#foundation fanfiction

[anundyingfidelity]

NO SECOND CHANCES — Brother Day/Cleon XVII

Summary: A lonely space traveler happens to save from a certain death the most annoying person of the entire galaxy, the Emperor.

Pairing: Cleon XVII x female reader.

Word count: 8.1k. (oooops).

Warnings: well, spoilers for whole season 2. Language, angst (the reader wants to die, really). Talks about suicide, talks about suicide attempts, reader having nightmares, PTSD, reader is suffering too. Some hurt/comfort, some fluff? Filthy smut (included but not limited to hand jobs, unprotected sex, oral from both parts, dirty language, etc. etc.), and end of the world sex (to Beki's arsehole bitches yay🥂). Also Cleon refers to the reader as "woman" a couple of times lol. Reader has pierced ears? (wait for it). Bittersweet ending tbh.

Notes: just trying to make slow burn in a one shot because I'm a lazy fucker who doesn't like to write stories with chapters, otherwise I don't finish shit. Uh probably OOC Cleon??? I don't know. Fully inspired by my favorite trope ever: saving the bad guy and making him humble. I don't care we're four people watching Foundation, I need to write about this little piece of shit I love him so much. Cleon XVII is a himbo I said it. Not beta, we die like bitches of the Gossamer court.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

Tagging: @curiouswildi hope you like it 🥺💘

GEN MASTERLIST!

I. BEYOND

The last thing wandering his mind was Bel Riose. Fucking Bel Riose. That idiot. They had won over him; over him, who was Empire and still meant to be for years ahead. Next, the cold feeling of space was embracing him. But he felt he was not floating around anymore.

Cleon was tied to a surface. It felt like harsh, uncomfortable metal under his back. He slowly forced his eyes open, moving his limbs and trying to escape whatever it was restraining him to do so. His wrists and ankles, as his waist, were tied by a light blue particle field preventing the patient to move at all. He was met with the roof of a ship and equipment, but it wasn't any Imperial one. In panic, he moved until he was able to shake the surface he was on, panting and grunting, feeling some pain and sting resurging all over him. The headache was becoming unbearable and the sounds coming from his dry mouth finally transformed into screams. The room doors opened and a strange voice catched his attention.

"Finally, you're awake."

Cleon obliged to follow the shadow moving around, his eyes focusing to try and see who was talking. He heard steps and the sounds of metal and glass clinking around, probably looking for medication and tools as he was know fully concius. The figure finally came to view by his side.

"I will inject this, so don't move," you said, grabbing his bicep. Cleon was about to protest, but the needle was faster and the medicine was welcomed on his vurnerable system, easing the pain and calming down the headache. "Welcome back, Eminence," you smirked to him.

"And just so, who are you?" he asked chuckling to himself, licking his lips. "What have you done to me?"

"First, I saved your life and cleaned all your bloody wounds. You should say thanks at least," you sat down dangerously close by his side, on the same surface he was on.

"I did not ask you for mercy."

"Oh, but I did," you replied, a smirk on your lips. "Perhaps I shouldn't have, right?" you took a small pencil-like device in your hand from the pocket of your pants and used it to scan his vital signs. You touched his face carefully with your fingers, examining his eyes, his heartbeat, and any anomaly that might be on his system from head to toe, but the scanner found none. Cleon watched you doing so until he asked again, his voice softer this time.

"Who are you?"

"Just no one as important as you are," you said, saving the scanner back.

"Where are we?" Cleon asked, looking around. He observed he was placed in a small medical bay.

"In space, in the middle of nowhere I suppose," you shrugged, getting on your feet again. "It seems you're recovering quite well and fast. At least that's what my scanner says. So first, I think you should want some water, which I am leaving right here," you put a flask on the small table next to him. "And before I give you this to drink, I want to make sure you will not restrain or fight back at me."

He laughed, that narcissistic smile on his face. You wanted to punch him.

"You're no match for me, woman."

"Really? Then I could just throw you out there again, you know, it's not difficult. I'm spending resources on you, surely I won't oppose to that idea," you snapped back.

His smile faded slowly, thinking. If it wasn't for you, he would be dead by now, it was true. But he was so used to be immortal and undefeteable that the situation was kind of new. He only had been vulnerable and exposed to his doctors in the palace, and you were a complete stranger. And still, you had the heart to take him in your ship and save his life. He sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"Fuck, fine. What do you want me to do?"

So this was his way of cooperating, you thought.

"After I turn off the restraints, you will have to sit down on the stretcher. I will help you. Do not try to get up yet, you might feel dizzy."

With a nod he said to you the orders were clear. Next, the restraints disappeared in the air with a push on a button and Cleon felt a small relief. As you promised, you helped him to sit and he realized that the clothes he had before were replaced with a set of new pale grey robes that allowed him to move freely. You offered the flask to his lips, but he watched you with a questioning look on his face.

"Is only water, I swear. See?" you had a small sip from the bottle and he looked more at ease after you swallowed the liquid.

You offered the bottle again and helped him to slowly drink. Once he was done, you placed a small tray with fruits and dry seeds on top of the same table beside the stretcher.

"You might want to eat something," you said, breaking the silence under his fixed gaze. Even when he was sitting down and you on your feet it felt rather intimidating. "I'm still collecting supplies and food. You were certainly not part of the plan these days."

"So you travel alone," Cleon said, taking a small red fruit between his fingers and began to eat it.

"I do," you nodded. "Sorry if the taste of the fruit is not pleasant."

"You're doing your best," he said while eating, studying the room around him. You were not sure if he was mocking you or not. "What was your name again?"

You chuckled. "You're very interesting, Empire. Why don't you finish eating and rest before taking a bath?"

The next few hours, you left him to rest and escorted him to your quaters, the only place with a comfortable bed, so he could get proper sleep. Since there were no further questions from him, you got to your business and requested more provisions to the merchants. Traveling alone had made you some contacts and traders, from time to time you would request for food giving in exchange money or rare knick knacks, and within a day you had a small capsule with supplements heading to your coordinates with everything you needed. You just had to wait for now.

After checking the estate of your ship and confirming everything was working correctly, you went back to your quaters to see how the Emperor was doing. You were startled to see him sitting on your bed with a book between his hands. He looked like he just had a bath because his shirt was gone and his hair was wet, some droplets running down his skin. Quickly, you studied him. He was handsome, muscular, his skin had a beautiful tan, and he was tall and heavy as hell, something you noticed when cleaning his wounds and taking him inside your ship. The earring on his left ear was also interesting, you thought, for a member of the most important dinasty of the galaxy. Very rebellious for the emperor.

You also knew he heard you steping in but never looked up from the book because he was the first one to talk.

"Never I could imagine you would have books in here," he said, clearly interested on the pages.

"Yeah, not all of us are barbarians as you work so hard to convice yourself we are."

He chuckled to himself, looking at you for the first time since you entered the room.

"Are you from Korell?"

"The book gave it away, didn't it."

"This is very old," he said, closing the book. "You are for sure not allowed to have this in Korell."

"That is one of the reasons I left," you replied, looking around the place. It was obvious to you that he was pearing within your personal stuff because the old myth book was secured down your mattress. At least he didn't leave a mess and everything seemed in the right place. "I was a threat in my planet so Argo kept looking for me for some conspiracy shit and terrorism when all I did was oppose myself to his repression and freakshow," you continued, his eyes drew back to you. "They wanted me dead in Korell, but I am the only one to decide that, even when and where will it happen."

Cleon shifted on his seat, wondering why you were sharing a piece of your life to him when he didn't even know your name yet. Words and thoughts wandered his head on how would he answer to your words, compassion or empathy sometimes were difficult things to feel. But before he was able to speak, you interrupted his thoughts.

"I will leave you alone to rest for a while and will come back when it's around supper. I follow Kornell cycle of time, so you know... Just don't poke around my underwear, Empire," you dragged his title mockingly.

He laughed softly, going back to his reading.

"Thank you for the idea."

That was the first time you would hear him expressing gratitude.

II. GHOSTS FROM THE PAST

Around more than a week passed, and Cleon was healing and his wounds were not so visible now. You made sure to inject him every day and gave your quaters and bed for him to sleep and recover. He had took a pad you had in the room so he could count the cycle of days in Trantor. Hardly to admit, he found himself missing home rather than hatred. Sometimes the rage mixed with sorrow, but he forced himself to try and understand that it was a normal feeling due to the sudden lose of everything he once had.

Cleon had been up from some time now as he counted the end of the eighth day on the pad, and wondered why your daily visit was taking so long. It was a habit you had, to come in and wake him up with the medicine, and after it was done, you would tell him to eat some of the fruits and food on the tray you brought for him. He got on his feet and put a shirt on before leaving the room to search for you. On the pilot cabin, you had an improvised, small stickable mattress on the wall that had saved your life before, so you used it to sleep and rest the past few days while he cured. Cleon observed your figure lying down on the mattress, walking slowly and sensing something was not right. He found you shaking and trembling, eyes still closed and chest heavily breathing as your hand held onto dear life what he realised it was a gun.

He felt somehow frightened and confused. If you wanted to kill him, you would already have done it. You had made yourself clear on that. The tremor of your body seemed it was increasing and Cleon, with a gentless he did not know he possesed, tried to soothe you with his voice, removing the gun from your embrace.

"Shh... everything is fine," he mumbled, not sure of his words, his other hand touching your shoulder in soft circles. He was able to withdraw the gun from your hands and placed it on the floating shelf near by.

Your eyes squeezed and some tears flowed down your face as you sobbed still in your sleep. Cleon hesitated on what to do next to wake you up. He leaned again, his hand slowly tracing the skin of your arm, like he did when his brother Dawn was a child.

"Woman? Wake up," he whispered, shaking you a little bit and pating your arm softly, and when he talked again, his voice was a little bit louder. "You're having a nightmare, wake up."

And as he repeated his words over and over, your eyes opened wide, feeling your lungs able to breath again. But your senses still were coming to awareness, and automatically you slapped the face of whoever it was touching your arm. You heard him groan in pain and you rolled over the mattres, until you hit the floor, taking out a small blade from below the makeshift pillow of fabrics you used. The blade pointing at him as you looked around the cabin to find out it was only both of you.

"What- are you okay?!" Cleon questioned with a frown, rubbing his hurting cheek as he remained on the other side of your bed, the only thing separating you from him was the mattress.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine!"

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Of course you are not."

"Then why the fuck would you ask that?! It's obvious I'm not fine!" you yelled. Your body was tense and ready to attack. You felt a knot on your throat, like if you were to cry again. Silence envolved you, trying to calm down. That inner voice in your head began saying it was just a dream, and you wanted to believe it. It was all in your head. It was not real...

"Do you want to kill me?" Cleon's gloomy voice echoed.

"What? No! I would never-"

"Then why are you sleeping with a damn blaster shot and a blade on your bed?!" he confronted, screaming at you, but not daring to move as you also remained standing in the same place.

"Because I wanted to kill myself!" you yelled back, pointing the sharp of the knife to you instead. His face became stern and you realised what you had said, and what was happening. Ashamed, you threw the blade back under the pillow. "Sorry, I don't want you to know that. Forget it."

You wiped the tears on your face under his piercing and concerning eyes. You forced your head to compose and burry your nightmares and memories deep inside before talking.

"I have to inject you," you said and walked back to the room, sure he would follow behind. Once you crossed the doors, you prepared the needle but Cleon remained standing near the exit of your room the whole time, arms crossed over his chest, observing you with utter worry on his face. Why? He really did not know. Probably because you were the only human and intelligent contact he had for days now, and you had the decency to keep him alive. Though he was not going to let that in his head - yet.

"Why don't you seat?" you most likely ordered. Cleon slowly made his way to you and remained standing, tall and kind of threatening. He was Emperor, after all.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked with a careful tone.

"Nothing, Empire. Just sit," you said, coldly, waiting for him to do as you requested.

"No, I need to know," he demanded, coming closer to you, jaw clenching. Anger started taking over your being and held his gaze as you replied.

"I have the right to decide whether or not speak about my personal life, I am not one of your subjects, so sit the fuck down so I can give you the last dosis of this shit."

"I need to know if I can fucking trust you after what I just heard coming from your mouth," his voice boomed around the place.

"You really want to know?! Fine, back in Korell I lost my family, my brother, my parents, my home - everything I had they took it from me! I was the last one alive and I escaped after they killed my brother in front of me and that day is still haunting me," you muttered and felt the tears forming on your eyes, but this time, of rage. "So if it concerns your own well being, like it always has been, no, I will not kill you. But you are no Emperor here, so stop that game. Some of us never gave a fuck about you or the Empire, or the Foundation and Hari Seldon, or the Church of the Galactic Spirit -I don't care! I'm tired, I just want to be free and live peacefully!"

You had not noticed you stepped closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body. His face was blank, as if he had been slapped again, but this time to reality. A reality he was not familiar with on his own bubble.

Quickly you grabbed his bicep and injected the dosis with him standing up. He whined in surprise. It was fast. So fast that you just removed the needle from his flesh and left the room.

III. WHAT YOU REALLY KNOW

According to the Trantor cycle, evening should be now. When you left him alone in the room, Cleon spent the next hours by himself, and since he watched you looking up for garments and food around the ship before, he made sure to get those without speaking to you. Not that you wanted to talk either. He noticed you sitting on the main pilot seat, looking at the stars and the void through the glass the whole day. He got concerned for a moment, but decided to let you be as he, also, understood that some time alone was necessary.

However, Cleon thought to talk to you finally and say something. Anything to get you back to reality and forget your bad dreams. So he found himself making his way to sit on the other chair of the ship. He prepared the words to say inside his head, but it was more difficult to speak out loud.

"I think I owe you an apology," he finally said, taking in the view of space. You nodded slowly your head. Nobody turned to see each other.

"It's nothing. But apology accepted I guess."

"It's not nothing. I rarely thought about what other citizens and planets are going through... I'm so sorry it happened to you."

"I would like to say that was not your fault, but since the Empire withdrawal from Korell, living there definitely became so much worse," you confessed, very aware of the genetic dinasty and some of the things previous emperors did, which did not change much. They were the same man after all. Cloning again and again...

"Probably should apologise for that as well," he said.

"Yeah, it's too late, but thank you."

Cleon could still sense a feeling of resentment in your voice. He thought you were right to feel that way, but he was also going to try and make you understand him.

"I never had a mother, or a father, and my brothers are the same man as me, so it's hard to understand that some people lose their family and loved ones. I was born with that loss already... That's why I wanted to end the genetic dinasty."

"You are the eighteenth?" you asked, not knowing exactly why he was opening to you.

"The seventeenth."

"That's a lot of you though. Do you remember anything from the past?"

"I do not. But our memories are always saved. Everything that happens in Trantor is recorded and kept as data. If I want to know something about a previous Cleon, I would just request it."

You turned your gaze to finally see him, he looked in awe with space as he spoke.

"So what was your motive to destroy a planet?"

He turned his eyes to you. "I believe you didn't care about Empire or the Foundation."

"That doesn't mean I want to see a genocide, your Eminence."

Cleon stirred on his seat, with a strange feeling of guilt, sadness and regret. For some reason, the title falling off your lips made everything worse.

"You saw it," he said. "How? You're no part of the Foundation, at least you're lying to me."

"No, I am not! I did a stupid space jump without course and I ended here, unfortunately." You were growing tired of the conversation. "I don't know why we keep talking. We're both shitty people anyway."

Cleon chuckled, not to mock you, but because of the whole situation you were in together.

"I know you are. Brave enough to kill yourself, taking another life is nothing compared to your own."

You locked your gaze with his, thinking if he was he judging you or flattering you.

"And have you, like, tried to end with your life at some point? You must feel lonely, under the shadow of a clone, not allowing you to be, well, you."

He let out a deep breath, avoiding your eyes.

"I have not, but my genes are already compromised and adultered. No surprise if any of us dared to commit suicide before," he replied, looking to the void. "In any case, if something out of the ordinary is to happen to my brothers or myself, we have another clone with our same memories, same age, everything; prepared to be woken up and take our place. Like if we never existed."

"That's fucked up," you scoffed. "We are never trully free, are we."

You got on your feet to look up for something to eat and forget your small talk. You knew he had searched for fruits and dry food because you heard him moving around and then leaving a couple of times, but you had nothing through the whole day. Cleon followed your steps, leaving enough space between you both as you took a couple of apples, giving one to him.

"The jump, how did you do that?" he asked, taking a bite of the fruit. "You don't have spacers."

"The rebels are smart people. A lot of members of the Foundation replicated your technology."

"I thought you were not involved with them," he insisted.

"I am not, but I would never deny any help. That my support doesn't rely on them doesn't mean I will let a chance slide."

"You're not answering my question."

You pulled the sleeve of your shirt up to show your bare wrist to him. There was the same device Hober Mallow and the Clerics had, inserted on your skin.

"I use this.”

"This is a whisper ship," he mumbled.

"Smart. Yes, sort of."

Cleon scoffed. "So that means we can land somewhere."

"About that, uh, we can't."

He moved to throw the remainings of his fruit with a confused look. "Why?"

He heard your sigh as you covered your wrist again, looking away from his deep eyes.

"I- I threw myself to space because I wanted to kill myself," you started, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't care how long would take me, I just wanted to blow up my ship. Just end everything. But then I saw you, floating, dying... and for some reason I couldn't let you die. I didn't know who you were but I saved you. There's no energy or fuel to make another jump. I don't have that. We are far from what Terminus was now. From any planet, form of life or civilization... plus you are unarmed. You still are weak and anyone could kill you," you finished, and waiting for some reason that he could forgive you for giving him any sort of hope. "I'm sorry, Empire."

Beyond madness, Cleon felt you were worried for him. Not the kind of sentiment his brothers or palace workers would do, but a real one. Because you knew saving him was condemn him to death anyway. But this felt much better than dying alone. He had sins, past despiteful decisions and ghosts hunting him, as so were you. You just addressed your feelings and your life together in less than a day. And you were right, none of you were never trully free, but as crazy as it might be, being lost in space with you felt like freedom to him. Finally, he was far away from everything that was keeping chained to a life and responsibilities he never asked for, living under the shadow of an egotistical emperor.

There was a strong impulse growing inside him and before his rational voice began to scream it was a bad idea to continue, he had cupped your cheeks between his hands and his lips pressing hungrily against yours. You whined, surprised of the warm feeling of his mouth, his tongue hurriedly asking for permission to taste you. When oxygen was not enough you pulled away, shocked and panting. You barely noticed your hand around his forearm, recovering yourself from the best kiss you had in some time.

"Cleon," he whispered, kissing your lips one more time.

"What?"

"Just call me Cleon. I'm not Empire anymore."

You kissed him in response with the same eagerness he had before, heart beating strongly in your chest. His hands caressed every inch of your body, from your neck, breasts, your hips, your soft thighs, your ass... he touched you with desperate fire while you moaned against his mouth, liking where was this leading you, more than you wanted to admit.

That was the first time you gave in to him completely.

IV. TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED

You moaned against his lips, those that forcefuly broke the heated kiss you shared as he ruts into you desperately to reach his own climax. His flesh hitting against yours made an obscene harmony that echoed the confines the ship, far from civil and coherent noises fell from his lips as he sucked into the skin of your neck.

"Fuck, yes, right there," a broken whimper escaped your throat, your nails scratching his back, your walls clenching around his cock. "Cleon..."

The sound of his name being moaned by your sweet, raspy voice, caused him to slow down his thrusts just a bit.

"I still don't know your name," he whispered, bitting your bottom lip only to kiss you wet again.

"And yet you're fucking me, isn't that enough?" you teased, rolling your hips to meet his own.

He gave you a smirk, that fucking handsome smirk you hated so much. He took you with his strong arms, flipping you around so he was now on his back and you got control on top of him. You sinked down his dick setting a reckless rhythm, his thrusts matching yours every time you went down, his grip hard on your waist, marking and bruising your skin. One of his hands massaged your bouncing breasts, one after the other, pinching and then, you felt his mouth biting your nipples and chest, as he leaned your body to him for easy access, with slow grunts and groans that didn't sound human anymore.

His cock repeatedly hit that sweet spot from the position you were taking him, increasing the tension inside you. The sensation of his hands coming back to your sides and making its way to your ass cheeks to guide your bouncing hips became too much so soon. You cried as you felt drunk and high, muscles tense as you finally came. Cleon held you tight, fucking into you as you reached sweet release. His tongue traveled down your collarbone and breasts.

"Cleon," you moaned, your hands on his chest to support your body better. You felt him twitch inside you, knowing he was dangerously close too. Quickly, you slid off him, taking his girth, slick with your own wetness, between your hand you pumped him hard, easing his own release. His seed coated your palm, sprinkling on his abdomen.

"Shit, you're great," he praised, voice dark from lust. His fingers tangled into your hair, his forehead against yours as you recovered from the intense sex session you had for the second time that day. He kissed you sweetly, like a sweetness he only had discovered in the short time with you. "I wish I could know your name."

"You can call me your savior," you gave him a playful smile.

After a shared lazy kiss, you got on your feet, legs still shaking, and left the bed to clean yourself in the small place you called bathroom right next to the only room of the ship. Once finished, you threw the cloth away, and looked directly the mirror, or poor attempt of it. In the damp glass, you watched Cleon appear to embrace your body against his, your back touching his chest muscles and his hands roamed your abdomen while he left butterfly kisses on your shoulder. His big arms around you, pressing your figure to his own, huge in comparison entrusting protection.

The nineteenth day it was, and you spent it exploring your pleassures, talking nonsense and overall for Cleon, thinking he might love you. The confinement had flourished different kinds of feelings and sentiments inside his heart. He finally learned to feel something else besides hatred, power, or selfishness. The more you spoke to him, the more he grew to like you. You were far from perfect and so was he, and the way you opened your heart to him - the man who was to wed a powerful queen, govern thrillions of people around the galaxy and kill a few others - caused him to feel unworthy of anything coming from you. The man he grew up to be slowly disappeared as long as you had him under your light and spirit; his old self was fading away. And it scared him, but excited him at the same time. Even when he was very aware you were near the end together, he had nothing to ask for but to perish with you.

"What's in your head?" you whispered.

Cleon had no longer been tasting the skin of your neck, his chin pressed on your shoulder instead with his mind running a million thoughts by now. He took a glance at the damp and dirty mirror of how perfect you looked, bare and exposed in body and soul, only for his eyes to witness the true beauty of being alive. Of being human.

"You."

A loving smile curled up on your lips, looking directly into his enamoured gaze through the mirror. He decided he wanted to remember you like this in the afterlife.

You finished marking the last spot with an 'x', a wide grin over your face.

"I won."

"Yet again," Cleon chuckled. His laugh had grew sincere with you as he settled on the floor on the cold floor of the pilot cabin, just giving enough space for the board between you and him. "And what is your question, person-I-not-know-the-name-of?"

You just had finished playing another round of a silly game. It was an old Terran game, and you were surprised it made it this far across the galaxy. It was good to pass the time though. It kept you and Cleon thinking about other things besides dying. The fuel and energy, along with the water, were lowering on their levels. Food on the other hand was not a worry, you knew you could request to the traders as long as energy was functioning to make communication with them. However, the energy of your ship had to be loaded in land, just like fuel. And you had no place to go now to do that.

Being together as long as you had the resources was the main goal now. So many things crossed your mind as you talked about everything and nothing at the same time the past days.

"Have you ever been in love?" you asked after some time thinking.

You thought maybe it was the first time in Cleon's life that he was finally able to think and behave on his own, with no burdens about a dinasty to protect or pleasing his council.

He was taken by surprise as you spoke. He immediately remembered Demerzel, his loyal advisor. His relationship was merely sexual, but there were no feelings that would assimilate to what love is in reality. For sure, his own clone should have been woken up by now with no further consequences. For Cleon, it felt like he was actually erased from existence forever. He was disposable, just like his brothers. But thinking about your question, his answer was no. He never knew what love was. Not from Demerzel, certainly not from Dusk, Dawn was slightly different though, he did love Dawn but not the way you were referring to. He never knew the love from a mother or a father, nor family. Sareth hated him, so even if they got to marry he knew there would be no space for such sentiment. His own future children with the Queen of Cloud Dominion would have grown up without an essential part of being human.

"No," Cleon finally gave an answer, his gaze went soft as he realised what you just became to him in a matter of days. "However I sense something different when I am with you. And I don't recall to know what that is."

You smiled. "Isolation tends to create adjustments in those who suffer it."

"And have you?" Cleon asked back. "Have you ever felt it before?"

"I did... With my parents, my brother, my best friends, and a couple of assholes who broke my heart."

He chuckled, admiring the charm you had to brush off the hardships in your life. You smiled back at him. Gods you loved seeing him like this, like if he was happy and nothing had happened.

"And how is it?" he said.

"It's affection, it's addictive, not everyone can escape from it. You feel like you belong somewhere, that your life is strangely complete," you mumbled, locking your gaze with his own. "And it hurts a lot. But as you go through that path, you get to know the most beautiful kind of pain."

"Does it hurt now?"

You swallowed hard, that familiar knot on your throat. You were not expecting to feel this way. Not for the Emperor, not for the clone, not for Cleon. Yet one does not control love. You don't decide to love someone without a reason. And what else could two lost souls do in the middle of the galaxy with no purpose but to wait and die? You had opened your deepest fears and secrets to him, not expecting Cleon doing exactly the same. He trusted you and you trusted him. You slept in the same bed, ate the same food and fruits, fucked like animals everyday and yet there was an emotional connection in between you thought would never know again after so many years. How could you not fall for him when everything was crumbling? Finally, you nodded your head, feeling the tears burning in your eyes.

"I always have been alone, Cleon, but my soul seems to have a little love to give. In the end, love is what makes us human."

Cleon put the board of the game away and leaned closer to you, his hand caressed your cheek, cleaning the tears falling down your face as he pressed his forehead with yours. He kissed you softly, swallowing your pain, as a way to say he was hurting too.

V. VOYAGE

It was the thirtieth day on the ship.

Your last try to get and land in any planet failed. As much as Cleon told you to stop, that everything was fine, you felt you had to keep trying until your last day. But the ship was basically to zero fuel and soon energy will follow. You used the control panel of the ship, hopefuly to find a near by land, but luck was not on your side. There was nothing. You don't know exactly how many miles you traveled with no course for a month. It was getting beyond bearing.

Frustrated, you pulled away the holo of the map and the calculations you did in the air, throwing a lose screw of your seat directly to the glass. It did nothing, but you were starting to hate the view of the stars and nothingness sorrounding.

"I told you to stop that," you listened to Cleon, who seemed just arrived to the pilot cabin.

"I had to try," you stood up, walking towards him. Your arms embraced his waist and he took you in with the same warmth.

"You're worried."

"I am not," you whined. "I should have sent for help with the merchants."

Cleon broke your hug and cupped your face between his hands, leaning closer to you.

"No, we should end this now," he whispered, his brows furrowed.

"No!"

"Why not? You wanted to do it even before you found me."

"Because now ending me is ending you too!"

Cleon felt your pain, but there was no other option to make than to blow up the ship anyway. Even if you were to land somewhere, what was for him? You were not able to go back home, and Cleon was discarded at this point. The throne could not have two of the same in the middle. Hiding and running away sounded like a good choice, but still, where? There was nothing left, but he found comfort with you.

"I am okay with this," he said. "I told you. You have to do it."

"Cleon-" you plea was cut by his voice.

"How much time do we have?"

"I don't know, a couple of days at last."

"Then do it. You said you were to decide when and how you would die, this is the time," he remembered with a stern voice. "Take it."

You let out a shaky breath and pushed him to press your lips to his own, like saying goodbye. But you still would not accept this fate. Not like this. You kissed him with hunger and need, your tongues tangled up as your mouths danced together.

"I just have- I can't yet," you mumbled once the kiss was over, leaving you both seeking for air. "Can we just fuck each others brains again and pretend none of this happened for a moment?" you asked against his lips, your hand now on his cheek, caressing the stubble on his face. You always remembered to help him shave and that was one of the most normal things you had to do since you found yourself confined with him. The most casual and mundane things to do became

He nodded. "Yes, my love.”

Cleon kissed your lips with the same hunger and desire, his hands caressing every inch of you until he lifted you up, your legs quickly went around his waist. With eyes closed, you let him guide you to the bar fixed against the wall of your ship.

He made sure to throw everything that was on the surface to the ground to place you in there. Once you were sitting, he pulled your legs apart to stand in the middle of them, and full with lust, his lips and teeth marked your neck and collarbone. You moaned sweetly, palming his groin still covered with the fabric of his pants. He traveled down your breasts, kissing over your shirt until he took it off. He was lucky you decided not to wear bra anymore. He sucked on your tits and nipples, grinding his hips against your hand.

You tried to pull his pants away, but he finished the job first, pulling away from your chest. After his pants were discarded, his shirt followed. He also got used to no underwear so he stood exposed all for you. A true god he was, looking perfect and like if every inch of his body was created for you to worship completely.

Cleon hurried in getting you out of your clothes, and in minutes you were naked and feeling his tongue dancing on your belly. His fingers and massive hands teasing your thighs, avoiding the place where you needed them the most. You moaned when he finally used a single digit to rub your slit, collecting your wetness. He rubbed your clit, mouth going slow and dangerously close to your pussy.

You laid your back on the bar and Cleon grabbed your thighs to have you exactly at the edge of the surface, ready to eat from your heat.

"Cleon," you cried out his name, your fingers tangled on his hair as his tongue licked your most sensitive parts.

He kept your hips in place, fucking you with his tongue and licking your folds, going to your clit. You couldn't help but whimper and moan, removing his hair to see just how much he yearned your cunt.

You tried to roll your hips but his grip was too strong. He looked up to lock his dark gaze with you, his humming creating strong vibrations down your core. He played some more, using a finger to tease your entrance. You were about to cum just by watching him.

"Cleon, please-" you gasped when he inserted a finger inside you, thrusting slowly. "Please, I want to taste you too."

He stopped, looking your flushed face for a moment. Your eyes were begging to suck him right now. He released your pussy with an obscene sound, pulling his tongue and hand away, but your wetness still shined on him. You got on the ground with his help and started to kneel down, kissing his skin, from his chest and then abdomen, licking and biting to leave your marks on his sculptured muscles. You made sure to adore and suck the skin of his navel, knowing he was insecure with not having a belly button. Still without it, he was more human than he could ever get to accept because you have seen that on him.

Cleon grunted once your hand wrapped around him, his hand on your scalp. You gave him a far from innocent look from your position before licking the head, rolling your tongue around it, lubing it with your saliva. His desperate groans led you to wrap your lips around him, pumping with your hand what you couldn't reach with your throat yet. You had to learn he was big for you, so a little of warm up for your mouth was a good start.

He cursed under his breath, thrusting his hips a little to go further, slowly, and you welcomed his cock with a small gag once he reached the back of your throat. He moaned darkly, your rubbed your thighs together when he started to fuck your mouth. Both his hands taking the sides of your head as you choked and gagged around his lenght. You felt him throbbing but he quickly pulled out, and left you empty and with drool falling from your lips, your pussy now aching and clenching around nothing.

"So beautiful," he purred, the touch on your scalp soft now. "But I want to finish inside you."

You nodded, obedient. Cleon helped you to sit down on the bar again, he stayed between your legs, spreading them wide, you held onto him, arms around his neck. He entered slowly, the warmth of your walls swallowing his cock, inch by inch, until it disappeared completely inside your dripping cunt.

You shivered, broken moans falling from your lips. Cleon muffled your low cries with kisses, waiting for you to get used to him.

"Fuck me, Cleon," you mumbled against his swollen lips.

He complied happily, thrusting and pounding into your heat, with a frenetic and brutal pace you had learn to love. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, yor nails scratching his arms and back. His cock touched all the right places inside you and he whispered sweet nothings into your skin, fucking you right under the light of the stars and the void of space.

He moaned along with you, wishing heaven or whatever it was after felt exactly like this. Like you, with your arms around him, your sweet voice calling his name lovingly and whimpering for more, giving your soul to him and only him. Your walls started to clench and his hips stuttered, aproaching a craving release. But in between, he heard a word against his ear you never mumbled before, turning his lustful eyes to you and slowing down his thrusts.

You repeated it again, he was visibly confused but kept ruting into you.

"My name," you said, fingers now caressing his hair.

He smiled. He knew it now. The stranger who saved him had a name after all. Cleon kissed you fiercely, repeating your name again and again between wet kisses. You were close to release, feeling one of his digits rubbing your clit as you moaned together. The wave of electricity took your body first, clenching your pussy around his cock. Cleon followed soon after, rhythm slow and tense muscles, until he spilled inside you, coating your sensitive cunt with his seed.

Catching your breath, you remained together. He sucked on your neck softly, your name was the only thought inside his mind. And as much as you loved his touch on you, you remembered there was something to do still.

"Cleon," you called, getting his attention and feeling he was pulling out of you with a low groan. He looked at you with loving eyes and you smiled. You brushed his hair with your fingers pulling him to yet another smooth kiss. "It's time."

He knew it was. In silence his fingers found his earring, twitsting it and pulling it apart. He took it from his ear and placed it on yours carefully. You were always amazed at his touch, how rough and yet soft and gentle he could be.

"So you can remember me," he smiled when he was over. You let out a laugh and curved your llps in a grin. "It suits you."

"Thanks, Cleon."

Cleon leaned down to kiss you one more time before cleaning both of you. You dressed together as if you were not about to meet finally death. For some reason, you saved everything that was not on their cabinets or initial positions, packing all you could, like if you could take those belongings with you, most of which were from your family. One day Cleon asked why you had clothes that could meet his height, being taller than a lot of people around. You told him it was from your best friend. You thought every piece of clothes or souvenirs would help someday, but it never crossed your mind that it was going to be this way.

When everything was was done, you and Cleon settled in front of the control panel, however, before you could start the holo, a loud explosion could be heard. You frowned, turning to Cleon.

"Did you-? Ah!"

The ship almost overturned as something heavy hit the side, making you trip and fall over with Cleon on the ground. Again, an explosion was heard, far from the ship but clear enough to say it was getting closer, and seconds later, the ship got hit but this time on the glass, almost breaking it over. Quickly, you both stood up and saw what was happening.

"A black hole..."

"Look, there are debris around," you pointed a huge piece that looked the size of your ship, but that definitely was part of a much bigger one. You saw the debris and metal being swallowed and destroyed by the black hole. It wasn't pacing fast, but wasn't slow either. It looked like it was talking its time for much bigger things to eat, such as your ship. Cleon called you, taking your hands and pressing his forehead to yours. You could feel he was shaking, and your skin grew cold. You realised it was really happening now.

"Do it," he said. "Destroy the ship."

After a moment of hesitation, you gave a nod. He kissed you deeply again. You turned the holo to activate the ship and program its own destruction.

"Self-destruction mechanism activated," the computer confirmed.

"We have sixty seconds," you mumbled, tears already forming in your eyes. He cut you off with a kiss. You would miss those warm lips on yours.

"That's enough for me," he said. You smiled and he did the same.

"I love you, Cleon," you embraced his body with a hug. "I am happy I met this kind of pain with you."

He cupped your cheeks, pecking your lips, smiling down at you, saying I love you too. You, the one who saved him and gave him a second chance. Or at least a moment of relief. A place and a person who allowed him to be himself and find things he never knew would have.

"We have more in common now," he whispered. "We are both alone and hurting somewhere in the galaxy.”

[irenespring]

One month until the election...holy shit.

Okay, I'm just going to point out that Project 2025 proposes a sweeping ban of "pornography." So if you write or read smutty fanfiction, or want to protect access to sites like AO3 in general, vote for Harris.

[dontforcemetologin]

watercolour is unbearably annoying.

but heres a guy.

[askscpinhumaneau]

Have a stupid drawing I made..

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 51

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: "I was so afraid… I thought I lost you."

Chapter Warnings: Angst, violence, gore, death

AO3

Spotify

You held him close as you trembled, more fragile than you’d felt since the breach began.

The control over your wild emotions was slipping, but then they were soothed by the hand that gently stroked down your back. You squeezed him tighter.

049 stiffened and made a soft noise of discomfort. The thought of him in pain was the only thing that reeled you in, the tangled web of nerves pushed aside in favor of focusing on him.

You pulled back to get a better look at him. His robes were tattered, as if aggressive moths had nibbled at the edges.

“You’re hurt.”

049 simply smiled with his eyes.

“You’re here.”

Your lips trembled; you couldn’t smile back without fear of the expression breaking.

“Course I am. I had to find you.”

It was… difficult to focus with him staring at you that way, drinking in the sight of you as if he hadn’t expected to see it again.

You wanted to reach out and pull him close again, but you didn’t.

“You’re avoiding the issue.” Your voice was stern, hiding the tremble you felt in your bones. You could fall apart later; right now, you had to find out just how injured he was.

049 released a small sigh and attempted to sit up, only succeeding with the addition of your help. He glanced down at himself, the ruin of his robes, but he was less concerned than you were.

Of course you were concerned, those damn robes were his skin, and he must have been in pain.

“An unfortunate result of being in the Old Man’s web,” 049 relented. “Also… he doesn’t particularly like me.”

You frowned, some of your earlier anger returning. It was fortunate for 106 that he’d closed the way to his dimension, or you would have been tempted to go back and make sure he could never hurt 049 again.

“You were able to extract the digital storage device from my bag,” he added, his gentle voice drawing you from your anger, like purging venom from a wound. His eyes were soft, warm, and God, you’d missed this so much. Missed him.

“I started the breach with 079’s help,” you said. “That’s what you planned, isn’t it?”

His gaze grew heavy and solemn.

“A breach would give you the best opportunity of escape.”

“You didn’t plan on escaping with me.”

“I did not expect to live long enough to try,” he said with a tilt of his head. “My survival was irrelevant to the plan.”

Your face scrunched, anger flickering back to life.

“It’s not irrelevant to me.”

His pale eyes went soft again, unbothered by your sharp words. And when he reached to touch your jaw, you froze, the anger snuffed out, or at least reduced to a simmer.

But 049’s expression wasn’t tender, it was focused. His thumb rubbed your jaw and then pulled back, examining his glove.

“Who did this?”

You looked at his hand but saw nothing against the black fabric.

“What?”

“The Pestilence.” He nearly hissed the word. “It lingers on your skin.”

You frowned.

“I must have gotten it while in there.”

“No… this is different.” He rubbed the spot on his thumb, his voice lowered into an unfriendly rumble. “This is the mask’s brand of corruption.”

Entirely outside of your own control, your face went hot.

“Ah, yeah.” You aimed for casual and landed on awkward. “I ran into 035.”

His gaze darkened so fast it was like a whipcrack.

“I’m okay,” you said in a rush, “079 helped me get away.”

“What… did he want with you?”

He spoke slowly, as if each word had to be chewed before being spit out. You didn’t envy 035 if they ever ran into each other again.

“The usual. Attention, and an opportunity to be a smug asshole.”

That wasn’t the whole of it, and 049 seemed to sense this, his expression unblinking as he waited for you to continue. Which, you did, your hands balled nervously in your lap.

“He was also certain there was a way to leave the facility. All the skybridges have been retracted, but he said there was a way out through the archival section. And that… you would know how to find it.”

That knocked some of the harsh edge out of 049’s steely expression.

“I do not know of any alternate egress from this facility. And I do not know why he believes I would.”

You relaxed a little, even if the news was disappointing. 035 had seemed so insistent on it, too.

And then you backtracked.

“Wait, alternate egress? Do you know of another exit?”

“Of course.” He looked at you askance. “The way we came in.”

The front door. He was talking about the front door.

“Who came up with this plan?” you asked as you rubbed your forehead.

“That would be the one you call SCP-079.”

Ah. Right. 079 had probably been so confident in his own ability to keep the skybridges down that he didn’t consider the possibility of anything else.

“Well, he’s not here, so we’re on our own, unfortunately,” you said. “I guess… we try to find the archival section and see if 035 wasn’t just making up shit. With 079 and 682 gone, I don’t know what else to do.”

049 cocked his head.

“The reptile is… here?”

The question came out so polite in its confusion you almost smiled.

“Yeah, he’s out. I freed him.”

049 only blinked, as if not quite sure what to do with this information.

“There’s so much to tell you, I don’t know where to start,” you said softly. “A lot has happened since they took you away.”

So much, and you didn’t have to hide anything anymore. Not from the cameras, not from 049 in fear of what Leahy would do to him. You realized, for the first time, you were truly alone together.

You moved without thought and knelt between his legs, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing close until there was no distance between you. You tried to be gentle, mindful of his damaged skin, but your need was too great to hold back.

He didn’t stiffen or pull away, only stilled for a moment before pulling you in, arms around your middle. You were on your knees while he sat on the floor, the only way you had height over him, and you pressed him to your chest, not caring of the edges of the beak against your collarbone.

“I found you,” you whispered into the hood of his robes. “I was so afraid… I thought I lost you.”

The fingers dipped against your skin were grounding and warm.

“I had thought death had come for me, after I had avoided its embrace for so long. I had… accepted my fate.”

“I didn’t.” And you never would.

He hummed a pleasant noise, and one hand traced up into your hair to gently touch the strands.

“We are not free of this place yet.”

His voice was quiet, as if afraid to break the fragile moment. But he was right, and you had to get moving. Staying in one place for too long was a guaranteed way to be caught by something violent and murderous.

But… perhaps one more moment wouldn’t hurt.

You pulled back just far enough to cup his head in your hands and press a kiss to his forehead.

The noise he made was strange, like a startled growl or a muffled purr, and a tremor moved him as your lips lingered on his skin. His hands had fallen to your waist, fingers tightening as if to pull you closer.

You ended the kiss but remained where you were, resting your cheek against the crown of his head. You wanted to stay like this, just the two of you. No breach, no lethal lockdown, no stray SCPs or soldiers. Only you and him.

You reluctantly pulled away, giving one last stroke of your thumb over the place on his mask where his cheek would be. He seemed just as unwilling to part from you, his expression naked, something wistful in his grey eyes.

Perhaps once you escaped Site-20, you would have time to figure out what this was without the constant shadow of the Foundation. The problem was figuring out how to leave a facility that was built to be impenetrable. 049 wasn’t at his full strength, and you discovered another problem as you pulled away.

The shotgun slung across your back had corroded beyond recovery, the metal eaten through with black rust. The pistol and gun belt met the same fate, the unnatural rust marring the fabric and metal. The food you’d taken hadn’t fared any better, accelerated into a rotten state. It seemed that anything that hadn’t been in direct contact with your skin had been lost to the leeching hunger of 106’s lair.

You stripped off the useless pieces, thinking over this new obstacle. Without 079, finding another armory would be unlikely. You wondered if he’d betrayed you now that 682 was free.

Or… maybe betrayed wasn’t the right word. He would have considered your bargain fulfilled, whether or not you made it out alive, and would see no reason to wait for your return. From the perspective of a purely mechanical being, it made sense. Except you knew from how 079 felt about 682, he wasn’t entirely cold circuits and unfeeling logic.

So, for the time being, you would work under the assumption that 079 and 682 wouldn’t be coming back. Luckily, you knew where to get more weapons.

“I don’t know how to get out of here, but we need weapons,” you said, getting to your feet and brushing off your knees. “Can you walk?”

“I believe so.”

You reached out a hand, and 049 stared at it with mild confusion, until he understood and took it gently. He was heavy but had more strength than he’d had in the dark realm, and he stood on his own two feet without swaying. It was progress.

You led him from the medical bay, retracing the steps you’d taken with Leahy. You hadn’t really thought about the Site Director after getting 049 back, and your mind shied away from your last image of him. You didn’t need the distraction.

The halls remained just as empty, lit red with emergency lighting and the occasional smear of crimson on the white linoleum. It didn’t take long to reach your destination, and you stood on the threshold, shocked by the destruction. You didn’t remember it being this bad before, or… maybe it hadn’t seemed bad at the time.

049 loomed over your shoulder, taking in the room that had once been the Site Director’s office.

“What has befallen this place?”

You didn’t answer immediately, instead sorting through the blasted office furniture for what you sought, sifting through the carnage with fragile numbness. The bodies were distinguishable from the furniture by the glimpses of pale bone and the stench of cooked flesh. These were no longer people. They were pieces of burnt meat and charred bone.

You tried not to look at them, but it was hard to look at anything else.

“They were guarding Leahy,” you said, trying to keep your voice flat. Unaffected. “And I needed him to find you, so…”

The result was self-explanatory. Or so you thought, but 049’s silence said otherwise as he stared at you.

“I wore the jade ring. SCP-714 affects me… differently than it should.”

His grey eyes flicked around the room.

“I see.”

He offered nothing more, simply watched what you were doing. You picked up a P90 that seemed undamaged, but it caught on an arm, which might not have been a problem if it had been attached to a body. The limb untangled itself and fell to the floor with a sickly thud.

The gun slipped from your fingers and clattered to the sooty, blood-stained floor. You ran out the door, past 049, and dry heaved in the corridor. Nothing came out but drool, your mouth filled with acrid-tasting saliva, and you spit it out.

What was wrong with you? It hadn’t bothered you before, it had been easy. Uncomplicated. They’d been obstacles, and you’d removed them. If you could kill these men, you could damn well face the result.

It wasn’t as if they’d given you a choice. You’d needed Leahy, and now he was… was…

049 appeared at your side, and you straightened, wiping the spittle from your lips. He was carrying two P90s, and they should have looked odd in his hands, like a medieval knight with a smartphone. But it was strangely natural, and he looked strangely comfortable holding them.

He held one out to you, muzzle pointed away, stock first. You took it with unsteady hands, noting he kept the other. You wondered if he’d ever used a gun before, if he even knew how. With the way he gripped it, you had a feeling the answer was yes.

“You’re not accustomed to the dead.”

You gave a small shrug and looked at your gun, pretending you were interested in checking the ammunition clip.

“I’m not used to… causing death.”

“Good.”

You met his eye, his expression serious.

“One should not bear the executioner’s axe with a light step.”

You remained quiet, and he suddenly looked away.

“You… did not have to do this. Not for me. The price you paid may not have been worth the result.”

“It was worth everything.” Your mouth twisted into a scowl as you stepped closer. “I told you. I’m leaving with you or not at all.”

He spoke your first name, softly, and it was almost enough to make you weak. But you kept your expression hard and said, “We need to keep moving.”

You walked away from the Site Director’s office and refused to linger on what was left behind.

Without a concrete plan or much in the way of supplies, your only idea was to go with 035’s original plan, which unfortunately would lead you in the opposite direction of the skybridges. Worse, there were signs of recent activity. Scorch marks that still smoked, blood that still pooled from warm bodies.

The lights had also been restored in this sector, bright and clinical white, making your eyes ache after the dim red. It was harder to hide like this, and it was sheer luck that you both weren’t spotted when you came across a platoon of guards. They were too focused on taking down a twenty-foot-tall anomaly as it swung at them with giant hands, eyes covering its back red with fury.

049 pulled you down a side corridor, and you kept running, the staccato of gunfire and screams echoing the halls, chaos and death filling the sector. You both were blind without 079’s guidance.

The Epsilon-11 soldiers didn’t make a sound until you rounded the corner and froze. 049 couldn’t pull you back quickly enough this time.

You were hit hard in the middle like being slammed by a truck. Your legs went out, and you only remained upright because he hooked his arms under your shoulders and pulled you back out of the line of fire.

He set you down against the wall, leaning across your body and the corner to shoot back. You tried to raise your own P90, but your fingers were clumsy and slick. You looked down and found your smock coated in red.

The gunfire was deafening so close to your head, but 049 still heard your gasped words.

“No,” he said, so firmly it was almost a growl. He fired around the corner, his eyes ablaze with fury and an intent to slaughter. By the cries and falling bodies you heard between the bursts of fire, he seemed to be succeeding. But there were holes in his robes, blood oozing from the wounds at a slower rate than yours. Not bulletproof, after all.

“Please,” you rasped. “We have to.”

“Your body won’t survive the strain.” Another rapid burst of gunfire, lighting his mask in an ominous glaze. “The ring would kill you.”

I’m dying anyway, you didn’t say. And you were dying. All because you rushed that corner without checking first. You’d been so desperate to escape, and now you wouldn’t.

“You… need to go.”

He didn’t acknowledge you, hunched over you like a warding stature, all fire and brimstone. But he still bled, wounds dripping onto your smock to mix with your own, and you noted it was the same. Red blood.

You thought it would hurt more. Your abdomen was torn, littered with holes, but beyond the initial impacts, you didn’t feel much. You didn’t need one of the Foundation surgeons to tell you that wasn’t a good sign.

“Valens,” you tried again. Begged. “Go.”

“No.” Now he did snarl. “Do not ask this of me.”

He wasn’t going to leave. Everything you’d done, everything you both suffered, it would be for nothing.

You looked away, hope draining out of you just as quickly as your blood. And then you caught sight of them. Two circular anomalies peeking through the door you’d just come through. One orange, the other yellow, they jostled each other to get a better look at you with their singular eyes.

SCP-131-A and SCP-131-B. What were the Eye Pods doing here?

They didn’t come into the corridor, clearly terrified of the gunfire as they trembled, rolling back and forth in nervous oscillation. You could even hear the small noises they made, like scared puppies wanting to be comforted during a thunderstorm.

And then you heard another sound. Scrapping, rolling stone, grating against something hard like…

Concrete?

The Eye Pods—they didn’t want your protection. They were warning you.

“The… lights.”

049 ignored you, too focused on the enemy, his eyes narrowed and furious.

“049! The lights!”

He glanced at you questioningly, and his eyes went a little wide as you raised the P90 clumsily in your left hand and fired past him into the ceiling.

Your shots went wide but some of them hit their mark, exploding the fluorescent bulbs overhead in a bright spray of angry sparks.

049 might not understand your reasons, but he didn’t hesitate to follow your actions as he leaned around the corner and fired upward into the squares of light. He took another hit, and another, before you gripped him by the sleeve and pulled him back with the last of your strength.

You didn’t destroy all the lights, some of them remained, but they were damaged, and the corridor flickered with sporadic flashes.

The gunfire paused. And then the screaming started, bullets flying, but not in your direction. The sound of snapping bones punctuated the screams and gunshots, until finally, it was silent.

There was nothing in front of you, 049 sitting next to you as he leaned against the wall, panting and gripping his rifle.

And then, with the next flicker, it appeared in front of you, inches away. Its harmless-looking stubby arms reached out, its painted face strange and unseeing, and yet, its focus solely on you.

The overhead lights flickered again, casting you into brief darkness, and still 173 remained in place.

“How?” Your voice was faint. It was getting harder to draw breath.

“I can see in darkness,” 049 said grimly. “I will watch as long as I can. Blinking is not a necessity.”

The Eye Pods had vanished. If they were here, they could keep 173 in place, but they weren’t, and 049 needed to get somewhere safe.

There was… one thing you could do. One last act for him.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. You weren’t speaking only to 049. “It’s okay.”

You reached out and touched 173 on its stomach. The stone should have felt cold and lifeless, but it was warm, and hatred thrummed under your palm. It was a vibrant, visceral loathing that ran deep, a part of its nature as much as its limbs and painted face.

Its very existence was hatred, born out of a cruel origin it hadn’t chosen, forced into a box where its captors always watched. It hated the staring. The only relief it felt was when it could punish, and the captors couldn’t stare anymore.

All it wanted to do was kill, it had nearly killed you once, and all you felt for it was sadness.

You closed your eyes. You were so tired, your body sluggish as your thoughts wanted to do the same, but you concentrated. Focused on the thing inside of 173 that didn’t belong. The gaping wound that shouldn’t exist, that drove the anomaly to seek pain and death as a balm. And you began to close it.

The hatred dimmed, gradually, like a dying light, one that hurt to look at and would burn everything to ash if it could. But there was something still beautiful about it, and when it was extinguished, you felt its loss. This wasn’t like the black hole, or the suffering, time-dilated patient.

173 had been made of stone, but it was alive.

Had… been alive.

You opened your eyes. 049 was close, his mask inches away as he stared down at you, something rare and novel in his eyes. Fear.

At first, you thought it was fear of what you’d done. But then you realized his hand was pressed to your stomach, trying to stop the flow of blood. His other arm went around your back, and you barely registered the shift in gravity as he lifted you from the ground.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, looking past his shoulder to the SCP that stood there, unmoving. It would never move again, now just a strange piece of art in the flickering light.

The image of the lifeless statue vanished as you closed your eyes, and the world went still.

Next Chapter

[butch-enjoyer]

Horrible scp idea!

It is a soup store that sales canned soup, but once you buy a can, clothes come out of the tin and they all are good quality and very durable. They are good tho but they are cover in soup.

[vnikra]

Sketch

[lady-of-imladris]

Thank you for recommending this to me @fenharel-enaste 👀��� AHDKDJAKDHSKJA

I will never have enough of Brother Day 😈

Can you please write something where he overhears the reader masturbating while calling out his name and then makes her fantasy a reality?

notes: ok this is my favourite Brother Day solo smut that I've written - I also really like this reader's character lol

pairing: Brother Day x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: NSFW content, smut, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, creampie, light humiliation, Day having someone that he can actually act informally with

☾ ⋆ﾟ  MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

The Emperor's advisor

The group of advisors that Dusk had appointed were irritating Day beyond what he could have imagined possible. They were doing very little to actually offer any solutions, mostly just bickering between themselves. So, he went to seek you out, the advisor of his choice. 

You weren’t from Trantor originally but had come to the planet as a politics professor to work at a university on one of the upper subterranean levels. You’d been given the opportunity to study history at a more advanced level, some languages, taken up some philosophy modules. 

You ended up with the perfect resume for a political diplomat and had actually been called to the imperial palace by one of Dusk’s advisors in a small group of scholars. You had exceeded in all tasks given to you compared to the rest of your group and so you found yourself working in the palace more often than not until you were given a live-in job. The palace grounds had more than enough room for its staff and advisors would be called on at any time of day or night if an urgent issue was brought to the Emperors’ attention. 

You were polite, always formal in the appropriate settings and got your damn job done well. He would watch you quietly observe debate among your fellow advisors for a moment before scribbling down some notes and finally deciding to speak where you would proceed to dominate whatever subject they were bickering about, leading a many-faceted argument towards a solution. He almost mourned the loss of your potential in this palace. If you weren’t such a vital tool to him, you would make an excellent leader of some group: a sparsely populated planet or a small one, a kingdom perhaps or a city with a large population. You would be an appraised leader, that much he knew. But he was selfish and he wanted your skills for himself, for his Empire. 

You had stuck out to him so much that he ended up going to you alone to solve problems and he found that, as you analysed different ideas and potential solutions, or when you finished up explaining how he needed to execute your plan, you could grow quite informal, comfortable even. It had led to a strong friendship between the two of you and you had since accompanied him to off-planet meetings or simple recreational activities like hunting or watching performances. There were teasing remarks among the imperial court that you were his lover but they were easily enough ignored, chalked down to humour – people enjoyed trying to knock down their leaders a few pegs. 

As he stormed through the corridors he was about to burst into your room – people of his status could often forget that some things were, in fact, not immediately available for them – and he paused to knock at your door when he heard it. He could just barely hear noise like… crying? 

Day pressed his ear to the door to see if it was truly you sobbing that he could hear but his eyes widened in shock for a moment when he finally focused his senses into discovering what was going on on the other side of the door. You weren’t crying, you were moaning. He could just barely hear the muffled noises of your slick cunt, being filled by your fingers or some toy, he did not know. There was a stirring between his legs as he imagined you, laid across your bed or leaning back into the plush cushions of your sofa, dress discarded and undergarments carelessly tossed to the floor as you pleasured yourself. 

“More… please! More…” He heard you gasp out between moans. Oh? Perhaps you weren’t alone. The thought… displeased him, he decided was the appropriate word. He wasn’t jealous. 

He wasn’t jealous.

His hand curled around the handle of your door, ready to go through with his original plan and simply storm in, but he froze once more at hearing you. 

“Day…” Oh you were alone and you were fantasising about him. He paused to listen to you moan and whimper for a moment longer before he pushed the door open and you gasped. He caught just a glimpse of your two fingers buried in your cunt, your breasts exposed and shimmering with a thin layer of sweat with how you had tugged your dress down. He mourned the sight when you pulled up your neckline with one hand and tugged down your skirt with another, staining the fabric with the slickness that your hand was coated in. 

“Emp-pire.” You greeted, shakily standing to your feet, as was custom out of respect. He smirked a little at the sight of you fighting to keep your balance as he reached back to turn the lock on the door. He noticed that you began to shake more violently as he approached you and you swallowed hard. 

“Y/n.” He spoke simply, beyond amused at the state you were in: embarrassed beyond belief, skin flushed with heat and shimmering with sweat, lips swollen from biting them, your hand holding up your dress practically dripping. Your eyes were wide in a mix of mortification and horror, he wondered if you thought he would have you executed. The grin that painted his lips was utterly wicked, “I believe you called me?” His words made tears well in your eyes and you prayed to every deity you had ever learned the name of that the ground would just swallow you up. 

“I…” You hung your head, “Forgive me, Empire, I beg you.” 

“You can beg better than that, I just heard you.” Maybe if you willed it enough, you could just drop dead, you hoped. He stepped even close to you and two fingers came up under your chin, forcing your head up to look at him, “Have I teased you too much?” You gave him a confused look. He wasn’t appalled at you? He wasn’t offended that he had been the subject of your fantasies? He leaned down over you so that his lips could hover by your ear, “I’d be very interested to hear all about this fantasy of yours, perhaps we could make it come true, hm?” You shuddered at the deep tone of his voice so quiet in your ear. “Sit, please.” He took a step back and made himself comfortable in the armchair adjacent to the sofa that he had found you on. You pressed your thighs together as you returned to where you had been leaning back into the pillows, your back now straight as an arrow. 

“Tell me about this fantasy.” You swallowed hard, knowing that you would need to muster up your courage quickly because Cleons weren’t the type to be made to wait. 

“Everyone else had left the council chamber,” You began in a weak voice, “It was just the two of us… I didn’t really have the patience to think over the links from point A to point B but it ended with me being bent over and pinned down to the table with you leaning over me and fucking me.” He let out a low hum and you watched as his hand began to palm his half-hard cock through his clothing. 

“The chamber’s quite full at the moment,” He paused to bite on his lower lip, clearly in thought, “it’s why I came to fetch you, after all. But it will be empty once you come up with one of your brilliant plans.” He grinned at you and a sense of pride outweighed your embarrassment for a moment: you truly were his most trusted advisor. “Now why don’t you show me how you were touching yourself, hm?” Unable to get the words out, you merely nodded your head as you slowly, slowly, began to pull the skirt of your dress up your legs, leisurely spreading them apart as you did so, leaning back as you kept your eyes fixed on his face, wanting to see his reaction to the show you were making of this. 

When your wet cunt was finally revealed to him, he let out a satisfied groan and you began to slide your fingers up and down on either side of your slit before resuming where he had interrupted you and sinking two fingers inside of yourself, letting out a soft moan. His gaze burned with lust and it only spurred you on, perhaps even stroked your ego to see an Emperor so entranced by the sight of you touching yourself, watching him continue to palm himself through his clothing. Besides, what use was limiting this exchange with your embarrassment when you would need to have your memories erased and you wouldn’t be able to recall any of this tomorrow?

You had always thought that the long, blue, flowing robes suited him, made him look powerful – and colour matched his namesake: Day – but now you detested them for hiding so much of his body from your eyes. 

You picked back up on the pace that you had set for yourself before, although you had now come right back down from that high you had been just about to tip over. Day had now reached inside his clothes, pushing fabric aside to take out his strained cock, stroking himself as you pumped your fingers in and out of your cunt. 

“Tell me when you’re close.” He commanded and you nodded your head as you let your head fall back, your back arching as you began to rock your hips, losing yourself in pleasure and moaning out his title airily when you brushed against that soft spot within you. You had always insisted on calling him Day instead of Cleon – Cleon felt too impersonal given the whole clone thing, Brother Day felt too formal but Day seemed to suit him just fine in your mind. He would not always be Day, of course but you had never known him as Dawn and you had no idea if you would still be in the palace when he became Dusk. A good part of you hoped that you would be though and you would simply have to adjust to calling him Dusk at some point in your life. 

“Close.” You whined out as you began to reach your peak. You could hear a moan be pried from his lips as he watched your entire body tense up in anticipation of your rapidly approaching orgasm. 

“Stop!” The word came out as all of his orders did: a snap in an unmistakably authoritative voice. However, given that you wouldn;t be able to remember any of this tomorrow, you had already thrown caution to the wind and so it was not his command that stopped you but his hand wrenched around your wrist. When had he crossed the distance between you? 

“I gave you an order.” His eyes narrowed at you and all you could really do was pout at your ruined orgasm as he pulled your hand away, fingers slipping out of you. 

“And I deliberately disobeyed you.” You drawled out, eager to see how he would respond to such behaviour. He had never been denied anything in his own palace. He had had things negotiated out of his grasp, as was often a certainty in diplomacy, but nothing had ever been outright denied of him without a shred of hesitation and neither had anyone been so bold as to outright admit it. 

“Ah, she’s bold outside of the council chamber too. How interesting.” He remarked as he grabbed you by the hip and thigh, hoisting you into his arms and quickly wrapping one around your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck, hands tangling in his neither short nor long hair. You found yourself being dropped onto your bed in the adjacent room, your body being flipped over so that you were on your front. 

“Ah-ah.” You tutted, turning over and reaching up to softly, oh so softly, cup his face with one hand while the other landed on his bicep, trailing down his arm. “I won’t be taken like one of your Gossamer girls during our first time together, Day.” Your eyes flickered between his and you watched a spark of curiosity ignite behind them at your words. 

“Then how would you have me take you?” He threw back and you hummed slowly before your fingers reached the aura around his wrist and you tossed it aside, pushing up with all the momentum you could muster to flip the two of you over, now straddling his hips and leaning down to undo the clasps of his robes, throwing them open and grinding down against his cock as you moaned lowly, hands roaming all over his toned torso. You had never considered him not having a belly button before but, as you noted it, it didn’t take a lot of thought for it to make sense – he came from no womb, after all. 

“Not like a prized whore, that’s for certain.” You quipped as you took in the sight underneath you, sliding the length of his cock through your drenched slit, just teasing him with the thought of being inside of you and not yet allowing him. 

“Then as a prized advisor instead?” His hands landed on your hips, guiding your teasing pace and coaxing you to circle them slightly. 

“And how does one fuck their prized advisor, might I ask?” You made no protest when he flipped you over, now hovering over you, leaning down to crash his lips to yours in a hot kiss before trailing down your neck, lips grazing the shell of your ear. 

“Until she can’t get another word out of her smart little mouth.” And you cried out when he pushed into you unexpectedly, head falling back with a moan at the feeling of being filled by something so much larger than your fingers. Once he had eased you into taking him all the way, he set up a relentless pace, knowing that Dusk and his advisors would likely be wondering where he was by now. Your hands landed on his shoulder, nails raking down his back as you tried to pull him even closer, arching your back up into him and pulling him down for a messy kiss as he pounded into you. His lips landed on your neck once more and you whimpered at the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin. 

“No marks, the council–” You began to protest but found yourself cut off by a loud moan when one of his hands snaked down to caress your clit. 

“Fuck the council.” He rasped in your ear. 

“I can see you’re doing that.” You quipped with a small laugh that melted into a moan. You could feel his laugh in his chest as he leaned down over you, not faltering in his pace once and it made you smile blissfully. 

His fingers rubbed against your clit with more urgence and you tangled your hands in his hair as you were pushed towards your orgasm for the third time. If he took it from you again, you told yourself that you would have no choice but to flip the two of you over and ride him until half the imperial palace were looking for him. 

“Please let me come for you.” You moaned against his ear, legs wrapping around his waist, “And come for me too, please come for me.” Your words seemed to spur him on as his thrusts became firmer and he muffled a moan against your shoulder as your walls clamped down around him, your body writhing in pleasure as your orgasm hit you, leaving you panting for breath and holding him close, unable to form any words despite how you wanted to beg him to come in you. Though, that seemed to be unnecessary as his pace faltered and he gave a last few erratic thrusts before you felt him spill inside of you, body collapsing on top of yours and you gladly accepted the weight of him above you. 

Your head lolled back against the pillows as your finger carded through his brown hair, carefully bringing your legs down from around his waist and wincing at the ache the movement caused in your inner thighs. 

“We should go to the council chamber.” You breathed out, making no effort to move. There was a disgruntled hum of agreement against your neck. You patted your hand against his shoulder twice, “Come on, up. We need to get dressed and get my head wiped or else we’ll be really, really late.” He propped his head up at your words, his expression almost hurt. 

“What makes you think I’d have your memories wiped?” He asked and you pushed a hand against his chest to get him off you, heading for the bathroom on shaky legs where you grabbed a cloth and ran it under the tap, beginning to awkwardly wipe yourself clean. You shrugged. 

“I just assumed it was some protocol thing, I know it’s done to the Gossamer girls.” 

“Protocol would also say that I shouldn’t have slept with you at all but it seems rules have gone out of the window today.” He asked as he joined you, watching you from where he stood behind you in the mirror, taking up your hairbrush and carefully combing it through your locks after he wiped himself down with a towel, wishing the two of you had time for a shower together. 

“Then aren’t I a lucky woman?” You mused, watching him thoughtfully, trying to decipher what was going on in his head. He placed the brush down and his hands landed on your shoulders, running down your arms and wrapping around your waist, holding you close. He didn’t want to leave you with so many questions, he didn’t want to have to go out there and think about anything other than you, let alone interplanetary politics. 

“We’re not going to the council.” He spoke as he let you go, walking over to your shower to begin running the water. 

“What?” You asked. 

“Dusk was Day before me. He can handle this one problem, big as it may be, as he’s handled so many before. Right now, I just… I want to be with you, near you, talk things out.” 

“You’re being uncharacteristically open.” You smiled softly as you stood under the water and beckoned for him to join you. 

“I… enjoy your company and I would not want to ruin what…”

“What we have? It’s ok to say it, we both know there’s something there. We don’t need to be too hasty to name it. It’s enough for it to be acknowledged for now.” You mused, reaching for some soap to lather against a washcloth, beginning to carefully wash his chest. He reached for your cheek, chumb caressing your skin there as he smiled at you. No words needed to be exchanged to know that this was the beginning of something new. What that something would be, you had no idea yet. You just had a strong feeling that you would like it.

☾ ⋆ﾟ Buy me a coffee?

🏷️@clumsycopy

[papiliomame]

JUMPSCARE WARNING!

Things That Bleed by @artistfingers , @ghostly-cabbage and @kkachis

I was in the mood for some horror stories and I always saw this fic as a recommended fic on my dash. And yeah it's awesome go read it! Also, I really like the font and the formatting it's really nice on the eyes. I was inspired to make make a model for SCP!Danny and to animate a scene from it.

The animation is the barn scene(chapter 4) from Officer Alvarez POV. (I wish I could add some audio but I'm not a sound designer.)

And here are a turnaround and some screenshots for the Dannymodel but with his normal hairstyle.

[jay-wasreblogging]

Fanfic authors be like

[anundyingfidelity]

INTERROGATION GONE WRONG – Cleon XIII/Brother Day

Summary: Cleon XIII interrogates his statisticians about Hari Seldon's predictions. His in-turn maid remains there hearing the conversation, unbeknownst to him, knowing the answer - at least part of.

Pairing: Cleon XIII/Brother Day x female maid reader.

Word count: 2.9k.

Warnings: extremely dub-con, smut, abuse of power, forced orgasm, choking, fingering, degradation, p in v, creampie, not the soft aftercare you're waiting for. The author is also non native English speaker.

Notes: this is based on that scene of 1x04. This is the most non-con thing I've written ever. I gave my warnings. Also please watch Foundation lol, this show reminded me of how much I loved Lee Pace since like 2014. Once I'm in, I will never get out and I needed to write something for Cleon I love him he is an idiot.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

The man fell with a thud on the floor. You should be scared, surprised, trembling with fear, but this was not new behavior for you or anyone in the palace. Since Seldon's exile and the disaster shaking the Empire gradually, the response of the new Cleon was clearly expected after being a witness of a poor reunion and inconvenience with the staticians. More than a conversation, it felt like a judgment, a death one.

"Dining, now," he ordered passing by your figure on his way to leave the throne room. With a bow, you followed in an instant and ready to serve him.

Cleary, you could tell he was not in the good mood that day, already skipping the meal for breakfast with his brothers earlier; something that was out of the itineraries. Once a change of the routine happened, it meant something was off, so you thought. Demerzel was also not around, attending other meetings, so this left you alone with Empire, opening the door of the sole dining room the Brothers used privately, with the tall figure of Cleon XIII waiting impatiently for his midday meal and looking every move you made around the place to please him as fast as your feet allowed.

The cooks served the meal arranged from the menu after your order and they left as rapid as they came in, Brother Day dispatching them with a hand gesture once they were done. You took a couple of steps back, standing close to the table but ready in case he dispatched your presence as well.

"Not you, you stay," he commanded after sipping his wine for the first time, eyes focused on the plate he would eat.

"Yes, Empire."

You had to obligue, and that is what happened. You watched him from the corner of your eye, from time to time in silence, pretending to be unconcerned and collected, though that was far from being true. The whole meal time was eternal, specially that day. With no Brother Dawn nor Brother Dusk around for Brother Day to have a bland talk with, only the sound of fine cutlery clinking against porcelain as Empire ate. Boring, your head began to spin around, thinking in non-senses and theories of what you heard and read from Seldon's predictions of the fall. Empire was cruel, but it had you working, serving food to your plate, and probably that was enough. But it didn't stop your curiosity of learning further the philosophy of Hari Seldon.

When in front of Empire, your gaze seemed lost but your mind was working. You never said a single comment about studying Seldon's theory, of course. You were just a maid. Science and university never were a good pair for a woman who served the Empire. However, you still found the math behind his calculations as something intriguing and fascinating for some reason...

"Maid," the loud voice of the Emperor interrupted your daydream. "I said, wine."

The intense look on his eyes forced you to attend his order fast, serving more of the fermented liquid on the cup standing besides his plate.

His large hand took the cup when you filled it with wine and he sipped again, his eyes scanning you slow and deep. You knew he sensed something was wrong with you. Swallowing, you noticed he already had finished with his meal, so you finally you dared to speak.

"Can I retire your plate, Empire?"

"Is there something you want to share, maid?" he responded, blatantly ignoring your question and dragging your title like it was nothing but a shameful word to spill.

"At all, Empire," your voice came as a whisper.

Brother Day stood on his feet with such grace and started a slow walk towards your figure. You wanted to step away, but you feet were glued to the ground, so his tall and intimidating form washed over you soon.

"Speak," he instructed coldly. You started to tremble, unable to take off your scared eyes from him, bitting your bottim lip as he leaned. "Or do you want to be punished?"

His hand forced around your neck all of a sudden. As an act of reflection, you tried to pull back from his grip, but he was much stronger, having you in place and cutting your breath. "I know you hide enthusiasm around Doctor Seldon's theories," he whispered darkly on your ear. "I am not giving you a choice, speak!"

As he yelled down his last words, he pushed you harshly, body falling to the grown. Air filled your lungs once again and you coughed, sitting down and watching that he was coming closer with big steps. You dragged yourself on the floor using your hands and feet trying to not tangle yourself with the fabric of your dress. Fighting the tears on your eyes, your back touched the wall and sobbed. There was nowhere to go now. So you finally confessed.

"Your staticians would not give you a number because it's true!" you cried out. Brother Day stopped on his tracks just a couple of inches before you. "It's all true, Doctor Seldon is right. And it all began with the Star Bridge, I know you were a child when it happened because I was a child too when the crisis started. There is a probability, but is not zero," you said, recalling his words.

You saw his face changed. He was exhasperated already, but rage appeared in his eyes in a very visible way; a rage that you had yet to see from Empire. Fear took over you, afraid of what would happen next. Should you keep talking? Should you continue crying? Scream for nobody to come around for your sake? As you questioned yourself, he lowered himself to be at your level on the ground. Brother Day never sat down, but he was making sure to get under your skin. His powerful gaze had a quick effect to do that.

"Go on."

Too scared to speak, you opened your lips but no sound came out. Empire waited your words for a moment, scrutinizing your face. And still, nothing came. He grabbed your arm with a rough grip, forcing you to stand up, colliding with his body until your back hit the empty part of the table he had been eating in.

"You have ten seconds to continue or I will force everything that is in your head out of you, maid," Cleon threatened. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three-"

"I said it was probability," you shuddered. "Life is a probability by all means and Seldon knows that," you breathed, aware that Brother Day was feeling your shaking body under his piercing eyes. "I studied Doctor Seldon's psychohistory and theory for the last four years, learning math and other sciences on my free time on the library. So even if I don't posses a title, I know his hypothesis was only that at the time; a hypothesis can be null, but also be provable, and thus now is not untrue."

He slowly leaned away.

"So you say there is no error on Seldon's ecuation," he concluded, jaw clenching.

"None that I could find."

Brother Day paced in front of you, back and forth, hrad processing what he just heard. You could tell he was getting what he wanted, but nothing was what he really longed for. And what you found was nothing but the truth. Maths don't miss, it was useless to lie.

"How do you simply fall into a conclusion like that? Prophecies of the Empire declining into a dark age after centuries of rising. Of our legacy!" he stopped again and went back to your figure, trapping your body between himself and the dining table. You felt his breath when he leaned close, the smell of wine and fruits mixing with his cologne was intoxicating your nostrils as the last tears flowed down your cheeks. Sooner or later, you thought he was going to end up with your life. You had nothing left to lose by now.

"It's simple history and logic. Everything that goes up has to go down, even empires."

All you felt was his big palm slapping your face, your back hitting the edge of the table. A hurted moan filled the room, and he forced you to look at him grabbing your chin with the same strenght he had used on you all this time, like you were nothing more than a doll to play with as he pleased.

"In other circumstances, I would find you amusing," he breathed gainst your lips. The touch of his thumb on your cheek, wiping away your last tears, contrasted the roughness of his words, his body between your legs and his weight pressing you to lie down on the surface.

"Psychohistory words, not mine," you whispered, your hands running to wrap around his wrist, but his aura repelled instantly your touch. It was useless to keep trying. So here you were, ready for Brother Day to end with your life in just the blink of an eye. "Maybe Brother Dusk made a mistake," you continued, giving up on leaving the room alive. "Make Hari Seldon stay instead..."

Brother Day pressed further against you, almost crushing you with his significant huge frame.

"Such a talented brain and mouth, why don't I put you to good use? I think I deserve it."

He forcefuly turned you around until you were bending over the table, a loud gasp falling from your mouth. One of his hands making its way between your legs caused your thighs to press together, trying to stop him, but it was impossible, so you had nothing to do but beg.

"Please, Empire," you felt like crying again at his touch, his fingers cupping your clothed pussy in a slow motion. "Stop, please-"

"Shut up, whore," he grunted, rubbing his crotch against your ass and slammed your face with his free hand so you had your cheek lying against the cold surface. "I had enough from you."

Heartbeat rising, you tried with no results to escape from his body cage. The sway of your hips caused Empire to grow eager. His slender fingers pushed your panties aside, coating them with your own wetness, and that was certainly something you did not expect to be down there. He hummed in response, rubbing your folds, and you exhaled once he entered one finger.

Your body responded to his ministrations, his growing erection pressing against the curve of your ass while he played with your cunt as he wanted, easing a second digit inside your walls. Probably you should just give in by now as you felt your muscles tighten, already reaching your high. Almost. The first moan of pleassure escaped your throat and you regreted the answer of lust coming from your body the following instant, your palms holding yourself on the table.

His long digits fucked you faster and your legs trembled, his thumb played with your clit so deliciously you thought you were passing out soon. He leaned down until you could feel his breath on your neck.

"Fucking take it," he groaned, feeling your warm walls pulsing around his fingers.

Almost not having control over your body, your legs further opened, like his voice just ordered you to do it.

"Please, please..."

Again, you cried and begged, not sure of the reason. For pleassure, shame, mercy... Anything was possible at that moment as whimpers and moans fell from your mouth.

The sensation grew stronger down your belly, feeling him exploring your insides too deep, touching a place no man nor your fingers reached before. It happened repeatedly, it felt so sweet and sinful. Like something you never knew but you were sure would leave you aching for more. His fingers making you so drunk and pleading for a release, and the seconds that passed by were endless until you finally blissed out with a loud moan, convulsing by the work of his hand.

Brother Day gave himself a wicked smile, watching you squirm and gasp. Such a strong orgasm he ripped out of you. He pulled his fingers away from your pulsing cunt and admired your wetness coating them before he raised the skirt of your dress and took off your panties until they were hanging between your ankles.

You grimaced at the feel of his big palms rubbing your ass cheeks, parting them to get a view of your throbbing heat, still clenching around nothing. You could listen to him undoing his pants. He hissed, taking his hard lenght to rub the sensitive skin of your ass and his thick tip teased your slit, sliding slowly inside. You gasped at the sudden intrusion as he stopped from filling you up completely, feeling your tight cunt embracing him.

"Empire, please not this-"

"This is how I prefer you," Cleon whispered on your neck, you stopped your plea. "Submissive and quiet. You are not so bold now, are you?"

And he slowly entered your pussy further. You whined, nails scratching the fine material of the table. You were so tight and warm. He had to control himself of not pounding into you right away. Being filled up by the Emperor shouldn't arouse your body like this, but your heat welcomed his cock like it was the perfect missing piece of a puzzle.

"Are you a virgin, maid?" he asked, hips giving a couple of shallow, slow thrusts. Your hips moved in sink with his own, your nipples were now hard and erect against the surface, scratching the fabric of your bra and dress, giving up into heavenly bliss. Sweet mewls left your lips as he stretched your cunt. And it was oh, so long since you felt this full.

"No, Empire."

Your response was the green light. He started to rut into you. Rough. Even if your answer was to be different, you knew Empire would not care. He used to get away with what he wanted, and right now he wanted you. His own grunts made eco along with the sound of his skin hitting your ass, your moans escaping without any shame now. The small amount of discomfort he caused was transformed into pleassure and arousal, keeping his hands firmly on your hips.

"Then you can take it, you've done this before," he mocked, increasing his rough pace.

His grip was strong on your sides, you knew his fingers would leave marks on your skin once you finished. But nothing mattered, you decided, the only on your mind was reaching sweet climax and release. You could not escape from him, not ever. So your body and mind could go through it.

Cleon's eyes found the perfect spot of view to see his cock entering and sliding out your perfect pussy, his shaft glistening with your wetness and his own precum. He stopped and pulled out for a moment, teasing with entering and pulling out, watching himself sliding inside your body.

"Oh gods," he listened to your broken moan, breath hitching.

He again cupped your neck with his palm, fingers roaming around your throat, forcing your back to meet his chest. Your moans were cut by his firm hand, air being a privilige as seconds passed by. He sucked and bit the skin of your neck, burying his cock until his balls met your ass repeteadly, finding that sweet spot of yours.

"Cum," he ordered. "Cum or you will not breath again."

You knew you were close, but you needed it faster. You needed to breath, as good as his cock felt, fucking you and splitting you open, you still needed to make it until the end. Your fingers found your clit and played with your bud as Empire bucked his hips fast and rough. Finally, your muscles tensed and forced a hard orgasm out of you, walls pulsing around his dick. He grunted, not slowing his thrusts, softening the hand around your neck allowing you oxygen again.

"Merciful am I?" he groaned and you felt his seed painting your insides, cock throbing as he also came from his high.

"You are, Empire," you breathed out.

Your back arched and you held yourself on his hands and chest. You heard the sound of one of the chairs being taken out, being dragged by him until you felt he sat down, you on his lap with his cock still burried deep inside you. His slick cum ran down your inner thighs as he parted your legs, touching your abused cunt and clit, feeling how you were still connected. He rubbed your pussy in slow, gentle moves, collecting his cum mixed with your juices. He offered his fingers to your lips, so you licked them as he wished, sucking them clean. Your walls pulsed again.

"So obedient now," Cleon purred.

His hands undid your dress to free your chest, groping your tits as he pleased. He played with your nipples, just like he had played with all of you in a few minutes.

"What will happen to me?" you asked in a murmur.

"Such a pretty cunt you are," Brother Day began, tracing kisses on your shoulder. His voice made you shiver. "You would please me a lot as a cuncubine of the Gossamer Court."

You swallowed hard, not capable of speaking or fighting back. He felt your body tensing so he continued his speech in your ear. "No worries, I can play with you some more before it happens. And you will tell me everything you know about Seldon."

[melinoelabs]

Why do we get results where the competition doesn't?

Well, I'll tell you.

We treat the strange, anomalous and extranormal with all the dignity and respect it deserves.

And not a drop more.

Sure, we could be like the Wal-Mart of extreme sciences, spinning an ever-expanding impossibly huge web of lies and coverups while trying desperately, futilely, to lock up and control it all to keep normalcy afloat.

But I ask you, what has normalcy ever done for us, really? It maintains the natural order? Newsflash, Scippy, the natural order is neither of those things and, quite frankly, it sucks to boot!

Be the strange you want to see in the world, that's our motto! *

The reverence for the mundane is a truly sad form of idolatry friends, empirically verified in the bottom 10% of idolatry experiences by multilateral studies.

That's the real 001 you're trying to keep locked down. The World. Object Class: Bemused. Containment Class: Sisyphean.

Tell me, what's more "normal":

Spending millions watching and waiting for a bunch of redcaps to turn some suburban family into organic dye, send in a squad to wipe out the nest, drug the witnesses, and pretend the whole thing never happened just to do it again the next week...

Or selling easy to use, affordable Puck-Off Brand™ live-capture traps to an alerted populace?

Remember, we were all terrified by the internet at first and now it's just annoying. Same principle applies.

Anyhow, stop trying to kidnap my pet. Walbert is not an 'anomaly', he's a very sensitive purebred New Cheddland dromiceiomimus, with papers, and is a very good boy.

Kindly,

Director Maria Kleinheart

*If you are in possession of an unused portion of any previous mottos, return the unused portion for an updated replacement and complementary antidote.

[jtweird-brainrot]

PSA: JUST SO WE’RE ALL ON THE SAME PAGE AND THERE’S NO CONFUSION

Agent [REDACTED] is a canonical character in the SCP Foundation who is mention in SCP-076 file

Agent DIMITROV is an OC that is BASED on Agent [REDACTED], he is made by @arson-jellyfish69 and @who-is-this-weirdo (art by arson)

In my fanfics, I call him Dimitrov, mostly because I like the OC and I don’t want to call him REDACTED.

But just so we all understand, I DID NOT MAKE DIMITROV NOR DO I OWN DIMITROV

He belongs to Arson and who-is-this-weirdo, NOT ME! I just write the dorky fics

Anyways, there’s your psa

[overseer-o5-1]

My first voice acting role!

Come check out the amazing gifts and unique perks to support our upcoming game! There's multiple prizes and cool items to unlock in the tiers, even the lowest tiers come with interesting prizes, such as pins, t-shirts, concept art books, and behind the scenes footage!

We've reached almost 2600$ in funding! 1/10 the way there!

Visit this link to help us reach our goal and fund the artists!

https://scp-infohazard.kckb.me/9be6bd92

[askscpinhumaneau]

Name a more arrogant, dramatic b*tch SCP, I'll wait.

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 52

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: "I couldn't let you die."

Chapter Warnings: Angst, blood, hurt/comfort

AO3

Spotify

Dull pain throbbed everywhere, attempting to coax you back to sleep, but you fought against it. The tangy smell of iron tickled your nostrils in an unpleasant way, and with Herculean effort, you forced your eyes open.

You were lying on your back, a blanket pulled over you and a pillow under your head. There was another blanket underneath you to shield you from the chill of the floor, but you didn’t recognize the storage room lined with shelves filled with sturdy metal boxes.

The lights were dim but steady—wherever you were must still have power. You tried to sit up and sensed something wrong as your stomach stretched strangely, tugging at your skin.

You were also naked. Your medical gown and leggings lay in a heap nearby, both stained with blood and the tarry blackness of 106’s layer. You lifted the blanket to gaze at your body, noting your skin was cleaned of blood and grime, but then you froze at the sight of your stomach.

Stitches lined your abdomen in rows, as if someone had pieced you back together. You gently touched the black thread and faintly recalled the impact of the bullets tearing through you, and of 049 lifting you into his arms before everything went dark.

049.

You lifted your head and spotted the dark space you’d missed before, mistaking the black shape for shadows.

049 sat hunched against the wall, his arms propped on bent knees. His breath came in and out in soft wheezes, the noise you’d mistaken for the AC trying to come back on.

He stared back when your eyes met, and there was a haunted look in their depths. You took in the rest of him, his gloves covered in dried blood, the satchel perched next to him with its clasps shut. He must have gotten his old bag while you’d been unconscious, and you were afraid how long that had been.

You were also afraid of what had put that look in his eyes.

“I…” He choked out the word, hesitant and fearful. You couldn’t remember ever hearing him like that. “I couldn’t… let you die.”

Every movement of your limbs was in protest, but that didn’t deter you from wrapping the blanket around your body and crawling the short distance into his lap with the last of your flagging strength. He caught you easily and pulled you the rest of the way, settling you on top of his thighs as he held you around the waist, careful of the injuries he’d stitched together.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled into the side of his neck, even though you had no idea if that was true. You didn’t know how many bullets he removed or how close you were to death, but that didn’t disturb you as much as how unsteady he was, his arms around you trembling. “We should… try to keep moving. I think I can walk.”

Walking seemed unthinkable at the moment, but you couldn’t stay. If you were caught, you and 049 would be separated again, and there was no way in hell you’d let that happen. Not after everything you’d done to get him back—

“I couldn’t let you die.” 049 trembled again, his voice small and lost. “I… couldn’t.”

“I know,” you said, trying not to let your own fear show. Something was wrong with him. He was spiraling. You leaned back far enough to look into his eyes, trying to get him to focus on you. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

The fear didn’t quite leave his gaze, but at least his breathing had slowed from the shallow wheezes.

“You cannot die,” he repeated a third time, but his voice held the steadfastness it was missing before. “For if you do, those around you meet the same fate.”

You opened your mouth and then closed it.

“That’s what you said to Puli in the interview,” you said. “When you insisted I had the Pestilence, and everyone would die horribly if I wasn’t cured.”

His gaze softened, sad at the edges.

“I may have been… theatrical in my fervor, but it was the truth, and still is.”

“But what does it mean?”

His pale gaze drifted to a point around your throat, as if gathering his thoughts. As badly as you wanted answers, it was nice to sit still for once, even if your gut throbbed with a deep ache. 049’s warmth under you, and his hands braced along your back, was soothing and a little distracting. Now that he was here with you, it was hard to keep your hands in check and not touch every part of him you could.

“If there is a deeper meaning,” he finally said, “it is beyond my knowledge. It is simply your nature. Your death would signal the destruction of all who remain in this facility, and perhaps a wider radius beyond that. It would accelerate decay and darkness, and leave the world broken and vulnerable.”

That was… about as clear as mud.

He must have seen your confusion, because he continued, “Your Foundation have devices in their possession that ‘heal’ breaches and strengthen the tethers of the laws of physics.”

“Reality anchors.”

His eyes creased in a pleased smile.

“Yes, precisely. You have glimpsed the breadth of your abilities, and it is much more than negating anomalous properties. The essence of your purpose is to nullify anomalies. Completely.” His words dropped into a grim tone. “As you have discovered with the grotesque statue.”

You didn’t like where this was going. Really didn’t like it. So you pushed forward and changed the topic back to something that didn’t feel so dangerous.

“What does this have to do with me dying? You said it would bring catastrophe.”

He tilted his head.

“You have already guessed the answer. You serve as a reality anchor. Your death would cause a… cascade failure in a localized area, rending reality unstable. Anomalies would spontaneously appear in the zone of influence, and any previous anomalies and humans that survive the untethered reality would most likely fall prey to these new, more violent entities.”

Your mouth had gone dry, your throat tight.

“I don’t understand. How do you know all of this?”

His tone was the equivalent of a shrug.

“It simply is. Every anomaly you meet will understand it. Even the Foundation knows of your kind, though they did not know you are among them. Even the Site Director guessed incorrectly at your designation. You already have a designation. All thirty-six of you share it.”

A shiver ran up your spine.

“There are… others? Like me?”

That warm smile again, like you were a quick student learning a difficult lesson.

“I’ve met only one other, but yes.”

“You met one?”

“A researcher, much like yourself. Perhaps I should not be surprised another of your kind found their way to this organization. We draw you to us, and we are drawn to you. It’s not a conscious choice, it’s simply what you are.”

“SCP-001.” At his widening eyes, you added, “That’s what 079 called me.”

The breath he expelled was heavy, as if something weighed on his chest, and his voice lost its previous firmness, becoming too quiet.

“I couldn’t let you die.”

You reached up and placed a palm on his hood, over where his cheek would be, and turned his head so he looked down at you.

“You didn’t. I’m alive. I’m here, because of you.”

Some of the fear faded from his eyes, but there was a lingering sadness you didn’t like. You couldn’t quite reach his forehead this time, so you pressed your lips to the side of his beak, lingering on the faint, comforting scent of him. You wished you could take the time to just be with him. It felt as if the breach had been going on for days, when in reality it couldn’t be more than a few hours.

This time when you pulled back, the apprehension had been chased away entirely, replaced by a different kind of darkness. A familiar one. You remembered it most vividly in the shower that was meant for planning escape and had ended up with you braced against the wall, 049 fucking you so thoroughly you’d forgotten your own name, only able to repeat his.

You averted your gaze, needing to stare anywhere that wasn’t his face. The only thing separating you was a thin blanket, something you were very aware of perched on his legs. Despite having been shot in the gut and gone through some kind of surgery, you felt surprisingly good. Good enough that, if you were someplace safe, you would have pushed that blanket aside, straddled his lap, and coaxed out his cock and made him forget his fears.

But you weren’t somewhere safe, and now you were fucking frustrated and horny and—

Your attention fixated on his chest. The rough hide of his skin was usually a dull, leathery texture, but something had caked itself across his robes. You sucked in a breath and carefully traced the outline of what were unmistakably bullet holes.

“Oh, no, oh God, you’re—”

049 let out a huff of air, like a chuckle, though you didn’t see anything funny.

“I have already removed them. Metal pellets aren’t enough to destroy me, though I admit, it was not a pleasant experience.”

“No, it’s not.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, fingers still tracing a wide circumference around the healing wounds. He should be fine if he could joke about the fact he was shot, at least.

“We can’t stay here,” you said. He gave a faint hum of agreement, but neither of you moved. One arm was braced against your lower back, and his other hand was on your upper arm, his thumb rubbing your shoulder in a soft, absent-minded pattern. You could easily fall asleep like this, though the sensation of his thumb stroking your bare skin where the blanket had slipped down was enough to keep one part of you awake.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, your eyelids slipping closed against your wishes. “For saving me. Even if, you know… you had no choice because I’m a ticking time bomb.”

“Do you believe that’s the only reason I did it?”

His answer was a low rumble that tickled up your spine and pulsed in your abdomen, and you were very glad he couldn’t see your face at this angle.

“We should, uh, keep going.”

You tried to get up, and for a moment, 049 held you firm. You would fold like wet tissue paper if he decided to just keep you there, but instead he lifted you off his lap, rose to his feet with a wince, and picked you up like you weighed nothing.

You wobbled when he set you on your feet, and you tugged the blanket around your shoulders to keep it from slipping. Your face was still flushed, and that didn’t help, along with your nakedness.

“I—my clothes—”

Before you could finish, 049 unclasped his bag and reached in, rummaged around, and pulled out a stack of clothing. It was an exact replica of your smock, leggings, and underwear, but at least they were clean and whole.

“Thanks,” you said, carefully taking the stack with one arm while the other held up the blanket. Before you could ask—and you weren’t entirely sure you would have—049 turned away from you to give you privacy to dress.

You let the blanket drop and shivered in the cold air before pulling on the smock, careful not to bend or move too sharply to dislodge the stitches. Every time you glimpsed them your stomach flipped like a stormy ocean, and you were glad to cover them.

Once you were clothed, you pulled out your old gown, wincing at the rips and streaks of blood. You dug around in the pockets but found nothing. You searched the bloodied lab coat next, but that too was empty.

��Shit,” you muttered, turning out the pockets to be thorough. “I can’t find 714.”

“The jade ring?”

“Yeah, have you seen it?”

“I have not.” He didn’t sound especially upset by that fact. “These things have their own schedule to keep, but perhaps you will find it when needed.”

You peered at him, but your suspicions didn’t last. You couldn’t imagine 049 taking the ring and lying about it, and he was right. Anomalies did tend to have a mind of their own, even if they weren’t sentient or alive.

“I’m done.”

He didn’t turn around immediately, distracted by his arm elbow-deep in his bag. The combat boots you’d taken from the armory seemed in decent shape, and as you were tying the laces, 049 revealed what he was searching for.

“Is that…” You scrunched your nose. “A walking stick?”

It was more of a cane, sleek and black with a polished metal handle.

“I found it sequestered in this storage unit, along with my satchel.” He stared at it with no small amount of pride. “They took it from me when I first arrived at the Foundation.”

“Well, I’m glad you got it back.”

When you gained your unsteady feet, he held the cane out to you.

“Please,” he said, offering you the handle. “It would… comfort me if you used it.”

When he put it that way…

You took the cane from him, the weight of it sturdy and the handle cool against your palm.

“I had to leave the firearms behind, but with my satchel returned, we should not need such weapons.”

That was a scary thought, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know what kind of nasty things he could pull out of that bag.

“Hopefully we won’t need it.” With a glance behind at the mess of bloodied clothes and surgical material, you turned to face him, a steadying hand on the cane. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Next Chapter