel we are informed that our gear is still in London…..Ooops! Mad panic ensues and as we run round like headless chickens, we are gently re-assured it will all be here tomorrow, thank god. We get into our Japanese hotel, Kabuki about 4.a.m English time. We are knackered. It is 8.30p.m here now, but I am shot, totally combobulated, so crawl to bed and guess what? Am wide awake at 4.30a.m San Fransico time??? Hammering on the breakfast room door at 6a.m, then in the gym for 7! Later we are informed by text, that one bag is missing….But which one you ask? Only the one containing our backing track machines!!! Which are obviously vital to the New Order set??????

This only affects one half of the show but is very upsetting, we have another panic summit but let’s face it ?…..it isn’t the end of the world:(See Kim Jung On and Donald Trump for that!) Me and Jack sort out a replacement set and later I head over to Berkeley for a rare sound-check.

 UC THEATRE, BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA 28/4/17

This is a really funky place, very bohemian, but the traffic from San Francisco is really bad;( The driver tells me that so many people commute to the centre of S.F. now that sometimes there and back can take nearly 4 hours a day…..EWWWWH! Thankfully all the gear has arrived….Hooray!

We are back to normal, whatever that is?. Sound-check well and after a pizza courtesy of our great friend Professor Wendy Fonarow, who is introducing us tonight, we are well fed and watered;) Gig time is here and Jack and I are presented with our new guitars by Yamaha, made especially to commemorate the BB1200S that I have used on nearly every New Order track and all my solo work, Freebass, Revenge and Monaco, and most other sessions as well.

They are rebuilding them as my signature bass. I am honoured. These two are prototype’s…. rebuilt from scratch, and amazingly are actually better sounding than the original, technology eh? The launch is imminent. Details to follow;)….

The gig is great, the boys play very well, interestingly ‘The Others’ played here last week so half joking I ask the audience who went to see them and nearly all, if not all actually, put up their hands….No pressure eh? It is very interesting that we share the kids, they have them one night and us the other. How long before they start playing us off against each other for more treats and presents….

 Mummy, please let us stay up later!

 Daddy let’s us have McDonalds every day!

Etc, etc., I am worried;(

 Anyway, onstage sound is crap, which just goes to show how useless sound-checks are, but the gig goes great. Both sets are received very, very well and we are very happy. Luckily the trip back is much quicker at midnight and we all crawl to bed. I sleep okay thanks to a Zopy, but bloody hell this jetlag is murder! Must be old age? We fly early to Denver, thankfully with equipment.

 SUMMIT MUSIC HALL DENVER, 29/4/17

I like Denver. Red Rocks is sensational, I urge you to check it out if you ever get there. Even without a gig they are worth seeing. The weather is freezing and we are greeted by a blizzard…..Wild!

What a contrast to California. One old mans nap later and I am at the gig, which is packed. N.O. goes down a treat and then on to Joy Div. we get a flurry of fights! In Digital I have to stop the band as one guy is elbowing another, Jack Reacher style, on the top of his head in a huge melee in the audience??? It calms down but flares up again and again, right to the end of the set. Scary! Be careful what you wish for eh? We finish greatly and head out into the cold to bed, Pottsy is unwell and struck with a sore throat and I really miss him tonight;(

I sing Confusion and Perfect Kiss, which I enjoy. Off to bed and with a wake up call for 6.10a.m, to worry about, sleep really badly. I am up at 5.30a.m exhausted. Airport run wakes us up and a quick 2 hours get us to the …..cold of Dallas???? The first time I have ever been cold in Texas;( The weather has been very bad here for a while, watching the news is terrifying. The boys and I all go straight to bed, crashing out. I grab 2 and a half hours then wake up feeling terrible, really jet-lagged……it’s horrible. Stumble to the gig….

 Old Young Hooky! If you know what I mean?;)

FORTRESS FESTIVAL, FORT WORTH, TEXAS 30/4/17

Held in the Modern Art Museum, the place is gorgeous. We are playing on a raft in the middle of an ornamental lake outside the Main Art Hall. I have no idea why? But there is a moat in front of us, which is quite weird. It is cold and windy which doesn’t help with the atmosphere and then as it goes dark we realise there are no suspended lights at all. It’s all floor lights, so the stage is virtually pitch black. You can’t see the frets or lyrics or even each other. Totally surreal! The sound is awful too, but the lads put in quite a performance and we even do an encore. Great crowd, and the moat stays un-breached. I do interviews celebrating Bill Paxton (‘Touched by the Hand of God’ Video) and Jonathan Demme (‘Perfect Kiss’ Video) both taken much too early, the net seems to be closing in, scary. Bed about 1 and feeling so spacy it’s unbelievable, oh to sleep, please god. Up at 8.30 and a hearty Texan breakfast that would have fed 4 Englishmen, makes me feel better and I steel myself for the trip home to good Ol’ Blighty.  Takes me 4 days to recover….phew…..I must be getting old.

Love Hooky ’17.

[necrose3]

A Dark Alley - Ch.1 Written by Damain D. Wolf

warning contains: strong language, blood and violence, possible feels    

   “This is officer Hopps reporting in from cruiser 14 with officer Wilde. What is the update status on that 417?” The radio crackled for a second before Clawhauser’s voice could be heard “Yeah, the assailant seems to be a male badger, mid 30’s, carrying a high caliber revolver and is now a 217.” Nick looked over at Judy with a mildly surprised look mixed with excitement, “Wow, assault with intent to murder. We haven’t had anything like this in Zootopia for a long time. At least not that the ZPD finds out about.” Judy shot him a look of disapproval, “This isn’t a game Nick, animals will get hurt if we don’t do are jobs and do them right.” Nick gave a little smile, “I know, I know I’m just happy we finally get to do something besides hand out parking or speeding tickets is all.” Nick pulled out his Glock 19, pulling the slide back and giving the gun a quick look over. “You know we carry we things around, but never once have I used it off the gun range.” “That’s a good thing Nick.” Judy said with a stern tone in her voice. “The whole point of being a police officer isn’t to be getting into shoot outs. You don’t even wear your ballistics vest!” Judy shouted. “Well it causes such unsightly lines and messes with my figure. You manage to pull it off so well though, good on ya.” Nick smiled and winked at Judy as he pleaded his case. Judy gave him an annoyed look, “Well now you need it and don’t have it.” Nick gave a little shrug, “Don’t worry Carrots, everything will be fine. Sly fox remember?” Judy looked out the window as the parked across the street from the house of the incident. “I hope you’re right Nick.” Judy thought to herself.

    Nick and Judy got out of their patrol car and readied their guns as they approached the rundown apartment where reports of gunshots had come from. Judy looked down at her gun, it suddenly felt so heavy in her paw. She had fired it a hundred times at the range and was an excellent shot, but this was the first time she had ever held it out on the field. Suddenly it didn’t just feel like another tool on her belt anymore, it was a weapon. “Hey Carrots, c’mon we gotta get in there.” Nick’s voice snapped Judy back to the job at hand. The two carefully snuck across the street to the apartment. Judy took a position next to the door and put an ear to it. “Hear anything?” Nick whispered as he carefully peeked in through the cracked window. “I hear some shuffling around inside; do you see anything?” Judy asked. “No, it’s too dark but I can smell blood. We better use a beetle bomb; he’ll probably run if we announce that we’re here.” Nick pulled out a small beetle shaped bomb given to the smaller animals of the ZPD used to breach locked doors with a compact explosion. “I’ve always wanted to use one of these.” Nick placed the bomb on the lock and then they took their positions on each side of the door. “You ready Judy?” “Ready Nick.” Nick pushed the button resisting the urge to say, “Fire in the hole!” which set off the bomb blowing the knob and lock off flinging the door open.  

    Nick and Judy rushed in with the guns and flashlights drawn. “This is the ZPD come out with your paws where we can see them!” Judy shouted as they began scanning the apartment. The inside of the apartment was worse than the outside. Peeling wallpaper, torn carpet, and now Judy could smell it too…blood. As she continued to search the room she noticed the smell was getting stronger as they walked further into the apartment. “I’m going to search the back rooms.” Nick said. Judy nodded, “Ok, I’ll take the bedroom and kitchen.” Judy walked toward the kitchen and tried to turn on the lights but they didn’t work. As she walked forward into the kitchen she felt something warm and thick on her feet. She looked down and she was standing in blood, a pool of it that trailed off down the hall. Judy followed the trail that went under a door at the end of a hall. Nick was already standing there about to go in. Nick looked at Judy, “On three. One, two, three.” Nick kicked in the door and they scanned the room, it was the master bedroom of the apartment. It appeared to be empty and the blood trail lead to the bathroom. They followed the trail into the bathroom and there on the floor was a snow leopard in a puddle of blood who had taken two rounds two the chest and wasn’t breathing. “Oh, no.” Judy said covering her nose. Nick checked for a pulse, “They’re gone.”

    Before Nick could check for an ID Judy’s ears shot up. “The bedroom!” They both rushed back in as the badger was leaving the bedroom closet. “Freeze!” They both shouted as Nick drew his gun and fired off a round missing as the badger jumped out the window into the alley. Judy screamed and dropped to her knees as Nick had fired the gun right next to her ears. Nick turned to her, “Oh shit, Judy I’m sorry I.” “Just get him, I’ll catch up.” Judy said. Nick nodded and followed the badger jumping out of the window. Immediately upon landing outside the window Nick felt an overwhelming pain on his head and everything went black for and instant before he felt the badger get him in a headlock and put his gun to Nick’s back. “You bastard!” Nick growled, “You were waiting for me?” “Well whoever jumped out first.” The badger responded with a light chuckle. “Where’s the rabbit?” Just then Judy jumped out to see Nick held hostage and bleeding from the forehead. “Oh god no, Nick.” “Beautifully well timed love, we were just talking about you.” The badger said all this as he glared Judy down with one eye and a menacing smile keeping his head mostly hidden behind Nicks. “Let him go.” Judy stated as she drew her gun not sure where to aim it as the badger was covering himself well with Nick’s body. “Oh, sure I’ll let him go! And then I suppose you’ll just let me go as well! We can all be on our marry fucking way then.” The badger said with a very sarcastic laugh. Nick noticed the badger was moving the gun around on his back. He thought this was strange because he had it aimed at his lower back, there was almost nothing vital to hit. Never the less he wasn’t currently in a position to worry about such things, he was still bleeding from the head. “There’s no way out of this for you asshole!” Nick said struggling in the badger’s hold. “I beg to differ, I think I have a pretty good shot.” He said this and chuckled. He had stopped moving the gun and angled the barrel down slightly then fired.  

    Nick fell over in excruciating pain. Then he heard something, it sounded distant at first, between his head wound and being shot in the back he wasn’t sure if it was real. Then he realized what it was, Judy was yelling. She was in pain, he realized what had just happed. The badger had been aiming at Judy through Nick and he’d hit her. “My, my, my love. That looks painful.” Judy had been shot in the left thigh and was crawling for her gun. The badger ran up and kicked the gun into a sewer drain. “Uh, uh, uh sweetheart, I learned that lesson. You know this gun really is something. It’s a .357 Colt Python, now that might not mean anything to you. But do you have any idea how hard it is to aim and shoot through another animal; especially when she’s wearing a bullet proof vest? You weren’t giving me a whole lot to shoot at sweet heart. You have to give me credit for getting you in the leg though.” He circled around Judy and was now standing next to her head with the gun pointed between her eyes and pulled back the hammer. The smile he’d had up until now left his face. “This is for my brother you scum.” Just then a growl was heard and Nick leaped up biting the badger on the Neck causing him to fire and miss Judy. The Badger let out a loud scream, “You mangy fox, get the fuck off me!” He began repeatedly punching Nick in the head as Nick clawed the badger’s face and dug his fangs deeper into the thick fur trying to penetrate as much flesh as possible. The badger finally pointed his gun up at Nick’s head and fired.

    Nick fell off and laid on the ground unmoving. The badger now badly injured looked at the still fox that had a pool of blood gathering under him. “Bloody sod, maybe you would have made it out of this if you’d stayed down.” The sounds of sirens could be heard coming from off in the distance. “And that’s my que to leave.” The badger staggered off down the alley saving his last shot in case he needed it for his escape. Judy crawled over to Nick. “Nick, oh god no Nick please don’t die.” A small cough was heard and Nick turned his head to Judy. A chunk of Nick’s right ear was missing where the badger had shot Nick. “Nick you’re alive! Don’t worry you’re going to be ok.” Nick looked at Judy and smiled trying to talk between haggard breaths. “Well, I don’t know about that; but you’re alive.” Nick let out several hard coughs full of blood. “Judy, I..I..Lo” Nick slipped out of consciousness as the world went black around him. Judy looked down at Nick with tears welling up in her eyes. “Nick. Nick stay with me!” She held onto the unconscious fox crying as the ambulances arrived at the dark alley.

Ok so here is the first chapter of my new fanfic A Dark Alley. I know it was dark, my insomnia has really been getting to me and my depression is pretty bad and that has largely inspired this. so yeah, i will try and post ch 2 of Nick and Judy Go to the Club soon. this is my second writting and my first ever drama. would love some feedback !

@feverwildehopps @gokhan20 @pyrophoricitee @chernwei5784 @thatzootopianfox @fourthdimension99 

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