#but until they learn lightning and mind control they can get fucked

[vespertine-legacy]

My first Tulia let Watcher X go, just because she was my first DS!Agent and most of her choices were driven by being sort of comically evil, but this time around, I am being a little more careful about her choices in terms of her actual motivations (which, to be fair, I didn't really know when I played her the first time around, since all I had in my head for her was tol murder machine hurr durr and then she started simping at Zhorrid)

but anyway

This time she shanked Watcher X. While it was tempting to get Dirt on some folks who had annoyed her, Tulia's loyalty (at the moment, anyway), is primarily to Intelligence and she has a lot of faith in Intelligence as an Agency. 100%, her true loyalty is to herself and to staying alive at all costs, but she did the math on it and decided that the risk that he's a fucking liar far outweighed any possibility of him having good information (especially if his information might lead her to have an Existential Crisis about why she's doing what she's doing).

Also,

He talked to her like he was better than her when, in her mind, he's not, so fuck him.

[loves0phelia]

Hi! can i request miguel x model reader. She’s apart of the spider verse but does modeling on the side nd she’s really famous :-)

Canon

Summery: Being a model and a spider woman makes your life really complicated.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: violence/fighting, angst, grammar mistakes

A/N: This is probably not what you had in mind at all but I hope you enjoy it anyway xxx

You always liked modelling. At the age of 3, you dressed up as Cinderella and walked in your aunt’s May living room, moving your small hips side to side and flipping your hair. At the age of 5 Aunt May brought you shopping and every time you tried on a new piece of clothing you came out of the dressing room to show it off.

At the age of 7 your parents learned about your new passion and being the greedy people that they were, they started hiring agent after agent to control your every move. 

Your aunt tried to talk them out of it but they never stopped forcing you into gigs that you shouldn't have been in. You thought they only wanted to make your dream of becoming a model come to life but they only wanted the money. They pushed you around every stage and you became successful but you never knew until you grew up and picked up a journal your parents were hiding in their offices and saw yourself on the front cover.

You didn't know how to react when they died during a plane crash on their way to Japan to make a deal with your modelling career. You thought being thrown around by your parents was a normal childhood, you were lost. 

When you got bitten by the spider that turned you into the one and only Spider-Woman of your universe. Your life took a drastic turn.

 The freedom of being a spider person brought you so much happiness. Aunt May had taken you in after the passing of your parents and now that she was in charge of you, she made sure you would only model if you desired to. Nobody would force you. 

Since it was still your dream and you didn't experience the real pleasure of your passion you decided to start from scratch. You forgot your old professional life, the life your parents forced on you and started fresh. You got yourself a new agent that became your best friend. You told her absolutely everything. And you learned to be confident.  

You saved the city at night and lived your dream during the day. 

What was supposed to be a normal night of patrolling and chilling at the top of a building turned into a multiverse mess? 

Your Hair was flowing in the air as you hung upside down eating a peanut butter and jam sandwich when your spidey sense started tingling. Your head snapped towards Times Square and you saw lightning bolts strike multiple times. Some were electric blue and some were neon yellow.

You ditched your lunch and quickly pulled down your mask. With your purple-ish webs, you swung to the scene. 

The guy had his hood up but you could see his glowing skin through the vest he was wearing. It was like his veins were filled with electric fuel. He was absorbing every possible electricity making everyone scream in fear. New York was usually intensely bright and now every light was fading. Your senses were tingling every time a civilian was getting close to being struck with a lightning bolt so while trying to understand what he was, you saved every passing stranger.

“Hey, you might want to stop doing that!” You shouted over the afraid people after putting down a small child into his mom's arms and tried to reason with the electric thief.

“I don't know what is happening. Everything feels so different here.” The guy growled and continued absorbing with his hands when he started yelling in pain. His body glitched like television static. He stopped and breathed heavily as if this pain had angered him.

“What the fuck” You whispered and curiously your hand lifted to touch a metal pole that was vibrating with electricity.

A bright orange web caught your wrist and pulled you away. you looked at where it came from and saw a portal. After a couple of seconds, the web shone brighter and made a pulsing sound and a Spiderman came through it. his web was still attached to you when he spoke.

“Do not touch that, you could get electrified” He said calmly, almost too calmly.

“Who the hell are you? How did you come through that? Do you know that guy?” you rambled out your question and he groaned under his mask. 

“basta con las preguntas! (enough with the questions)” After having an A + in Spanish during high school you were confident you understood what he had said.

You rolled your eyes underneath your mask and went into action. You disconnected every powerline above the buildings and found an underground entrance to stop any power under there to try and make him weaker. You came back up and you saw that the other spider man was about to get struck and he did not react a little bit. Your senses screamed at you.

You caught his waist with your webs and tugged him to you making his back contact with your chest. He was so tall you couldn't even see when the bolt that was previously about to hit him, exploded on the ground.

“Do you not have spider sense or what? You could've died and I don't even know you!” you screamed and let him free of your webs. With a frustrated sigh, he called out to a girl named Lyla. Your brows Furrowed, now who the hell is Lyla? you thought.

“What in the...” you whispered when a small lady appeared by his shoulder.

“Call for back up” 

“magic words?” she teased and leaned closer to his face. You just stood there completely confused.

“Now. Lyla” Even with his mask on, you could see his grumpy expression.

“You got to say them” She smiled brightly, unfazed by his grumpiness.

“call for backup, please” 

“Yeah, I already did 5 minutes ago” She laughed at him and disappeared into thin air.

“UGH, you always do this!” as if on cue the same orange portal from earlier opened 5 meters away from you and a pregnant spider woman riding a motorcycle came through it.

“And I thought I was special,” you said before you three turned back to face the villain. 

“It's time you go back to earth 199999,” The blue spider said, once again your brows furrowed in confusion. What the hell is Earth 199999?

Knowing it wasn't time for questions, your webs came out of your wrist attached to the arms of the electric creature trying to restrain him from using his powers. but he was too powerful and it was useless. His arms ripped apart your webs making his electric blue fuel travel to your wrist, frying your left web shooter. Even though you had less power now, you noticed how the lightning reached for something in the air. In almost a second a helicopter came crashing down at the speed of light. 

with only one wrist to shoot your webs, you managed to catch it, all on your own making a bouncy platform of web between the buildings. You rushed to the door and pulled it open.

The civilians thanked you for saving their lives and quickly ran away from the scene.

“He's unbeatable!” the pregnant woman who tried wrapping her webs around him screamed.

slowly you looked around trying to find a solution. you blocked out every noise and your eyes landed on a fire hydrant.

“Move away!” you screamed at the two spiders and they looked at you like you were crazy, but seeing you had a plan, they dropped what they were doing.

with your force, you pulled away from the ground the red fire hydrant and water splashed everywhere. Left, right, up, down, and on the villain. He screamed and glitched again as the water came in contact with his skin. He yelled in pain as if water burned like acid.

The flashing lights of Times Square stopped and everything became bright again as he fell to the ground. Smoke was coming out of his body and his skin stopped glowing and went back to its original color.

“He's not defeated, we have to send him back to his original earth so his Spiderman can deal with it,” The man said before tapping down on the watch tied to his wrist. A portal opened in front of us and the villain was pushed back into his universe.

“It can't be that easy, right?” you were standing there as if nothing had ever happened it seemed impossible.

“It is that easy. He was in the wrong universe and by sending him back, his very own Peter Parker would take care of him” Both of them started walking away and you stayed behind so unbelievably confused. Peter Parker? That kid you knew in high school? Peter Parker? 

“what about her?” you didn't hear when the woman spoke to Miguel.

“she found the solution and she did all that with one web shooter” she added to her previous sentence.

“She's careless, she was almost electrified. If I wasn't there this earth would have fallen to the ground” he grumbled.

“Remember the time when you saved Gwen and you were almost attacked by that thing made out of paper because you weren't paying attention?” she reminded him.

“We all make mistakes, Miguel. We need someone like her in the team.” without saying one more word she walked through the portal while he stayed behind. He turned around to look at you. Your arms were at your side and you watched the damage the villain left in your city.

“y/n,” he said gently and you jumped before turning.

“how- how do you know my name” You touched your face to make sure your mask was still on. It was.

“I am Miguel O'Hara. Leader of Spider Society and dedicated to the security of the multiverse” You looked up at him as he spoke.

“I know all spidermen and spider women of every universe, including you. This watch will allow you to travel between the earth's freely” he extended his arm towards you with the orange band in his hand.

you took it from his hand and put it on your wrist. it glowed blue then yellow and red as it was adapting to you.

—--

A few months later you settled in Earth 2099 at the Spider Society, you learned you were far from being the only Spider-woman. You managed to continue working in your universe but it was really difficult.  And you were also informed about canon events. 

“Miguel?” you knock and enter his lab. His big platform was up in the air as he worked on whatever he needed to work on.

“I'm just letting you know I'm going back to my universe for a few days. My agent told me I have an important gig with Vogue” You smiled as you yelled up. Vogue was always your biggest company deal.

his platform began getting down. “Are you sure modelling is a good idea? Now that your spider woman, one of your fans could discover your identity” he did not look at you once which was odd for Miguel. Usually, he had no problem talking to you. Maybe he was just grumpy today.

“It will be fine. I had no problem before” 

“Are you sure you can trust everyone who knows about your identity?” he asked, now you were confused.

“Of course, only my aunt May and my best friend know about me” he shook his head disapprovingly but let you go back home anyway. the entire time while getting photographed for the cover, you wondered why he was asking such questions. You continued your day full of autographs and interviews and you had a lot of fun.

“I'm home Aunt May” You entered your house and heard nothing but the TV playing.

“May?” you asked louder and made your way to the living room. 

You saw her sitting there emotionless and bells tingled in your head. You knew something bad happened. Your eyes shifted from your aunt to the TV she was so concentrated on and saw yourself beside a picture of you as spider woman. You grabbed the remote and lifted the volume.

“An anonymous source just confirmed to us, that the well-known model Y/n Y/l/n is the vigilante that has been roaming our street. She is the one who has killed various civilians instead of saving them! She is the killer who has been terrorizing our lives!” on cue a loud knock came to the door.

“Police!” your heart pounded in your ears and your aunt stood up. Her hands came up to your face and she held your cheeks gently. Tears were streaming down her face.

“You have to go. Leave, and don't come back. They can't find you” she said in a gentle voice and the police officers were beginning to try forcing the door open.

your feet were frozen in place but she grabbed your spider suit that was sitting on the couch and pushed it in your hands.

“Go. I love you Y/n” She kissed your forehead and as a tear left your eye you clicked your watch to open a portal and disappeared inside of it. You were sobbing and you fell to your knees. Who could have betrayed you? Why would they call you a killer? you've never killed anyone all you did was protect your city, your universe. 

a hand came to your shoulder and you turned to see Miguel standing over you. He looked at you with pity.

“You knew that was gonna happen didn't you?” you let out another sob before he nodded confirming your assumption.

“Why didn't you tell me?! Everyone thinks I'm a killer, aunt may is in trouble. I could've stopped it” You were angry at him.

“I tried mi vida, I tried to warn you by asking if you were sure but it didn't work and I couldn't tell you directly. it would have disrupted the canon and, It's my job to assure the canon stays intact.” he sinks to his knees next to you and holds you against his chest.

his lips connected with your forehead in a comforting manner.

“What am I going to do? I have nowhere to go, no more dreams, no more job. I knew a secret identity and fame wasn't a good match but I didn't think it would go that way. My life is gone ” You wiped your face but it was useless since your salty tears were still coming out of your eyes.

“I'm so sorry” he whispered in your hair. Even though it had angered you that he didn't warn you clearly about what was going to happen, you knew he had no choice.

Just like you have no choice but to stay here on Earth 2099 with him. 

At the same time in every other universe you existed in, you were choosing Spiderman over modelling out of love.

Even though being a model was everything you ever wanted. You would have ended up choosing Spiderman even in this one. 

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

demand avoidance

I'm finding that my sense of agency is deepening, allowing me to open up and experience novelty again.

For awhile I was only making decisions to avoid conflict. I couldn't figure out the patterns. It can be hard for me when I can't figure out the patterns. Especially when I can't feel what is behind them. My literal thinking will start kicking in and I'll begin believing everything to pick apart later.

I have a habit of over empathizing with other people's perspectives rather than my own. I'm used to being misunderstood and triggering people's projections. It's a thing. Luckily I'm learning it's a common thing with people on the spectrum. I'm learning how to protect my energy when that happens instead of succumbing to self-doubt in my character and my obsession with integrity.

I tell the truth directly, poetically, and I have six different metaphors I can use in any one situation. I'll dance around your feelings for a bit until I lose patience. Then there's lightning that strikes in multiple places and I apologize profusely once I have my temper back in check.

Today when something happened to the plan I was working tirelessly toward, I didn't crumble. I didn't even feel like doing it. I am impatient and confused and don't know how to move forward. I'm walking around in circles in the dark. But I have a deep sense of faith that I'll make it. Whatever is supposed to happen. Uncertainty isn't as scary anymore. I'm still proud I finished it. It was so hard. Today I was talking to my neighbor, whom I love dearly and have for over five years. That's a big connection for me. I usually attract people I end up having to walk away from, or accept when they walk away from me. Mitzi isn't like that. We don't talk every day, and she struggles to ask for help as much as I do. So we learn how to do it with each other. Like today, I was talking to her and my youngest son was on his four wheeler thing just going crazy. My hypervigilance kicked in because I was unconsciously tracking his actions, and trying to listen to her story, and damn it I literally had gone out to walk the dog so that I didn't have to pay attention to anything but walking in silence. I began getting upset and overwhelmed.

When I told Mitzi exactly how I felt, she nodded, and gave me a hug. I knew she saw me getting more and more agitated and she didn't blame me or take it personally. She said, gently, "You're okay. We'll talk soon."

I cut her off for six months one time for triggering me. Didn't talk to her at all after a couple years of friendship. Maybe it felt like a betrayal. When I went to her door after realizing my part in the situation, and the look she gave me was so hurt. So angry. Sometimes my cutoff game is way too strong. I explained to her what had triggered me, why my reaction was a bit too strong, and how I'd learn how to communicate better in the future. It sucked to hurt her, but I also knew that if she'd have come after me I'd have just pushed her away. Why we think emotional wounds are different than physical wounds I'll never know. Energy is energy, but it's all tissue in the fabric of the universe.

When I'm zooming around this place I'll feel how some emotions manifest in my body. There will be a tone of phrase or this feeling I get reading something that feels like, "I know better than you". Fuck you, you can't tell me anything. I'm open to anything until it makes me feel forced. Then spite shows up and there's nothing that sets my mind like spite. I can get anything done if it runs on spite or injustice. My heels dig in and suddenly there's no choice other to burn something. It's a habit I'm trying to soften. These kinds of emotions you have to tame, not control. I like the cover of my book. I like the layout of my book. The hard part is over - collecting and organizing all that linguistic alchemy. I had to fight so many versions of myself despairing over possible failure or meeting expectations help by me and a rare few. Now I feel like I put them to rest in those pages. It's nice. My core feels more solid. My sense of reality is more difficult to shake. I'm still frustrated because the date would have been a nice mirroring, but instead I'll say this was the date I finished it. Rejection is part of the process and I can still be a little sensitive to it. Life is for practicing though, right?

I'm glad my writing voice is coming back. It's kind of odd having a skillset that will abandon me if I abandon myself. Now I'm able to summon enough energy for prose, poetry, and the thoughts I want to remember, especially during this process. This experience is wild and so full of different kinds of emotion. I'm glad in a way I'll never forget it. I'm practicing detachment very well, especially when everything inside me hums with excitement about the future for the first time in a long while. I love every character I get to meet on here. I feel kind of silly for feeling so lost and being so confused, but my intuition will grasp something and I'll see all the threads for a moment. Then I'm confused again. I'm learning how to tread the waves. Ok, now I have to sleep. My oldest son rushed in because he had a nightmare that I was dying. I wasn't and I was able to reassure him. We talked about some things I'm glad I got to clarify for him. He told me he was a man at 11 and I didn't need to worry about his feelings or anything. I told him I was always going to worry a little bit, that was my sacred job, but I also knew he could handle things and figure things out. I thought it was really cool he wanted to protect me, and I also felt like he shouldn't have to worry about how I felt because I was the mom and I was supposed to protect him. So we decided to compromise and believe that our feelings mattered to each other and it was a good thing to share them together once in awhile so we could understand each other better. I think that's balance. Motherhood as a leadership role gets a lot more complicated the older he gets but I'm up to the challenge. He makes everything so easy. His heart is so gentle and maybe a little too self-sacrificing like mine. We'd bleed for anyone but get uncomfortable when someone bleeds for us. He finally fell asleep and I can feel how safe he feels in here. It makes me happy I make him feel safe. I need to remember that. Protecting him is a pleasure, not a burden, and it's a balance because I also have to let him learn how to protect himself too. See? Complicated. But he does make it easy.

Okay. Time for dreams and the people I visit in them.

[nik-jr-musings]

My teeth hurt. I've begun clenching them in my spare time again, I'm afraid.

We fought last night. More accurately, he informed me of our issues while I stared at the wall. He says I need better communication skills. He's tired of me shutting down whenever conflict arises, tired of walking on eggshells around me. He says he can't read my mind.

God knows I don't want him to.

He accuses me of things I thought were under the surface. "You scowl whenever I ask to kiss you," he says, "I wish you wouldn't feel like you have to do that. We've been together almost 4 years and you're fucking frowning when I ask to hug you."

I thought I was better, getting under control. It's just a hug, just a kiss. Normal couples do this all the time. Normal couples do this and more. Someday he'll want more than a hug and kiss - someday he'll want-

When I leave he doesn't ask for his customary hug and kiss. I feel part relieved, part mourned. I don't cry until I'm in my car, 3 blocks away. It's ugly and loud.

The bath water is too hot but I get in anyway. The candle is lit, music playing. I sing along quietly, tears mixing with sweat and bathwater. Thoughts of children, sex, intimacy, marriage, religion, work, family, hugging, kissingtouchingfuckingowning are storming in my mind, my own personal torrential rain, thunder, lightning, and hail. When the lightning cracks I sob with the thunder, our wails are inseparable from each other. I am the storm.

I thought I would never be like her. I thought I was different. She was banging pots and swears, lies and harsh judgement. She stomped. She screamed. When she entered a room it was never the same. She stormed.

I leave the pots on the counter unwashed. I don't talk much - when you don't have something nice to say, you don't say anything at all. I walk softly around my home. I don't scream - kind of impossible to do when you don't even talk - I write, I cry, I think. I know the storm is there, but if I hide it then I'm not like her.

I've always hidden. My favorite spot as a child was the space between my bed and the baseboard heater, so narrow you can only lie sideways. I would lie there and cry sometimes, listening to the yelling; other times I would simply stare at the wall. Sometimes I wish I could be there again.

I woke up this morning, teeth aching. I feel no closer to finding the words to express how I feel; I don't know how to explain to him what I am. I leave the pots unwashed. I walk on the balls of my feet, so softly. I wonder if I'd be better off alone - then I wouldn't have to learn to find the words. The blank walls don't ask for explanations. They have always understood me, understood my storms. They have braved it like no one else. I wonder if I'm not trying to be like them when I shut down, whether I'm not trying to be brave and resilient and strong. Weathered, but strong. My own 4 walls containing the storm, deflecting interference from the outside world. Blank, immovable, strong. It's all I've ever wanted to be, all I ever could be.

My teeth hurt.

10/25/2023

[ancha-aus]

We are back! So so back :D

I like the idea that Error started with the idea to go to Geno. but as you said. When he noticed that Fresh just... wasn't coming after him he started to doubt himself. Geno left after all. and Geno hasn't been that involved with him ever since leaving (fresh was suposed to) and Fresh ran off into the forest the first chance he got... maybe... maybe geno doesn't want him around anymore? like fresh doesn't want to be around him?

after all. Error's magic makes it impossible to even safely hug his brothers... why would they still like beign around him when he can't even hug them? and fresh made it obvious later that he didn't even want error's broken hugs...

This kid has been alone for a long time now and your own mind can be your worst enemy.

So this is his chance! anew start! another country where no one knows him! where no one knows that his own brothers didn't even want him anymore! He can be cool and mysterious adn strong! (probbaly another reason why error even zeroed in on dust as brother but i will get back to that later.)

The magic!

My friend i am obsessed with lore crafting and working on magic systems. I ALSO used a bit of dnd as inspiration :D the way people cna craft more complex spells and that their is concentrationa dn focus at play but also emotions and intent to really power stuff. i messed around with it and i am honoured you are taking over some of my headcanons hahha

but yeah. i like the idea that the more complex spells get the more it is about actual focus and weaving intent and magic together. stuff that is less one direction and more complex goals.

and the idea that error is just GOOD at magic is nice. he just understands it and has a feel for that complex magic. the way to layer it. it is why i even made him so good at it is becuase it was so much like knitting. and i am happy to see you agreed and took it over :D

it also makes sense that this error has more trouble with the easy stuff. His specialty is all about combining things and weaving spells together. his is chaotic and has a lot fo thoughts and it is hard for him to focus so the easier stuff that should be donw with very little thought just isnt in his nature.

and yeah. the school is also a great metaphor how the school system isn't made for people who think/learn differently or kids with disabilities.

Dust is on the other end of this spectrum. He can't for the life of him make complex spells. his magic isn't build like that. His magic is so intertwined and layered into his own soul and intent that it is all about his emotions (which would make sense as to why he is always so calm and controlled. he knows if he goes too far a storm/hurricane WILL happen) ((which could be interesting to have as consequence for geno to deal with. when he pushes past the point of no return with dust and a fucking hurricane just HAPPENS. because in theory it is just the easy gust and small lightning spells. but dust dind't mutter a spell. he didn't do anything to combine the two. it just happened. Geno is just more intrigued. and then he sees and even FEELS the distress in the hurricane. This isn't a hurricane dus tjust summoned into being. this isn't just a spell. this is quite literaly the storm that had been brewing INSIDE dust's soul. (which would also make even more sense why dust is dodgy about it. that his magic quite literaly resides wihtin his soul over the idea that is isn't shaped yet until he gives it purpose... okay but that is lore building and magic system building and this reply isn't about that but if you want we can get back to this later) ))

But yeah. it is obvious to EVERYONE that Error is in a league on his own. and that he knows his own magic and manages it well. nightmare sees and feels this at that moment as well.

okay where are we now... DUST!

okay as mentioned before. Him being calm and controlled could be left over because he just couldn't allow himself to react too much. Fear of the storm wihtin him acting up or just in the market place it is important to keep your head and focus.

Him seeing that Error gets frustrated and going over to him to disfuse the situation fits this. he wants to make sure there isn't a problem.

I love the idea that dust started with doing stuff he saw killer use. proves how much dust watches everyone and learns from others. he has no experience in this situation himself but he saw how killer calmed and spoke with cross when he got frustrated so he focusses on that.

and the further they get in the conversation the mroe dust sees of himself in the other. a guy wanting to prove himself and fine his place, having to craft one if needed. having more power than he should but finding a way to deal with it himself

It makes sense that dust sees himself in error. and so it is easier for him to switch lanes. what would ahve helped him? how would he have liked to be spoken to at that age?

and that is. treat with patience. treat with respect. but dont add stress of pressure.

So dust is truthful he reassures him that he is strong. that he is talented. that he will make it very far. but that he is just young still. that error can adn will make it far. he just needs to be patient. and then dust makes sure to try and connect iwht him.

because dust made it. dust has a good job. maybe if dust shows comadery and that dust has faith in him then error will see that as someone believing in him. someone who made it.

dust is unaware that error can feel the large magic in dust. the way the magic is there and ready and doesn't even seem to need a spell or gestures to focus. magic that doesn't ened to be woven togehter.

and error clings to that. because dust is high in stature. dust has connections. dust has power. dust has acool mask and is mysterious and cool and has magic.

Dust is like what error wants to be... and dust is nice to him. dust has faith that error can do it. (it is no wodner that error latches onto dust as brother figure. dust doesn't even disprove him as he keeps looking out for him. even if it isn't on purpose.)

Even if dust doesn't admit it to himself it did happen! (same with dust moving to defend error and getting him out of harms way.) of course nightmare stopped him but the tought was there!

dust really pulled two brothers with his magic swag. (2 out of 3. lets see how fresh reacts to him lmao. maybe dust's magic fucking burns the parasite because it is already in spell form ready and the parasite can't eat that. lmao sorry just me being silly ;P )

Ngihtmare!

dude is dealing with so much and now there is a CHILD. the very thing he had been trying to not have happen!

Also i love that he used the place that used to be used for bloody battles for just innocent tryouts. just soemthing fun and happy! he is trying so hard to do the right thing and- where did this sassy exploside child come from?

and you got a good point. it makes sense that ngihtmare would speak with error personally on multiple fronts but i hadn't even thoguht about the paranoid angle.

The fact that nightmare would see this powerful child and know he needs to calm him down or he will have a very powerful enemy later on.

and the more they talk the more it becomes obvious that error just doens't HAVE a home. and error is doing this as a last ditch effort. that he wants this. that this was his own idea.

nightmare figures that error will eventually grow bored and leave again. (Error doesnt. why would he? he got a free new brother out of the deal. amazing housing and support for his craft. then the king who was dope and cool with him transforms into a VERY cute skeleton his age? who thinks he is cool? error is very happy ;) )

(see you back with the second part when you got time! Take it easy :D)

New Age AU (Error's Wacky Wild Plan)

Hi guys. So. Crazy Story. The crisis that stopped me from working on my banner art actually catapulted me into writing this drabble finally! (Also the wonderful @ancha-aus was also a life-saver and helped me hammer out a few plot points for this installment <3)

Currently my only context for this drabble is that Error is tiny, and ran away from home because Geno moved to Reaper's kingdom to make money to send back home, and Fresh spent too long away on his trip. Error was expelled from his magic academy and came home to an empty house, so he left! Now he's been on the road for about a month? Nightmare has been ruling for about 6-ish years now, almost 7.

(Hello @mutzelputz and @papiliovolens hi guys!!!)

     The town was bustling. 

   Error had been through a lot of towns since he’d left. Big ones, small ones, ones he was convinced weren’t even towns at all, just a few barns in a general closeness to one another who decided they needed to call themselves something besides the outskirts. Those people had been particularly hostile to his passing through.

   And, lately, they’d been really weird. People staring at him when he’d walk on the streets, or pass by shops. When they saw he had money from a different kingdom (he didn’t even realize he’d left his own, but he figured it meant he was on the right path) they’d squeeze their faces like they bit a lemon and hastily take his coin. Like it was cursed, or something. They were lucky it wasn’t cursed, honestly. He could probably figure out how to do that.

    This town, though, was filled so full with people that he imagined they couldn’t look at him weird if they wanted to. 

   People were riding horses, chatting in the streets, all sorts of stalls and merchants were peddling goods, and he was almost positive he could hear music lifting down the street over the general drone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d run into a place so busy. He’d always been told to stick to the side, out of the way, out of danger. 

   He didn’t have to listen to that anymore. Though, he did skirt the crowds. The mass of people seemed all too willing to bump shoulders or elbows with each other in the early morning sun, and the last thing he wanted was to have his magic act up in a crowd. He’d done well so far. 

   Every booth, every merchant, every passerby seemed jubilant, ebbing and flowing. It was like some sort of party. 

   That was, until, Error spotted it.

   A big building, something that Error recognized only vaguely. 

   It was an amphitheatre. 

   Geno had taken him to see one once. Or, at least, the ruin of one. It hadn’t been too far from their home, and it was pretty abandoned and lonely. Plants had crawled up its walls, stones had fallen off in chunks, animals seemed to have deemed its high windows a perfect spot to build nests. It had been breathtaking, and ancient. 

   This one? Seemed perfectly in-use. 

   The walls were all in-tact, stones, an easy to look at grey, smooth and covered in little intricate carvings. Spells, he had to imagine, in some language he didn’t know. Curtains hung over the huge arched entrances, and heavy gates seemed to be lifted, the spikes at the base loomed over the heads of every passerby. 

   He couldn’t help but marvel. Was this a restoration, or maybe it was new. Some sort of imitation. Regardless, he found that his feet carried him to one of the entrances, which stood largely empty aside from some folks who looked strikingly like guards.

   Two of them stood, long spears in-hand. They both stood stock still as Error approached, and didn’t move a muscle as he passed them. They were strange, definitely different. Not at all the town guard he was familiar with. 

   The inside of the theatre was even more impressive. Rows and rows of stands seemed to line up either side. Huge tapestry hung from the high arches past those seats, and down the runways of the bleachers, all a bright teal and dark navy blue. They seemed fancy, and much newer than the curtains which had hung in the entrance. 

   Beyond the walkway where he stood, was a set of stairs which led down a level or so, before it leveled out into an open space. Sandy, and very flat. It seemed like there were people there, too. A much smaller crowd, but still a crowd nonetheless. 

   Error was almost amazed he’d not been stopped by someone yet. Whatever was going on seemed important, and so far in his experience, people did not like him sticking his nose into important business. 

   With that in mind, he decided he’d stick to the entryway for now. He leaned his bag up against the wall and watched from a position where the sun still shadowed his form. He was often grateful for his miscolored bones. It made hiding in the dark a whole lot easier. 

   It took a bit for him to really process what he was watching in the morning light. 

   There were four people sat on a sort of raised box toward the front of a stage. A huge stage, raised up off the sand with wood slats. They had a long-table before them, and quills and ink jars in-hand. Well, three were sitting. One was standing. But the point is, they were all watching the stage very attentively. 

   On-stage there was… basically nothing. Only a simple backdrop Error had to imagine was there at all times, because it looked like it was coated in sand, even from the distance where he stood.

   A person would enter the stage, the people sat on the box would speak to them, and then there was a flare of magic. Another. Another. And then they were dismissed. 

   It wasn’t until he really bothered to think about what magic was being cast that he realized those were extremely simple spells being used. Levitate, Create Water, Mimicry. Or Flame, Gust, Light. All just three easy spells, and then they were off-stage. That was taught magic. It gave him memories of his entrance exam to his school. He’d been way overqualified to get in, Geno taught him after all…

   But, no, this didn’t feel the same. There were plenty of people who seemed to stumble at spells they didn’t recognize, or who couldn’t muster a simple breeze. Then others who were very old and obviously skilled. Obviously they found the three spells to be child’s play. Like Error would. This was no entrance exam, so what-

   “Hey, pipsqueak, what are you doing there in the dark?” A voice startled him, and it took all of his willpower to avoid jumping away from its origin. 

   Error twisted rapidly, just in time to avoid the thrust of an elbow in his direction. 

   There was a monster there. Three, actually. Two lizards, both bright green and tropical, and one who looked more like a dragon. The green one closer to him must have spoken, because he laughed at Error’s flinch. 

   “Why are you bothering me?” Error shot back haughtily. 

   The lizard seemed to grin at the response.  

   “Oh, so we’ve got a feisty little small fry here? Thinks he’s scoping out the competition?” The dragonish one hissed, voice deep. 

   The other green one tittered a giggle, “So cute! I can’t believe the King really decided to let just anyone try out for Royal Mage.” 

   Oh…

   The lizard before him seemed to take this silence as a weakness, and reached out quicker than Error could react. A flick to the middle of his forehead. 

   Error winced and pulled away, back and into the arena. He grit his teeth and clutched his skull, where at the same moment the lizard jumped back and shook their hand in the air a bit. His magic had reacted poorly again, and while it was better than it used to be, it still stung like 5 wasps touching down and stinging the same point all at once. 

   “Little freak.” Was all the monster hissed, before he fled. His two friends moving on behind him in confusion. Approaching the line to the stage. 

   Error stood there in the sun for a moment, rubbing at his forehead until the pain was more of a numb static. 

   If anything, he appreciated the little run-in with those wanna-bes. Now he knew exactly what this was, and why it had felt so familiar to him. 

   The Mage Trials. 

   Geno had to go through them, and he’s been very thorough about his every single detail while doing it. Even though he was the best mage Error had ever known, he’d still stressed and wrote page after page of plans and spells and had placed them into a folder that felt thicker than an encyclopedia. Geno had always been the only one of them who bothered studying. Fresh couldn’t go to school anymore, and Error… Well, Error didn’t need to. 

   Thinking about it, Geno had been very quiet about it, but Error had looked into his folder a few times. Just out of curiosity. It’d been split into three rounds, something Geno had said was standardized. The first was a test of someone’s basic magic skills, the second were more complex spells which the mage has practice in, and the third, the one that had given Geno the most grief, was the personal spell round. In the last one, there were no restrictions to what someone could do, so long as they had done the work themselves, and that it mostly used magic. 

   If he was right, and he usually was, then this was the first round. Eliminating those with nothing but a hope and a prayer in their pocket before they got embarrassed before the one looking for the Mage in the first place. In this case, whoever this kingdom’s king even was. 

   In just a few moments, Error had decided. 

   This was how he’d prove himself. 

   The line was already starting to get longer, and he didn’t want to be here until nightfall in a queue. He dusted off his scarf, his shoes, his bag, and set off into the bright sun to secure his place in this contest. No prep. No warning. Just with his raw skill and what he’d learned so far. Nothing could possibly go wrong. 

.

   Finally. 

   Error felt like it had been hours in the warm sun before he was finally up next. 

   He’d been watching, of course. Watching as the people before him were passed or failed. It was just as he’d expected, and he couldn’t help but be a bit giddy as the two green lizard who’d bothered him earlier both failed. Though their dragonish friend had passed, it was still enough of a victory for him.

   Along with that, he noticed that the three people sat were all in robes of nobles. Something the wealthy and lofty would think to wear in a blazing hot arena all day. The one standing, though, was wearing all black. A hood was over his head, but Error thought he might be some sort of cat-monster. Very stone faced, very still. The only time Error had seen him move was seemingly to veto whatever choice the other three were making. He thought it was interesting. 

   That didn’t matter, though. 

   Based on what he’d seen, these people wouldn’t have any qualms with his magic. He was much better than half the people who’d already been passed, and knew he could keep him calm up on the stage. It’d be just like his entrance exam. 

   He watched as the monster who’d gone before him, a skeleton who was twice his height and twice as animal-ish, bowed gratefully to the people on the boxes, the evaluators, and exited. She’d passed fairly easily, Error thought. Though, her focus seemed elsewhere based on how shaky the hold on her last flame had been. 

   “Next!” 

   The call was shrill, and Error had heard it over a hundred times already today, but this time it bounced in his ears as he lifted himself up the steps and strode onstage. 

   If he’d thought about it, he would’ve tried to find a place to stache his bag, but it was too late for that, and frankly he didn’t trust it not to get stolen once it was out of his sight. Not with how busy the city seemed. 

   When he was stood in the center of the stage, he looked out across the way to the evaluators. They seemed closer up here than they did when he was on the ground. Interesting. 

   “First spell,” The person on the far left called, though Error could tell now that it was a voice projection spell. So they didn’t strain their vocal chords, “ Levitate.”

   That was simple. One of the first spells he’d been taught as a kid. 

   His eyes skimmed briefly, there had been a few props on stage that he only noticed once he was closer that were meant to be used with this sort of spell, but Error wasn’t for that. Instead, he muttered the words under his breath, outstretched a hand, and felt his magic reach out around him. Beyond the stage. 

   There… There was a barrier of some sorts, pushing back against his magic, between himself and the evaluators. He furrowed his brow and urged his magic forward. He didn’t have to break through it. He just. Had to- His magic felt like it was looping and wriggling like a worm through the dirt, but when it broke through on the other end, it felt so much more clear. He could feel a potent magic there, something raw and wet, like the air before a storm. 

   That didn’t matter, though. None of it did, because he was on a mission. His magic finally found its target, the stacks of ink bottles which the middle evaluator had just before their parchment. The magic latched on, and Error finally allowed himself a grin as he tugged his hand upwards. They floated calmly into the air, three of them, and did a quick spinning motion, before settling back down just where he’d found them.

   He didn’t catch the looks on the threes faces, but he had to imagine they were priceless. He was more focused on letting the spell dissipate and preparing for the next. 

   It took a moment, before, “Second Spell,” They said, “Create Water.” 

   Another easy one. 

   Error held his hand out again, though this time his palm faced the sky rather than the ground. At the mutter of his words, he could feel the water manifesting. Tiny droplets leaking from his fingers and into the air above his open palm, where he let it gather into a nice, easy sphere. 

   It hovered, and for this one he could see the nods from the three evaluators. The fourth, the cat monster, didn’t move an inch. A good sign. 

   Error, after a breath, moved the orb of water and simply set it on the stage floor. If he had to release it, he didn’t exactly want to get his clothes wet. That orb tended to shoot outwards when he released it, and the water would go everywhere. 

   “Third spell,” They must’ve been contented with his simply setting down the water, for they continued, “Flame.”

   Ah, one of his favorites. He was never very good at it, of course, but it was certainly very fun. If nothing else it’d be a taste of his raw power.

   He rolled up his hanging sleeves, quickly using strands of string to wrap them in place, before he picked back up the water orb in one hand. With the other, he faced his palm toward the side of it, and spoke the words for the flame spell. 

   The heat gathered in his wrist, and all at once shot out of his palm, like a cannon blast. The heat was intense, and Error laughed quietly to himself in pure elation as the fire did exactly what he was hoping. All at once, his glasses fogged, and a burst of steam blew past his face, off to the exiting side of the stage. He’d evaporated his orb, no longer needing to risk someone seeing him fumble with it and soak himself. 

   He let the fire die after a few second, and quickly grabbed the hem of his scarf to wipe down his glasses from the fog left behind on their surface. 

   The moment the red rims were back on the bridge of his nose, the voice spoke up again. 

   “Name?”

   Error cleared his throat, before calling back his name in response. Just the first one, the last one didn’t matter anymore. 

   There was another few breaths of quiet, before, 

   “Age?”

   Error hadn’t heard them ask anyone else for their age, but he figured they’d noticed. How strong and talented he was at such a young age. 

  He puffed up his chest when he announced, “Twelve!” to the arena. 

   There were a few muffled murmurs from the line, but Error was too busy grinning across the way at the evaluators as they seemed to talk amongst themselves. 

   He was ready to hear the word that would mark him to continue. The next part was tomorrow, after this round was concluded and the king arrived. He’d heard about it in the line while he was waiting. 

   One of the evaluators lifted their gaze back to him. Opened their mouth.

   “Disqualified.”

   That.

   Huh?

   Error must’ve visibly glitched at the response, because one of the evaluators seemed to flinch. Ever so slightly. 

   “How come?!” Error called back, reservations immediately fleeing his mind.

   How could they disqualify him? He hadn’t heard them do that to literally anyone else so far today. 

   The evaluator on the far right spoke up, “Too young. Now please move off the-”

   Error might’ve let his mouth speak before his mind, if he hadn’t seen the way the mysterious cat monster seemed to slink forward. A simple tap to the evaluator’s side and they stopped mid-sentence, attention drawing to the person. 

   He waited with balled fists. Hoping, against it all, that this person was using his mighty veto powers to get him his passing review. 

   “The Knight wishes to speak to you further.” They said, when the person, the Knight, took a step back. “Exit the stage.” 

   Mm. 

   This was his chance. This was his moment. He was being allowed to move on, he was sure of it. It had to be. 

   He practically scrambled off the stage and down the steps, and found that the Knight had closed the distance very quickly. He gestured silently for Error to follow him off to the side of the arena, seemingly outside of the voice spell’s range, as the noise of magic and calling for the next viewer seemed all muffled and contained. 

   Something Error noticed about the guy, now that he was right beside him walking along, was also that he wasn’t a cat monster. No, he had some sort of mask shaped like a cat. Black spots painted on black fur, with piercing white eyelights hidden in the darkness cast by his black hood. A cloth mask covered the lower half of his face, so Error would’ve had no idea what kind of monster he was, if he hadn’t left his hands uncovered. They were grey and grimy, but they were most certainly bones. 

   The other thing he noticed, was the magic. That damp, airy magic was no-doubt from this guy. It practically enveloped the both of them until they were stood in the shade of the wall separating bleachers from arena floor. 

   “You said you’re twelve?” He finally asked, shifting on his feet to look at Error. 

   The last thing he noticed, which only happened once he was able to look past the aura, was that. Well. He was a bit taller than this guy. Not by much, but there was certainly something stark about having to look a bit downwards to meet his eyelights. 

   “Yes, I am.” He claimed proudly, still convinced this was to be his ride to the top.

   The knight seemed to skim him with his eyes. Surely taking in Error’s clothes, his bag, his glasses, the weird bones. Though, it didn’t feel pervasive. 

   “Impressively strong for a kid,” He praised loosely, “And probably talented in spells if the nerds were any indication.” 

   His voice was quiet and raspy, but Error had no problem listening to it. This strong and very cool guy who was called a ‘knight’ was praising him. This was much better than getting yelled at by his professors. Much. 

   “Does that mean I passed?” He asked impatiently. 

   He needed this. He needed this. 

   The guy’s eyelights lingered on his face a bit, and it was then that Error finally noticed how virtually unreadable this guy was. Impossibly quiet, posture unmoving, all facial features shrouded in shadow and covered by masks?

   “I’m not sure what kingdom you’re from, but you’ve got to understand that the folks up there didn’t say no because you’re bad. They said no because the king made a new decree. “No soul under the age of 16 shall be put to work under the crown.” They’ve gotta take it seriously, just like everyone else has to follow the new rules about their own shops and businesses.” He said evenly, eyelights never leaving Error’s face. “You’re a couple years too early is all.” 

   It felt like he’d been shoved into a ditch, and he could already feel his right hand starting to tremble with the beginnings of a glitch. He was furious! How could they possibly say no to him because of some stupid rule about his age? 

   “No!” He exclaimed, trying to bite back the distortion on his voice, “I’m not going to just walk away. If I could just move on to the next round, they’d see I’m different! I’m not some weak little baby!” 

   He clenched his fists, driving his jittering one forcefully into his pocket. 

   The knight didn’t even flinch at his declaration. 

   “They’ve already seen that.” He said easily. “Listen to me. Error, right?” 

   Error hesitantly nodded. 

   “Error, ‘m sure that if my Lord saw you in action, he too would agree that you are very strong and resourceful.” The knight said, and Error hated that it sounded earnest. “But, he set that law into place for very good reason. If by any means those folks back there were to let you through, to pass you, and you made it before the king next round? They’d have committed treason, and I’d have their souls on the end of my bone in three seconds flat.” 

   His voice was hard and serious, and Error held strong as a loud crack echoed out beside the knight. A bone raised from the ground, sharp and jagged on the end, absolutely radiating magic. 

   “Do you really want their blood on your conscience, just so that you get sent away by the King anyways?” The knight offered. 

   Error hunched his shoulders a bit, and he felt his static worsen as he let his eyes linger on the bone. Yes. He muttered inside his head. He wanted to scream it at the man before him. Tell him that this was his one golden chance to prove himself. 

   But to who? He would ask, and Error wouldn’t be able to say it. It’d be a wasted sentiment and wasted time and wasted lives just for his temper tantrum. 

   “...No.” He bit out meekly. 

   He stood there, feeling a familiar shame creep up his spine. The knight made no move to leave, though he did let his bone disappear. The ground looked untouched from where it had split out of. Just more sand. Sand that was getting into Error’s bones. That he’d have to clean out later. Swinging in his hammock, lonely and moping. 

   “Heh,” The chuckle was almost inaudible, and Error was almost ready to let his distress turn back into rage, but, “Better kid than I was.” The Knight mused into the open air.

   He seemed to shift his stance again, and Error took a half step back. 

   “You’ve got your life ahead of you, kid. Don’t let this keep you down. Take the road less traveled by or whatever.” He said then, waving a hand loosely before him. 

   Error stared at him, trying to even his breath, before he had an idea. 

   “The other two rounds will be here, right?” He asked, voice still harshly stuttering and screeching. The Knight seemed unbothered.

   “Yeah. Planning on sticking around to watch?” The knight questioned, though it felt more like a warning. 

   Error nodded in agreement without hesitation. “If these geezers can get the job, I need to see what kind of tricks they have up their sleeves.” He agreed. 

   That earned another little chuckle, before the knight looked back to the stage. 

   Up in the center was a new mage, a human who seemed to be making a pretty wild wind that was whipping the sand around, bothering the people in line behind him. Error heard the knight make a scoffing noise, before turning back towards the stage.

   “Go hang around somewhere else for a while, why don’t you? I have to go make sure those nerds don’t pass that guy.” 

   Error didn’t even get to say a farewell before the Knight was off. 

   It seemed like every stride he teleported a bit further, building speed until he stopped cleanly up on the pedestal. Just in time for the sandstorm to die down. 

   Error didn’t want to walk away from this, he didn’t, but staying would only waste his time. It only took a few more seconds, to watch the knight nudge the evaluator and hear the muffled call of ‘fail’ ring out across the arena before he was turning tail and moving out of the sandy paradise, back into the bustle of the living city. 

.

.

.

   It was impossible to miss it. The sounds of celebration as the monarch entered the town. 

   Error could see the royal carriage from his perch, an old temple tower that had at some point lost its bell. It seemed untouched, birds nests and cobwebs, so he’d set up a hammock and a little makeshift shelter inside using his strings just before night fell. 

   He’d snatched some food from the town as dusk was setting in, and he’d been comfortably whittling away the dark hours, working hard on his plan. 

   With the King officially in town, that meant the second round would be starting up shortly, taking the numbers of who would be in the third round down by hundreds. He hoped the king was stingy about it. He hoped that dragonish monster would stumble on his spell and turn someone into a frog. 

   The thought humored him, and he cackled quietly to himself from his makeshift room. 

   The sun was high again, and he was only a part of the way through. His spells required a lot of his magic to be woven into them, and while it was much much faster than what he’d heard was the usual, it was still difficult to make. 

   Weaving the blue strings from his sockets, to his fingers, around his fingertips, and into the shapes he needed. It was monotonous, and boring by all accounts, but with every strand there was a new flow of power. A new pump of adrenaline into Error’s soul as he recognized his creation becoming more potent. Intent, intent, intent, every loop and knot was filled to the brim with it. His frustration sat at the core. Much more volatile and destructive than his usual intent, but it would serve him well if he wanted this plan to go well. Around it was his determination. The strings woven in with a sense of stubbornness which refused to let go, like a snake swallowing its prey whole. This would compress the first layer into a proper state. Let it coil and coil and coil until it burst. It’d be big, and loud, and send out that message he so desperately needed to be heard by the king. 

   Skipping the second round would probably hurt him in the long run, but… That knight had said he’d have to kill those people if he showed his face in round two. So, he’d just appear in round three instead, and make up for missing the second one. A final act, of sorts. 

   He’d have to be at this all day to make the time crunch. The orb was hardly as big as his palm, not nearly big enough. Though, he had wasted time making the shelter and finding food. He’d just have to skip a couple meals to make up for it. He didn’t really need to eat that much anyways, he’d known that for years. He just tried to make an effort when he smelled something tasty. 

   He knew he could manage. 

   It was late in the night when Error finally started on the outer layers. Those which would be filled with his patience, so that the potent insides would not be sensed as he moved with it among the many magic users. 

   The town had begun to line the streets with torches and party as the stars arrived. No doubt celebrating those who would be at the third and final round tomorrow. The ones who would be competing to become the new Royal Mage. 

   To Error? Every single moment down there was dedicated to him. They just didn’t know it yet. 

.

.

.

   The morning came, and Error only had a few more layers. 

   By the time the sun was almost in the center of the sky above, he had finished it, and carefully tucked it into his backpack. He unraveled the strings and carefully wrapped them, shaping them, changing them into a thin net with long ends. This was shoved into his jacket sleeve, the ends clutched tight in his hand. 

   It took him hardly any time at all to get to the arena, and he was early. 

   Good.

   He settled himself up in the stands, as close to the stage as he could get. Many people seemed to be staying outside the arena, sticking to the streets, but there was still enough of a crowd in the bleachers that Error had to be careful as he worked his way along the edges. He needed to be closer. Closer…

   There. 

   He stood at the railing behind the stage. 

   From here, he could see the line to the left, and he could see the people who had finished lingering on the other side. None of them spoke to each other, only standing about, icily, waiting for the rest to finish so they’d know which of them was chosen, and who was not. Error had to imagine that these folks were just as lame and boring as the seniors from his old academy. No fun at all. 

   He waited, so, so patiently, for the next few people. The last few. 

   Though he couldn’t see the spells themselves, he could certainly feel the pressure coming off of them. The control that they’d need to balance it. How much it might’ve drained their energy to do it just once. He was attuned to that sort of thing, he had to be. 

   His assessment was that all of these last few folks weren’t bad, but they were no match for Error’s raw talent. 

   Each spell cast seemed to tick away at Error’s patience, until it finally happened. The last mage went on-stage. It seemed there had been 15 of them. 

   He’d have to make 16, then. 

   It felt like a blur as he jumped the rails and let his strings carry him across the open space, much to the shock of the few who had been watching the competitors from around him. The blue lines snatched at the wooden supports of the stage, and he swung right over top, landing a bit messily in the center of the stage.

   He didn’t have time to look at everything. All he knew was the crowd was much larger than last time, that there was a shout of ‘Hey!’’ from somewhere to his left, and that the box across from the stage now held only three people. Monsters. One Error recognized, the knight in shadows who’d spoken to him. The other two he didn’t know, but he had to assume the one in the middle, tall and imposing, and dark, with an eyelight the same colors as the tapestries, was the King he was looking to impress. That was all he needed to know. 

   “M’lord, my name is Error!” He called out across the sand, and in one motion he shrugged the bag off his shoulders and used his strings to tug the orb out of its canvas body. “I want to prove that I’m more capable than any of the adults who just went before me! I could be your mage!” He would be the mage. 

   The orb sat cradled in Error’s hand for only the briefest moment, before it was inside the little net he’d made. He swung it in circles. Again. Again. Again. 

   He had to be fast. He had to do this quick.

   Error spent one last moment, extending his reach through his strings, muttering words and igniting an intangible spark. 

   For a brief moment, he watched as the King seemed to ease forward. A hand now raised, seemingly calling off his knights, who had been almost in motion. 

   He released the orb directly upwards, momentum carrying it up. 

   Up.

   Up.

   Into the blue sky. Practically into the sun. 

   Error watched it rise above him. 

   Only. 

   “Shit.” 

   His calculations must’ve been off. He must’ve added a layer too many, or maybe he released it a swing too soon. But he could tell that it wouldn’t clear the top of the arena. 

   Maybe if he had a few more seconds he could’ve used strings to boost it. He could’ve sent a magic gust to lift it further. 

   Not the case.

   He watched as the orb detonated, just like it was supposed to. 

   The wave moved horizontally through the air, and swept across the air above the arena so quickly that it sucked the sand from the top layer and threw it against the tall walls. Error’s footing slipped, and he stumbled to his knees on the stage as the wind whipped and tugged the heavy curtains into the air current as well. 

   It was an almost invisible force, Error had to imagine anyone without a solid grasp of magic would entirely miss it as it spread out. 

  He winced as it finally reached the edges of the arena, where he had just barely managed to fall short of clearing. 

   As the magic passed over the stone and mortar, he saw as it fell. Not in chunks, but crumbled like dust into fine particles. The upper half of every arch at the top of the grand amphitheatre, turned pitch black, then wasted away. 

   He hadn’t meant for it to come in contact with anything. It wasn’t supposed to do anything but harmlessly wave over everyone’s heads. As a show of his strength. That was all.

   Error could only think back to when this had happened before. When he’d accidentally exploded Geno’s favorite mug while metering the strength of his strings. When he’d broken the wheel of a carriage passing through the woods with a wayward slingshot blast. When he’d broken all ten of the large windows in the lecture hall of the academy when he failed to complete a spell the way it was written. When he’d done it too well.

   As he rose to his feet, he half expected the nagging voice of his older brother to be there, chastising him for not being more careful, before taking him home and making him dinner. 

   It wasn’t that, though. 

   He watched out across the sand. The king had his head tilted only slightly, looking up at Error’s lofty mistake. At the clean cut where stone now met unbothered air. His knight, the one in all black, was leaned ever so slightly towards him. They must’ve been speaking. Or, at least, the knight was. 

   About Error, he had no doubt. 

   He stayed in place, watching, swaying a bit with the residual force of his own spell lingering in his fingertips. Every instinct which told him to run and to hide were smothered and stamped out by the ligering fact that he had nowhere to go. Without his brothers, there was no one to help him. He knew it. 

   Even in front of this crowd. These mages. This King and his knights. He couldn’t bring himself to move offstage. Some part of him, deep down, childishly wanted the King to announce that he was impressed. To parade him offstage and let him experience what Geno had. Let him know why Geno left. 

   The King’s single eyelight swam back over to look at Error in the silence. 

   Error felt like the world had stopped. 

   It hadn’t.

   There was a clattering of armor and rustling of fabric, suddenly loud in his ears, and he had no time to react as everything came rushing in all at once. 

   Hands. Heavy, gloved hands. Two sets, two hands each wrapped one of his upper arms, and immediately lifted him off the ground. Into the air. 

   Pain flooded into his bones from his soul, like twin lightning strikes, trying to singe the bone and the magic in its core. The pressure wasn’t much, his mind knew that, but his body usually didn’t listen to him. He tried desperately to hold it in. The rampant part of his magic that had been hurting him since he could remember. That made it hard to touch anyone. To shake hands. To hug his brothers. 

   “Let go!” He pleaded, though he wasn’t sure if his voice made any sense. Fresh always told him they couldn’t tell what he was saying when his voice got too bad.

   More pain. He kicked his legs at the open air, and tried to muster control over his strings, just for a moment, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t focus. 

   And all at once it stopped. 

   Error’s feet were on the ground again, though that promptly became his knees again as he swayed and wavered in the sudden aftermath of his active magic dying down. Receding back into his soul. Because it didn’t need to ‘protect’ him anymore.

   He spotted then, as his vision returned to something aside from the gloves or the sky, that the King was no longer in his throne. In fact, there was a heavy, encompassing, magical weight behind him now. Somewhere very, very close-by.

   He took a deep breath, grounding himself. 

   “We are taking a recess.” Announced a booming voice. Very nearby. It was deep, and felt almost the same as the projection spell from two days prior. Then, more quietly, “You will leave the boy to me. Go ensure no one was injured, then manage the crowd. I’ll make my choice tomorrow at sunrise.” 

   The second bit felt quieter, an edge to the tone that Error didn’t quite like. Considering he must be the boy in question. 

   It was a moment, a few muddled ‘Yes, my king’ s, before Error found a pair of boots stepping before him. His head swam as he looked upwards. 

   The King, he figured that had to be him, was dark. Very dark. Like a living, dripping, shadow. Magic seemed to be all he was made of, an aura radiating from him. Dripping off his back into long slimy worms, twitching as they sat near the ground. He wore a fancy cape, too. One with huge gold clasps on his shoulders, one was shaped like the moon. 

   Error looked to his face last. In hindsight, something that could’ve been very, very bad. He was met with a dripping face. Skeletal. The place where his right socket should’ve sat was covered in that dark substance. The other hollow, with that bright cyan orb staring right back at him. 

   “Can you stand?” His voice came easily, and Error braced himself. 

   Could he?

   He had to, he didn’t want to be touched again. 

   Error took another breath, and managed to rise silently to his feet. 

   “Good,” the King said once he was standing, “Follow me.”

   It was an order he didn’t dare refuse. 

.

.

.

   Error found himself in an odd position. 

   He’d been given time to sit and recover from his magic’s outlash, and now he was sat in a room beneath the bleachers of the arena alongside the King and that knight he’d met before. The other one was guarding the door, he thought. 

   It’d been silent for a while, and it was almost expected when the silence was finally broken. 

   “You said your name is Error, correct?” The King asked, and Error gave a nod of yes. He forced himself to meet the King’s gaze.

   “Dust says that you’re only 12, and our people disqualified you in the first round. Is that right?” 

   Error nodded again. 

   “And Dust even explained to you why you were disqualified?” 

   Another nod. It seemed he’d at least made an impression on the knight. Dust. 

   The King tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, eyelight holding Error’s tightly. 

   “Then, I’ll ask, what brought you to think this was a good choice? To try and become Royal Mage above any cost it might bring?” The king asked, and Error was surprised to find it was a shockingly gentle tone. “Your home, your family, your life. You are so young, why put it all on the line like this?” 

   Oh. 

   It was almost funny. Was this whole thing because the king was some sort of charitycase? So disillusioned by his perfect life that he couldn’t even think of the hardships any random kid could go through? He almost grinned at that, barely keeping his mouth from twitching in a mix of frustration and humor.

   “I wanted to prove myself,” He muttered, “And besides, becoming the Royal Mage would be great.” 

   He waited, waited for the King to inhale, to say something, before, 

   “I’m an orphan.” He spat, finally. “Family abandoned me, house is left behind, expelled from school. I don’t want to keep wandering.” 

   It was basically the truth. This was his big break. His one last chance before he became a hated little vagabond. Maybe even a criminal. Maybe he’d have to go on the run for the rest of his life, live as a nomad. Join a caravan. Those people got stopped a lot though, kingdoms didn’t like them. He’d probably explode some city’s bakery by mistake and get put in jail for-

   “Wait!” Error suddenly exclaimed, breaking free of his thoughts, “Am I in trouble? Am I going to jail??” He asked then. 

   His worries slammed to a grinding halt and he stared wide-eyed at the two before him. Geno had always told him not to go making his big stuff near town, because if the guard caught him he wouldn’t be able to bail him out. He’d end up in jail. Of course, it’d never happened back then because he was always fast enough. Always smart enough to get out of dodge when he broke something or made poor decisions. Here? Here he hadn’t run when he had the chance. 

   The King stared at him, his one eyelight nearly mirroring Error’s in surprise at the question. 

   “I mean,” he started, “You’re young. If I wont let you work for me, I wouldn’t dare put you in prison either.” The King stated, “Though, you did do quite a bit of damage to the theatre.” 

   Error watched him break eye contact finally and look over his shoulder to the Knight stood there. He’d been silently watching Error too. 

   When he had no insight, The king seemed to heave a sigh, and the shadowy extra limbs which draped around him twitched. 

   “You’re sure you have no family? No home?” the King asked him again, and Error nodded.

   The king muttered something under his breath, and shot the Knight another look. The knight shrugged. 

   “I… Will not employ you. Though, I do see talent in you, Error.” the King said carefully, a bit slower in his words than he had been up until now. Almost… unsure. “I will, however, extend to you the title so that you may conduct…” He waved a hand before himself, as though searching for a word, “ You may conduct independent research. If you accept, of course.”

   “You would be free to resend your acceptance at any moment, no strings attached, and may take any work you complete along with you, and any pay you receive would be given to you after your 16th birthday, if you stay that long.” He added, “I’ll have to rewrite the contract, but-”

   “I accept!” 

   Error couldn’t help himself. He was so excited he could puke. The last thing he’d expected was to pull this off. This shitshow of a scheme actually got him the job? He could scream. He could jump up and down for joy. He didn’t, he sat eagerly and tense in his seat instead, but he could’ve. 

   The King seemed to hesitate, for a few breaths, before relaxing. He stood, and offered a hand out slowly to Error. 

   Error stood too, grinning. He could manage this one. He could do it. 

   It was brief, but he grasped the King’s hand and shook it firmly.

   “Dust, will you help Error locate his belongings, and escort him to wherever he is staying tonight? I’ll send Cross to swap with you a bit later. We’ll reconvene in the morning just before sunrise.” 

[ssahotstuff]

Aaron Hotchner Playlist Collection 💕

All Too Well part 3

Parts 1&2 can be found here

All Too Well By Taylor Swift here

Word count: 10.9k

Warnings: Warnings for the series: drinking, cursing, mentions of food, mentions of pregnancy and allusions to fertility issues, abandonment, SMUT pretty early on(readers first time, choking, penetration, oral f&m receiving, breeding kink with the intentions of pregnancy, birth control slip up, spanking, squirting, slightly dom Hotch, bondage, use of a vibrator, masturbation, Somnophilia, watching porn, use of a Polaroid camera to take nudes, having sex on camera, facefucking, brief sir kink, cockwarming kind of, if I missed anything let me know)

Flashbacks & text messages are italicized. Pieces of the letter are in bold text

By now you're probably wondering where I am.

You could feel him next to you in the bed, still in a deep sleep. His chest moved up and down slowly, his mouth open slightly. You could hear the soft lull of his snoring signifying that he was still snoozing, oblivious to the raging storm outside. It was raining heavily, pounding against the side of the house loudly enough to wake you up. You moved closer to him, tossing your arm over his body. He senses you in his sleep and rolled over, pulling you to his chest. His breathing tickled your neck and ear as you laid beside him, studying his face in the giant cracks of lightning, bright enough to illuminate the room. He could sleep through anything, but especially the rain. Things that woke you easily were lullabies for him; he loved to fall asleep listening to the rain pound at the tin roof.

It would take you forever to fall asleep now that you were up, so you laid still in his arms and tried not to wake him. He had been restless the first couple of days and his sleep schedule was finally starting to even out. He had to get used to not being up for days at a time, often staying up long after you'd fallen asleep. He'd been getting in the habit of going to bed with you, and it had been working well. For the last couple of nights, he'd been sleeping like normal, still waking up early but any victory was a large one in your book.

You ran your fingers through his hair, watching a soft smile appear in his sleep. His hands crept beneath your shirt, warming your skin upon contact. He sighed contentedly now that he was touching your bare skin, pushing your t-shirt out of the way. Even in his sleep, he longed to be close to you in any way he could.

You closed your eyes and failed to fall asleep, rolling over to press your back against his chest. It was hard to miss his hips rolling into yours, the erection growing in his boxers. You'd never wake him up when he was sleeping so peacefully, but you wouldn't stop him if he woke up on his own. As casually as you could, you pressed your backside into his hips, letting him rut into you without abandon. You hoped he woke up so he could fuck you just like this, lazily in the bed while you were both half asleep.

"You up, sugar?" His hands were already on your waistband, waiting for the green light to pull them down.

"Mhm," you helped him out, shoving your pants down past your ankles. You positioned yourself at an angle so he could slip into you easily and it only took a second for him to get the hint, pushing into you from behind.

"Was dreaming about fucking you," he muttered sleepily, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucked you slowly. One hand moved to gather your hair, holding on lightly. You wouldn't have minded him being rough, and he knew it, but you hadn't gotten that far yet sexually, and he was trying to take things slow; it wasn't working considering your hands were constantly on one another, but you still had a lot to learn.

"I was hoping you'd wake up. I could feel you getting hard and I wanted you," you whimpered, your body succumbing to pleasure as you moaned uncontrollably. He followed shortly after, staying in you long after he'd came. You'd almost thought he fell asleep inside of you until he spoke again.

"You feel so good. I can feel you clenching around me," you could feel it too, and that's why he'd stayed still. He remained inside of you until it stopped, easing out and bringing you close.

"I love you sugar."

It's not that I don't love you. I just can't stay still.

"I love you, Aaron."

The next morning, he was gone before you woke up. He'd made plans to go into town to get some groceries and you stayed behind, sleeping in. He was always doing things much earlier than everyone else simply because he woke up at 6 am no matter what was going on. You weren't on his sleep schedule but he didn't mind— he'd get things done so you didn't have to. He was really helpful, and you were grateful to have someone that didn't mind shopping. You had just flipped on the coffee pot when you heard him pull back in, so you ran to the door and opened it, slipping on your shoes to go and help him.

"Good morning, gorgeous," his burnt orange sweater was out of character but adorable nonetheless as he sprang from the drivers seat to come and kiss you. You met him as he climbed out, cupping his face with your hands as you kissed him. He grabbed your waist and let you lead him to the hatch, the two of you carrying the groceries in one trip. You started putting things up while he poured the two of you a cup of coffee and checked the fire.

"Are we gonna try to unpack the living room today?" You knew he'd tell you it could wait but you tried anyway.

"Babyyyy," he drug it out dramatically, turning to face you with his hands on his hips, "We've been here two days. Can we at least take the weekend to just hang out? Please?"

You rolled your eyes, a grin spreading out onto your face as you gave into him.

"Fine, but we're watching scary movies later. You promised yesterday," you reminded him, and he came to help you finish in the kitchen.

"Later. We can't watch them in the daytime, then they won't be scary," he countered, dipping down to kiss your cheek before he continued to put up groceries.

"What do you want to do today, if we aren't unpacking?" You'd just put up the last bag of items, leaning against the counter to look at him. He took you by the hand and led you to the bedroom, gesturing to the bed once you'd made it into the room.

"This weekend is kind of like our honeymoon. We just moved in. We shouldn't even think about leaving this bed, honestly," he rationalized, climbing in. You followed shortly after, leaning against the pillows as he found a show to watch.

The truth is, I don't want to slow down yet.

"I never thought I'd see the day where you wanted to sit around and watch tv," you played with his hair as he used you for a pillow, his head on your chest.

"I like being like this with you."

He kissed the exposed skin of your chest, peering up at you through his dark lashes as you brushed his hair back.

"Me too. It's just different to see is all. I'm glad I'll have you around all the time."

He brought your arms up, taking your shirt off, before removing his own. He returned to lay on your chest, his skin deliciously warm against yours. He often wanted to be as close to you as possible, and he'd remove as many layers as it took to get you there.

"Your skin is so soft, baby," he ran his hand over your arm, tracing your stomach with his fingertips. You wanted to feel shy under his gaze but it was nearly impossible. He made you feel too good to be self conscious. His hands traveled all over your body before settling on your hips, or rather, pulling your pants down them. You weren't sure why you even packed clothes; you'd been naked the majority of your stay so far.

"I'm glad you love it," you giggled, watching his eyes flutter shut on your naked chest. He truly loved everything about you, from your head to your toes. You loved that he'd been the only person to ever touch you, to ever pleasure you properly. You were fixated on him, brushing his hair away from his face absentmindedly while you looked at him.

"What is it, sugar?"

"Just like looking at you," it sent a thrill through him as he snaked his arms around your neck and pulled you down to kiss him. He stared back at you, a loving look in his eye that you weren't sure you'd ever seen before.

"You know how happy it makes me to know someone as gorgeous as you likes looking at me?" He laid you down, sitting next to you. He just wanted to look at you, spread you out and admire you all afternoon.

"You're perfect, Aaron. I always want to look at you," you tickled his chest, earning a giggle in response. He leaned back, inhaling sharply at the sight of you.

"You're a masterpiece. I could stare at you just like this all day," he pulled your thighs apart, eyes glued to your center. He made no effort to touch you, only look. You teased him by cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples between your fingers, a small moan leaving your lips. He still didn't give in, instead, he pushed his pants down and took his dick in his hand and began to stroke himself slowly. He wanted to make sure you were looking.

"Want to put on a show for me, baby? Touch that pretty pussy of yours for me," you nodded, slipping your hand between your legs, spreading your glistening pussy apart for him to revere. He licked his lips, precum dripping from the tip of his cock. He gathered it on his finger and plopped it in your mouth, letting you suck lightly until you'd cleaned it off for him. Your fingers finally made contact with your clit, and you felt yourself heaven a sigh of relief. You'd been aching to experience something to combat the pressure building between your legs, and you couldn't think of anything sexier than touching yourself for Aaron.

You were a soaked mess, rubbing furiously at your clit as he watched in awe, his wrist finding the perfect rhythm, his cock throbbing in his hand as he touched himself for you. You were getting close, your fingers toying incessantly at your clit.

"That's it, baby. Cum all over those pretty little fingers," your back arched as you came, your knees weak, your eyes hazy. As soon as you regained your senses, you leaned forward to put his cock in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks out around him. He made a truly guttural sound before meeting your mouth with his thrusts, his dick in the back of your throat. Tears threatened to spill over the corners of your eyes as you gagged on him, working his shaft with your hand and the rest of him with your mouth. He was slick, sliding in and out of your mouth with ease, spit dripping down your chin as you choked on him.

"Oh fuck," his hand gripped the back of your head as he finished on your tongue, his salty cum filling your throat. You swallowed every drop of him, shocked that he'd chosen to finish in your mouth. Here lately, he was obsessed with finishing inside of you. You knew he was just getting started; he'd been in rare form the last few days, obsessed with you.

"I told you cleaning could wait," he broke the silence, a lighthearted laugh leaving his lips. You leaned back, propped up on your elbow, flipping through the channels, oblivious to his staring. If you could've read his mind you would've known how truly glad he was to be laid up with you, how much he adored you.

I'll never stop loving you. But I've got to see this through.

"What sounds good for dinner?"

You broke his concentration as he looked up at you, shrugging.

"I was craving something kind of funny," he said finally, and you were all ears, perking up to listen to his idea. Ten minutes later, you were wrapped in a robe, frying peanut better and jelly sandwiches for the two of you while he watched.

"You made them perfectly golden! My mom used to make these for me," he mused, carrying your plates to the bedroom. It was finally beginning to get dark so you could start up your movie marathon. You had chosen a few different scary movies, because that meant you got to cuddle up close to him and hide in his shoulder at all of the scary parts.

"I think I'll take a shower before the movie," you decided after eating, but you had a plan to surprise him the next time he went to undress you. You'd never worn lingerie before but the little black set had been too sexy to pass up. It was simple, a black bra and panty set, but it was still sexy, with rhinestone embellishments and a robe that matched. You did your normal shower routine, taking the extra time to make sure every inch of your body was silky smooth. You put on lotion and spritzed his favorite perfume on, tying the robe around you as you made your way across the hall. He was sitting in bed watching the tv and waiting on you. He didn't say anything yet, but you'd been wearing a robe before, and you often wore one fresh out of the shower. He wouldn't even know until later when he just could no longer keep his hands to himself.

"Ready for the movies?" You questioned, and he put the first one in the DVD player, sliding in the bed so he could be right up next to you. His arm wrapped around your shoulder through the previews, his fingers toying with the lace on the robe. You could usually keep him entertained for about twenty minutes worth of movie, but after that, his mind started to wander, and so did his hands. He turned out the lights, letting you get comfy next to him as the movie began to play. It started off slow, a bunch of backstory and small details for you to remember. You tried to keep everything straight, but you were too excited to see his reaction to what you were wearing. You had felt a little silly putting it on, but after you tried it on and it situated on your body, you'd felt hot, and you hoped he thought so too.

"This is supposed to be really scary," you told him, tossing your legs across his lap so he could feel how soft you were. His first instinct was to rub your legs, and he was doing a double take after one swipe of his hand.

"You're as soft as a rose petal," he brushed his hands over your legs, arms, any exposed flesh he could reach.

"I'm glad you noticed. I did that just for you," you confessed, watching him go bashful, a tiny bit shy. He blushed, his hand tightening around your thigh as he caressed you softly.

"It's hard to concentrate on anything else when I know your whole body feels like this," he was already faltering, letting the temptation wash him away. He couldn't handle himself around you; you were too irresistible for him. You suddenly weren't worried about the movie anymore, only concerned with making a spectacle of your own. You straddled him, let him get a good look at you before you untied your robe and let it fall down at your sides. His hands immediately darted out to touch you, trailing the fabric of your bra like he was trying to memorize how it looked on you. His eyes shamelessly raked over you more times than you could count before he cleared his throat, toying with the waistband of your panties.

"All of this is for me?"

You nodded silently, wrapping your arms around his neck. You leaned forward to kiss him, letting your mouth move against his tenderly as he showed his appreciation for you. You weren't sure what to expect, but you knew by the look in his eyes that he'd never had anyone go to the lengths that you were just to make him happy.

"All for you," you promised him, barely coming up for air as your mouths molded together. He held you in place but you didn't dare think of moving, not when he was fully immersed in you. You watched the gears turning in his head as he shifted below you, moving you aside so he could look through the drawers of his bedside table. When he came back into view, he was holding the Polaroid camera, staring back at you questionably.

"Can I take your picture? I never want to forget what you look like right now," his voice had reached a dangerously low octave, his eyes darkening dramatically as you nodded back at him. Your confidence was at an all time high, so you posed happily for him, smiling wide. He was enjoying every second of it, snapping pictures quicker than they could instantly develop.

"God, you're flawless. You could be a model, baby. Look at me," you did as he asked, posing when he instructed you to; you let him have his fun, and eventually there was a pile of photos on the bed, spread out for you to see.

"This one is my favorite," he picked out a photo of you smiling, leaned back against the pillows. You watched as he opened up his wallet and slid it inside one of the slots, gathering up the rest and putting them in the top drawer of his bedside table. He turned back to you, his longing for you oozing from him as he lifted your leg in the air, kissing the inside of your ankle. You propped up on your elbows to watch him leave a trail of warm, wet kisses from your ankle to your thigh, stopping when he reached your waist.

"I could spend all day looking at you, perfect girl. I still can't believe you got all dressed up for me," the heat of his mouth was so close to your core that it had you whining, yearning for his mouth on you. He kissed your pussy over your panties and you nearly lost it, biting your lip as he situated between your legs.

"Wanted to surprise you," you squeaked, and he kissed you again, this time with an open mouth, leaving a patch of warmth where his mouth had been. You propped up on the pillows as he pulled your panties down tantalizingly slow, his eyes gracing over every part of you like he was reading a book. He couldn't help himself, he wanted you to know how much you were desired.

"I'm glad you did, baby. But it's time to undress you so I can fuck you with my mouth, okay? Be a good girl and spread your legs," you did as he asked, your legs shaking in expectancy. You knew that look— he wouldn't stop until the sheets were a mess and your legs were in the air. You could barely contain your excitement; you knew you were in for a treat.

He teased your entrance with his fingertips, gathering your arousal on his fingers. He used them to spread you open, his tongue slipping into you, as promised. He moved upwards, circling your clit with his tongue, lapping at you hungrily, one of your legs hooked behind his head.

"You taste so sweet, pretty girl."

After a handful of orgasms on his tongue, you were panting for breath, gasping as his fingers slipped into you. You clenched around them, watching his eyes grow wide.

"So fucking sexy," he growled, pumping his fingers in and out of you fast enough to make you a quivering mess, your cum dripping onto the sheets as he fucked you with his fingers. You'd never had an orgasm like that before; rattling your entire body to the core. He looked at you adoringly, like he'd never experienced anything like you before.

"That was intense," you whispered, voice nearly lost in the wind beyond the cabin walls.

"It was so hot, baby. Think you can cum like that again?" He continued using his fingers, bringing you close to the edge in no time flat; when you shook a second time, soaking his fingers once more, he was pulling his boxers down to fuck you properly.

"Please," you choked as he slammed into you, his hips pounding furiously against yours. The room went quiet except for the echo of your flesh slapping against each other in a sex crazed frenzy. You felt his hand creep around your neck so you encouraged him further by placing your own hand over his and squeezing tight.

"Fuck, you're sure this is okay?" He was already thumbing the veins in the side of your neck, inquisitive about the power he would hold with his hand around your neck. After a moment of deliberation, his hand was wrapped tentatively around you, waiting for your signal.

"Please, Aaron."

His hips never stopped pounding against you, but now it was combined with the light pressure of his hand, exploring the boundaries of having you powerless beneath him. You had fantasized about being dominated by him, his intimidating tone, his authoritative attitude. You knew deep down somewhere there was a version of him just waiting to be unleashed; one that would tie you up and turn you into a filthy play thing.

He never grasped too tight, letting go whenever you'd tap lightly on his hand. You established a silent method of communication to express boundaries that you could use in the future; you both understood what it meant and if it needed an explanation, you'd give one, but for now, he knew what your body needed to be satisfied. One final grip of your neck and you were crying out in ecstasy, your nails digging into his shoulders. He was ducking down to kiss you, first your lips, then your neck where his fingertips had been.

"Can't believe you let me do that," he said mostly to himself, still slightly baffled. You held up your neck for him to do it again, groaning at the sight of you so eager to be choked by him. He buried himself into you, fucking you harder than ever before. You couldn't remember a time when he'd been so passionate, so into you.

"I want to try everything with you," you assured him, feeling his dick twitch and fill you. He took a deep breath as he put your legs together, sliding out of you and pulling his boxers up.

"Baby, I— I've never done that before. Did I hurt you? You'd tell me if I did, right?" He was examining your neck for any marks, but you grabbed his hands instead, lacing your fingers through his.

"I promise you didn't hurt me. I wouldn't have kept asking you to do it if it hurt," he nodded, kissing your neck anyway, laying on your shoulder. His breathing was shallow, unsteady from moments prior.

"I liked that a lot more than I want to admit," he said finally, a concerned expression on his face. He didn't like the thought of being turned on by something that could potentially be hurting you, even if you enjoyed it.

"I really liked it. I know it's new and different, but there's a lot of stuff I want to try with you," you tried to raise his spirits, because you'd thought the entire exchange was sexy beyond comparison. You'd never experienced anything so erotic.

"There's plenty of stuff I've never done before too, and I want to do them all with you," he reminded you, and you were suddenly blushing at all of the filthy thoughts running through your head.

"I really want to sit on your face. That's at the top of my list. And I want you to tie me up with one of your ties," you said shamelessly, watching his head fill with ideas at the thought of tying you up.

"Oh god, I never thought about tying you up," he said breathlessly, his eyes darting from your wrists to your ankles as he scoped out your body. You still had your legs tucked together, laying flat on the bed. He was laying next to you, his head on your thigh.

"You can tie me up, only let me touch you with your permission. You'd be in total control," you explained. He cocked his head to the side to listen to you, intrigued by your ideas.

"You'd let me do that?"

"Baby, I'm practically begging you to do it," you laughed, your fingers weaved in his hair. He sat up suddenly, looking in his bag at the foot of the bed. Within a minute he produced a navy blue Gucci tie, his eyebrow raised up at you questionably. You simply sat up on your knees and held out your wrists, letting him tie you up. He made sure you couldn't move very far before lifting your hands to kiss where you were bound, capturing your lips afterwards.

"If it starts to be too much, just tell me and we'll stop, okay?" He was stripping down, naked at the foot of the bed. He motioned for you to move so you went to the edge of the mattress and sat on your knees. He reached between your thighs to toy with your clit, tilting your face to meet his mouth. He showered you in affection, his fingers teasing you lightly, with just enough pressure to drive you mad. Your hips wiggled and he stopped, his eyes dark as he looked down at you.

"You've got to be still, sugar, or else I'll stop. Do you understand?"

You nodded, but that wasn't enough for him; he needed to hear you say it.

"Words, baby."

"I understand. I'll be a good girl," you promised, raising up on your knees to give him access to your center. He continued to play with your clit, working tirelessly to bring you over the edge. You placed your hands on his dick, stiff and throbbing in front of you, only for Aaron to stop again, pulling away from you.

"You didn't ask, sugar."

It was sweet and fucking infuriating, his seductive voice and his ability to play the game oh so well.

"Can I please touch you, baby?"

He shook his head, so you placed your hands on his chest instead, batting your lashes up at him in an attempt to get him to change his mind.

"Please, baby?" You pushed further, your hands already sneaking back down past his waist. He grabbed the tie that held you secure and tilted your face to look at him, his eyes dark and lust filled.

"What did I say? If you don't listen, you won't get to touch at all," he warned, his hand moving from your face to your neck to squeeze lightly before he began pleasuring himself, without your help. You watched with star studded eyes as he brought himself close, but not quite. Just when you thought you'd explode from not being able to touch him, he guided your mouth to his dick, watching as you opened wide for him. You took him in your mouth and sucked furiously, his fingers snaking between your legs to play with you.

"You're such a good girl, putting my cock in your throat like that," he praised as you gagged around him, soaking his fingers as you came. You hollowed your cheeks out around him, sucking furiously as he thrust into your mouth, tears streaming down your face as you let him use your mouth. You were helpless, bound and gagged on him. His eyebrows were pulled tightly together, his hand gathering your hair to hold.

You felt the salty liquid fill your throat as you swallowed every last drop, looking up at him with loving eyes. You had never seen anything like him, chest heaving as he tried to steady himself. He reached for your wrists immediately, untying you so he could examine the skin underneath. He wanted to make sure he hadn't left any marks, that he didn't hurt you.

"You're okay? It wasn't too much?"

You reassured him that you were fine, that you'd enjoyed yourself, and then he relaxed visibly, sitting on the edge of the bed. You wrapped your arms around him from behind, kissing his back and shoulder blades.

"I love you, Aaron. I trust you. I know I'm safe with you."

I promise it isn't you. I think you're perfect. It's me, and I know that.

"I love you more than anything, sugar. You have no idea how special it is to me that you let me touch you like this. I— I don't ever want to think about anyone else touching you," it was greedy, possessive, you loved every second of it. You loved belonging to him, knowing that you were his. He'd never let you forget it, going above and beyond for you in all aspects.

"I don't want anyone else. I never want anyone else to see me like this. Just you," you mumbled against his back, sighing at all of the boxes left to be unpacked. You'd spent all afternoon in the bed and it was getting dark out, another day passed by without settling in. You tried not to nag him about it because he was enjoying the slow pace, but it was secretly driving you mad, all of the boxes everywhere.

"Promise me something," he turned around to face you, capturing your face with his hand, his thumb brushing your cheek.

"Anything," you agreed, captivated by his big brown eyes. You could stare at them forever, amber pools and flecks of gold, deep and gorgeous.

"Will you love me forever? I—I really want to be kept by you," he kissed your forehead, and you felt an overwhelming pang of love strike through you. It was unexpected, something you never saw coming with him, but you were in deep, so in love with him that life beyond him didn't seem to make sense.

"Forever. I promise it'll always be you."

✨✨✨

You'd kept your promise to him, and he'd inadvertently done the same. Deep down, you knew something would draw you back together; you never expected it to be a snowstorm, or the thunderstorm that occurred right after your big fight.

You were sat in the bathroom floor, waiting on him to seal your fate when the first clap of thunder came, shaking the foundation of the house.

"Great. Another storm," you sighed, still rocking in his lap. It was soothing, the repetition, being held by him. You wanted more than anything for him to decide you were worth it, worth the arguments and the long nights.

"I'm not losing you again. I'm sorry about what I said. We may be in deep, but it's not a bad thing," he whispered, his head cradling yours.

"I can't help it Aaron. I just love you too much."

He nodded, taking a deep breath before he kissed your forehead.

"No such thing as too much. We were always bound to end up together, you know. I couldn't stay away from you. Looking back, I don't know how I did it for a year."

You didn't know either, because it had been hell. You'd been miserable for months, going through the motions until Penelope tried to pull you out of your funk. She took you shopping, you went out with her and her friends. She made you feel included, safe. You'd begun to open back up, feel a little bit more normal than before.

"It wasn't easy, Aaron. But we're here now. And I'm hoping you don't go anywhere, because I see lightning," you were watching out the small bathroom window as the wind blew and the rain began to fall, the weather taking a drastic turn.

"We won't stop trying for a baby, right? It's—I just really want to be a dad," he sighed, and you understood completely. It was frustrating for you, not being able to give him children. You'd even talked about surgical alternatives before if things didn't get any easier.

"We won't stop trying. I thought that's why you left the first time. Because I couldn't give you what you really wanted."

He stayed quiet, which confirmed your worst fears. He'd given up because you couldn't get pregnant. You stood up, a bit dizzy, but otherwise you were okay. You just wanted to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

"Wait—"

He was on your heels as you headed for the kitchen. You stood by the sink, and he stood on the other side of the bar, looking back at you like he knew he was losing you a second time. You weren't sure how you'd move forward knowing that the one thing you couldn't give him is what he wanted the most.

"I'm finished talking, Aaron. You want a baby and I can't make that happen for you. Maybe when the storm clears up, you can make things right with Beth and she can give you a kid."

He shook his head, his eyes glassy and exhausted. You could tell he was tired of the back and forth just as much as you were. You wanted to eat and go to bed, forgetting the night had even happened.

"Stop talking about Beth! I don't want a family with her! This is about us. A baby isn't why I left—not completely. I left because I couldn't leave the job behind, and you didn't deserve to sit at home waiting on someone who couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. It's different now, though. I swear."

You weren't sure if you could believe him or not, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt because you didn't want to see him walk away twice. You wanted more than anything for him to make the choice to stay despite the obstacles. He'd been so willing to try again that his mood swings were giving you whip lash. You weren't sure what to expect from him at any given time considering the smallest things were setting him off.

"Please don't let me down again, Aaron. I couldn't do it a second time."

✨✨✨

You ate dinner alone at the bar while he took a shower, the storm outside raging on. The lights would flicker, but the power hadn't went out yet. You feared for the roads, the icy conditions would be hell to drive in for another couple of days at least. You were unsure how he'd managed to be off work so long, why he wasn't rushing to race back to the BAU, despite the weather. You knew it was coming as soon as there was a break in the storm, it would be inevitable that he had to return, and there was always the looming possibility of him not coming back, despite the decision to live together again.

You were traumatized by losing him the first time.

It had been more for any person to bear, losing the one person you didn't want to live without. It had started to get better as of recently, but you had missed him up until you saw his face again, instantly drawn back in to the love affair you'd started so many years ago.

When you finished dinner, he was still in the bathroom, so you took the time to walk out on the porch. The rain had turned the snow into a slushy gray mess, but it was quickly freezing, hail hitting the roof of your cars in the driveway. You shivered, pulling your sweater tighter around you before taking a deep breath. You could smell the earth, the wet ground and gravel reminding you why you'd chosen the cabin in the first place. You loved the seclusion, the long drive up. It felt like your personal vacation getaway all the time, and you'd loved that about it.

You stood until the wind started to pick up, blowing rain in your direction. You quickly went back into the house, stopping in your tracks when you saw Aaron standing at the stove, stoking the embers in only his towel. You tried not to stare, but his hair was still wet, clinging to his forehead, tiny water droplets still rolling down his skin.

"Still storming?" His back was turned to you, so you sat at the bar and waited for things to feel normal again. Things were tense, the wounds of your last conversation still fresh in both of your minds.

"Yeah, it's nasty out there. What are you going to do about work tomorrow?"

He turned around and looked at you like you'd asked him to stick his hand in the fire.

"Work? In this? Now that I'm not in the field, I can work here if I want to. Neither of us are leaving until there's a good break in the weather. They know the situation."

You'd assumed he'd told whoever he reported to that he couldn't come in even if he wanted to, the weather was too bad. They'd manage without him, they always did.

"I was just curious. I'm sorry," you weren't sure why you were apologizing but you felt like you'd been questioning him and he hated feeling interrogated. His entire posture changed; he went from being wound up so tight that the muscles in his back were clenched to softening up quick, crossing the living room to stand in front of you.

"Why are you apologizing? You can ask me whatever you want, anytime you want."

He kissed your forehead before he went in the direction of the bedroom so he could get dressed. When he was finished, you swapped places. You went to take a shower and he came to eat dinner. Things were quiet but you were afraid of starting another senseless fight, so you kept your mouth shut. You didn't want to make him upset by saying something.

You turned on your music and let the warm water pound at your muscles, the stress of the day going down the drain as you cried it out, every last bit. You cried for yourself, for the hole that was in your chest. A baby wouldn't heal all of your wounds, you knew that. But becoming a parent was the one thing you wanted together that still seemed so far out of reach.

You cried for the man you'd lost, because even though he walked and talked like the man you once knew, he wasn't him. You still loved him more than anything, but he'd turned even harder and more cold since he left that you were afraid nothing could warm him back up. You hoped there was an end in sight to the pointless fights, the misguided rage you both felt; you were pointing fingers in the wrong direction at all times and you felt more hopeless now than you ever did. You tried to make yourself feel better by putting on his favorite set of underwear, lacy and black with a matching bra, but you didn't even know if he'd have the chance to see it with the way he was acting.

You slipped on a t-shirt and some sweatpants, stepping out of the bathroom to a dark house except for the stove light. The bedroom door was closed so you assumed he'd went to sleep. You crept down the hall for a cup of coffee, sitting down at the couch. You hoped he wasn't still upset but you weren't for certain.

When you didn't come back down the hall, he came looking for you. He was in a black t-shirt and his boxers, looking as handsome as ever as he reached for your hand to pull you up off the couch.

"Thought you went to bed," you told him, bringing your mug along with you as you followed him down the hall.

"I was doing something top secret," he winked, opening the door to the bedroom. Instead of the lamp being on, there were candles lit on both sides of the bed and on the dresser, illuminating the whole room in a glowing ambiance. The bed had been made, all the pillows pushed towards the head of the bed, your ghost hunting show already waiting to be played on the television.

"We did a lot today. I thought maybe we'd take it easy tonight," he took your hand and led you to the bed, letting you climb on. He climbed in after you, letting you situate on the pillows while he sat at the foot of the bed. He pressed play, but instead of watching, he grabbed your ankle, the pads of his fingers massaging your feet.

"This is really nice," you couldn't help but smile at the effort he'd shown, being more romantic now than you'd seen him since you first got together. It was a simple but sweet gesture that made every hair on your body stand up straight. You weren't used to this side of him, the version of him that gave you every broken piece of him no matter how damaged. He wanted you to see him in every light, not just the good one. You'd seen the best and worst in him and you still loved him more than words could explain.

"You deserve the best."

He rubbed your feet and calves before making his way between your legs, rubbing your thighs. You were still fully clothed but you could tell he couldn't wait to undress you. You didn't give in right away, instead you let him caress every inch of your body before he insisted on moving behind you so he could rub your back. You leaned into him and let him work on your neck and shoulders, relaxing into his touch more than you ever thought possible. You felt like you were finally with the man you'd been missing all along.

"You're so tense, sugar. You've got knots all over the place," you winced as he worked the kinks out of your shoulders, the root of all your back pain concentrated to one small area in the middle of your back. Aaron was carefully dealing with the aftermath, kneading gently into your skin as you leaned forward, your mouth slightly agape. It felt almost too good, and the relief after was astounding.

"Feels so good," you murmured quietly, slumped forward completely as his thumbs worked against your flesh. You were in awe of how gentle and caring he could be, the fact that he could take care of you more than just sexually meant a lot to you. You needed someone who would feed your soul and he did exactly that each time he spoke.

"If you want to take this off, I've almost got you sorted out," he told you, toying with the hem of your t-shirt. He tried to conceal the way his breath got caught up in his throat at the sight of you, even if he'd seen you naked a million times before. He always had the same reaction every time; it was like he was seeing you for the first time all over again.

"I really appreciate this," you told him, your hand on his knee as his fingers pressed into your bare skin, giving you the kind of pleasure you'd only dreamed about before. You'd never gotten the royal treatment from him, although he treated you like a queen most of the time; he'd just never went to such great lengths to show you he cared before. His idea of a romantic gesture was laying in bed together after a long day, so to say he was out of his comfort zone was accurate, but he was giving you 100% regardless.

"I wanted to make up for earlier. None of this was your fault. I—I like the idea of a new bed. A bigger one," he replied, shocking you further. You hadn't expected for him to give in on the topic of the bed, but here he was, making compromises.

"We can keep this one. Put it in the spare bedroom," you offered, and he gave you a small smile before shaking his head.

"I don't need it anymore, baby. We'll bring up the rest of our stuff when the roads clear up. I'll get Derek and Penelope to help," he had it all planned out much to your surprise, he was serious about moving back in together.

"I don't have a lot. Clothes and the bed. The apartment came furnished," you'd left everything at the cabin, but you'd went to the liberty of buying new clothes, because you could never have too many. Half the stuff in your closet at the cabin you'd forgotten about, and you were happy to see it again.

"Mine too. I'll have to find somewhere to put my desk," the room was too small, but you had an idea that made his eyebrows shoot up instantly.

"All the money we'll be saving means we could think about an addition. Doesn't Derek renovate houses? You need an office," his hands stopped momentarily as he pondered your suggestion, but you weren't willing to give up the nursery for his office. Building on meant he could have total creative control of what his office looked like, down to the floors and windows.

"Maybe when the weather warms up. That's not a bad idea at all. It could go in the dining room for now," there was a small designated space for a kitchen table in the corner, close to the wood stove. It would be suitable for his desk until you worked something else out.

"Maybe when you go back to work, I can work on the nursery during the day. I still have the paint we picked out for it," you were treading lightly, turning around to scan his face to make sure you hadn't struck a tender nerve.

"It's a big room to do on your own. Maybe that's what we can do tomorrow? Paint it together," he sounded optimistic about it, his thumb caressing your cheek as you leaned into his palm. His hands were big enough to cover half your face at once, with long, thick fingers that felt heavenly everywhere they touched.

"We can set the whole thing up. That way when it does happen, we're already halfway prepared," it was hope that kept you hanging by a thread, but it helped to be with him and talk about your fears, and the positive outlook he still had for your parenting journey. You knew that with perfect timing, everything would work out for the better, despite whatever odds you encountered.

"We only tried for a month before. Who knows, maybe we've already managed to get the job done, with as much as we've been practicing," he winked, leaning back on his elbows to look at you. You felt the weight of his gaze on you, heavy and intoxicating as you stood up off the bed.

"Where are you going?" He was already moving to follow you until you let your sweatpants fall to your feet and stepped out of them, letting him get a good look at you in his favorite set.

"I'm staying right here," you said softly, feeling a bit more confident than the moments prior. It was hard not to feel sexy when he looked at you like you were The Goddess herself, perfect in every way imaginable. He moved to the edge of the bed, cupping your hips with his hands as he planted a trail of warm, wet kisses across your stomach. He was speechless, his Adam's apple bobbing furiously as he tried to find the words to say.

"I hope I'm the only person that ever gets to see you like this."

It was greedy, selfish, and you fucking loved it. It brought you so much pleasure to know how much he adored you, how deeply he craved to be the only one with the chance to have you naked.

"I told you. You're the only one, and I meant that," you promised him, the glow of the candle flames dancing across your body, casting an ethereal shadow on you. You felt more connected to him than ever as you stood in front of him. He didn't let you stand for long, he was pulling you forward to lay on the bed while he walked around to his side, opening the bedside table. He rummaged until he found the camera, holding it up, silently asking for your permission. You propped yourself up and smiled for him, earning a giggle from him in response, his face hidden by the camera.

"I had an idea earlier, if you're interested," you purred, letting him have his fun with the camera. He was bossy, telling you how to pose, where to put your hands; you understood why he used to be in charge.

"Tell me," he was still slightly preoccupied, but he'd stopped for a second to look at the photos he'd taken in the candlelight. You'd been stunned by the flash each time he captured a photo, so it gave your eyes a break from the harsh light.

"What do you think about using your old video camera? We could make our own movie and watch it together," you watched the bulge start to form in his pants, pressing against the fabric of his boxers as he turned on the lamp, making you cover your eyes.

"You're serious?"

He was already rummaging through the drawer for the video camera; you'd bought it to document his retirement and never even used it. Wish a fresh set of batteries, it would be ready to use, the tripod for it sitting in the corner of the room.

"I was thinking about it when we were watching porn. I had more fun watching you, and I think it would be fun to watch ourselves," the idea made you a tad self conscious but he'd fix that easily once things got hot and heavy; you didn't have a second to feel insecure because of all the love he showed you.

"Seeing you on camera would be really fucking hot," he was sold on the idea, powering the camera on to make sure it still worked. When the power button flashed green and the preview screen showed the television, you wanted to pat yourself on the back for having the idea in the first place.

"You're already a pretty good cameraman," you told him, a sly grin appearing on his face shortly after. He was always snapping photos of you, even before. There was a drawer full of Polaroids of you doing everything from showering to cooking in his bedside table.

"We can hook this up to the tv afterwards and watch," he was reading the instruction manual, figuring out how to make your fantasy a reality. You leaned back on the bed and watched him set the camera up on the tripod, angling it to where he had a perfect view of you and the bed. He pressed record and came to join you on the bed, taking his shirt off and tossing it to the floor. You sat up on your knees, kissing his neck and chest, dragging your nails down his back. You felt him gather your hair in his hand, getting it out of the way so the camera could see your face marking hickies onto his skin, your mouth leaving a trail of warmth down his abdomen.

"I love your sweet little mouth," he said, almost to himself it was so low; you nibbled at his skin, making him hiss. You worked your way from his waistline to his neck before settling on his mouth, your tongue swirling against his as the two of you put on a show. You let him unclasp your bra and take your tits in his hands, rolling and tweaking your nipples between his fingers. His mouth ducked down to capture them, taking your nipples in his mouth one by one until he had them stiff and puffy against his tongue. You whimpered at how sensitive you were to his touch, the lightest brush of his fingers bringing you immense excitement. You couldn't stop it, your most primal instinct took over when you were like this with him; your only need was to become his fantasy, make all of his dreams come true.

"Lay down and spread your legs," it was demanding, the kind of tone he'd use with someone at work, stern and absolute.

"Yes sir," it had been in a teasing tone, but his eyes darkened dramatically as his hand found a home on your neck, barely gripping you.

"Say it again," he growled, and you realized what was going on, so you indulged him further, exploring a new, interesting side of him.

"Yes sir," it was more sultry, seductive, and it had his full attention, the grip on your throat tightening just a fraction, not enough to hurt. He let you go so you could do as he'd asked, laying back on the pillows and spreading your legs wide, your knees bent.

"That's really fucking sexy. I never thought I'd be turned on by something so simple," he mused, fingertips toying with your clothed center. There was a sticky wet patch at the front of your panties that he couldn't ignore, laying between your legs so he could kiss it. You felt your hips buck upwards in anticipation as he pulled your panties down your legs slowly, peeling them off of you. He licked his lips before angling himself to where the camera was still trained on you, and he could watch your reaction later.

"I can't wait to see you cum on camera," he told you before his tongue found your clit, circling it as slowly as possible, just enough to drive you absolutely mad. You tried to guide him with your hands but he stayed put and you weren't able to budge him.

"You're confused about who's in charge here, sugar," you'd never heard him so dominant, so demanding. You loved the change of pace, the way his demeanor shifted and he became someone new entirely, someone that was enjoying the feeling of being in control of things. He was often in control, but this was different. He was executing his authority, unlike other times when he'd allow you to do whatever you wanted.

"Then remind me," you countered, a low groan emitting from his lips as he reattached his lips to your center, sucking furiously in order to satiate some of the pressure between your thighs. You felt your eyes flutter shut as his fingers found their home inside of you, the mixture of his mouth and fingers sending you over the edge embarrassingly quick. Your legs shook, boosting his ego slightly as he watched you try to recover from your orgasm.

"Such a good girl, I love it when you cum on my tongue," he revered as he lapped incessantly at you, dying to be between your legs. Your hands flew to the back of his head to keep him in place and as quickly as before, he'd stopped, pulling away from you entirely.

"Do I need to tie you up so you'll behave?" He played the part so fucking well, rocking you to the core with his cocky attitude.

"Is that a trick question?" You were enjoying yourself to the fullest extent and so was he; he was already reaching for the tie that hung from the bedpost to restrain you. Once he had your hands secure, he put them above your head, playfully swatting your ass as he made his way back down your body.

"Please behave, sugar. I don't want to stop but you're not being a very good girl," his seductive tone had you a mess between your thighs as you promised to be good; you kept your hands where he'd put them and he slowly slipped his fingers back inside you, his thumb toying with your clit.

"I love seeing you tied up," he couldn't help himself, he was diving back between your legs to fuck you with his mouth, his tongue slipping inside of you, replacing his fingers entirely. You saw stars when he began sucking on your clit, trembling all over as he showed you no mercy. Just when you thought surely he'd be exhausted of eating your pussy, he got a second wind, in a trance laid between your thighs.

"Can I touch you please?" It was quiet, you weren't even sure he heard you until he moved to sit on his knees, staring down at you.

"Will you listen to what I say? Mouth only, no hands," he instructed, helping you to sit up. You leaned forward on your elbows as he stripped down, eager to take his cock in your mouth.

"Yes sir."

You teasingly sucked on the tip, his hands on your head to keep you steady. You were unstable because of the bindings, so he made sure to keep you balanced. You took him in your mouth little by little until his cock was well past your throat and you were gasping for air around him. Without thinking, you reached up to take him in your hand when he pulled away from you, making a tsk noise with his mouth.

"Breaking the rules already," he stroked himself and all you could do was watch, jealous that you couldn't touch him.

"It was an accident, baby. I promise I'll be good," you pleaded, earning a light chuckle from him in response.

"Open your mouth," you did as he instructed, taking his cock once more, flattening your tongue against him so you could suck wildly at him, hands free. He let his hand fall to your head, brushing your hair back as you choked on him. Tears stained your face as you hollowed your cheeks out around him, moaning on his cock.

You'd almost forgotten about the camera; you'd be able to watch him be stern all over again, but on the big screen. You were eager to relive the experience through film, even with it still so fresh in your mind.

His hips began meeting your mouth, thrusting into you slowly as you made room in your mouth to accommodate him, his dick slippery, slipping in and out of your mouth easily. You swirled your tongue around him, feeling the salty rush of his orgasm fill your mouth. He was trying to untie your wrists, undoing the knots as his chest rose and fell. His mouth met your hands where they'd been tied before he stood up and stopped the camera, looking back to you.

"You'd tell me if I scared you, right? I like the idea of being in control of everything but I'm afraid of being mean and I'm not trying to be," he explained quickly, and you shook your head, motioning him back to the bed. He let you hold him in your arms, his head against your chest.

"I like it. As long as you're not serious, you can be mean and I'll like it," you admitted sheepishly, curious about the more dominant side of him and what he could offer you. You imagined him rough, selfish, all of your favorite qualities wrapped into someone who had the ability to make you quiver.

You got on the topic of a safe word and decided you could benefit from it, so you came up with one and decided that's how you'd establish boundaries. From now on, everything was on the table and up for grabs, so long as you were both okay with it.

"If you haven't noticed, when it comes to you, there isn't much I won't do," he reminded you, kissing the tender flesh on your chest before he peeled himself away from you to hook up the camera to the television. You laid against the pillows, covering your legs with the blanket as you waited for him. Once the two of you came into view on the tv, you were completely engrossed, watching his every move. You'd been there, experienced it firsthand, but it was different watching from an outside point of view.

"You look so good," he pointed out, already crawling between your thighs so he could use them as a pillow.

"So do you. You tower over me," you shot back, the size difference part of the reason for your attraction to him in the first place. You loved how he had to bend down to kiss you; or the way his body was broad enough to blanket you in. Everything about him was big, his hands, his feet, his long, muscular legs. The night you met, you stood next to him and decided after seeing the height difference that you were interested, but everything about him had been a green flag for you. He was charming, handsome, stable. You'd been interested from the moment Penelope introduced you to him.

"I do, don't I?" He laughed as you nodded in agreement, because even on the screen, he looked massive in comparison to you.

"I love it."

You ran your fingers through his hair and watched the two of you on the screen, his hand on your throat, giving you the same feeling now as when it happened. He didn't miss the way you tried to clench your thighs together despite his head being between them, instead, he rolled onto his stomach and pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.

"You like it when I put my hand around your throat?" It came out sweetly, making you blush at how filthy yet cute he could sound. He was the only man that could speak and send you spiraling from their words alone.

"It surprises me still how much I love it," you were in love with the way it made you feel like his, the ownership that came with it. It was hard to describe.

"You like the idea of me being rough, don't you?" He raised an eyebrow as you nodded at him. He didn't respond, only sat up his knees and pulled you forward, his hands hooked beneath your knees. You inhaled sharply as he pulled your legs up to sit on his chest, his dick stiff against your thigh as he slipped into you. He pulled you onto his member completely, making sure he was nestled deep inside of you before he began to pound into you with so much force that he moved the bed. In no time flat he was moving to plant his feet on the ground and pulling you to the edge of the bed with him. He was able to slam into you easier with his feet firm on the floor, holding you steady as he fucked you. You felt the pressure begin to build as he hit your sweet spot at the most precise angle, rotating his hips into you quickly. His hand found it's way to your throat and he squeezed, sending you over the edge immediately, whimpering beneath his grasp.

"My sweet girl likes being filthy, hmm?" His free hand gripped your thigh hard enough to leave fingerprints as he pulled you into him, burying himself into you as deep as he could go. It was intense, more than satisfying. His hand slapped your ass, making you cry out in shock and then giggle wildly after, gazing adoringly up at him.

"I'll be as filthy as you want me to be," it was a guarantee, because you'd do anything he asked, at any given time. You clenched around him once more, the intensity knocking all of the wind out of you as his hips met yours. He filled you, shouting your name as he came inside of you, releasing his hand from your throat. He lurched forward and kissed you hard on the mouth before collapsing on the bed next to you.

"The video went off and we didn't even know," you looked at the tv and sure enough there was a blank blue screen in the place of you two on video; you hadn't even realized it was over.

"We have it forever now. We can watch it whenever we want," you reminded him, moving towards the pillows so you could get comfy. He followed you, climbing under the covers as his legs found yours, tangling together under the blanket.

"I have this really strong feeling that everything is going to work this time," he yawned, pulling you close as your eyes fluttered shut.

"Me too, baby."

Taglist: @ssamorganhotchner

Next Part

[seriouslysnape]

Miscommunication

James Potter x Remus Lupin x Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 1,349

A/N: Here is part 2!

“Oh, I’m well aware that you don’t appreciate me.”

“Fuck you, Sirius!” Your usually calm voice bellowed out in the boys’ dormitory.

“You better watch your fucking mouth.” Sirius pointed at you, his face red with anger and his eyes full of rage.

“Or what? Are you gonna ‘fuck the attitude out of me’?” You spat, so close to exploding that your entire body was trembling; “Sex doesn’t fix everything!”

Sirius looked horrified at your statement, but he was even more appalled at your sudden boldness towards him. You never talked back. To any of them. And if you ever had the urge to, Sirius was the last one you’d ever try it on. Something had really riled you up, but Sirius didn’t care what it was.

All he knew was that you were pissing him off.

“Since when do you tell me how we do things? Last time I checked, you’re not in control here, sweetheart.” He hissed, the endearment dripping with venom.

You were far past the point of backing down now. You were on a steady roll and you were determined to get it into his thick skull. No matter what it took. He was standing just in front of you, and half a step forward would have the two of you touching.

“You still have to listen to me, Sirius. You can’t just throw me around all the time.” You remarked, your voice rising even louder, despite your close vicinity.

“Oh, so now you’re telling me what to do? You’ve lost your fucking mind.” Sirius growled, matching your volume.

The door swung open, revealing James and Remus who looked as if they had ran there from clear across the castle.

“What is going on?” James heaved; “We can hear you two all the way from the common room.” 

Sirius laughed incredulously, turning away from you to face the two boys.

“Princess here has decided that she can get away with saying whatever she wants to me,” Sirius explained; “I was just telling her that’s not how we do things.”

Remus was the first to raise a brow. It was very peculiar for you to scream at any of them like this. From time to time, you’d get irritated or even a little fussy with your boys, but never full blown outraged like this. Sometimes you’d even catch an attitude on purpose with the hopes of getting what you want, but something was definitely wrong here. You were demanding attention, but not THAT kind of attention.

“Baby,” Remus began gently, approaching you with a soft demeanor; “What’s gotten you so upset?”

Sirius’ head whipped around at lightning speed, his voice thick with spite as he gruffed at Remus.

“Do not ‘baby’ her. She’s being a-”

“Pads!” James cut off Sirius before he said something he’d regret. 

“What? She’s being stubborn!” Sirius argued.

Soon enough, Sirius and James were on the other side of the room, talking at each other and trying to outargue the other. You weren’t even focused on Sirius anymore. You kept your eyes trained on Remus in hopes of settling yourself down. Remus had a calming effect on you that the other two didn’t have. 

“He’s just being so aggravating.” You said lowly, keeping your volume at a minimum.

“What do you mean, lovebug?” Remus questioned, stroking your cheek with his most cautious touch. He left a loving kiss to your lips that were strained with displeasure, hoping to bring you back to your more normal self.

“He just won’t listen to me,” You stressed; “I’ve had a really long day and all I wanted to do was just talk about it. But he can’t keep his dick in his pants long enough to even let me express myself.”

Remus looked over his shoulder to get a quick glance at James and Sirius, who were still quarreling away. There was no doubt that Sirius’ side of the story was very different from yours. Remus sighed heavily, because this wasn’t the first time this had happened. It hadn’t quite sparked this big of a reaction from you, but this bickering topic had been discussed before. 

Remus and James had told Sirius time and time again that his ignorance for your non-sexual needs was going to get him in trouble. More often than not, you let Sirius push you and you would just take it without fighting back. They knew it was only a matter of time before you snapped.

“Sirius doesn’t talk as well as James and I do. You know that.” Remus pointed out.

Sirius usually left the “emotional counseling” (as he called it) to James and Remus. Sirius’ ability to communicate verbally was less than perfect. Sirius figured that a bad day could be solved by a couple of orgasms. He didn’t understand that you weren’t going to always want to solve it that way. 

“But if you two can do it, then why can’t he?” You posed; “I love talking to you and James, but Sirius just doesn’t care.” 

“He does care, baby, just not always in the way you want him to. He just needs some practice.” Remus suggested.

Maybe you were being a little hard to get along with, but if Sirius was going to be a part of his relationship, then he had to at least try to embrace the other aspects of being committed. The other side of the room suddenly fell silent, pausing your and Remus’ conversation. Sirius was glaring at you, and it seemed that James wasn’t really getting through to him. The bubbling pot of anger had well boiled over in Sirius, the steaming liquid of wrath seeping through every bone and crevice of his being.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I sure as hell don’t appreciate it.” Sirius snarked, beginning to target you again.

“Oh, I’m well aware that you don’t appreciate me.” You fired off, pushing past Remus to meet Sirius halfway.

James and Remus were caught in the middle, watching the two of you fight from off to the side.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius riposted, his cheeks flushing red once more.

You scoffed in distaste, grabbing your things and preparing to make your exit.

“I mean that until you learn how to be a decent boyfriend and human being,” You scowled; “I don’t want to be around you.”

All three of the boys froze in place, stunned at your words. Sirius felt a rush of dread flood his veins and go straight to his head. He knew that you weren’t breaking up with him, but he couldn’t imagine his days without you. The thought of you being all over James and Remus without him was hard to take. All four of you were in a relationship together. None of you were used to you distancing yourself from one member.

“You’re not thinking this through, bunny.” Remus warned once he built the courage to speak.

“Moony’s right,” James added; “Let’s all sit down and talk about this, yeah?”

You shook your head angrily as you forcefully shoved your books and whatever else into your backpack. If Sirius wasn’t going to talk, then neither were you. You were shooting daggers into Sirius’ frame, making your unhappiness very obvious.

“Sirius won’t understand. There’s no point.” You huffed.

Despite Sirius’ growing sense of worry and desire to keep you around, his exasperation won out.

“The only thing I don’t understand is why you’re acting like such a bitch.” Sirius snapped, delivering the final blow.

James closed his eyes in frustration, Remus pinching the bridge of his nose. They knew that Sirius had just REALLY fucked up now. You only shook your head again, slinging your backpack over your shoulders.

“I’ll see you boys later.” You said to James and Remus, purposefully ignoring Sirius.

You bumped past Sirius and had slammed the door behind you before anything else could be said. The boys were standing there in complete, desolate quietness. James and Remus were staring Sirius down, which was enough to begin to simmer out his anger. James spoke first, his voice thick with annoyance and sarcasm.

“That went well.”

[thebiscuiteternal]

I scribbled this idea out on twitter months ago and a very nice nonnie asked me to bring it here, so bring it here I shall. A concept and a snippet.

::ahem::

Nie Huaisang, who has spent his whole fifteen years of life studiously avoiding combat training, rescues a bedraggled and injured cat...bird...thing and secretly nurses it back to health in the Cloud Recesses, only to be informed (?!) by said creature once it recovers that he is now a magical girl the protector of the jianghu.

Featuring!

Nie Huaisang:  The unwilling magical girl protector who Hates This and wishes someone better/more dedicated had been picked, but finds his resolve after learning his brother's life is on the line/his best friend has been stolen and corrupted by evil magic. He will take this stupid sparkly stick thing and use it to put those monsters through a mountain if that’s what it takes to save Da-ge and Meng Yao.

Jiang Cheng/Wei Wuxian/Jin Zixuan: Huaisang’s classmates/tentative friends, the someones better who pretty much excel in classes but for some reason weren’t picked.

Lan Wangji: The stuck up class monitor who is definitely a someone better and causes problems by constantly almost catching Huaisang with the catbirdthing.

Meng Yao: The secret-keeper best friend who winds up corrupted thanks to ambition/jealousy/possible mind control via evil magic and becomes the dark magical girl enemy Huaisang has to fight at the end.

Wen Ruohan: The villain who sold his soul to demonic forces and is responsible for the monsters, the corruptive magic running amok, the threat to Nie Mingjue’s life, and Meng Yao’s fall to the dark side. Lots of creepy romantic tension going on here between him and the magical girls.

And under the cut we have the #sangyao finale where Nie Huaisang successfully saves his boyfriend bestie from being killed by magical backlash via The Power of Love.

---------

The Palace of the Scorching Sun is starting to be ripped apart, but Nie Huaisang cares little about that. 

What he cares about is the source of the storm, still trapped in the throne room.

Gently handing his semi-conscious brother to Nie Zonghui, he darts back through the gates, ignoring the panicked shouts of "Gongzi!" behind him. 

The storm is multiplying in strength by the moment and while his magic shields him from the flying debris, he isn't so lucky when it comes to the lightning that lashes through the wind and clouds. A burst of magic strikes the ground just in front of him and blows him off his feet, allowing the wind to slam him into a swiftly splintering column. 

It fucking hurts.

He grits his teeth and draws more power into the shield cloaking his body, then drags himself into his feet and doggedly plows on, unwilling -unable- to stop now.

When he crashes through the last of the storm wall into the center, he sucks in a sharp breath. 

Kneeling in the middle of what’s left of the throne room, Meng Yao looks even more wretched than he had when Wen Ruohan had shattered the seal at his throat, glowing veins of violet and red threading most of his body. 

At the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the eye of the storm, the other boy raises his head, and the sight of ichor dripping from black voids where his eyes should have been makes Nie Huaisang have to restrain himself from instinctively backing up.

"Why are you here?" Meng Yao asks, and Nie Huaisang's heart aches at how small and broken he sounds, voice hoarse from screaming. 

"This place is coming down on you." 

A dull, hollow little chuckle. “You’re the only one who cares.”

Lightning crackles out of the storm wall and Nie Huaisang barely manages to avoid getting blasted repeatedly. 

"Fine!" he yells, trying to use his teleport dodging to get closer and having no success until he finally resorts to summoning the staff he hates so much so that he can block the bolts. “Fine! Then I'm the only one who cares! But that still means I do care!" 

Meng Yao falters, but losing control over the storm only makes it even more violent, the wall of the eye threatening to implode on them. At least it gives Nie Huaisang enough of a reprieve from the lightning that he's able to throw himself to his knees and wrap his arms tightly around the other boy, expanding his shield to cover them both. His magic starts seeking out the corruption in Meng Yao's body, trying to purge the worst damage. 

"What- what are you doing?" 

"What's it look like? I'm trying to fix this." 

"You can't," Meng Yao says. Then, more desperately. "You can’t. I'm already- I'm-" 

Nie Huaisang squeezes him tighter, ignoring the burning in his chest that acts as his warning he's overtaxing himself. "Then at least I can make it hurt less. At least I can make sure you won't have to die here all by yourself." 

“You’ll die too-" 

"Sorry. Only got enough energy to care about one thing at a time." 

Meng Yao makes a choked little noise that might be a sob or a laugh or both, then buries his face into Nie Huaisang's neck as the storm partially collapses, smashing into the shield. 

--- 

It takes nearly half a day of digging. But when the rescuers find them, they are kneeling in a space completely clear of debris. Unconscious, but alive, and still clinging to each other.

[acedragontrainer]

this looks like fun, i don’t have any khr ocs so i’m just gonna make one :p

Yuki Durante

ok so this dude is like idk in his 20s, he’s working his way through college in his mom’s memory because she was dead set on him attaining this ideal future where he’s got a foreign college education and enough money to live comfortably, and he still hasn’t realized that she was emotionally abusive about him becoming this ideal child that didn’t actually exist and couldn’t, mostly because she’s super dead which left him with rose tinted glasses about his childhood which he clings to because after she died everything went to shit

his dad didn’t tell his mom he was in the mafia until after they got married, it was a very short marriage, she kicked him the fuck out after surviving a shooting by a rival family and him finally owning up, she didn’t want anything to do with him and he never got around to telling her about flames, and honestly it would have been breaking omerta to do so, so she raises this kid on her own as a single parent with a shit job and no support, and she really does try to be better than her own parents, to give her kid a better life than she had, but she’s not the best mom, she’s a controlling perfectionist that doesn’t want to be satisfied and she sorta put the burden of fulfilling her dreams of getting out and becoming somebody worth something on her son’s head, but then she went and died in a house fire, the low income housing unit they were living in went up in flames and she tried to protect her 13 y/o son with her life, but died of smoke inhalation before getting out of the building, this is where yuki went active, and the only reason he survived

he got tossed around to a few relatives that didn’t want anything to do with him since they’re all on his mother’s side of the family, so they know he’s some mafia guy’s kid and his grandmother encourages everybody to punish him for his mother’s failings, i.e. leaving their abusive insular family by marrying the first decent guy with a steady paycheck that came by and then not coming crawling back to her mom when her divorce went through, and eventually his dad finds out and sends him the deed to a house in namimori, in japan

so yuki emancipates himself and moves to japan, it’s not a hard decision, his mom named him after her favorite fruits basket character and probably got with his dad because he was part japanese, so like he grew up with japan being this magical place his mom dreamed about visiting, it is a learning curve, for sure, but it’s so much better than living in italy, so he claws himself out a life and learns and his dad sends him the occasional check his mother’s pride would have never let her accept (but still doesn’t call), and namimori is namimori and yuki is a kid, so he kind of, just assumes that magic exists in japan since nobody explained dying will flames to him and his only point of reference is fantasy manga, he misunderstands his own flames and just... thinks he has a low magical element affinity à la fantasy rpgs instead of realizing he’s got a lightning flame

school is hard, but it’s what his mom wanted for him and his dad has given him enough money to go to school and live comfortably, so he puts his everything into school and it’s not fucking easy and kids are shitty sometimes, but he ends up getting really into magical girl anime and falls in love with lolita alt fashion, keep in mind he’s living on his own and has his weird friends and no parental supervision, so he jumps right into kawaii culture, he loves cute things, and it’s not until he’s almost graduated that he meets this punk chick that keeps getting into fights with everybody (sun flame not yet active), and by virtue of being a visibly out lesbian and beating the shit out of anybody that looks at her funny, they end up in the same kind of social pariah status and bond over it, she introduces him to the idea that he can just wear all the cute things he likes and if anybody starts shit, just punch them in the face about it, so for the first time in his life yuki does something entirely for himself, he buys a sweet lolita dress and never looks back

yuki is a cis man, he just really likes the aesthetic of lolita and tries really hard to embody it daily and doesn’t mind that he gets misgendered because of it, cute is life, he ends up taking it to some odd extremes such as refusing to speak because he thinks his deep voice shatters the aesthetic of a perfect coord, he literally just uses his flames to make green sparkles when he poses or takes pictures, still nobody’s explained flames to him yet and it’s a small enough use of them that it’s not super noticeable, eventually being around a flame active activates his friend, ayane, and since her mom hasn’t told her about the family business yet they decide they’re just magic and figure out a small correlation where if they put the magic light in their fists when they fight, they win more, yuki because he’s hardening his fists and ayane because she’s just punching with her whole body and instantaneously healing her shattered hand so human constraint soon becomes a suggestion for her

and after high school yuki goes to america to get a college degree, because that’s what his mom wanted, even if he doesn’t entirely get why america, and he gets a bit of culture shock, not only in realizing he does not know english well enough for this, but also in that namimori is massively tolerant of weird shit that a normal american college is just not prepared to deal with, so he has a hard time making friends because language barriers make it really hard to explain things like that and he learns shame and self awareness that just wasn’t needed in namimori, like when your biggest problem is somebody inventing a new type of necromancy every other week the weird shit you wear means very little, so, like he always does, he hardens his heart against everybody else that alienates him and powers through school, graduating with a batchelor’s degree in international business, because his mom had some ideas about what was A Good Job and this fit the bill and would match well with his international upbringing

now keep in mind that his only point of contact with namimori has been ayane since the rest of his friend ground ended up falling apart without school forcing them together, and she’s not all that concerned with explaining the mafia even after she finally got that talk from her parents, or the baby sky that’s causing unprecedented destruction, no she’s just been telling him about this little middle school punk that’s been encroaching on her territory and keeps challenging her to a fight, she thinks he’s like a really annoying kitten, she has never once mentioned the kid is the hibari heir or that she’s engaged in a city wide turf war or that a brawl usually levels a city block, she is unfortunately the kind of person that doesn’t bother with details, so yuki gets out of the cab, breaths in the fresh air of home, and witnesses what looks like godzilla appear out of thin air and rampage around the mountains for a bit, causing tremors all the way into town, yuki was not at all prepared for the level of chaos namimori had been brought to, and is trying really really hard to stay out of all the conflict because he’s meant to eat cake and look cute and spend wayy too much time figuring out how to make his flames look like ball lightning for a gothic lolita ouiji themed photo shoot

I desperately want to know more about people's khr OCs! Specifically yours @lilacdon20 and also yours @masterdisastre !!!!

But really anyone is very welcomed to reblog this with ramblings of their OCs!

Yes You! The person reading this! I want to know about your OCs specifically!!!!

Also you are all welcomed to tag other people who's khr OCs you like as well!! ANYONE IS WELOCME! /pos

Questions, if needed because flustered or confused, are under the Read more!

First up! General questions!

What is their name? Their pronouns? Age? Gender identity? Sexuality? (if any of that matters lmao)

Are they somehow related to another khr character? In what way?

What does your oc look like? Do you have any art of them? Picrew also welcomed! Ai art... Not preferred >:/

What are their relationships to other khr characters? Pairings you like with your oc? Adopted siblings and parents maybe?

Actually what's the family situation of your oc? Do they have siblings that's a background character perhaps? (example: sometimes I give Kusakabe Tetsuya a brother)

Does your oc have a mental illness? Neurodivergencies? Other disabilities? At what age did they get these disabilities if they weren't born with them?

If they had a super power what would it be?

Free Space! [Anything else you want to talk about?]

Khr specific questions:

What's their flames? And how many flames do they have? One? More? None?

How do they use their flames? If they have one.

If they don't have a flame, how do they fight? Do they fight at all?

If they can't fight for any reason, what's their preferred method of self defense?

Free space! [insert any khr specific question you want!]

And last but not least and mostly for fun!!! Khr character questions:

How much does Tsuna want to protect your oc upon first meeting them? After knowing them a minute, is Tsuna now scared of them or worried about them?

Does Reborn think they're pathetic or does he have a slight respect for them? If he suddenly appeared out of a wall-hole, how would your oc react?

Would Hibari Kyoya be able to stand being in a room with them for five minutes? How long do they last in a fight against him?

Would your oc go off rambling about crytids with Gokudera? If yes, which is their fave cryptid?

Would Skull try to flirt with them? Would he score a date? Pity date or genuine interest?

How loud does your oc cheer when Yamamoto hits a home run? What if the ball hit them?

Would your oc be able to last an hour watching over Lambo, I-pin and Fuuta? What if they all had sugar beforehand?

What food would Sawada Nana cook for your oc? What's their favourite food? Drink?

Free space! [insert any other character questions you want!]

There is no pressure for anyone to answer of course. I just want to get to know more OCs and their creators. I'm talkative lately so I'll try to keep up with the reblogs as best I can :3

Multiple reblogs for multiple OCs are also very very welcomed!

[poisoned-peppermint]

Part 4 of incorrect quotes because i feel obligated to make more due to the sheer number of people who liked it

Dream: My dearest beloved fuckos, is a fun, gender-neutral way to begin a speech

George: See also, esteemed bastards

Bad: Gentlefolk, Ferals, and Domesticated cryptids. 

Sapnap: My fellow yees and haws

~~~~~~~

Techno:Hey I know skyrim is revered as a classic but are we just going to ignore the fact that the entire game only had like 3 voice actors

Wilbur:Stop right there criminal cum

Techno:My ancestors are smiling at me, bastard, can you say the same

~~~~~~~

Foolish:When's your bedtime :)

Purpled: Whenever I next collapse in purely up to the gods

~~~~~~

Ranboo:Human skin is a fursuit for skeletons 

Tubbo: i’m going to debone you like a fucking trout

~~~~~~

Bad:You’re enough

Bad: love yourself!!!!!!! or suffer my wrath!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dream:And by wrath I mean love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bad:no I mean wrath!!!!! You reading this, if you don't love yourself I’ll beat you with a stick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~

Bad:I hope everyone is today well! And tomorrow!!!! After that you’re on your own.

~~~~~~

Bad:what am I supposed to do all day while you’re at work

Skeppy:I don’t know, what do you normally do while I’m gone

Bad: wait for you to get back

~~~~~~

Velvet:For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5am on the day I can sleep in

Ant:Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Velvet:Early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch

~~~~~~

Tubbo: 3:23 AM make a wish

Ranboo: I wish that you would go to sleep

Tuddo: Yeah well I wish I grew an inch taller every day as you get an inch shorter until you’re as flat as as a piece of paper and I’m 11 feet tall

Ranboo: You’re going to die of a mixture of skeletal instability and heart disease.

Tubbo: Yeah but I’ll look good while doing it.

~~~~~~

Bad:Disrespect me again and I’ll determine your bodies resonant frequency and play a jaunty horn solo that boils your miserable organs inside out 

~~~~~~

Quackity: If I were dating you?  Well, heh. Let’s just say horses wouldn't be called horses anymore

Karl: hey what the honk does this mean…..I’m shaking what does this mean!

~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you ok?

Bad wrapped in a burrito blanket drinking his 6th cup of coffee: Yes, this is exactly what mental stability looks like

~~~~~~

Sam: My hands are cold

Ponk: *holds their hands*

Ponk: better?

Sam: My lips are cold too

~~~~~~

George at dream’s funeral: can I have a moment alone with them?

Sapnap: of course *leaves*

George leaning over dream’s casket: Now listen, I know you’re not dead.

Dream: yeah no shit

~~~~~~

Skeppy, jokingly: I should have Bad kill you for that.

Bad, peering around the corner: Who do I need to kill?

Skeppy: Wh- no, I was just kidding around.

Bad, pulling out a switchblade: No, who’s bothering you

~~~~~~

Bad *watching the news*: Some idiot tried to fight a squid at the aquarium.

Skeppy *covered in ink*: Maybe the squirt was being a dick.

~~~~~~

Peacock: *spreads feathers at Bad*

Skeppy: It’s trying to attract a mate

Bad, extremely confused: *shyly lifts top*

Skeppy: No!

~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl, do you eat olives? My dad wants to know

Karl: No, I hate olives. Olives are the spawn of satan. I hate olives so much my mom forced me to live in Mount olive for the rest of my childhood as a curse from the olive gods. Do you understand how much olives have ruined my life? I'm so offended that you asked me that have some consideration for people who have been abused by olives please!

Sapnap: K A R L ……….they’re just olives!!?

Karl: JUST OLIVES EXCUSE!

~~~~~~

Tommy: If you’re bored you can simply close your eyes and rotate a cow in your mind. It’s free and the cops can’t stop you

~~~~~~

Wilbur: is there anyone even named sheldon irl?

Tubbo: my class turtle from 6th grade :)

Wilbur: that’s a turtle

Tubbo: When god sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

~~~~~~

Ranboo: No bcuz why do ppl like salad?? What’s so good about it

Tubbo: chew leaf like god intended

Ranboo: No

Tubbo: Abandon god and see what he does next time you lift your hands in prayer

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Wilbur, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

~~~~~~

Quackity: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

~~~~~~

Puffy: If you had too, what would you give up food or sex?

Bad: Sex.

Skeppy: Seriously, answer faster.

Bad: I’m sorry honey, when they said sex I wasn’t thinking about sex with you.

Skeppy: It’s like a giant hug.

Puffy: Ant, what about you? What would you give up sex or food?

Ant: Food.

Puffy: Okay, how about sex or dinosaurs?

Ant: ……...Oh my God it’s like the movie Sophie’s Choice.

Gumi: What about you Velvet? What would you give up sex or food?

Velvet: Oh… um… I don’t know, it’s too hard.

Gumi: No, you gotta pick one.

Velvet: Um, food… no, sex… no, food…sex… food. Ugh! I don’t know! I want both! I- I want Antfrost on bread!

~~~~~~~

Tommy, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Why are you guys acting like this?

Boomer: Oh, we’re not acting. We really are like this.

~~~~~~

Techno: Dream has only knocked me out three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re pathetic!

Wilbur: You’re pathetic-er!

Techno: You’re both losers.

~~~~~~

Bad: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Skeppy: Bad, please!

Bad: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

~~~~~~

Tubbo: Why did you leave Wrestlemania on for Michal?

Ranboo: They need to learn how to protect us.

~~~~~~

Antfrost: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

~~~~~~

Bad: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.

Skeppy: Go the fuck to sleep Bad!

Bad: LANGUAGE!!

~~~~~~

Ranboo: Tubbo, please calm down.

Tubbo: I asked for two large fries!

Tubbo: *dumps fries onto table*

Tubbo: But all they did was give me a MILLION FUCKING LITTLE ONES!

~~~~~~

Bad: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.

Skeppy: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

~~~~~~

Wilbur: When you’ve been on the internet for as long as I have, you develop thick skin.

Tommy: Navy blue isn’t your color.

Wilbur: Navy blue brings out my eyes you prick! *Chases after Tommy*

~~~~~~

Bad: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere*

Puffy: Where did you get that?.

Bad: My pocket.

Puffy: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket?

Bad: Skills.

~~~~~~

Tubbo: I will come to your house after work and knock on your window at 11 AM. You will not open the curtains, knowing full well what awaits you, but the knocking only grows louder, more demanding. Finally it stops, your ears ringing. You nervously let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You're safe now. Minutes pass by and you start to relax. And then you hear a knock at the front door. Like before, you stay still and clutch the blankets around you. You try to tell your self that it's just your imagination. Maybe the milk man? But why would he come so late? Everyone else was asleep, save for Naomi who was playing video games down stairs. To your relief, the knocking stops after a few. Minutes and you breath easy once more. Until you hear a knock on your bedroom door. You don't move. It's just your imagination. She isn't here. She can't be here. You tell yourself, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to sleep. The knock comes again, but with horror you realize that it came from the closet inside your room. You know that you have no choice. You get up, climbing out of bed with shaking limbs. You walk to the closest, trembling, and holding back the tears threatening to spill over your porcelain cheeks. You hesitate with your hand over the closet handle. Maybe it's just your imagination? She's not really there. You can go to sleep and laugh it off in the morning. Your naive thoughts are cut off by another, more demanding knock on the closet door, inches from your face. You know what you have to do. You open the closet door, and there she stands. Chuck e cheese, the mouse looms over you in the dim light. It's soulless eyes boor into you. It raises its arms, and you flinch as it begins to floss at lightning speed. Tears spill over your cheeks. This is the last thing you'll ever see.

Ranboo: Wait, Chuck e cheese’s pronouns are she/her? Trans Chuck e cheese? Good for her.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Would you like something to drink? *They opened the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-

Quackity: Spiders?

Bad: Spiders it is then.

Quackity: No, that wasn’t-

*But they were already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders…

~~~~~~

Puffy : Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Velvet : Make his dick hard not his life.

Punz : Break her bed not her heart.

Skeppy : Play with his boobs not his feelings. 

Ant : Get on his dick not his nerves.

Bad : Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Tommy: Bet you I can!

Phil: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~~~~~~~

Ant: We need a way to lure in new customers?

Ponk: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Skeppy: Badboyhalo bath water.

Bad: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

~~~~~~~~

Fundy: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Wilbur: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Mint is just cold spicy.

Pummel party Squad: …

Gumi: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

~~~~~~~~

Quackity: Isn’t it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

Phil:

Phil: Why are you eating dirt?

Tommy: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.

Quackity: You’re too young to have enemies.

Tubbo: You don’t even know.

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Puffy: What’s up your ass this morning!

Bad: *walks in* …Hi!!

Puffy: Hmm… nevermind.

Skeppy: WAIT NO!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Ha! Don’t you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper?

Skeppy: I must be losing it, I’m quoting Bad.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad, I sense hostility.

Bad: Good, because I hate you

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you a painting?

Skeppy: What-?

Bad: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Skeppy: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG ME OR SOMETHING-

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re giving me a sticker?

Phil: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Tommy: I’m not a preschooler.

Phil: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Tommy: I earned this, back off!

~~~~~~

Dream, sweating: George, there’s something I need to ask you-

George: Finally! You’re proposing!

Dream: How’d you know?

George: Dream, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

George: I even picked it up once

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy looking at a locked gate into a park*

Bad: Aw. :(

Skeppy: You know what they say.

Bad: Please don’t-

Skeppy: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate*

Bad: Frick-

~~~~~~~~

let me know if ya’ll want more <3

[leroyzboots]

you and i are trying, together.

part two.

The amount of unease that can fit into Tommy's more-than-human-less-than-god body is honestly surprising.

Tommy paces back and forth on the floor of the Lambda lab, his Beyblade whirring between his fingers and his precious immortal dog following behind him with love.

They'd arrived at around half past midnight, but it's now early morning and there's been no sign of the other two members of the science team.

Bubby leans back in their chair, crossing his knee-high laced boots over their knee, and bounces the other one out of anxiety.

"Tommy," he barks; "you're scaring the other scientists."

Tommy glances down and realizes that the Beyblade is whizzing madly in the air around his hands, suspended from nothing.

"D-dammit," He mutters, snatching his toy back and returns it to his pocket.

"They sho-should have been back by now."

Tommy stops pacing for a second and stares down the Coomers with his father's intensity.

"Surely, Benrey could have used teleportation?" Harold chimes in, his knuckles bruised slightly from his repeated stims.

"I think that's what he meant, dear," Bubby replies, patting their husband's shoulder affectionately.

"Yes, exactly!"

Tommy throws his hands into his pockets, huffing out his frustration.

"The f-fact that they're not...back yet! Means something has gone-"

A enormous thud echoes from the the floor, a piece of tile juts out slightly and scatters the scientists nearby.

"Wrong," Tommy finishes miserably, drawing his gun and preparing for Xen's creatures.

Beside him, Sunkist snarls, her hackles raised in warning.

The tile cracks and shoots into the air, with accompanying gunfire from below, and a hatch busts open from the hole.

Tommy aims to shoot, but immediately lowers his gun upon seeing Mr. Freeman's tired but happy face, followed closely by Benrey, the bags under his eyes looking darker than usual.

"G-Gordon!!"

Tommy rushes forward, embracing them both, and the knots of tension unravel in his stomach.

Benrey snuggles just a little closer into Tommy's coat, and Tommy releases Gordon to pull Benrey into a full hug.

--

Tommy planned on never admitting it to himself, but these two were the people he loved the most.

Benrey..he'd known Benrey for years.

It started when Benrey was just out of training, and Tommy had completed his certification to become a top scientist.

Benrey was 19, maybe 20 at the oldest, his hair pulled into a ponytail that ran down his back.

They weren't close, then, Benrey had been assigned to guard the G-Man's adopted son.

Benrey couldn't die, and Tommy's line of work was dangerous enough to need protection.

So it all worked out.

They barely exchanged more than a few words to eachother until that one night, that one fucking night and Benrey is tripping over himself in tears, blood pouring from the wound on his back and he's clutching Tommy, pawing at his shoulders.

Benrey trembled like he's made from glass and will break if he falls, and Tommy gripped the back of the others security vest so tightly the kevlar nearly rips in half.

And that's saying something.

That night they sat together and they're closer in distance than they've ever been, Tommy's warm and gentle hands bandaged the wound above the numbers tattooed onto Benrey's tailbone and Benrey spilled everything.

Between sniffles and the occasional sob, Benrey confessed, about the tools that somehow hurt him beyond regeneration, leaving a scar, about the men and their evil sticks of lightning that would seep into his bones and fill him with pain so intense he felt like he would break in half.

Tommy nearly broke in half himself.

He felt helpless, and so he went to the only person he knew would make the ones who hurt his first and only friend pay dearly-

His father.

Oh, Tommy had never seen the G-man so angry.

Black Mesa was a research facility, for god's sake, dedicated to the study of alien life and the progression of the human body.

So when Tommy's dad realized that the prototype imprisonment he had resolved several years ago had resurfaced with an even uglier face, he sent scientists who had never experienced fear in their lives tripping for the door in yelps of terror.

And that had been the end of it.

Benrey continued his job as a security guard, people who had previously been made in the facility were hired back on as scientists in new departments such as mixology and cybernetics, and Black Mesa cut its ties with the military.

Black Mesa, Benrey explained later in his own broken way to Tommy in the quiet breakroom during lunch hour, had been trying to create the perfect human being.

There were thousands upon thousands of prototypes that had been created, and Benrey had been the last.

But there had always been something wrong with the ones they created, whether it was serious physical or mental deformities, or simply a sense of fucked up little creature that ended up resulting in the insane amount of scientists with the ability to grow in size, and the security guards that always had a few too many rows of teeth or glowing eyes and severe anger issues.

They weren't always grown in tubes, Tommy learned, but they were always branded with their serial number on the base of the spine.

The one before him, Benrey quipped with a mouthful of sandwich, had been born to a prototype and a normal human employee, before they stripped them out with a memory wipe and sent them into normal society.

The anxious feeling that haunted Tommy in the years that followed had something to do with that piece of information in particular.

Something told him that the military and the alien planet they were studying wouldn't let go of Black Mesa kindly.

Mr. Freeman confirmed that.

He's in the hallway, on his way to get a soda, when he's met with a newer employee, only worked here about 4 or so years.

He seemed kind enough, if a little loud and stubborn. And alright, maybe it hurt Tommy's feelings when Gordon called him a freak, but that was pushed aside with the Resonance Cascade.

Tommy knew that this was it, this was the boot boys' revenge for cutting them out of the picture, but there was something else, distinctly and unsettlingly alien about the Cascade.

The whole of Black Mesa fell into shambles, with creatures of Xen integrating into their carefully built walls and lives, and Tommy kinda freaked, okay?

He'd seen Dr. Coomer around, always greeting him with a wonderful "Hello!!", and was met with a thrill in his stomach when he introduced another prototype as his husband.

Those two had been with him, in the observation room when the project exploded around Gordon and Benrey-

he wasn't supposed to be in the test chamber, what if it seriously hurt him?-

And maybe that was when Tommy realized he was in love with Benrey.

Over time, he felt a sense of conflict slowly building as he made friends with Mr. Freeman.

He seemed to hate Benrey, they hated eachother, but Tommy liked one and loved the other so he became their middle ground.

He was convinced to himself that Benrey liked him as well, until that room, that dark, dark room, and suddenly Benrey is kneeling in a puddle of Gordon's blood and Bubby is screaming, sobbing, blubbering his apologies to anyone who is listening as the soldiers drag them away and Benrey-

He says it, he says those words and it breaks Tommy's heart into a billion pieces-

"Because I love him, okay?! I'm fucking- whoop-de-doo, in love with Gordon god. G-goddamn Freeman, okay?..."

And then Benrey teleports, and he's gone, and Bubby is gone and Dr. Coomer leaves him in the cold dark sewer by himself.

Tommy cried.

Burying his head in his coat, he cried hard and long, alone on the rocky floor.

And then Mr. Freeman crawls out of the pipe, and Tommy can't help it, he holds him.

Gordon reeks of sewage and his bloody hand smells of copper but Tommy doesn't care, and alright, maybe that's when Tommy realized he's in love with Gordon too.

Alright, Tommy can deal with that.

Something Tommy can't deal with is the fact that his instincts are going fucking haywire.

Tommy's always been very perceptive when it comes to time, maybe he can't stop time like his father can, but he's definitely got a certain sense of time and reality as it surrounds him.

Being able to reach out and touch and feel certain areas, but not control them, and all of time is wrapped around him like a blanket.

So when the floor crumbles away below them and Benrey and Gordon fall deep into the recesses of Black Mesa's hellscape, Tommy freaks the fuck out.

A deep, inherent concern lays nested in the pit of his mind like a pile of cottonmouth snakes, hissing madly and snarling that something, something, is absolutely wrong with how this is supposed to go.

Tommy has a sinking feeling that something terrible is going to happen.

--

Man, Benrey really hates this place.

The scientists of the Lambda lab asked a simple request of the Science Team- go through the portal to Xen, get rid of the Nihilanth, bring back some weird space shit.

Easy as pie.

Right?

Wrong.

Benrey feels sick, feverish on this planet.

As he follows behind the group, his legs feel leaden and heavy, and he tugs at the collar of his uniform, which feels uncomfortably tight around his neck.

He's sweating, unusually warm beneath his helmet, but shivering as though chilled to his bones.

There's a tug, deep in his torso, pulling him along, but it's a nasty, oppressive feeling that makes his limbs feel like noodles.

He swallows nervously, eyes darting across the fetid, blood colored planet of Xen.

The sour smell clogs his senses, and as they trudge deeper and deeper through the portals, away from the floating rocks with little gravity and past strange barrels of highly toxic looking liquid, the heavy pull in Benrey's chest only grows stronger and more sickly.

They push through a final, puke-green portal, and the feeling inside of Benrey swells to near explosion.

A cave, with jagged and dark stone running up the walls in wicked cracks, a deep red flush to the area.

Water is flooding Benrey's boots, a putrid and decaying smell to the liquid, and it only adds to Benrey's fatigue.

The creature before them could only be the Nihilanth itself, and the very sight sends such a fucking shudder down Benrey's spine.

It's disgusting, twisted and pulsating flesh running down what must be its face, beady eyes in a cadaverous socket.

It looks like a fetus, a failed attempt of termination long after the allotted time.

It speaks, and the chorus of voices that accompanies it gives away the fact that Xen isn't just the planet-

It's the entire race.

"So. The humans have finally decided to be rid of us."

Gordon looks tired, beaten, but pulls himself upward and grunts through the pain of his broken shin.

"Get your video game dialogue out of the way," he says, with a dismissive wave of his gun-hand.

"I'm about done with this alien shit."

The Nihilanth laughs, a hideous and painful sound, and tilts its head in curiosity towards the little group of vagabonds.

"But you have brought us the very thing we need, Mr. Freeman."

Gordon groans in frustration, turning back to his friends with his teeth grinding against eachother.

"Why does it know my name?"

Xens' audience shrieks with delight, and the Nihilanth's barely feasible mouth twists into what can only be guessed as a grin.

"Xen knows everything about you, Mr. Freeman."

Benrey sways on the spot, his boots splashing the strange water, and the scene before him blurs.

"Whadda....what the hell are you..talking about, man?"

Xen's creatures seem to roar with laughter, and beside Benrey, Dr. Coomer throws up his fists protestingly.

"Xen has been all knowing, all seeing since time begun. As we grow, so do our minds, until we are forced to repopulate. Regrow."

Beneath their feet, headcrabs scuttle ominously, causing Tommy to jump backward with surprise.

"But human beings became a problem for Xen. Their flimsy bodies failed, burst open upon integration."

Benrey is only just awake enough to process this.

"The scientists of Black Mesa were so eager to learn of a new planet. So Xen took influence, and under the guise of building a perfect human being, created what Xen needed."

Gordon scoffs, his shoulders shaking as he laughs scornfully.

Xen reacts strongly, a collective hiss rising around them.

"Do not laugh at us, human."

The headcrabs stay at a distance, but raise their pincers and click them menacingly as the Nihilanth's speech continues.

"Xen required a human being who could withstand radiation, a being who could lose blood en mass and not perish."

A sense of dread washes over the Science Team, and Tommy instinctively puts himself in front of Gordon.

Bubby ignites his arms protectively.

"Let me guess," Gordon growls, revving up his minigun limb; "you needed me?"

Xen's creatures wail in joy, and Benrey takes that as a yes, and reaches for his gun, when something big and poisonous and slimy wraps around his ankle.

"Xen requires Benrey."

Benrey yelps as the Nihilanth drags him underneath the water, bubbles of Sweet Voice trailing from his mouth as his back bounces on the cragged floor beneath the surface.

The Nihilanth swings him into the air, and Benrey splutters, ears waterlogged under his helmet, which slips from his head and falls to the ground with a splash, Benrey's short black hair now dripping wet.

"Look at you, our once perfect vessel- a mewling, pathetic dog."

Hung upside down by his ankle, Benrey gasps in pain as Xen shakes him repeatedly, and for a brief, sickening moment, Benrey is forcibly reminded of the Finding Nemo movie Tommy showed him-

He feels like a fish in Darla's little bag.

"Bark, bark, bark but no bite. You were made with Xen's own blood and yet you cannot even protect those you are infatuated with."

With that, the Nihilanth throws him to the far wall, and his skull cracks on the rock.

It doesn't heal, and Benrey slumps down, struggling to stand, his eyesight swimming with tears.

"You think the Freeman human loves you? You cost him a limb. You would be perfect save for your one flaw- you kneel before a man you could kill with no effort, and you beg him to love you as you love him."

Benrey shakes, kneeling, and whimpers as he chokes out a sob, not trying to disguise his tears.

"You truly are nothing."

"No."

The word is tiny, barely audible.

Then again, louder, with a crack of his voice but more than enough power-

"No. You're wrong."

Gordon pulls himself to full height, scowling so deeply the age shows on his face.

"Benrey is everything to us. To all of us, but especially me."

"Y-yeah! We're not afraid of you!" Tommy chimes, and Sunkist howls with approval.

"If you or your alien bitches thought we'd just leave him here, you're just as stupid as you look."

Bubby grins wildly, cracking their neck from side to side, his bright and eager eyes flashing beneath their glasses.

"Don't fuck with the Science Team!" Coomer bellows, and Bubby cheers beside him.

"Now I'm only gonna tell you once," Gordon beams, turning away from his family to draw his gun-hand and point it at Xen's Nihilanth.

"Piss off."

Gordon fires, and the accompanying screams of headcrabs and peeper puppies echo across the cave, and Benrey is overtaken with an aching, sweet feeling he usually associates with Gordon.

It's love.

Benrey smiles fondly as his knees buckle and he falls to the ground and submerges in the murky waters.

--

Benrey wakes up and immediately is struck with a massive goddamn headache.

He closes his eyes and pulls the pillow over his ears, but the pain is there and clearly is not going anywhere, so he's going to have to ask for an aspirin or some shit.

Sitting up makes him so nauseous it's not even funny, so he decides it's not worth it to stand.

A loud snore startles Benrey enough to yelp, and he glances around for the source of the noise.

Sitting hand in hand on the floor, against the wall opposite his bed, are Gordon and Tommy, both bearing signs of wear and both dead asleep.

Gordon is clutching Benrey's helmet so tightly to his shirt it looks uncomfortable, and Tommy is curled protectively around Gordon's shoulders.

They're half dressed, like Black Mesa decided that the HEV suit and a bloody lab coat was not appropriate clothing but also did not have a whole lot of options for back up wear.

Benrey guesses this based on the fact that Gordon's not really wearing pants and Tommy's wearing a t-shirt that says "Birthday Girl".

Something about the fact that they're holding hands hurts Benrey, just a little.

His heart aches for a moment as he remembers the warmth of Gordon's hand and the feeling of a hug from the Beyblade enthusiast who was his best and only friend for a very long time.

Benrey shakes his head, decides he's going to repress it, and yawns.

God, his head hurts.

Benrey figures that if he stands, he's going to trip and probably break something, and since he doesn't trust his regeneration ability right now, he's not risking it.

Instead, he picks up his pillow and heaves it at the two scientists as hard as he can.

Tommy jolts awake, blinking, then smiles widely upon sighting the guard.

"Benrey!!"

Tommy shoots upward, and makes the distance between the wall and the hospital bed in one step, leaving Gordon to slump over and yell in surprise as he hits the floor.

Benrey's pulled into a crushing hug, and he wheezes for Tommy to be gentle.

"S-sorry!" Tommy cries happily, pulling back to take in Benrey's face.

"It's..it's g-good to see you awake."

Gordon stands, still holding the helmet, and wanders over to where Tommy is perched on the edge of the bed.

"You've been out for hours," Gordon adds, gently reaching out with his left hand to ruffle Benrey's hair.

"We were starting to get worried."

Benrey swallows his funny retort for once, instead choosing to spit out some clear blue song in response.

Tommy reads it almost immediately, and excuses himself to get medicine.

Gordon takes his spot on the bed, and just looks over Benrey.

Benrey feels like he's being scrutinized, with Gordon's soft green eyes just roaming over his face.

"Alright. Fucking. Get the questions outta the way," Benrey mumbles irritably, sticking out his tongue.

"I know you're fuckin. Curious about the shit Xen said."

Gordon laughs sweetly, setting the helmet down on the bed next to him and runs his fingers over it fondly.

Benrey takes a note of his new right hand, a grey-black prosthetic that clicks when Gordon moves his knuckles.

"I don't really have any questions," Gordon grins, adjusting his shirt.

"Other than, are you okay?"

Benrey's taken back by this one.

Not only did he cost Gordon his hand and almost his life about thirty billion times, but everyone (including him!) also just found out that Benrey was made with Xen DNA.

He's essentially Gordon's enemy in every sense of the word, and Gordon is asking if he's okay?

"....did the Nihilanth hit your head or somethin', man?? What the hell kinda. Question is that one??"

Gordon's smile softens massively, and it makes Benrey's heart melt into a little puddle in his stomach.

"Benrey, you saved my life a whole shit ton of times back there."

"Yeah, I also almost got you killed," Benrey interrupts, but Gordon doesn't pause.

"I've been thinking about a lot of things while you've been asleep, and I've been talking with Tommy a lot too."

Benrey's happy puddle evaporates into a heavy leaden ball inside of his chest.

"I don't need to hear this, dude."

Gordon looks a little confused, so Benrey keeps going.

"You're. I know you heard the shit Xen said about...."

Benrey pauses, unsure if he wants to say it out loud.

That'll finalize it, forever.

He takes a breath, then with a great effort, says it out loud.

"I love you. Have since we were kids, have since I first met you. Xen was...right. They were fucking right, you're happier with Tommy because he's never hurt you or..fuck. Fuck, man, you don't feel the same and I'm done pushin' it on you. We uhh, clear?"

Gordon covers his mouth with his hand, and for a split second Benrey thinks he's made him cry, but Gordon bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach and snorting in between giggles.

"B-Benny, you idiot, I am in love with you."

Maybe it's the sudden affectionate nickname, or the fact that Gordon said he loves him.

But Benrey blushes, hard, and pink-to-blue sweet voice bubbles out of his mouth in surprise.

"Whuh?"

Tommy walks back into the room, bottle in hand, and pauses at the sight in front of him.

"Oh, are w-we doing conf-confessions now?!"

Before Benrey can even speak, Tommy drops down beside him and kisses him on the cheek, putting him and Gordon's hands in his own.

Tommy doesn't say it, but Benrey gets the point.

"Fucking- FINALLY!!"

Benrey just might die for real.

Bubby leans in the doorway, a smug grin on his face, elbow resting on Dr. Coomer's shoulder.

"Ah, young love is beautiful!"

Tommy and Gordon laugh cheerfully at Dr. Coomer, and Benrey buries his face sheepishly in the blankets.

--

It takes a few days, but Benrey recovers pretty well from the Nihilanth.

He's thought a lot about what Xen said.

And he's decided that they were very wrong about him.

His love for other people isn't a flaw, it's his best quality.

He can and will protect the people he loves with his life, no matter what.

And he knows that the people he loves will do the same for him.

With time, Gordon learns not to flinch at the sight of his right hand, or gag when he drinks a soda.

Benrey learns to accept hugs and snuggles from Tommy, and figures out the jokes that Gordon likes and doesn't like.

Tommy is always there to patch up Benrey's injuries, and learns better responses that don't involve soda when Gordon needs to vent.

So Benrey feels safe, and knows that he's not the only one who's trying to be better.

Benrey and them are trying, together.

[lasquadrasfuckhouse]

hi !! i just found ur acc the other day n i really love it ogmgmmg !! if its alright with u, could u do la squadra headcanons for a reader who'z like a bratty sub fmhvbhfbhg

THANK U SM!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️💕💕 i can absolutely do that 😏

la squadra with a bratty sub partner 👅

18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

risotto ✂️

depending on his mood, he'll either be unimpressed or find it cute that you think you can get away with that

his will is like steel, it's part of what makes him such a good dom. you're not getting anything out of him

his punishments are less rough, more intense. he'll dangle what you want just out of your reach for as long as it takes until you change your attitude

and even then, he won't give you his all like you know he can until you're utterly pliant. begging is useless, you have to show him just how sorry you are and how willing you are to be obedient

prosciutto 🚬

being a brat to PROSCIUTTO???? GOOD LUCK

he does not tolerate it. he's harsh with brats and he'll put you through your paces. don't even dream of cumming until you know your place

he can't deny that he likes the challenge tho. he's gonna enjoy wiping that smug grin off your face

backtalk will result with his cock in your mouth. since you've decided to be bad, you're making him cum first.

pesci 🎣

if pesci's domming you (and the two of you don't go super hard on d/s stuff anyway), that means he's built up his confidence in your relationship

built up confidence means he's not gonna take your attitude so easily

he's still rather gentle, but firm. he knows you want him and you're not getting him until you're good

and it does get him goin to know just how much you want him. so what are you willing to do for it? beg him genuinely and he won't deny you, but he'll start slow. you'll have to be nice if you want him to pick up the pace

formaggio 🧀

he finds it charming, but that doesn't mean he's gonna just give into you. he's the one in charge here

he'll be a brat right back and tease you to high hell, with his words and his touch

his preferred method of shutting you up is getting you moaning, but he won't let you cum until you're good. he'll string you along until the only thing you can say is his name

even once you've changed your attitude, he'll still tease you while he fucks you, just to drive the point home. mm, see? not so hard to be good for me, is it?

illuso ✨

OH HONEY YOU'RE IN FOR IT. illuso is patient, he'll tie you up and edge you for hours if that's what it takes, and he's going to let you know just how much he's enjoying every second of it

he'll pleasure himself while you watch. you haven't been good enough for him to grace you with touching him

you're not getting a damn thing out of him until you're practically sobbing for him to touch you. you're gonna have to tell him exactly what you want and beg prettily enough for it, he wants to hear how much your attitude has done a 180 just so he'll fuck you

he's a big hypocrite because on the rare occasion he subs he's the biggest brat in the world. remind him of that, and you've added another hour onto your punishment

melone 🍈

he thinks it's cute. it'll be a fun game for him to see just what it takes to get you to behave

he gets creative with it, doesn't jump right to harsh punishment. he'll draw everything out and tease you in all the ways he knows will drive you crazy. he isn't rattled by your backtalk and will give as good as he gets

he likes to experiment, discover things about your body that maybe even you didn't know. he has very precise control and will make things slow and gentle, then lightning fast and sharp, and back again, just to see what makes you crumble and beg

if his playing around makes you cum before you behave for him, he won't touch you until you've made him cum three times over. you ain't gettin out of it that easily

ghiaccio ❄️

ghiaccio deals with your brattiness by fucking it out of you. he doesn't have the patience for teasing, he finds this the most efficient way to drive the lesson home and he's rough

he might start by fucking your face, but he really wants to see you shut up by trying to catch your breath while he rails you into next week

you want him to touch you so bad? he'll give and give and give until you've cum five times and you're an utter wreck. you don't have the mind to be a brat when you're screaming his name and just trying to take all the stimulation

he'll also be mouthing off to you the whole time

sorbet and gelato 🔪🍦

OHO. OHOHO. ARE THEY EVER GONNA HAVE FUN MAKING YOU CRUMBLE

you never know what to expect from them but it's always going to end up with you barely able to speak, much less stand. they'll fuck you so hard you'll be feeling it next week

gelato may learn some patience just to tease you until you're falling apart in their hands and he'll let you know it, you're getting the dirty talk of all time with him

sorbet is gelato's steadying force while they both work together to trash that attitude of yours. sorbet won't give in for anything, he's having way too much fun showing you what backtalk gets you. he thinks your attempts to rile him up are cute, because guaranteed, it's never gonna happen.

you'll have to beg and beg and beg, and they'll start out so unbearably slow you'll be wailing for them. then they'll fuck you every which way until you can't tell up from down

[tomurasprincess]

Villain Deku with 12. I’m so happy you finally wanted to take a picture with me! They can go right next to all of the ones of you sleeping.

Pairing: Villain Deku x Reader Quote: I’m so happy you finally wanted to take a picture with me! They can go right next to all of the ones of you sleeping. Word: Stalking Warnings: Noncon, drugging, stalking, manipulation, yandere

Prompt Masterlist

You smile at the green haired man in front of you as he orders his usual, a plain black cup of coffee. You’ve been a barista here for several months now, and the man has become one of your regular customers. Although somewhat shy and awkward, he is friendly and pleasant to talk to, and you have come to really look forward to his visits.

He gives you a small smile back as he reaches for a sugar packet, but otherwise makes no comment to you. You mentally frown at this, as he’s usually so overflowing with conversation that you can barely keep up.

“Hey, are you doing okay,” you venture to ask the question that’s making you worry for him a bit.

He perks up at the comment, eyes lighting up at your concern. “I’m okay, really! Just some problems with work.”

“Oh really? What work do you do?” Even though he’s a regular, coming in at the same time every day for weeks, you don’t really know a lot about him. You’re excited to finally have an opportunity to learn a bit more.

His gaze darkens just a bit, his smile fading slightly, so subtle that you’re not even sure you saw it. But then he’s back to normal and you realize that you must have imagined it. You’ve been a bit on edge lately, constantly feeling as if someone has been watching you. You’ve considered going to the police, but ultimately decided that they wouldn’t take you seriously.

“Oh, I run my own business. Things have been crazy lately, but I think I finally got them settled down. Now I have time to focus on my more personal projects.” He chuckles at that as he glances at you.

“I’m glad to hear that!” You smile at him before turning back to your work, beginning the long process of ending your shift. The man had shown up much later than usual, and it was almost closing time. At his questioning look, you explain yourself. “Oh, I have to get ready to close up the store. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t mean to walk back to your place in the dark, do you?” His face twists into a look of worry. “There are a lot of villains in the streets lately.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I walk home at this hour all the time. I’ll be fine,” you wave him off.

“No, I insist. I need to walk you home.” You’re surprised at the change in his tone. He suddenly sounds completely in control, no hint of the awkward man who sometimes stumbles over his sentences and mumbles to himself.

“I - I guess if it’s that important to you.” You suddenly didn’t feel comfortable at the idea of walking alone in the dark with him. Something was rubbing you the wrong way, and you weren’t sure what. But you had no reason to decline, and the man in front of you didn’t look threatening at all. So you accept the invitation. It might be nice to have company on your walk home, anyway. Maybe you’ll feel less like someone is following your every move.

“Good! I’d hate for you to get snatched up by some villain,” his bright smile turns slightly sharp. Dangerous looking. It’s enough to make you reconsider, but the man seems to notice your hesitation as he begins to rush you through your closing procedures of the store. He grabs your arm, not enough to harm you or bruise you, but hard enough that you couldn’t begin to get away.

As he almost drags you out of the store, you decide to make conversation to try and calm your nerves. “I’m sorry, I’ve been really rude. What’s your name?”

“You can call me Deku,” he chirps happily. The name strikes you as odd, somehow familiar. You can’t quite place it, no matter how hard you try.

You open your mouth to tell him your own name, but he cuts you off mid sentence. “You don’t have to tell me your name, I already know it.”

You freeze in place, mind running through so many scenarios of how he could know your name. “Don’t be nervous! It’s on your name tag.”

You relax just a bit, as you try to avoid thinking about how you lost your name tag several months ago and were never able to find it. Something is wrong about this man, and you know you made a mistake following him. You just want to get safely into your apartment, away from him, until you can figure out what to do.

But then it hits you. Your apartment. You never gave him directions to your apartment, and yet he’s following the exact path you take to get there, turn for turn. You’re unable to hide your panic now, mouth opening to scream for help. But you never have the chance.

A scarred hand clamps down on your mouth as he drags you into a nearby alleyway. He gives a long suffering sigh at you as you struggle to break free. You feel something cold press into your throat as he grins down at you, and you realize it’s a knife. “You just couldn’t behave a little longer, could you? It’s okay though! I have no problem doing this here.”

“Please stop, I don’t have anything you want,” you whimper in fear. The knife gently glides down your neck, pressure firm enough that you can feel it but not enough to cut. He pauses as he traces your collarbones with the weapon, and hums as if he just thought of something. “You know, I’ve always wanted a picture of you since the first day I met you.”

Your haste to get out of this situation overpowers how strange the request is, and you find yourself babbling your agreement. “Yes, you can have a picture of me, I don’t mind! Just please, let me go home.”

He laughs at that as a hand dips down into your pants. “Oh, that’s not all that I want.” He wastes no time sliding a finger in between your folds as he grazes your clit. He works tight circles against the bud, moaning into your ear as he begins to kiss and suck at the pulse point on your neck.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” he murmurs in your ear. “But I’ve been so busy running my organization that I just didn’t have the time. Had to content myself with watching you from afar. Until now.”

It suddenly hits you like a bolt of lightning, where you heard his name. Izuku Midoriya, the fallen hero. He graduated from UA at the top of his class, was even expected to take All Might’s place as the Symbol of Peace. But he vanished without a trace. There had been rumors that he was sighted in areas of heavy villain activity, but they were dismissed as just that. Rumors. There was no way anyone chosen by All Might could go villain, after all.

And yet the proof stands pressed against you, fingers rubbing your throbbing clit as he bites and sucks at the skin of your neck. You can feel yourself getting aroused, lubricating his talented fingers with your juices. He gathers it on his fingers as he presses two of them inside of you, rubbing the bundle of nerves with the palm of his hand.

“No, oh god, please stop,” you plead with him. “Deku, just let me go, I promise I won’t - ahh - tell anyone I saw you.” You let out an involuntary groan as he thrusts his fingers inside of you, grazing your g spot with every thrust and making you see stars. You hate that you’re getting so aroused by him finger fucking you.

“Oh, did you finally figure out who I am?” He chuckles as he presses the point of his knife into your skin, barely grazing you but still causing your blood to drip down your collarbones. He eagerly laps at the blood as his fingers pick up the pace. You feel the coil inside of you tightening and realize you’re about to cum. “Deku, shit, oh god please.”

“Shh, just cum for me doll. Cum all over my fingers.” He coaxes you into an intense orgasm, causing you to let out a squeal as your walls clamp down hard around his fingers. You’re still riding the high of your climax when a slightly wet rag is placed over your mouth. Your eyes widen as you try not to breath in, but it’s too late. You inhale one sharp breath and your system is instantly being flooded with the clothform.

The effects are quick, too quick, as you feel yourself dragged down into unconsciousness. Your head feels like it’s in a fishbowl as you hear the click of a camera and Deku’s delighted laughter. “I’m so happy you finally wanted to take a picture with me! They can go right next to all of the ones of you sleeping!”

But before you completely pass out, you have the chance to think one last thing.

You really should have trusted your instincts.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Tags: @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re, @monst, @lildreamer93, @marlowewrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @chou-maitresse, @shoutogepi, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder, @league-of-thots, @shigaraki-is-my-master

[kpop-dungeon-dark]

Hell. (Lucifer Kris Wu/Yifan x You)

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Warning(s): Non-Con and fucked up twisted shit. You are legal in this. Read at your own risk.

"Mmm…" She hummed and smiled, nuzzling into the much older man and inhaling his scent while he held her tight to his chest. "Oh… I should get going now~ I have class in an hour~" glancing at the clock on the bedside table, the girl sat up slowly with a pout.

"Get going?" Yifan chuckled at her before grabbing her ass and pulling her into him, clicking his tongue. "Nah… you'll stay here with me like my good toy now~" Y/n looked at him and giggled, taking the covers off to her to get out of bed.

"Chill dude… we just met like last night. Don't expect anything only because we fucked. You have a looooong way to go if you want to impress me…" Before she went to step off the bed but her hand was captured in Yifan's much bigger one.

"Impress you? Tsk. You're branded as my belonging now that I've fucked you, finally. You're mine now. Nobody and nothing can get you out of my world now, you're officially a satanist after you opened your legs for The Devil. You're nothing but my fuck toy now." His lips brushed against her ear as he chuckled to himself. "You don't have a choice."

Turning around to look at him, Y/n started struggling as she got creeped out. "U- Uh… okay… weirdo… I really gotta go now~" trying to back away, she tried to break out of his grip. Her friends were right. Maybe single older men really were fucking nutjobs.

"You're not going anywhere!" Yifan's complexion darkened before horns grew out of his temples whilst his hair turned white and back to its original length which was til his waistline. "I came up here looking for a new toy as the last one…" He sickly grinned. "Anyways. I've found you now and have decided that you'll be my little slut from now on." Y/n was shaking as his pupils disappeared, blank white eyes staring down at her now.

"O- Oh… m- my fucking G- God… n- no way…" She whispered, only causing the man to laugh at her. "H- Holy fucking shit-" she was cut off when everything around them started to disappear, as of they were standing in a tornado, their surroundings starting to spin before getting distorted to the point where Y/n's human mind couldn't decipher it anymore.

"Welcome to your new house, my pet." Yifan mightily spoke when it finally stopped and they were standing in a dark hall now that was illuminated by an unknown source. "There's only one rule for little slaves like you. Behave well, get treated well." The man- fucking Devil's voice was so much deeper and inhuman now, his tall frame growing even more as well as expanding.

"T- This can't be real… th- this can't be real!" Y/n shook as she looked around, her senses numbed whilst she knelt in front of him, the shock too much for her legs to still work.

"Tsk. It is real. Very real. Since the beginning of time. And now you're a part of it." His teeth seemed sharp, almost like fangs.

"They're awaiting you in the court, Father." Y/n jumped when she heard an even more inhuman voice from behind, making her gasp and stagger towards Yifan when she looked back at the abomination of a creature standing behind her, staring at Yifan through its plain black eyes.

It was a literally mutilated half bull and half human looking thing. Her head was spinning.

"I don't condone a pathetic little human like you being disrespectful to my people!" A harsh kick landed in her side, making her groan in pain. "Pathetic fucking slaves like you show respect and please their owners. Tsk. Apologize!" He boomed while glaring down at the shaking human, expecting her to just suck up the fact that her one night stand had turned out to be The fucking Devil and had brought her to Hell. "Apologise, I said!" A whip appeared in his hand before he controlled her mind, making her get on all fours while crawling to the creature that was waiting silently. "I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!" Before the whip made of lightning whipped her back, making a whole jolt go down her back.

"I am sorry! I am s- sorry, Master! P- Please forgive me!" The girl shook while crying, the mind control forcing her to kiss the creature's animal-like feet. "I didn't m- mean to-! Please!" When Yifan landed another whip, she cried out in agony, holding the creature's feet desperately.

It only nodded in response, silently saying something in a language of whispers and hissed she didn't understand before it left.

"Good slut." Since her ass was in perfect view, Yifan kicked it from behind, making her let out an embarrassing yelp before he grabbed her hair. "Now. Let's go and introduce you in court." Starting to walk swiftly, the Devil basically dragged her against the rough floors by her hair, his own feet in the air, almost.

It wasn't long before they reached two huge doors made of gold which instantly opened for Yifan, a huge courtroom like that of a king inside. Y/n felt her heart beat getting even more erratic when The Devil started to drag her inside, causing her knees to start getting torn now, all the creatures standing on either sides almost impossible to decipher by a human mind.

"This, my people, is my new toy and slave!" Lucifer announced as his people cheered, letting go of Y/n's hair in the middle of the court and ascending up the stairs and onto his throne, sitting like the royalty that he was. "But this pathetic little human here thinks she can deny me and disrespect our kind!" Everyone let out angry hisses and groans, speaking in that one language she didn't understand, making her let out a sob.

"We must teach her a lesson now, shouldn't we?!" Everyone cheered in response, rushing to the screaming girl when their Ruler nodded at them, pulling and pushing at the smaller body from every direction. Y/n wanted to call out for help to no one in particular but her tongue froze upon The Devil's power.

The human was on the verge of knocking out but she couldn't, forced to take all the slaps, pushes, pulls, pokes and abuse. Yifan laughed like a maniac. "Now now, don't touch her little privates. That's mine~" her slits closed up. "Take her elsewhere until I am done with court, we have important business to do here~" and with that, those creatures dragged her out of court.

She couldn't speak, she couldn't run, she couldn't knock out and she couldn't die.

.

"That's enough!" After what felt like days of turmoil, Lucifer finally stopped those creatures that had destroyed Y/n's body again and again only for it to heal again. "Come here now…" Grabbing at her arm, he pulled her up to her feet as her slits opened up again, gesturing at everyone to leave before he looked down at her. “Have you learned?” The human had no choice but to nod in desperation, ready to do anything to not go through the turmoil those God forbidden creatures put her through.

“Good.” Before her brain could decipher any of it, they were standing in a huge room and a heavy door was shutting behind them, The Devil throwing her naked form on the bed before his own clothes disappeared. “See, I am not a bad Master, my slave” crawling on top of her, he deeply spoke before kissing her cheek and then her soft lips. “Not at all… I take well care of my toys and play with them all the time but…” Dipping his middle finger in her mouth, Yifan picked her up and closer to him by snaking an arm around her waist, plunging his middle finger in her pucker and making her cry out wordlessly as she couldn't use her tongue.

"But for good treatment you must show good behavior, my little toy…" Kissing her lips harshly, he tortured her asshole before his red and hot tail slipped in, replacing his finger as he kissed and bit at her tits now. "Fuck… you're so tight and soft" Yifan grunted and rubbed his balls against her soft folds, healing her hymen back up just so she could bleed when he plunged his huge cock in, moaning even more when he felt it's shape in her stomach.

The human wanted to struggle and scream but instead let out moans under compulsion, her body betraying her mind and making her try to ride him more and more, the shape of his manhood very clear to see. Y/n hated how good her pussy felt because of his compulsion.

"You like this, don't you, my little pet? Tsk. Look at you! Being raped by The fucking Devil and enjoying it!" He smacked her cheek before gripping it and kissing her deeper, pushing his tongue in her mouth and entering it in her throat, gripping her neck and feeling it, moaning loudly in satisfaction while pumping his cock in and out of her pussy whilst his tail toyed with her ass.

"Look at you! Shaking and crying like a needy little slut!" Gripping her hands, he pinned them above her head and licked at her tears with his now long Devil tongue, thrusting harder and harder, her holes expanding more and more when the girth of his cock and tail was increased by him.

"That's right. You're mine! My toy! My little slave! That's all you are and will ever be good for! Fuck!" The human couldn't help but helplessly nod and moan. She was powerless.

And Yifan wasn't done just yet. They had a long way to go before he'd be satisfied for the day.

[northofdespair]

You know @obiwanobi , it really didn’t take much to tempt me lol. 

Part two of this post! And uh, well, it got significantly spicier than the previous part now that our favorite Togruta apprentice has vacated the scene.

This one is for @crvdematter , who really started the whole thing months ago, and I feel terrible for forgetting to mention you in the last post! Really, it’s a miracle that I’m coming out from under my nice, cozy rock to give you E-rated Obikin of all things, so hopefully it’ll make up for my grievous omission! Thanks for sparking this into existence!

SPICE under the cut. 😘

Enjoy? 😨🥰

~*~

This is not the first time that Obi-Wan has kissed him while he has a split lip, and Anakin is sure that it won’t be the last.

The pain is a constant, throbbing reminder of their earlier tangle, even as his Master sucks it gently in apology, but Force, Anakin never wants him to stop. He lifts a hand to squeeze Obi-Wan’s wrist where his face is framed by gentle, bloodied hands, then settles his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck with a shuddery sigh.

Obi-Wan’s tongue slides into his mouth and he lets out a guttural moan of approval at the sensation. It spurs his Master on just the way he knew it would, and Obi-Wan leans forward into his space to pin him against the wall. The weight grounds him, steadies him, and he breathes in the comforting scent of Obi-Wan between kisses. Force, even covered in sweat and blood, Anakin loves the spice-and-tea scent of him.

There was a time that Obi-Wan had left one of his robes in his quarters on the Resolute. His Master never noticed the missing garment, prone as he is to dropping the damn things in every corner of the galaxy, and Anakin decidedly did not tell him. It was a lonely month in space, far away from Obi-Wan and even Ahsoka, and if he wrapped that cloak around his shoulders at every sleep shift he got? Well. No one had to know.

The increased proximity lends itself to intimacy, and they both moan quietly into each other’s mouths as their growing erections press together for the first time that night.

The first time in too long, really, and Anakin feels giddy with the promise that this is theirs. That they can have this, and it doesn’t have to stay in the darkness of the Coruscanti underworld. Obi-Wan wants him, loves him, and this night won’t end in longing glances when they think the other isn’t looking, nor will they have to part.

Obi-Wan breaks the kiss to bite and kiss along Anakin’s jaw, sliding his fingers back into Anakin’s hair, and oh, Anakin could give himself up to the Force with how good those fingers feel tightening against his scalp. He gasps instead, rolling his hips forward to seek out more friction. In a rather uncharacteristic move, Obi-Wan lets him. He even grinds against him in return as he sucks on the tender skin behind his jaw, and Anakin whimpers into the open air at the allowance.

The indulgence doesn’t last long, however, before Obi-Wan nips at his earlobe and murmurs,

“Shall we take this back to the Temple then, dear one?” his voice rasps with lust, and Anakin gives a full-body shudder at the feel of it in his ear before he shakes his head.

“No. Not- ah- not now,” he swallows as Obi-Wan presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat with a speculative hum.

“No?” he comes back up to purr low in Anakin’s ear, “Why would that be? Do you want to stay where you can cry out for me? Where no one but I knows the sound of your voice? Or is it that you cannot wait that long?” Obi-Wan punctuates his last words with a hand squeezing over Anakin’s erection in his trousers, and Anakin pants out his breath at the pressure.

“Please, Master. Both, just- fuck me here, please,” he begs, tightening his hold around Obi-Wan’s neck.

His Master presses a long, firm kiss to Anakin’s lips before breaking it to look into Anakin’s eyes with his own intense, crystal blue stare. The sight of him, pupils blown and cheeks flushed in the dim, blue light of some far-off neon, makes Anakin’s stomach flip.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it; the way Obi-Wan stares at him with such desire plainly written on his face. He’d never quite been able to decipher it completely, the way Obi-Wan looked at him, but now he thinks he knows.

It was love, always love, and before there was a strange wistfulness that he never understood until tonight. There is no wistfulness to his gaze now. Now there is only heat and desire, amplifying the love he now readily identifies. It’s enough to make him dizzy, especially when his Master rasps, “Since you asked nicely,” and drops to his knees.

Anakin leans heavily against the wall for support as Obi-Wan wastes no time in tugging his trousers and undergarments down to his feet, taking his erection in hand and meeting his eyes as he presses a kiss to the flushed head. Anakin bites his lip, no longer noticing the sting as he watches Obi-Wan reach into his own trouser pocket with another hand to produce a packet of bacta.

Obi-Wan flicks his tongue against the slit, drawing out a surprised little moan from Anakin’s throat, before pausing to coat his fingers in bacta. Soon he’s rubbing cool circles at Anakin’s entrance, and Anakin gasps at the feeling, grinding back almost involuntarily to coax them in.

Obi-Wan stares up at him with something like wonder on his face and shakes his head slowly.

“The things you do to me,” he whispers, and leans forward to press a kiss to the side of Anakin’s cock.

“You’re one to talk,” Anakin’s breathless rebuttal breaks off in a broken moan as Obi-Wan takes him into his mouth and breaches him at the same time.

He clutches at the back of Obi-Wan’s tunic as lightning-hot arousal shoots down his spine.

It’s funny- all this time, between their fights and sex in back alleys just like this one, they’ve been sort of ignoring the fact that it’s happened at all when they get back to the surface. Obi-Wan was right; what happened here, stayed here, no matter how much Anakin longed for that to change. But all of this time, they’ve been learning each other’s pleasure. What makes the other throw their head back or bite down in desperation.

And so he is no match for the tongue that swirls with a knowing twist, the second finger that eventually adds to the first as he opens for his Master, and the deep, rumbling moan of Obi-Wan’s voice around him.

“Master. Master I’m- hhahhh- I’m going to cum if you-“ Obi-Wan curls his fingers at that moment, and he cuts off with a whimper, clenching his fist in Obi-Wan’s tunic and gritting his teeth against the crashing wave of arousal that follows.

His Master pulls off of his cock with a wet pop and looks up at him speculatively, adding a third finger and watching intently as Anakin groans from deep in his chest.

“Do you want to come now, darling?” he asks, squeezing at Anakin’s thigh to catch his attention.

Anakin tries to clear his head enough to think. He- he could come now, and he knows that Obi-Wan would fuck him just the same, but...

“No. No, I- with you, Master. Please.”

Obi-Wan smiles up at him, stretching the wounds that decorate his own face after his night of fighting, and kisses his thigh.

“All right, love.”

Anakin sighs through his nose at the simple, gentle response, and lets his head fall back against the wall as he closes his eyes and attempts to calm down a bit. Obi-Wan’s fingers have all but stilled in him, occasionally moving slow enough that the quiet tide of pleasure he feels isn’t enough to push him back to the receding edge.

It’s a testament to how well Obi-Wan knows him, how much he can read his expressions and his countenance in the Force, that the moment he feels like he can keep going, his Master spreads the three fingers and curls them once again to brush against his prostate. He inhales sharply through his nose and clenches his mechno-hand against the wall behind him at the sparks of pleasure that crackle through him.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Obi-Wan’s voice falls, deep and gravelly from his mouth.

“Yes, Master,” he whispers.

“Good.”

Obi-Wan presses one more kiss to his thigh before removing his fingers with a wet squelch and rising slowly to his feet. Anakin clenches around nothing, swallowing a whine as Obi-Wan caresses his skin on the way up. This time, it is he that draws Obi-Wan into a kiss with a hand around the back of his neck. His Master willingly goes, quickly taking the control that Anakin so readily gives.

In battle, he does not mind control. He might even go so far as to say that he thrives on it.

On missions and even in teaching, he will gladly lead.  

But oh, in this.

In this, he wants nothing more than the way Obi-Wan dominates him with his tongue.

In this, he wants nothing more than Obi-Wan’s weight, pinning him to the wall, caging him in, grounding him.

In this, he relinquishes all control to his Master, until he cannot think beyond the violent pleasure that flows like magma through his veins.

The biting kiss does not last long before Obi-Wan breaks it with a low growl, dipping down to grab the backs of Anakin’s thighs and hoist him up against the wall. Anakin lets out an undignified squeak and scrabbles for purchase on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, wrapping his legs around his Master’s waist.

Obi-Wan chuckles. “All right?”

Anakin huffs indignantly. He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, he feels Obi-Wan’s hand shift, and suddenly the head of his cock is nudging at Anakin’s entrance. He hadn’t seen Obi-Wan slick his own cock, or even push down his own trousers, but he’s certainly not going to complain. His voice gives way to a high-pitched whine, pleading wordlessly for Obi-Wan to just-

“Ahhhh-“

Obi-Wan’s cock finally sinks into him, all at once, and Anakin keens.

Force, he could come from the stretch alone. If Obi-Wan didn’t appear to need a moment himself, he might have. But Obi-Wan simply pants into his neck for a stretch of time as Anakin does the same into his ginger, sweat-damp hair, and it both calms and stirs up the sea of need between them in one fell stroke.

When Anakin is seconds away from begging Obi-Wan to move, he lets out a cry instead as Obi-Wan growls and pulls out slightly before snapping his hips forward. The pace he sets to begin is slow for what feels like only a moment–though it is surely longer–as their pleasure quickly builds.

Obi-Wan mouths at his neck as Anakin gasps with every thrust, clinging desperately to Obi-Wan’s back. He feels Obi-Wan shift him in his arms and wonders idly if he’s too heavy after Obi-Wan’s already strenuous evening, but all thought is immediately erased as Obi-Wan finds what he was looking for and Anakin sees stars.

“Master,” he moans breathlessly, and Obi-Wan groans.

“Force, you’re perfect. You take me so well, darling. So good,” the words melt into Anakin’s veins, and he moans from deep within his chest as Obi-Wan nips at his throat. “Can you come from this, darling?”

“Yes. Yes, Obi-Wan, Master, yes, just don’t stop- ah- don’t stop, please-“

His words devolve into incoherent babbling into Obi-Wan’s ear as their pace quickens, and the sound of skin on skin echoes in the empty alleyway.  

“Come on then, love,” Obi-Wan’s voice is rougher now than it has been tonight, and Anakin knows by some thoughtless instinct that he’s close as well. “I’ve got you. Come for me, Anakin. Love you, dearest. I love you.”

And that, with one more thrust against his prostate, is enough. Anakin throws his head back against the wall and comes so hard he sees white. A deep, punched-out noise rises from his chest and his nails sink into Obi-Wan’s tunic. His mechno-hand scrabbles so hard he’ll probably leave marks, awash as he is in the tempestuous wave of pleasure.

He is distantly aware as Obi-Wan thrusts rapidly a few more times, fucking him through the crest of his orgasm before he comes with a snarl of Anakin’s name and a bite to the juncture of his neck. Anakin gasps at the pleasure-pain of teeth set into his flesh and shakes with aftershocks as Obi-Wan pulses inside him.

They come down slowly, breathing together as Obi-Wan mindlessly kisses at the bite and Anakin strokes his Master’s hair. A few long, peaceful moments pass this way, simply holding each other and pressing lax kisses into each other’s skin and hair before their position grows to be too much.

Obi-Wan slides out of Anakin, setting an apologetic kiss to Anakin’s cheek at the hiss of discomfort it draws forth. He sets him gently to the ground and steadies him with hands at his waist when Anakin’s legs shake at the reestablished equilibrium. Anakin bows his head for a moment to collect himself, and when looks up he finds Obi-Wan watching him with a soft smile on his face.

His eyes twinkle in the low light, and Anakin’s breath hitches quietly. The communication that passes between them then is too marvelous, too complex for words. Just by staring into his Master’s eyes, Anakin knows that Obi-Wan understands all the words he can’t bring himself to speak into the night air.

Softly, in the back of his mind, he feels the stirring of a familiar pathway. He sucks in a quiet, surprised breath as he realizes at once just what it is. He hasn’t travelled that road for a long, long time, but he knows the well-worn path of their training bond better than life itself.

Obi-Wan searches his eyes even as he strokes over the quiet remnants of the bond, and Anakin knows the question that lies behind the icy blue of his Master’s gaze. And just as he knows the question, he knows the answer. He reaches for his own side of their bond and brushes away the cobwebs, pushes aside the vines, and then-

A rush of consciousness, not his own, floods into his very being, overwhelming and all-consuming as a sandstorm. He hadn’t really known what he was missing, hadn’t let himself miss it, but oh. Obi-Wan’s Force signature dances with his own and fills the dark places of his mind with beautiful light.

It’s overwhelming, awe-strikingly powerful, and the rightness of it fills a part of his soul that he didn’t know he was missing.

He gasps brokenly, tears welling up and spilling over his eyes before he can stop them, and Obi-Wan laughs wetly. Anakin can feel his joy in the Force, as physically as the hand that comes up to wipe his tears away.

Hello, dearest, Obi-Wan’s voice echoes brilliantly in his mind. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Anakin can only nod through the tears, completely overwhelmed by the resurgence of their bond. He had thought he’d never feel this again. The fact that it was Obi-Wan who initiated their re-connection is almost surreal.

Force, they have so much to talk about, but for the moment, Anakin simply shuts his eyes and breathes.

Patient as ever, Obi-Wan holds him quietly until he is sure that Anakin can stand on his own before setting about putting them to rights. Anakin had all but forgotten that they are standing in an abandoned alley, half-naked with cum drying on the front of his tunic and dripping down his leg. He winces at the realization, shifting uncomfortably as Obi-Wan pulls up his own trousers and produces a cloth from his pocket. He wipes Anakin down gently before lifting his trousers and handing him the cloak he’d dropped when Obi-Wan first kissed him.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

The bond somehow feels so fragile, so new, that he’s afraid he might shatter it if he deigns to speak through it. Obi-Wan casts him a gentle, knowing look, and kisses his cheek.

“You’re welcome,” he smiles.

Like a picture coming back into focus, Anakin suddenly notices the wounds that litter Obi-Wan’s face and dip down into his tunic.

“Master,” his voice comes out as a pained breath.

Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows in question, then winces as it pulls on a nasty-looking bruise. Their bond colors a sheepish pink, and Anakin tries not to reel from the sensation of the extra feedback.

“Ah. Yes, that.”

“What happened? You never let them touch your face,” he reaches forward to brush his fingertips lightly over the deepest bruise.

“Yes, well, that Devaronian was tougher than he looked. You landed a hit or two as well, I daresay.”

Anakin grimaces. “Sorry.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head with a fond chuckle.

“You should see the other guy,” he winks.

Anakin huffs a laugh and shakes his head in return, and when Obi-Wan smiles at him? He knows then and there that no matter how fragile their bond may feel, no matter what happens next, they’re going to be okay.

[maulusque]

WHAT IF MAUL KIDNAPPED ANAKIN RIGHT OFF OF TATOOINE

(I started writing this and then it got out of hand and now it’s 3:30 in the morning, rest of it’s under the break so i don’t monopolize your dash)

So for whatever combination of reasons, Maul spits out the kool-aid and gets really disenchanted with Sidious a lot earlier than in canon. He starts wondering things like “why is he not telling me his master plan if i’m so important to it?” and “why do i get nothing more than vague promises of power sometime in the future, when i should be guaranteed a position as his second-in-command, after all I’ve done for this guy?” and “why does he treat me like i’m disposable, and then constantly tell me i’m crucial for his plans?”

and he starts thinking things like “hey wait a minute, none of that childhood torture made me better at anything sith-related, it just gave me crippling trauma that actually impairs my capacity for self-control and incredible violence” and (possibly due to his experiences at Orsis Academy) “oh whack looks like kids learn a lot better and faster when they’re, like, having fun? Whatever ‘fun’ is?”

and anyway by the time he gets to tatooine with orders to “find that stoner jedi and kick his ass”, Maul is pretty annoyed at his master. And when he senses not one, not two, but THREE powerful force-presences on Tatooine, one of which vastly eclipses any other force presence he’s ever felt, and belongs to a nine-year-old slave boy, Maul gets an idea. You know, (he thinks), his master sure would love to get his hands on a force-baby like that. Master Sidious sure would be evilly thrilled to have an extremely powerful nine-year-old delivered directly to his doorstep on coruscant, with the jedi having to do all the heavy lifting of training the kid. Master Sidious would probably want nothing more than to have this kid be taken in by the Jedi, so he can start grooming a new apprentice. 

And Maul, full of spite and an as-yet-undiscovered need to adopt every force-sensitive in sight, decides to deprive Sidious of a potential apprentice. He follows Anakin to Naboo (in this universe, Anakin still wins the podrace, still wins his own freedom), and, after the fighting is over, sees a prime window of opportunity, and kidnaps Anakin right out from under the Jedi’s nose. 

(In this universe, Obi-Wan does not cut Darth Maul in half and dump him down the garbage chute- Maul, unwilling to do his master’s bidding any longer, doesn’t go full out against Qui-Gon, doesn’t kill him, and Obi-Wan doesn’t get that grief-and-rage filled boost that helped him dismember Maul last time. The fight ends, the Jedi are convinced that Maul is dead, and Naboo is freed).

Once Maul has the kid, since he’s a pragmatic guy, he also returns to Tatooine and takes the kid’s mom. Maul doesn’t know how to cook, do laundry, tie shoes, or any of that shit. He doesn’t want to have to PARENT the kid, he just wants to train him. 

Maul has zero money, and also zero subtlety, so he stomps into Watto’s shop, grabs him by the neck, and says “The boy's mother is coming with me. You will disable her slave chip and let her leave unharmed, or I will squeeze your head off.” Watto complies. For Anakin, this is his first real impression of Maul- storming the junk shop and threatening his former master for the freedom of Anakin’s mother.

Maul is determined to do a better job training Anakin than Sidious did training Maul. Because FUCK Sidious. Maul can be a WAY better Sith than Sidious ever allowed him to be. And since Maul is slowly realizing how... unhelpful... the way he was raised was, he’s determined to figure out how to do it better.

So he reads. He reads training manuals, child psychology books, teaching books, studies on motivation and performance, anything he can get his nerdy little hands on. He learns that frightened children don’t perform well. He learns about “trauma”, and how “trauma” makes it hard to control your emotions sometimes. Well, you can’t have THAT in your ultimate sith apprentice. Okay, so no scaring Anakin and no traumatizing him. Maul quickly realizes that literally everything he does frightens Anakin or his mom, and frightening Anakin’s mom also frightens Anakin (cut him some slack, he’s literally never been in a positive relationship, Maul has no model for any behavior other than “evil abuser” and “subservient slave”).

Maul is not an idiot. He knows he’s not doing it right. He’s reluctant to start teaching Anakin ANYTHING until he knows he won’t accidentally damage his precious spite-apprentice. So he mostly ignores the kid while he reads and learns.

He also observes. Specifically, he observes Shmi Skywalker. Somehow, she seems to be able to interact with Anakin without scaring him. She can even tell him what to do without scaring him. She can teach and correct him without scaring him. And she never physically hurts him at all. Maul is kind of blown away- he didn’t even know it was possible to interact with people like that? HOW does she DO it???

So Maul watches and learns. He practices. Shmi helps, guides him, tells him when he messes up and tells him how to do it better. Maul gets a lot better at restraining his murderous urges. Turns out, if you immediately kill everyone who annoys you, it’s hard to ask them for advice after. The other person Maul gets pointers from is C3PO, the protocol droid the kid dragged along. Maul understands 3PO better than he understands Shmi and Anakin. 3PO is a droid. Maul was raised by a droid. Maul knows how to talk with 3PO, whereas talking with Shmi or Anakin feels like wandering around in a fog full of landmines.

So anyway, Maul and 3PO become unlikely friends, and, as Maul, determined to out-parent Sidious in every conceivable way, learns more and more social skills, emotional intelligence, and interpersonal skills, he truly comprehends how fucked up his own childhood was. There’s rage. There’s grief. There’s murderous desire for vengeance. But there’s also Anakin. Who would be scared if Maul smashed the ship or killed random people to vent his anger. Anakin, who needs something called a “positive role model”, who needs to be taught how to use the Force, and who needs the adults around him to have their shit together. There’s also Shmi, who makes him soup and hot chocolate when he’s feeling bad, and tells him off for breaking things, and who helps him get better at being a real person, and who doesn’t seem to want anything from him other than a general expectation of not hurting her or her son. So Maul deals. He grows. He heals, slowly. There’s setbacks, and gains. And somewhere in there, he starts teaching Anakin how to use the Force.

The problem is, Maul learned to access the Force first through fear and anger. Turns out, it’s really hard to teach someone fundamentals of force usage via fear and anger without first having to traumatize them. So right away, Maul hits a barrier. He doesn’t have any clue how to teach Anakin a different way though. He needs help.

But also, FUCK the jedi. NO WAY is Maul asking the Jedi for help, he hates the Jedi. Maul is still a Sith, he’s just a new, better kind of Sith, the kind that trains apprentices who are gonna kick WAY MORE ASS and be HEALTHY WELL-ADJUSTED PEOPLE while doing it (let him dream, ok?). So Maul starts hauling Shmi and Anakin around the galaxy, seeking out any non-Jedi Force-users they can, to learn Force techniques that the Sith didn’t teach Maul.

They spend time with the Guardians on Jedha, with those weird duck-people from that one episode with Jar-Jar’s girlfriend, with some wacky monks on a tiny island in the ass-end of nowhere, and even some time with a long-lost sith cult in a box system in the middle of the Unknown Regions. Maul learns. Anakin learns. Maul uses what he learns from the other force-users, combines it with what he knows, and teaches Anakin even more. The Jedi and the Sith are really the only two groups who really use the force for Big Impressive Things, like telekinesis and lightning and whatnot, so while the other force groups would have a lot to teach them both, they wouldn’t really be able to teach Anakin how to levitate something. And you can’t be the kick-assiest, bestest Sith Apprentice Ever if you can’t levitate shit. So Maul takes takes all these new techniques, like “being calm and chill when you meditate instead of super pissed off” and “using the Force while not being filled with incredible rage” and “mindfulness techniques” and “who knew you could do cool stuff like floating rocks without having to exhaust yourself by hating everything in existence, including yourself” and applies them to the skills and methods he already has. He and Anakin have to do a lot of fumbling and exploring and mistake-making, but they figure it out. And Anakin learns. And he kicks ass.

When Anakin is 11, Maul hauls him off to Ach-To to dig a crystal out of the roots of an ancient tree. He tells Anakin to hold it and meditate, to let his emotions rise around him, to feed them, to pull them through the crystal, let it resonate, let it take on the shape of his strongest feelings. After all, that is how Maul was trained to bleed his crystals. Maul’s pain and fear and anger yielded him red crystals.

Anakin comes out with yellow. Determination, fierce protectiveness, drive, hunger for justice, righteous fury. That is Anakin’s lightsaber.

Anakin grows up, planet-hopping with his Mom and Uncle Maul in a beat-up freighter with under-the-hood enhancements out the ass (Maul ditched the Scimitar right after Tatooine so his master couldn’t instantly track him down, and Maul and Anakin are both huge mechanics nerds and bond over things like “but what if you put ANOTHER PLASMA CORE IN THE ENGINE”, so this ship is, uh, certainly some sort of thing). Anakin grows up learning a hundred different Force traditions- just about every major Force tradition in the Galaxy (except for Jedi), and more than a few obscure ones. He grows up, tinkering with his droid, learning Juyo from Maul and how to sew a button from his mom. He grows up, beholden to two destinies only: “Help me take down Sidious, because he’s an asshole and a shitty Sith Lord” and “do whatever the fuck you want, because you are a Sith and no one gets to tell you what to do” (”except me.” Shmi interrupts. “Sith Lords still have a bedtime.” “Sith Lords still have a bedtime,” Maul amends, having no desire to repeat what happened when he encouraged a ten-year-old Anakin to ignore all the rules on purpose).

And what Anakin wants to do is what he’s always wanted to do- go back to Tatooine and free the slaves. Maul thinks that a big project like that would be an excellent learning opportunity for Anakin. He also wants Anakin to succeed, so he sits him down and talks logistics. How do you free the slaves without hundreds of slave owners detonating their chips when they hear what is happening? How do you keep them free once you do that? How do you get them jobs, clothes, food, houses? What about the ones who want to leave Tatooine? What about the ones who want to stay? And what about the economic upheaval that will happen when you deprive a whole planet of its cheapest source of labor? When Anakin is fourteen, they start planning.

When Anakin is eighteen, they make their move. Anakin, coordinating with Shmi, who returned to Tatooine three years earlier to organize things on the ground (living with a woman named Beru Whitesun, who is a gateway to the Freedom Path network), activates several massive orbital EMP devices, frying every electrical device on the planet, including slave chips. (The EMPs came from a pirate friend of his mom’s, who seems to do whatever she wants as long as she makes him hot chocolate). All over the planet, lights go out, slave chips fry, and radios go silent. And Shmi’s agents get to work. Ordinary citizens all over tatooine grab their rifles and head out. They meet up with others in their settlement, and the teams sweep the area, following a plan devised by Skywalker and Whitesun. They systematically visit every house in every settlement, city, spaceport, and town that is known to house slaves, and tell the slaves to grab their families and most treasured possessions and follow them.

(Tatooine is a sparsely populated planet- you can count the major settlements on two hands. If it weren’t, this would never have worked.)

Not many slaveowners put up much of a resistance- fifty angry masked people pointing guns in your face tend to make you compliant. The only slaveowner who puts up more than a token resistance is Jabba the Hutt. His resistance, however, lasts about thirty seconds, before Anakin cuts off his head.

Maul meets Anakin at Jabba’s palace, where he’s rounding up the last of Jabba’s cronies. 

“No trouble?” Maul asks.

“Nope,” Anakin replies. “You?”

“None.” Maul said. Turns out, it’s like, super easy to take down an entire criminal organization when you can turn up to a meeting of the Hutt family heads, kill them all, and waltz out past all their security forces without breaking a sweat. (Seriously, it’s kind of hilarious how Maul is literally just that good). 

“The slaves here are freed?”

“Yep,” says Anakin. Then frowns. “Hold on...” He senses a presence. Big, hulking, simple, and starving. He can sense that, whatever it is, it hasn’t seen the sunlight or been able to move freely in years. 

So anyway, that’s how Anakin turns up at Mos Espa at first sunrise, riding on the back of Jabba the Hutt’s pet rancor. “Who’s a good girl,” Anakin says, scratching behind her ear nubs. “You are!” And she is a good girl. Padme (”I just think it sounds like a nice name, you know?”) is very good at dispersing angry slaveowners who look like they might start rioting. 

The slaves freed overnight have been gathered together at pre-designated safe zones-mostly warehouses or large buildings that Shmi has been buying up over the years for exactly this purpose.

(The slaves living in remote settlements, at moisture farms and homesteads, didn’t get a visit from the freedom teams. However, Shmi had a plan for them too. She has made overtures to the Tusken tribes. Once she managed to negotiate her way into speaking to one of the leaders without getting killed, she sold them a story, a dream. A revolution. Free the slaves. Transform Tatooine. She doesn’t promise the Tuskens to expel humans from the planet entirely. She promises them equal rights under the law (she also promises the existence of laws in the first place). She promises them the right to raise Banthas, the right to traverse their ancestral lands and the return of sacred sites taken from them, the right to trade, the right to control who passes over their lands. She promises them the right to water and shade. And, she promises them half the seats on the ruling council she plans to set up. And so, on the night the EMPs blow, Tusken raiders visit every homestead on Tatooine (again, there’s only a few hundred, a thousand at most), and kidnap the slaves. Perhaps not the most reassuring experience for enslaved peoples who have been taught their entire lives to fear the Tuskens, and not without reason, but, nevertheless, it is freedom).

As the new day dawns- Tatooine’s first dawn as a free planet- Anakin, Maul, and Shmi know that the easy part is over. Now, they have to house tens of thousands of people currently cooped up in warehouses with nothing but the clothes on their backs. They have to establish and keep iron-tight control over the planet and its settlements, and quash any violent reprisals before they gain momentum. They also have to completely rebuild an economy completely upended by the overnight emancipation. 

However, Shmi’s not the only one who’s been busy for the past few years. While Shmi was on Tatooine, planning a revolution, Anakin and Maul were traversing the galaxy, gathering resources, using the Patented Maul Method (TM)- breaking into the headquarters of powerful organizations and threatening to kill everybody in charge unless they did what they said.

As the second sun rises, ships begin arriving in Tatooine’s orbit. Pop-up housing is dropped onto the outskirts of Tattooine’s settlements, the kind that mining companies use to set up new bases on mineral-rich asteroids. The accommodations are small and sparse, but each family has a kitchen, bathroom, beds, and private space. Huge generators are hooked up to cool the new housing. Anakin knows that the already-existing slave quarters, made of stone with no windows and mostly underground- are already built to keep the occupants cool, but he refuses to make the former slave population live in slave quarters. Some of the freed people are moved into Jabba’s old palace, some into buildings abandoned by rich business owners who fled the planet when they saw what was happening. Food, water, medicine, clothes, books, toys, tools, and shoes are deposited. (the Republic’s equivalent of the FBI had been utterly baffled when Galaxy’s three biggest criminal organizations started moving cargo that looked less like a drug trade and more like a disaster relief mission). 

Anakin walks among the newly freed slaves, reassuring them- yes, you are free. Yes, you will be fed and housed and clothed as long as you need it. Yes, we will try to find your child/husband/wife/mother who was sold years ago. Yes, you can go home, you can do whatever you want.

He also asks for volunteers. And he gets them. Hardly anyone would say no to the chance to work with the Skywalker, who once was a slave like them, but freed himself and returned, who freed the slaves in one night of glory, and appeared at sunrise riding a rancor.

Anakin sends out messengers, all across the planet. “Tatooine is a free world,” they say. “All slaves are hereby freed, by order of the He who Walks in the Sky. Any slaveowners who, by their own free will, turn over their detonators will not be harmed. Any who resist, will be.” Not many resist.

At the end of that first day, as the suns are setting, once the freed peoples of Tatooine are fed, and given water, and sheltered, Maul comes to Anakin.

“I am proud of you.” He says. “You have come into your power, you have mastered yourself, and so have mastered the Force. You have the freedom and the power to do anything you choose. You are no longer my apprentice. Lord Skywalker, you are a true Sith Master.” Anakin pulls him into a hug. He maybe cries a little bit. Maul maybe cries a little bit. Maul maybe also feels mildly annoyed that Anakin is a full head taller than him now.

(Sidious would be truly, utterly offended at Maul’s criteria for Sith-Lord-ness. “THAT’S NOT SITH” he would have said. “THAT’S BARELY EVEN DARK SIDE ADJACENT, YOU ARE DILUTING OUR THOUSAND YEAR HERITAGE-” but Maul wouldn’t care about Sidious’ stupid opinions, anyway).

And Anakin and Shmi get to work. They employ the newly freed people of Tatooine, constructing permanent houses, tearing down slave markets, building critical infrastructure. Anakin pays them more than a living wage, thanks to the extremely deep pockets of Crimson Dawn. He brings in doctors and teachers, and guarantees healthcare and education for all who want it (whenever one of Crimson Dawn’s higher-ups says “wait, why are we dumping massive amounts of money into this one random-ass planet?” Darth Maul just casually sidles up behind them with his lightsaber until they remember that he can literally just show up anywhere, at anytime, and kill them unless they do what he says. If Maul’s busy, he sends 3PO instead- 3PO’s been outfitted with about ten times as much weaponry as is legal, and can be very convincing when he wants to be).

While Anakin works on infrastructure and supporting the freed peoples of Tatooine, and unfucking the economic trainwreck they caused, Shmi and Beru work on the government. They write down a few, very basic rules-Tatooine is to be ruled by a council of people, half of whom will come from the Tusken tribes, all of which shall be selected by fair and free election. All citizens of Tatooine shall have the right to vote in these elections, and the right to vote shall be guaranteed to all- except for those who have ever owned or sold a sentient being. (it was a huge debate in the Lars-Whitesun-Skywalker household, this matter of restricting voting rights. In the end, it was decided that slaveowners, and ONLY slaveowners, were to be the sole exception for universal suffrage). Every citizen of Tatooine is guaranteed access to food, medicine, and water, and has the right to have their grievances addressed by the council.

Shmi works quickly to gather her council- she knows she has to do it fast, to prove to the Tuskens that she is as good as her word. The first elections are chaotic, and perhaps not completely non-violent, but in the end, there is a council of twenty representatives, with Shmi Skywalker representing Mos Espa.

The Council proceeds to have raging- and occasionally violent- debates about the structure of their future government. What rights to guarantee citizens. Should they have a court system? What about a financial system? How are they to guarantee water, food, and medicine to everyone? What even are taxes?

The Rebuilding of Tatooine is long, and hard, and contentious. There are arguments and rage and fighting- the repatriation of traditional Tusken lands is especially fraught. But Shmi promised, and so she makes it happen (Anakin and Padme may have helped too). Maul, for his part, keeps training Anakin, and keeps managing the criminal underworld with a careful balance of death threats and actual death, but mostly stays out of the way of Anakin’s Senior Project. 

Soon, Anakin is able to re-purpose the pop-up housing, since most people have moved into traditional Tatooine-built homes, suited to the environment. The newly restructured economy is tentatively taking its first steps, and Tatooine’s baby government is becoming less and less dependent on intergalactic criminal funding (partially thanks to Anakin confiscating the entirety of Jabba’s personal fortune). He spends a lot of time in Council meetings, trying not to scream at people while also trying to stop Padme from eating them. The Council debates what is next for Tatooine, and eventually, they vote to petition the Republic for membership. Tatooinians, as a people, including the Tuskens, are fiercely independant, but, as Shmi points out, joining the Republic would guarantee them to certain things like humanitarian aid, a voice in decisions affecting interplanetary trade routes and taxation, legal legitimacy and the right to call on the Republic for aid should their sovereignty ever be threatened. Most importantly, slavery is illegal on all Republic planets, which means that if any slave-owning organizations ever pushed in on Tatooine, there would be another (much better funded) organization to call on to help quash it. 

The Republic requires that a petitioning planet’s head of state visit the Senate on Coruscant to ask the Senate for entry into the Republic. The Council, grumbling, re-jiggers their constitution to allow for a “chief councilor”, and promptly elect Anakin to the position (”Fuck me,”) Anakin says. Maul laughs at him, then sobers and tells him to be careful on Coruscant (”My former master lives there.” he says. “Mind your shields, and do not let him know your true nature. You are not yet ready to take him on, and you have your planet and your people to think of.” “Yes, Uncle Maul.” Anakin says. “I will be careful.”).

Anakin shows up in the Galactic Senate, sandy robes, uncombed hair, and half smirk on his face. “I am Anakin Skywalker, free person of Tatooine,” he says. He presents the case for Tatooine’s admittance to the Republic in a booming, confident voice, drawing on his inner strength- his righteous anger and determination to ensure his people’s future- to keep his voice from wavering.

There are grumbles. Muttering. No Senator wants to be the one to blatantly say “no”- it’s a sort of miracle story, Tatooine, the little planet that rose up and threw of the shackles of slavery and now wants to join the Republic- the exact sort of mythos that the Republic itself is built on. It’s bad PR to vote against that little planet. But at the same time, Tatooine is a sandy, useless dustball that’ll need fiscal support from the Senate, with nothing to offer in terms of economic value. Many Senators are debating with themselves, not whether or not to say “no”, but how to vote “no” without losing ten points in approval ratings.

Until the Senator from Naboo, a diminutive woman who somehow reminds Anakin of his rancor, stands up. She gives an impassioned, off-the-cuff speech, reminding the Senate of how her own planet had thrown off the shackles of oppression not ten years ago, how the Republic was founded by planets like Tatooine, and how, most importantly, they had no legal basis to deny them entry, and if the Senate voted no, Naboo’s lawyers would litigate the issue six ways from taungsday- which, due to a clause in the Senate’s constitution that forbade them from passing legislation while the issue of a planet’s admittance to the Republic was on the floor, would effectively paralyze the Senate until the courts made a ruling. And, as Padme made sure to emphasize, if the court’s decision was not favorable, she would appeal. She could feasibly stop the Senate from doing anything for years, if necessary.

Tatooine is admitted to the Republic.

“Two Senators,” Anakin demands. “In order for my people to be fairly represented, my planet requires two Senators.” When complaints are made, Jar-Jar Binks threatens to explain the complicated dynamics of a planet attempting to grapple with a colonial past. He doesn’t have to. Tatooine gets its two Senators.

Anakin meets with Senator Amidala in her office, to thank her.

“Of course,” she said. “I remember a little boy who helped free my planet- how could I not help you when you needed it?”

“Uhh, thanks, yeah, that’s, really nice of you. Like your hair. Which is nice. In an objective sort of way,” Anakin says, because there is no universe in which Anakin is not a complete idiot in front of Padme. “I named my rancor after you,” he blurts.

Before Anakin is scheduled to leave Coruscant, the Jedi send a knight to scope out the new planetary leader. Obi-Wan Kenobi shows up at Anakin’s hotel room, and goes “Oh. It’s.... you.” 

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin grins. He only knew him for about two days when he was nine, but he still greets him like an old friend, like a brother. They fall into easy, teasing conversation. “I thought you were dead, I confess, after you disappeared from Naboo,” Obi-Wan admits. “I am truly sorry that I was unable to fulfill Qui-Gon’s promise to train you as a Jedi Knight.”

“That’s ok,” Anakin waves his hand dismissively. “I got trained as a Sith instead.” Then he freezes. Oops. He was not supposed to say that. Maul would be so disappointed in him.

“Beg pardon?” Obi-Wan says.

“I, uhh, got trained, as a, uh, sift...er? Instead? A sand sifter? I sift sand for a living?”

“You said Sith.”

“No I didn’t, I definitely said sift.”

“No, you said Sith.”

“I definitely did not.”

Anakin changes the subject, and Obi-Wan lets it drop. He’ll tell the Council, of course, but he honestly cannot fathom the concept of this kid being a Sith. He senses nothing Dark about him- well, at least no more dark than is present in any sentient. Besides, it’s not like there are any Sith Lords around anymore, ever since he killed Maul (luckily, Obi-Wan doesn’t see the picture in Anakin’s wallet, a candid shot 3PO took in the cockpit of their family’s ship. Fifteen-year-old Anakin, at the controls, hyperbrake still on with his hands on the hyperdrive lever, Maul, standing behind him, hands gripping Anakin’s seat and face distorted half-way through a panic-induced rant about flight safety, and Shmi, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, laughter on her face and knitting needles in her hands).

Anakin contacts his mother, tells her the good news. The Council, moving with alacrity, elects Tatooine’s first Senators. And four days later, one year after the Dawn of Freedom, Senator Shmi Skywalker and Senator Ooutrigh (a Tusken warrior) of Tatooine arrive on Coruscant and address the Senate for the first time. 

Of course, while Anakin has been growing up, planning for Tatooine’s future, and annoying the shit out of Maul, Palpatine’s own plans have continued apace. Barely four months after Tatooine is admitted to the Republic, Obi-Wan finds himself in an arena on Geonosis. The battle goes much differently this time, partially due to the fact that Anakin has retrofitted the cargo bay of his family’s ship to house Padme (the rancor, not the Senator), and descends onto the Arena sands just as Yoda and the Clone Troops arrive, and deposits both Padme’s (the rancor, and the Senator) into the melee. 

“Hi, Obi-Wan!” Anakin calls, whipping out his lightsaber to deflect the hail of blaster bolts (Maul would disapprove, but Maul isn’t here, he’s ten clicks away, chasing down the Jedi dropout Sidious replaced him with). 

“Anakin, what the FUCK” Obi-Wan says, staring at Chief Councilor Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine, riding a rancor and swinging an honest-to-Force yellow lightsaber. 

“Master Yoda, what the FUCK” Anakin says, later, after the battle is over, when he finally gets Yoda to answer his questions about the clone troopers. “You found out about an entire-ass army of slave child soldiers commissioned AND PAID FOR by one of your own council members, and your reaction is ‘oh thank goodness, now we have an army?’ What the FUCK is WRONG with you?!” Yoda tries to explain to Councilor Skywalker that the situation was dire, they’d had no choice, but Councilor Skywalker just keeps repeating “AN ARMY OF SLAVE CHILD SOLDIERS” at him. “No choice, we had,” Yoda says yet again.

“BULLSHIT, you had no choice!” Anakin yells. “You could have chosen to not use the entire army of slave child soldiers that you legally own!”

“Let Kenobi and the others die, you would have? Hmm?”

“PROBABLY, YEAH!” Anakin hollers (”Thanks,” mutters Obi-Wan). “Sometimes the choices you have all really suck, but you still have to make them! You can’t just pretend you didn’t have any options, you HAD OPTIONS, and you chose the one that involved using a SLAVE ARMY OF CHILD SOLDIERS.” He gestures behind him to the battlefield, where clone troopers and medics are moving amongst the bodies, white and red stark against the sand, tallying their dead brothers.

Yoda shakes his head. “emotional, you are, young Skywalker.” he said. “Cloud your judgement, your feelings do.” 

“Yeah, I’m fucking emotional!” Anakin practically screams. “I have personal beef with slavery, so excuse me if I feel emotions about it. Your problem is that you’re able to use an ARMY OF SLAVE CHILD SOLDIERS and not feel bad about it! Your lack of emotions is clouding YOUR judgement!” He stomps off. Yoda shakes his head. Skywalker is young, and too close to the issue of slavery to really have perspective on it. He does not understand. It was a great loss to the Jedi Order when the Council rejected him, all those years ago- if he had been trained as a Jedi, he would have learned to put aside his emotions about slavery, and he would have understood why it was necessary now. If Anakin could have heard what Yoda was thinking, he would have turned right back around, picked Yoda up, and punted him like a limmie ball.

Anakin and Maul return to Tatooine. Maul offers to assassinate the entire Jedi Council, but Anakin says no. He’s still fuming about his conversation with Yoda. He knows he gets emotional. He knows that Yoda isn’t entirely wrong- he knows he lets his emotions cloud his judgement sometimes. It’s something he’s worked hard on, over the years, him and Maul. How to take a step back from the emotions howling in your head, and how to view the situation without them getting in the way. And what kinds of situations you should let your emotions guide you. Anakin thinks he’s damn well entitled to strong emotions about slavery. 

Short of declaring war on the entire Jedi Order, Anakin doesn’t know what to do about the Republic’s slave army. The Tatooine Council releases a public condemnation of it, explicitly calling it slavery and calling for the clones to be freed. The Council seriously debates joining the Separatists, until Padme (the Senator, not the Rancor) and Shmi look in-depth at the Separatist Council, which is buried deep in the pockets of corporate interests. Shmi files a lawsuit, under the Republic’s anti-slavery legislation, suing for the freedom of the clones. It’s a battle of miserable inches, and meanwhile, the war rages.

With Dooku gone, Sidious’s only means of controlling the Separatists is through Grievous and Ventress, both of whom are loose cannons whose loyalty (and competence) he seriously doubts. It’s frustrating for him, and not necessarily better for the Jedi and their army (of slave child soldiers). Sidious needs to keep the war in careful balance, neither side gaining too much ground, to draw it out and grind the Jedi down and manipulate their public image until he can heap all the blame on them. Without Dooku to pass down his orders, he has no way of keeping a firm check on the Separatist Council, and the Seps are in serious danger of completely overrunning the Republic. The droid army is fifty times as many as the clones, and the Separatists have the Trade Federation, the Banking Clans, and all of the major military tech corporations on their side. Honestly, it’s a testament to the Jedi and the Clone Army that they haven’t lost the war in the first month.

Speaking of that first month, Anakin doesn’t spend long on uninvolved in the war. Scant weeks after Geonosis, the Separatist Army threatens to roll right over Tatooine on their way to gaining control of the Outer Rim Hyperlanes. Tatooine has no army, doesn’t even have a police force. It has no fleet, no orbital defenses, and the droid army headed their way has ten times more droids than there are guns on the planet. The Council faces a choice. Ask the Republic to send in the GAR to defend them- ask for an army of slaves to be sent to die on Tatooine, to stain the sand with enslaved blood so soon after Tatooine clawed her way to freedom, or do nothing, and almost certainly ensure the annihilation of Tatooine and her people. To die, or to live by the blood of slaves who died for you. It’s not a pretty choice.

In the end, the choice is taken away from them (and perhaps it’s a kindness, that they weren’t forced to choose, perhaps it’s the coward’s way out, but it is what it is). A GAR cruiser shows up in orbit, and the Council is hailed by a man identifying himself as Captain Rex, commanding officer of the 501st legion of the GAR.

“The Republic sent you here?” Anakin asks, incredulously. 

“Well, not exactly.” Captain Rex hedges. “The 501st is due for leave on Kamino, but the hyperdrive was making funny noises, so we decided to stop off in the nearest Republic system to check it out.” Rex shrugs. “If a bunch of tinnies just so happen to show up, it’s not like we’ll just sit back and watch.”

“Why are you doing this?” Anakin asks the clone captain, once they’ve got him on planet and in the council room. He’s got a lump in his throat, and his eyes are stinging. The 501st has no Jedi on board, no natborn officers, and no orders to go to Tatooine. Rex and the 501st showed up here of their own free will. Because they wanted to. To defend Tatooine.

“Geonosis.” Rex says. “On Geonosis, you saved the lives of over two hundred of us. Including me. We couldn’t stand by and let your planet fall to the Separatists, Councilor Skywalker.”

After the battle, during the cleanup, when Tatooinians are passing through the rows of injured, giving out water- giving out life- Rex tells Anakin the other reason.

“We all know about Tatooine, sir.” He says, quietly. “A bunch of slaves who stood up and said “no,” and took their freedom.” He shrugs. “Stories like that, it gives us hope. For the future.” He fixes Anakin with a stare. “If we let that hope die, we die too. Tatooine cannot fall.”

That is the first time Anakin and Rex fight together. Somehow, when the 501st leaves Tatooine, Anakin goes with them- officially, as a consultant/observer, appointed at the request of Senator Skywalker to observe the GAR and monitor the health and wellbeing of the troopers. Unofficially, Anakin and Rex become a lethal team, making the 501st one of the most effective legions in the Galaxy. Anakin isn’t dumb. He knows he’s being a massive hypocrite, running around with an army of slave child soldiers. Rex, however, insists that it’s different.

“First of all, we asked you to come with us.” he says. “Second of all, it’s not like you staying behind would have made any difference in our situation. And besides, scrapping clankers isn’t the only reason I asked you to come with us.” Anakin raises an eyebrow.

And Rex introduces Anakin to his older brother, Cody, commander of the 212th (Anakin is happy to see Obi-Wan again, but appalled to meet Obi-Wan’s fourteen-year-old togruta padawan, because why would you put a CHILD in a warzone, in a COMMAND POSITION). And Cody brings Anakin in on The Plan. The clones will not remain slaves forever, and they will not wait for some elusive promise of gratitude after the war is over. They will take their freedom, and they will defend their own, and they’re asking Anakin, who freed the slaves of Tatooine, to help them do it. 

“So basically, you want me on as a consultant.”

“Basically, yeah.” Cody says. “And also as a guy with a lightsaber who can leap fifty feet into the air and dodge blaster bolts. Those are always handy to have around.”

So Anakin and Rex and Cody, and Cody’s small circle of commanders, lay their plans. And in the meantime, there’s a war to fight. Shmi’s still on Tatooine, but Maul comes with Anakin and the 501st. He and Rex get along like a house on fire, but you wouldn’t know it from watching them- they do nothing but argue and needle each other. Rex sarcastically calls Maul “Commander Maul” because it pisses him off so much, and it catches on with the whole legion. Maul constantly mutters about murdering and/or poisoning Rex.

But after Ventress almost chokes Rex to death, and breaks into his mind to make him do her bidding, Maul doesn’t leave Rex alone for a week, and clutches his hand tightly in the medbay. Rex doesn’t mention it, so neither does Anakin. 

Padme, on the other hand, makes no secret of how much she loves Rex (the Rancor, not the Senator, though she likes him too). Padme seems to have concluded that Rex is some sort of long-lost hatchling, and can be seen chasing Rex down the hangar bay, trying to corral him into the nest she’s constructed in the corner reserved for her. Rex gets used to surprise cuddles from a massive predator.

The Jedi Council are at their wit’s end with Skywalker, but their hands are full and honestly, he’s a benefit to the war effort, so they assign Obi-Wan to “supervise” the legion, and leave them to it. Obi-Wan and Anakin strike up a deep friendship, unfettered by the baggage that comes with being master and padawan. Obi-Wan finds himself having serious questions about the Jedi’s role in the war, since Anakin is not at all shy about challenging him on the whole “slave army of child soldiers” thing. Obi-Wan is also, quite frankly, too busy to effectively teach a padawan, and by this point, he knows that Anakin’s had some sort of Force training. He’s fought beside him enough to be confident in his skills, and often sends Ahsoka on extended missions with the 501st, and explicitly begs Anakin to help him fill in the gaps in her training. Anakin obliges enthusiastically. 

Of course, Maul helps train her too. Obi-Wan shows up on the Resolute one day to pick her up, and asks how her training’s going. 

“Great!” She says. “Skyguy’s weird uncle is teaching me jar’kai-”

“Anakin has an uncle?” Obi-Wan asks, surprised. “Who knows jar’kai?”

And so Obi-Wan and Maul meet once again. And Obi-Wan is just absolutely pole-axed. 

“Darth Maul?” He splutters. “Is your uncle?” 

“Not biologically,” Anakin shrugs. “He practically raised me, along with my mom. He taught me everything I know about lightsabers and the Force.”

“...”

“...you did say Sith, Anakin, you bastard, sand-sifting MY ASS-”

“Oh, it’s you.” Maul says. “I won’t kill you, but only because Anakin likes you.” Obi-Wan throws up his hands.

Somehow, Obi-Wan and Maul come to an understanding. Somehow, Obi-Wan doesn’t turn him over to the council. 

At one point, a giant of a zabrak, easily eight feet tall, with skin a poisonous yellow, shows up, claiming that Maul is his brother, and that he’s here to bring him home to Dathomir. Maul takes one look at Savage and goes “Fuck that”. “I will train you in the ways of the Force,” he says. “I can show you power like you’ve never wielded before.” he says. “You shall be a great and feared Sith Lord,” he says. “Have some hot chocolate, you look cold,” he says. “Put on a sweater.” Savage, slightly bemused, comes to terms with the fact that he’s just been adopted.

It’s Maul who figures it out, of course. How could he not? He was raised by Sidious. He knows how devious he is, how his plans have layers upon layers, backups upon backups, contingencies stacked from here to the Outer Rim. Once Sidious moves, you can be sure that any reasonable outcome will be in his favor, because he has completely engineered the situation before you were even aware it existed.

The Sith caused the war and are playing both sides. The Sith caused the clones to be commissioned (these things are trivially easy to figure out, if you’re paying attention). The Sith want the Jedi dead.

“Contingencies,” Maul mutters. “It’s always a trap, and there’s always contingencies.”

When he finds the chip in Rex’s head, he shakes with rage and refuses to talk to anyone, fearing, for the first time in years, that he will lose control and hurt someone he loves. It is Rex who talks him down, who manages to get close to him, who embraces him and lets him cry on his shoulder, then scream and rage and punch the walls. When Maul is able to explain, Rex has to choke back his own terrified, horrified sobs. He holds them back, and calmly looks at Maul and says “What are you going to do about it?”

The surgery, they discover, is simple enough. An astromech can do it in two minutes (C2PO can do it in seventy seconds, and Artoo can’t stand it). When Anakin is told, he goes quiet for a minute, and when he looks back up, it is not Anakin, Rex’s friend, Maul’s kid, who is sitting at the table in the briefing room. It is He Who Walks in the Sky, Huttslayer, Breaker of Chains, who looks back at them. Anakin Skywalker has always wanted nothing more than to free all the slaves. And Anakin Skywalker’s destiny has always been to do what he wanted.

They tell Cody. They modify their plans. They quietly contact medics throughout the GAR, and Artoo quietly sends the details to every military astromech he trusts. When the army is safe from Sidious’ control, Anakin, Rex, and Maul conspire to lure him off of Coruscant. Maul takes over Mandalore, exiling the duchess and announcing a New Sith Empire. Sidious shows up, declaring that Maul has become a rival, disowning his former apprentice and attacking him, with intent to kill. Savage loses an arm. Maul almost loses his life. But as he lies on the ground at Sidious’s feet, arms trembling with the effort of holding the parry keeping Sidious’ saber from his throat, he hears “We’ve got the face shot! Go, go go!” in his earpiece. Gunfire, real slugthrowers, difficult to block with a saber, erupts around him. C3PO and his arsenal, along with Fives, Jesse, and Echo, the 501st’s best ARC troopers, open fire on Sidious. The Sith is forced to back away, raising a hand to stop the bullets in midair. Maul leaps to his feet, and Anakin joins him, lightsaber drawn. 

The fight is quick, but brutal. Maul’s hands threaten to tremble with terror, facing down the horror of his childhood, the monster whose treatment of him is woven fundamentally into his psyche, whose shadow has haunted Maul all his life, and still invades his dreams. But he reaches out to his family, to Rex, beside him, steady, full of faith in him, to Anakin, a blazing sun of love and anger, a shield of raw power, and to Shmi, all the way in her Senate offices on Coruscant, cool and calm and soothing like a desert spring as ever-present as the stars. His hands do not tremble. He raises his lightsaber against his master, beside the blade of his son. Together, they beat the Sith Lord back. Anakin binds the Sith’s blade, knees him in the ribs, and while Sidious is thus occupied, Maul cuts his head off.

“You were a terrible parent,” he pants, and spits on the corpse. Then, he collapses, and Rex is there to catch him, and Maul clings to him and shakes, and cries. Anakin reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, and Rex pulls him in with a look, and together, they surround Maul, a bulwark against the rest of the world, a safe circle for him to fall apart for a little bit. At some point, one of them unstraps the small camera that Maul had been wearing on his chest. Ahsoka has, at that point, already sent the footage to every major news office on Coruscant.

That evening, plastered all over the galactic news, is a video of the Chancellor himself, showing up on a neutral world and attacking its sovereign leader, wielding red lightsabers of all things. And it’s obviously the Chancellor; there’s a clear shot of his face when he knocks Mandalore’s ruler to the ground and the camera gets a good view right up into his hood.

It’s a massive scandal. One tabloid shows the footage with a little counter in the corner, counting up every treaty and galactic law that Palpatine violates onscreen. The only thing that saves Palpatine from impeachment and arrest is the fact that he’s already dead. Inquiries are launched, investigators are sanctioned, documents and hard drives and testimony are subpoena’ed. Padme (the Senator, not the Rancor), spearheads the investigative committee, and within a month, they’ve uncovered decades worth of bribes, backroom deals, contracts with droid manufacturers, clear evidence of Palpatine authorizing Republic funds for weaponry that went straight to the Separatists, and even communication records between the Chancellor and the two military leaders of the Separatists. Grievous and Ventress go into hiding (the Tales of Grievous and Ventress, unlikely buddies forced on an intergalactic road trip on the run from the cops, is a story for a different absurdly long post at 3am). The Separatists break down in chaos, and the war grinds to a halt. In the middle of all the political hurricane, Cody enacts his plan, and the entire GAR simultaneously deserts, and fucks directly off to Tatooine. This ignites another scandal, with Senators calling for Tatooine’s expulsion from the Republic. Shmi stands in her Senate Pod, hands tucked into her roughspun sleeves, listening attentively while Senator Burtoni of Kamino accuses her of theft.

“If Tatooine does not return the stolen military assets, the Senate may sanction the use of force!” the Senator from Ryloth threatens.

“Pardon me,” Shmi says, “May I ask what army the Senate is planning sending to invade Tatooine? I was under the impression that the only Republic army was already there.” There’s a bit of an awkward silence.

In the middle of the shitstorm, before Shmi is arrested and Anakin declared an enemy of the state, Shmi’s lawsuit finally receives a ruling. And just like that, the clones are legally free. And the judge orders the Senate to pay reparations. Anakin cackles with glee when he hears. 

Rex and Cody, with the full support of the people of Tatooine, begin the long, hard, work of resettling their brothers and building a life for the vod’e. Shmi files a lawsuit against the Zygerrian Empire. Savage receives a new arm, courtesy of Anakin, who may or may not have added a few extra utilities to it. Ahsoka is knighted, and controversially invites Anakin to be present at the ceremony, along with Obi-Wan. Maul admits, very quietly and where only Rex can hear, that he doesn’t actually want to poison him. “I know,” Rex says, smiling at him. Anakin, meanwhile, finally marries Padme, the love of his life (the Senator, not the Rancor).

And in Mos Eisly, there is a stone slab, pulled from a crumbled wall and stuck upright in the ground in the middle of the square. No one knows who put it there, but someone carved fifty-seven names into the stone. The fifty-seven names of the clone troopers who died defending Tatooine from the Separatist army, at the beginning of the war. The last slaves to spill their blood on the sands of Tatooine.