#Like you stretched wrong and pulled a muscle but Everywhere

[chicago-geniza]

Slept without nightmares for the first time all week [Comedy Mask]

Had a seizure in my sleep [Tragedy Mask]

[junelovesaz]

Unspoken words

Note: Hey loves! I'm sorry for disappearing again, I was on vacation, and I'm terrible at managing my time. I finished my first semester at university and have started the second one (send help, please 💀), so all the accumulated stress made me want to write. Thank you for taking the time to read this! 💙💙 I'm sorry if it's a mess, but I hope it entertains you a bit! I've discovered that I enjoy writing angst, so I think that's my path.

P.S.: Azriel will always make me sigh, but I admit that Cassian is my favorite bat boy, so I'll include him everywhere.

Anyway, I love you all!💙💙 Every like and reblog is appreciated! Just a reminder that English isn't my first language, so if there's any mistake, don't hesitate to tell me!

Words: 1k+ Warnings: None, just angst Summary: The reader saw at the family dinner how Azriel and Elain worked together. It made something inside her stir, and the feelings she had been hiding became painfully unbearable.

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For the Mother.

It was the only thought that came to mind before I dodged Cassian's blow. My reflexes definitely weren't at their best today, and we both knew it. So, I just rolled my eyes at the smug smile on Cassian's face.

I had slept less than three hours because every time I closed my eyes, the image I so desperately wanted to get out of my mind was the only thing I saw. So, I had tossed and turned in bed until dawn, which is why my body was so exhausted and dodging blows felt like torture. I wasn't even trying to attack him, just to hold my ground. That's how pathetic I was being today.

I didn't even anticipate Cassian's move until I felt his legs sweeping mine out from under me, and my back hit the ground. I gasped as the air left my lungs and let out a groan from the impact.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?" I heard his voice ask before his wings spread out above me, shielding my eyes from the direct sunlight.

I sighed, exhausted, and gave up, stretching my arms out and relaxing my muscles. He just crossed his arms and looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Since when are you so bad at fighting?"

I huffed and pulled my limbs in until I was sitting up. "Don't feed your ego too much. I'm just not having a good day."

I felt him scrutinize me with his eyes, narrowing them before he sighed and dropped his body next to mine.

"What's going on?" he asked softly, even his hazel eyes had turned gentler.

I could tell him, I knew I could, just as I knew he would keep quiet. But verbalizing what I felt, how I felt, would make everything more real.

"It's nothing. It's just my head, you know" I lied, downplaying it.

Cassian stayed silent next to me for a few seconds before I felt his hand press my shoulder. Of course, he had read the lie.

I sighed. Maybe I could tell him what I had seen yesterday, the connection between a certain shadow singer and the youngest Archeron sister at dinner, but telling him would mean explaining why it affected me so much.

"It's nothing, Cass. It's just that…" I paused to think a bit. "Have you ever felt cornered? Like you're running away from something you don't want to face… But once everything happens before your eyes, there's nowhere left to run."

I looked at him uncertainly, trying to hide the feeling of desperation and sadness. He came closer to me and put one of his arms around my shoulders, ignoring how sweaty we both were, before giving me a look of understanding and nodding gently.

"It's not a pleasant feeling" he agreed. "But I also know that if there's no place left to run, all you can do is face it, or whatever is haunting you will devour you."

"It's not that simple."

"It never is," was his only response before he shrugged "Being over five hundred years old doesn't make things easier."

"It's just that…" I swallowed thickly and finally decided to show him my vulnerable side. "Yesterday…"

However, before I could utter a word, the sound of boots hitting the ground alerted me, and I forced myself to keep my mouth shut. Cassian reacted by frowning and turned to see who it was. I mimicked his action, and when I saw a pair of wings accompanied by dark tendrils, I tensed a little.

I understood that Az had wanted us to hear him coming. So, I didn't flinch when he stood there studying us for a moment.

"Am I interrupting?"

I gave Cassian a quick, discreet glance, trying to convey that we'd finish the conversation later. He looked at me confused, but I shook my head, and he nodded in agreement without insisting.

He pressed my shoulder again before changing his position, still on the ground, but his attention now directed to his brother.

"So, your ass remembered we had training today and decided to show up, huh, Az?" he let out, instantly changing the mood of the place.

"I had a meeting with Rhys" Azriel replied simply, with one corner of his mouth lifted. "You look defeated."

Cassian's wings twitched, and I had to hold back a smile to speak. "He kicked my ass, actually, and now he's here on the ground pitying me."

Az smiled, and for a moment, I had to remind myself that this was nothing, that I shouldn't get any ideas in my head that would only go one way. He was off-limits, and continuing to think that way made my chest ache, so I forced myself to look away and focus on his shadows, some roaming the space, others coiling around his neck, whispering things in his ear.

"Hard to believe after the beating Rhys gave you yesterday" he mocked.

"That's not true" Cassian made an indignant noise before getting up from the ground and heading to the secluded area where we could rest for a while.

Grateful for the distraction from my own thoughts, I laughed as Az approached, and my joy faded a bit when I noticed he was stretching out his hand to help me up. I looked at him and hesitated, but I didn't want him to misinterpret my hesitation, knowing how his mind would tell him it was because of his scars. So, I took his hand, preferring my pain over his, even though these small gestures were what hurt me the most at the end of the day.

I thanked him without looking at him to soften the blow and prevent him from noticing my expression.

"I'm ready to fight you. Whenever you want" Cassian said as he drank water and tied his hair again with the leather strap Nesta had given him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the competitive flame ignite in Az's face. Then I knew it was time to leave and pray to The Caldroun that neither of them would bleed today.

I walked over to Cassian, with Azriel on my heels, and took some water too, while looking for a towel to dry off. Az guessed what I wanted and handed me one that was next to him.

"Thanks" I repeated again without looking at him.

I said nothing more because I feared the lump that was slowly forming in my throat, but I could feel his gaze scrutinizing me. Nevertheless, I ignored it. I was determined to get rid of all the damn feelings.

As much as it hurt me more than I let on.

"I have to go, Cass. See you later" I said, patting his shoulder.

He nodded, smiling, looking for my gaze. "I'll look for you in the library" he replied, referring to finishing the conversation.

I nodded, and he returned to the training ring. So I turned to Azriel, who was already taking off his shirt, and I had to swallow hard. Seeing him in all his glory was always breathtaking, seeing his bronzed skin, every sculpted muscle, scar, and Illyrian tattoos.

But I would have to learn to forget him. There was no other option.

"See you later, Az" I said, also saying goodbye as I walked past him.

Or rather, trying to. Because he gently took my arm and spread his wings a bit, halting my path and blocking my way.

I had to hold back a shiver and looked at him, full of confusion.

"Everything okay?" he asked softly.

I could feel his eyes searching for answers in mine, even the cold brush of one of his shadows on the arm he still held. The only thing I could think of was to look away and nod.

"Yeah, why?" I replied in the calmest tone I could muster.

He said nothing, but I could still feel him trying to decipher something. As if he were searching for answers somewhere in me and couldn't find them anywhere.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded without saying anything, trying to bury my feelings deep inside. I was terrified; nothing good would come of letting anything surface. I'd rather spend a thousand years in The Prison than ruin the peace that existed in everyone's lives.

Still, I knew I hadn't convinced him that everything was fine, but I also knew he was kind enough not to push me. So finally, after a moment of doubt, he let me go and lowered his wing to let me pass.

"See you later, Az" I said again, escaping so quickly that he had no time to hold me back again or even say anything.

Once a few steps away, I felt the tension leave my body, and I let the expression of concern take over my face. I tried not to look back, I swear I did, but before going down the stairs, I turned my head a bit, only to find Az's worried gaze.

Maybe I should have bothered to change my expression, but, anyway, it didn't matter. Nothing would change, so I just continued my way down the stairs while a feeling of sadness took over my chest.

Let me know if you want me to add you to the tag list. I wasn’t sure if those who had previously asked still wanted to be included, so just let me know if you still want to be tagged!

[lunarw0rks]

SIMON X PLUS-SIZED S/O | HEADCANONS

warning(s): N/SFW (18+), smut/fluff/slight angst, implications of fatphobia, insecurity, body image mention, petnames, size kink (not for reader)??, softdom!simon, afab/fem!reader

w.c: 0.7k

˖⁺‧₊˚ MAIN MASTERLIST ♡ GHOST MASTERLIST ˚₊‧⁺˖

i'm a firm believer that SIMON loves plus-sized partners. he's not the most experienced with relationships, but above all, he enjoys bigger bodies most. so soft between his calloused hands. and warm — which is the perfect aid for his awful circulation.

and god forbid you have any qualms about your size? whether "thick", "chubby", or "fat", he'd never mind. call him crazy, but nothing hits the spot like a cushiony lover to thaw his stubborn heart. oh, how he tried to treat you the same as the rest, deflect and avoid the attention entirely. but there was something so radiant about you. as if your body was meant for him. to hold, to appreciate, to claim — to love.

SIMON grew tired of the superficial propaganda, frankly. no time for it. tomorrow isn't guaranteed for anyone, but especially not for him. for years, he felt trapped in a slump of wasted time, wasted potential. wasted emotions. bitterness for the sake of it, with no gain.

he found sweetness with you, inside and out. every inch of skin, all the bends and indents, ridges and curves that covered you. the stretch marks and cellulite that reminded him of paintings he'd seen in foreign countries; women's buxom bodies worshiped with each stroke of the brush.

once he had you, he knew he had to keep you. earn you. remind you every single day how breathtaking every bit of you was. in some ways, SIMON understands what it's liked to be loathed by nearly every passing stranger. the crinkled noses, squinted eyes, and taunting whispers that seem to follow him everywhere. but you? not a chance in hell he'd let you feel that again.

learns how to spot the signs of discomfort, which wasn't difficult since hyper-vigilance is his status quo. comparing yourself to others around, shrinking into your seat out of habit— that look of hurt in your eyes. he always gives a firm squeeze to your hip or hand, sometimes a faint whisper only you'll understand. "breathe, love." he rasps, not loosening his grip until your tense muscles relax.

even if not at the time or for several days, he always finds a way to reassure you later on. you're being seen by him, even when he's not always with you. there isn't a moment where he isn't yearning for more precious time with you. sometimes, he'll stand behind you in front of the mirror, chin resting on your shoulder. never breaks eye contact, unless you do first. raises his fingers to rest under your chin and adjusts your gaze until you're forced to admire yourself. "my gorgeous girl, look at her." SIMON whispers, pecking along your jaw.

he'd be lying if he said there weren't... other perks to the relationship. so much for his big hands to grip and enjoy, leaving marks for his eyes only the next day. crescent indents of his nails on the fat of your hips, reminding you of what you do to him. the night he had his pelvis flush against your backside, splitting you open on his length. the arch of your back, the jiggle of your ass and tits with every push of his hips. christ, he would do this forever if he could.

his hands often roam, finding purchase anywhere that will ground him. if he's not careful, you'll have him coming undone mere seconds after he is inside you. it's the vision of you; gaped mouth, slick with sweat and arousal, tummy squished against his firm build as his hips grind deep, hitting all your favorite spots.

god, and how you never seem to trust his strength fully. even when he's proved you wrong time and time again like you weigh nothing. and for him, you probably do. that sweet, bashful look in your eyes when he flips you over at the speed of light. or when he pulls you onto his lap, aching cock nestled between your thick thighs.

your hitch in breathing when he gives your plump pussy a solid smack — enough to keep you focused on the moment again. his thick fingers part your folds afterward, stimulating with your clit apologetically. "pay attention, baby. need you here otherwise 'm not gonna be able to cum. you don't want that, do you?" you can practically feel the smirk against your ear, using every ounce of strength within you to focus. he never makes it easy.

that blitzed expression never seems to fade, despite many, many nights of practice. is it wrong of him to hope it never does?

« divider cred. - cafekitsune »

[princessbrunette]

jj making you kiss his cock because you made it hurt

(you were wearing his shirt and it made him harder than it should have😭😭😭😭)

-🏹

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🎀༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

he’s been holding himself back all day, trying not to be a total perv. you’re just existing, and with your sweet nature there’s no way you know to that extent how much you’re torturing him as you walk around in his muscle tank and a pair of cotton panties. your side boobs are on display, one wrong move from a nip slip every five seconds— just going about your day, walking around the kitchen of his house making some late lunch.

you lift your arms up, arching your back trying to crack it as you stretch, a quiet moan leaving you from how good it felt. apparently, that was his final straw.

“no, nope— you gotta— there’s no way you don’t know what you’re doin’ young lady.” he marches over, pointing a finger which rustles the black bracelets on his wrist at the force. you turn and face him, all confused and doe eyed as expected.

“huh?”

“dont huh me…” he corners you against the kitchen counter pressing his hard on directly against your front, a small gasp leaving you. “yeah, know what that is don’t ‘ya? you are killing me.” he hisses, a tinge of amusement in his otherwise serious tone. he looks good, lounging around in only a black backwards cap and grey sweat-shorts, his shirt being stolen right off his floor by you.

“what did i do?” you mewl, allowing him to manhandle you — slipping his hands round your back to your ass cheeks so he could pull you even harder against him, clearly trying to relieve himself with some friction.

“walk around in my shirt. lookin’ all sexy n’shit. this right here should be a crime. you should definitely let me lock you up f’that. shit, maybe i’ll handcuff you too.” he teases with a shrug and your lashes flutter at the suggestion. “you got some penance to do, missy.”

“what do you want me to do jayj? didn’t know i was teasing you i swear.” you promise, jutting your bottom lip out poutily. unable to resist, he leans in to kiss it — but stops right before he does, hovering over your lips with a better idea.

“gotta kiss the booboo, babydoll.” he steps back casually, standing crotch forward with his hands on his hips as he gazes down at his clear erection. “you made it hurt so like, it’s only fair you kiss it better right?” he explains further when you continue to blink at him.

“yay!” you giggle, delighted by the idea as you sink to your knees — barely giving yourself enough time to get comfortable as you eagerly bury yourself into the musky material of his shorts, kissing him everywhere all up and down his covered cock. he rolls his tongue over his lips before biting down, stomach tensing at the feeling of you mouthing at him, happy little moans leaving you.

“jesus, really getting in there, huh?” he comments and you nod happily, pulling back from a moment to look up at him lovingly.

“can i suck it? will that make it all better?” you mewl needily, and for a second he feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. he sighs, a chuckle rolling off the end of it as he bends at the waist, clutching your chin and cheeks in his hand.

“nothin’ would make me happier, sweetcheeks.” he smiles before reaching down and slowly dragging the hem of your shirt up until your tits spill out. “wouldnt complain about you lettin’ me see these pretty ass titties either.”

you briskly remove the shirt, and without being asked you peel your panties off too — totally naked on the kitchen floor making him wince, dick unfathomably hard. you press your body to his legs and get back to work, licking the grey material of his shorts until it was shades darker above where his dick lay.

“eaaaasy, damn. down girl, how about you let me take you somewhere a lil’ more comfortable, yeah?”

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅🎀༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

[honey-on-your-tongue]

this sounds a lil weird prolly, but could you do a reader x jake fic where has a wet dream abt reader and she heard him groan and through something was wrong, only to find him semi-asleep with his hand on his dick, and he thinks she’s a part of his dream so he kissed her and they end up fcking, after that they fall asleep together and when they wake up he’s got Like a shocked kitten expression like ‘ Damn, that wasn't just a dream!’

Bae it's not weird!! It's mouth and 🐱 watering 🤭🤭

Also, this wasn't proofread sooooo if you see any mistakes, no you didn't.

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Jake has been tossing and turning for most of the night. You don't know why, can't understand what's happening. All you know is that he doesn't let you sleep.

You sigh, turning to him. You try to sleep, closing your eyes, beginning to drift into dreams when you hear him groan.

The sound is full of pain, frustration, and it shakes you awake. You study him, worried that maybe something is wrong. Instead, you watch Jake as he lies on his back, one of his hands moving to his cock as it tents under his loincloth.

He murmurs something unintelligible, his cock twitching, and you can feel something primal in you make you clench your thighs together.

“Jake,” you say softly, propping yourself up on an elbow. “Jake.”

You place a hand on his face, cupping his cheek, and his eyes flutter open. Barely.

“Mm,” he groans. “C'mere, baby.”

He grabs you and pulls you on top of him so you're straddling his hips. You gasp softly. “Jake—”

“I've been thinkin' 'bout you all day,” he says, sleepy eyes meeting yours before he kisses your jaw, your neck. “Wanna be inside you so bad, girl.”

You can feel your cheeks grow hot, your pussy throbbing as his hard cock presses against your folds through your loincloth and his.

“'s that why you can't sleep?” you question, his hands falling to your hips and grinding you against him.

“Mhmm,” he replies, groggy. “Need you so much.” He removes your loincloth and pushes his aside, revealing his hard, quivering cock.

He leads your hips onto his, allowing him to sink into you. Your pussy stretches around his girth, velvet walls warm and throbbing as he slides all the way to your cervix.

You mewl softly, putting your hands on his chest for support. Your nails dig into the muscles under his skin, thighs trembling on either side of his as you shudder.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, I've needed this pussy so bad, baby.”

You gasp as he bucks his hips up, the thick head of his cock bruising your cervix. You slowly rock yourself up and down on him, your cunt tight around him.

“Jake,” you say softly, eyes fluttering shut. His fingers dig into your hips. He licks his lips, his eyes dark with lust and lidded.

“What d'you need, girl?” he asks, one of his hands crawling to your back and pushing you down so that he can bury his face in your breasts.

“Fuck me,” you beg quietly. “Want y'to fuck me, please.”

Jake chuckles, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples before biting it gently. “I'll fuck you, love. Just relax f'r me, yeah?”

“Okay,” you breathe. You relax your body, your cunt softening around his cock, allowing him to slide in and out of you with ease.

He lifts your hips slightly before he starts rutting into you, pulling you down to him to meet each thrust. You gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Atta girl,” Jake says, kissing your breasts, your slick dripping out of you and coating his cock, his balls, his hips. It's everywhere. You're soaked, your pussy squelching in the silent atmosphere.

“Look at you,” he chuckles, glancing between your bodies to see how he fucks you. “Taking me so well. Made just for me, hm?”

“Yes!” you gasp. “Oh, 'm yours! Y'know I am, Jake!”

He smiles, kissing your neck, dragging his teeth over your jaw. “You know what I like you t'call me, baby.”

“Daddy,” you whimper, the pleasure snaking in your lower stomach, crawling across your skin. “Daddy, please!”

“Much better,” Jake says, his hands moving to your ass, kneading the delicate flesh. He guides you up and down, the sound of your skin slapping on his sending shivers up your spine.

You press your chest to his, tucking your head in the space between his shoulder and his neck. “Daddy,” you whine. “'s so good. Please, I-I wanna come.”

“I know, sweet,” he replies. “And you're gonna come. I promise.”

You dig your teeth into the skin of his shoulder, making him grunt. “Daddy,” you say against him. “Daddy!”

“I'm gonna fill you up,” he promises. “Gonna put my cum so deep inside you that you'll get to have my baby.”

“Please!” you mewl, your cunt tight around him. Your ears are ringing, your body trembling on top of him. “Please, gimme a baby, Daddy! Please!”

One of Jake's enormous hands moves from your ass to the back of your neck. He pushes your face to his, trapping your mouth in a messy kiss. You moan against him, hips stuttering as you feel the pleasure in you grow and spread, dangerously close to the edge.

He bites your lower lip, his sharp canines digging into the soft skin, sending shivers through you.

“Please,” you say against his mouth. “Please, 'm so close, Daddy. Please!”

“Come for daddy, angel,” he encourages, kissing your jaw, your neck, licking over your racing pulse. “Come all over me, yeah? You think you can do that, hon'? Hm?”

“Mhmm!” you reply, nodding, feeling your orgasm building up low in you. “Fuck, fuck! Daddy!” You come on his cock, shuddering and mewling, the pleasure gripping at your every nerve and making you see stars. Your mind goes blank for a second, no thoughts, no sensations beyond the ecstasy of your release.

And then you feel Jake come inside you, his load spilling deep in your pussy. You gasp, nails digging into his skin as he bites your shoulder. He grunts against your skin, feeling his seed spill out of your stuffed cunt and drip down his cock, to his balls.

“There you go,” Jake says, kissing your forehead. “Did so well f'r me, love. You always do.”

“Mm,” you say, sleep taking over you, your eyes fluttering shut.

You fall asleep on top of Jake, his cock still inside you. He drifts into dreams not long after you.

The next morning, Jake wakes up, his mind reeling from the wet dream. He hasn't had such an intense dream in...well, ever. But when he opens his eyes and finds you on top of him, your neck littered in hickeys, your lips swollen from kisses, and his cock still inside you, he realizes it wasn't only a dream.

He chuckles softly. It was a dream come true.

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@kamcrazy123 @yagirlheree @sweetllamaparadise @neytirishottie @crazy4books1

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Blog masterlist

[rambheem-is-real]

Cross My Heart Pt 3

pairing: varadeva

pt 2 here

surprise they're not dead

-

Varadha gently strokes down the side of Deva’s face with one hand, smiling at how peaceful Deva looks in his arms, using his other hand to shield Deva’s face from the rays of the sun. He briefly notices a few new wrinkles forming around Deva’s eyes, and can’t help the satisfaction that the sight causes him. 

The movement stirs Deva into waking up from his nap. Varadha watches as Deva blinks a few times, adjusting to the brightness, then yawns. He can’t take it anymore, and drops a small kiss onto Deva’s greying hairline, shifting so he’s in Deva’s view. 

“Na Kumbhakarnudi nidra aipoyinda? [Is my Kumbhakaranudu’s sleep over?]” 

Deva rolls his eyes at him. “You were the one who told me to take a nap and now you insult me like this? What has this world come to?” Despite the words, his tone is light and teasing. Deva juts his chin forward, and Varadha obliges, leaning down for a proper kiss. 

“Not just the nap,” Varadha laughs, when he eventually pulls back. “Who asked for a fourth dosa this morning? With extra karam podi? Now we’ve run out of your favorite podi, and I have to go to the market again.” 

Deva just gives him that small smile of his, that Varadha adores so much, that Deva knows Varadha adores so much. “Not you complaining when we both know you love gossiping with the rava mill elders on your way back.”

Varadha shakes his head. “Caught. I’ll tell you all about what I learned when I come back home, then.”

“I’ll be waiting for it.” 

He moves Deva off of himself, and lightly stretches before standing up. Deva watches from the ground, and Varadha smirks as he notices the glint in Deva’s eyes. 

“See something you like?” he teases. 

Deva’s face softens. “Something I love, actually,” he replies, and Varadha blushes. 

“Alright, alright. Time to go back home, Amma will be waiting.” 

Deva waits for a few seconds as Varadha comes back with the wheelchair, then holds his arms up so Varadha can lift him and place him in the seat of the wheelchair. Deva’s hands only shake slightly as he buckles himself up and maneuvers himself around to face the stone path leading out of the flower field. Varadha follows Deva along the path back home, the two of them continuing to bicker about the dosas. 

Varadha had remembered the promise he made to Deva as kids, remembered vowing to take care of an injured Deva no matter how long it was in the future. And he had had no intention of breaking that promise. 

In the years after the trial in Khansaar, Deva had slowly started to lose control of his muscles, to the point where Varadha had bought Deva a wheelchair for long distance travel, basically anything that wasn’t a few feet around the house. They had many accidents, as well. One time Deva’s hand was shaking too hard to hold the jar of ghee tightly, and he had dropped the jar on the floor, spilling the contents everywhere. Another time Deva tried to stand up too quickly from their bed and his legs gave out, knocking over a vase on the nightstand. Both times, he had whispered, “Sorry raa,” with a face so full of guilt it devastated Varadha. This Deva had grown up blaming himself for everything, internalizing that he would be nothing but a burden to those who loved and cared for him, and Varadha was determined to show Deva how wrong he was. 

They reach home, still bickering, although now they’ve graduated to arguing over which condiment was best for idli, Deva disagreeing with Varadha on his preference for peanut chutney and extolling the virtues of a hot sambar. 

Amma smiles at them as they enter the house, seemingly busy with grinding some powders on the floor. Her hair is thinning, almost entirely white, and she’s gained a stoop over the last few years. However, Varadha’s glad he gets to see Amma like this, to see her age naturally rather than stay as pristine and regal as she was in his childhood. He wants to make so many new memories with her and Deva.  

Deva wheels himself to his and Varadha’s room, and Varadha follows. He parks the wheelchair at the side of the bed, and unbuckles himself. Varadha watches, on alert and ready to catch Deva if he falls, but Deva walks over to the bed easily enough, sighing as he sits down on the mattress. He looks up at Varadha sheepishly. 

“I guess the fresh air did help, I feel better than I did this morning.”

Varadha smirks. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, yes, you’re always right,” Deva teases. 

“I know that,” Varadha replies, grinning at Deva’s laugh. 

He takes a moment to observe his husband. Deva’s face has become lined with wrinkles, and Varadha’s especially proud of the smile marks near his eyes. His hair is peppered through with streaks of gray, thinning near his temples, and his skin has softened. The old scars running across Deva’s shoulders and down his arms have faded to a dull brown. Varadha loves him so much, still thinks Deva is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. He doesn’t know how he made it through those seven years without Deva, especially so soon after he had just gotten Deva back after twenty-five years of separation. 

Varadha had hated him in the moment he had found Deva crouching near the body of his little brother, hands stained with Baachi’s blood. In a fit of grief, he had told Deva to leave, to never show his face again, and Deva, too horrified to argue and tell Varadha what had really happened, left Khansaar that day. In the next few years, Varadha had warred with both guilt and rage, and then later, confusion. The facts didn’t add up, why would Deva hurt Baachi of all people? Varadha had tried his best to forget Deva, tried to move on, but he knew deep down that the pain of losing Deva was even worse than Deva’s betrayal. And when Deva himself came back, seven years later? Varadha knew he had to find out what really happened that day. He stormed into the cell, looked at Deva sitting on the bench with his arms chained up, and demanded to know the truth. Deva had explained what happened, eyes closed, voice soft, and oh, Varadha really felt like a fool. Deva hadn’t hurt Baachi, that had been Bhaarava, who Deva had disposed of shortly after. 

“Yedava [idiot],” Varadha had said, tears threatening to slip down his face. “Why didn’t you tell me when I yelled at you? When I assumed it had been you that killed my brother?”

Deva opened his eyes, not bothering to stop his own tears. “I promised you,” He had whispered. “I promised to protect Baachi, and I failed. I was too late, I was too slow, to stop Bhaarava’s blade.”

Varadha couldn’t hold himself back anymore, and embraced Deva, who buried his face into Varadha’s stomach, sobbing. 

“I’m so sorry,” was the only thing Deva kept repeating, and Varadha could only shush him soothingly. His mind was racing, however. Deva was not responsible for Baachi’s death, he really was innocent. No way in hell was Varadha going to let his own men execute Deva now. He pulled back from Deva, just enough for Deva to rest his chin on Varadha’s chest, eyes full of misplaced guilt and grief. 

Varadha stroked through Deva’s hair, thinking. He couldn’t not go through with the execution, Deva had in fact broken the seal and his own rule. He had sworn to be fair and responsible when he had assumed Khansaar’s throne, and he couldn’t go back on his own vows. But he couldn’t kill Deva either. 

Oh. 

“I have a plan. Will you come with me?” Varadha asked Deva. 

Deva didn’t ask what this was about, didn’t raise any objections. “Anywhere,” he said, and Varadha felt the same overwhelming love he felt when Deva had chopped off Naarang’s head for him. Of course Deva would come with him, he would follow Varadha to the ends of the Earth if Varadha asked. 

Varadha smiled down at Deva, who he could tell was getting increasingly confused at the shift in Varadha’s behavior, but he couldn’t help it. He really had missed Deva’s love. 

“In a few minutes, Bilal is going to come down here. Listen to him, do whatever he tells you,” he had told Deva, before he walked out of the cells, thinking about the two executions he would be faking soon. 

Varadha’s roused out of the memory when Deva pokes his chest. “Entra [what dude], what are we thinking about, so deeply right now?” Varadha allows Deva to pull him into his lap and wrap his arms around Varadha’s waist. 

“Just Bilal, and the Khansaar I left behind.” Deva’s face softens, and Varadha knows he understands. Varadha had taken his duties as karta seriously, and Deva knew that Varadha often felt guilty for abandoning his people so suddenly. 

“Do you want to visit?” he asks, but Varadha shakes his head, smiling.

“I have everything I need right here, why would I go back?” He kisses Deva’s brow, and then when Deva still looks guilty, the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I have to tell you raa, you have always been my first priority.” 

Deva looks to the side. “If it hadn’t been for my condition, we could be in Khansaar right now. You could’ve worked something out about the seal, and you would’ve still been in the position you wanted so deeply. And I wouldn’t be useless right now.” 

Varadha’s heart sinks. He knows there’s still a lot of work to be done, a lot of internalized thoughts Deva has to work through, and he has to remind himself to be patient. “Rey. Bujji. Bangaram,” he says, pulling Deva by the jaw to face Varadha again, noticing the faint blush on Deva’s cheeks from the nicknames. “I know you like to pretend you’re some Devadas, filled with so much love for me that you’re willing to do anything for me, but consider just once that it goes the other way as well. And you’re not useless. I’m here because I care for you, and I’m going to stay with you until the end.” He leans in to kiss Deva’s lips, pushing all the affection he can muster into the kiss. 

They stay together for a few moments, and then Deva pulls back first, sighing. “I know you love me, you’ve told me many times. But..”

“You’re not able to believe it,” Varadha finishes. Deva nods, frustrated. “Well, we still have a few more decades to go, ‘till death do us part’ and all that.” They both grin at each other at the memory of their elopement, and the chaotic way they had gotten married, mixing traditions from around the world as neither of them felt religious enough to do the standard Hindu wedding. “I’ll get through to you one day.” 

It’s Deva that initiates the kiss this time, and deepens it as well. Varadha moans as Deva licks inside his mouth, and feels the familiar heat stir up in his groin. It’s when Deva’s fingers snake inside Varadha’s kurta, feeling their way around his waist and up his back, when Varadha remembers he has a job to do. Sighing internally, he pulls back, placing a finger on Deva’s lips when he chases Varadha instinctively. 

“Podi, remember?” Deva pouts, but lets go of Varadha, who stands up. “I’ll be back soon raa.”

“No you won’t, you’ll spend ten minutes talking to the elders on your way back,” Deva teases, and gets flicked for that. Laughing, Varadha makes his way out of the room, running into Amma. 

“I’ll be going to the market for the podi, Amma,” he tells her. 

She frowns, thinking. “I think we’re out of curry leaves as well. Could you get some of those as well?”

“Of course, Amma.”

-

During dinner, as he waves Amma off from serving them both, volunteering to do it instead, then playfully stealing the last appalam off Deva’s plate and hiding behind Amma so Deva can’t reach him, Varadha thinks everything he had gone through was worth it if it ended like this. He’s never felt as happy after the Shouryanga massacre as he does now, always stuck in survival mode or suffering from the weight of his responsibilities. As he looks at Deva pouting at Amma, saying how unfair it was that Varadha got to take his appalam, that he was taking advantage of a disabled man, and Amma hiding her smile at her son’s antics, Varadha’s only regret is that the remaining members of their family couldn’t be here today. 

Amma would have loved to spoil Baachi, he thinks. Dhaara would have adored his brother as well, probably taking him for piggyback rides the way he had done with a young Varadha. He swallows, suddenly feeling the decades old grief return. I hope they both are happy, wherever they are, Varadha thinks, sending a prayer to whatever cosmic entity might be listening. 

Amma notices Varadha’s silence, and tuts. “Oh, is the pappu not good? Is it too spicy again?”

Varadha just shakes his head. He knows there are tears in his eyes when he replies, “It’s perfect, Amma.”

Amma seems to understand who Varadha is thinking of, and pats his head, smoothing the hair back. “I miss him too, kanna [little one]. But I’m glad you both are with me now.” She sends a loving look to Deva, who, even after a few years of reconciling with his mother, looks surprised at the affection. “My two sons, back with me.” 

-

Later that night, he carries Deva back to their room, tucking him in and getting into bed as well. 

“-so it turns out he wasn’t having an affair at all, he just lost a fight with a cat and wasn’t about to admit to the scars being from the cat,” Varadha finishes telling Deva all the gossip the elders had told him. 

Deva laughs. “Cats are fearsome creatures, I don’t know why he’s pretending like his ego is bruised or something.”

“Exactly. Now his wife left him and his kids hate him.”

Deva makes a sympathetic sound, but continues. “Well, it’s his fault that both of those happened.”

“Speaking of little animals…” It’s mostly dark in the room, but Varadha shifts so his face is illuminated by the few orange rays of light coming through the window, and makes his eyes wide as possible. He knows how irresistible Deva finds the cute act on him, and makes sure to turn up the pout to an extreme. “We should get that dog we were talking about.”

Deva blinks at him, clearly disarmed. “The dog you wanted when you were six?”

“Yep. You said we could have one when we were older and living together. Now we’re older and are living together. What’s stopping us?”

Deva sighs, but Varadha can make out the faint smile, and smirks. His act had worked. “Alright, you can go to the pet store tomorrow and pick out whatever dog you want,” Deva says. “Now come here so I can spoon you.”

“You’re too hot, I always wake up sweaty,” Varadha whines, but they both know it’s an empty complaint as Varadha immediately turns to let Deva cuddle his back. 

“You love it though,” a sleepy Deva mumbles. “Cause you love me.”  Varadha stills, but a few minutes later all he can hear is Deva’s snores. He smiles as he closes his eyes as well. Well that was progress, he thinks, as he falls asleep.

-

tagging those who interacted with pt 2: @coolsoundingusername @recentinterest @stuckyandlarrystuff @illusions-of-serendipity

[andromedastarrs]

Miguel O'Hara - Random Headcanons, All SFW! :)

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Y'all enjoyed the other post a lot so here-- have some more of my brain rot! All of these are just fun things lol, interactions and quirks!

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If he spots you and notices that you have bad posture, he'll point it out and tell you to straighten up. Even if others are around. "Unless you wanna live with back pain till the rest of your life..."

Clean cursive would probably be his preferred font to write in. When he prints his letters it's a total mess.

Definitely does not tolerate people who chew with their mouth open. He will glare at you, grab his plate, and move away.

Takes freezing cold showers. Headcanon because every health nut/gym person that I've met says it's the best for muscle recovery.

Doesn't like to watch TV in his free time, he's in front of screens all day. He spends it instead reading books, cleaning up his living area, putting on music and resting on his couch to let his mind relax.

Loud dad sneezes. Doesn't apologize for it.

Likes his coffee black. On his rest days though, he will add a little milk in there to treat himself.

Will order the biggest burger off the menu and successfully chomp at it with no issue. A part of me also thinks it would be in character for him to order a small meal and eat very... Well, he'd eat like a princess. LMFAO.

Is not religious but very respectful of every religion. I think if he were to have a spiritual S/O and they practiced a religion he didn't know much about he'd wanna learn about it by asking them questions.

I am TIRED of the racist Miguel allegations. I am a firm believer that because he is half Irish and half Mexican, if he were to be present in front of a racist, he wouldn't tolerate it. Also headcanon that he's not the arguing type. He'll just throw them out a window (exaggerating).

He loves cats and dogs, very gentle with both. Knows how to treat both correctly too. Doesn't own any pets though, he's scared of losing it one day.

Silently cries. Even when alone he's very quiet. His eyes get very red and so does his face, very quickly. No puffy eyes tho!

No time for skincare, but he's into biotech... Probably assuming too much, but if he could then why wouldn't he; he probably concocted some sort of "one in all" skin product.

On that note his hygiene is on point! He'd probably be so upset if he ever stunk.

Definitely dyes his hair. I do not believe that he doesn't have a single grey strand up there. If his S/O once said they liked the grey hairs, he'd probably chuckle... And then keep dying it anyways.

I think he'd choose to wear shorts over pants when given the chance to... Even jorts. It's ok, he looks good wearing them!

I think he'd like silver jewelry even though gold looks better on him. (He can pull off both *lip bite*.)

Doesn't like designer logos printed everywhere over his accessories/clothing.

Am i the only one that thinks he works out via Pilates AND weight training? Gotta stay flexible and stretched!

Likes to meditate, almost never has time to do so.

Sleep talker!

Very self aware of his size; hates accidentally coming into contact with other people.

Caught up with modern lingo in most places, doesn't participate in conversations surrounding it. "Have you heard what lingo the kids are using? It's absolutely bonkers--" "Yeah."

Try to talk to him in a silly language (think of that skibidi toilet shit), he'll respond instantly. Don't get the wrong idea, he won't be amused by your antics.

If he doesn't show interest in you then he's not interested in you. I'm a big believer that if you were crushing on him, you'd have to wait for HIM to show interest. Otherwise all your flirting will be rendered useless.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🕷️ A Melody of Spiders: Chapter Two

A Melody of Spiders: You always tiptoed around your surly, grumpy boss Miguel O’Hara. Certainly after you had inadvertently fallen in love with him and didn’t feel like having your heart crushed. Or your workplace environment made awkward. Too bad your latest mission comes with a chemical surprise.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material (Unprotected Sex is a No No), Honey Being Juvenile (hehe), Blood, Accidental Injury.

To Note: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!Reader.

Word Count: ~5.9k

Previous | Masterlist

You should have sensed the moment his muscles began shifting, but in your panic and concentration on the lab report, you weren’t paying attention and found yourself laying flat on your back in Miguel’s office with said man hovering over you. His claws were pressing into your shoulder and hip while he held you down. The points were digging through your suit into your skin and your body was telling you that he’d drawn blood, but you didn’t dare stray your eyes from his feral gaze.

“Miguel,” You calmly spoke, forcing your body to relax. “Miguel you need to—” You cut off the moment his face was suddenly in yours. It was like you were looking at an animal. One of your hands, which was pressed against his chest, pushed up to touch his cheek. “Come on Miguel, come back to me. I know you’re in there. Where’s my surly boss that hates everyone?”

Several tense seconds went by and you were beginning to wonder if you were going to have to fight your way out of this and dart Miguel’s ass with a tranquilizer to figure out what the hell was wrong with him.

“I don’t hate you,” Miguel grunted out, clarity returning to his eyes.

“Oh, great, reasonable you is back… mostly… what the fuck Miguel, you’ve got your claws in my suit.” You sniped at him. “Off and to the medical bay.”

“You shouldn’t have come here, changuita,” (Little Monkey) Miguel spit out, fighting the instinct to shred your suit to pieces. Your scent lingered everywhere, and left the massive spider nearly incapacitated.

“And you should be in medical!” You threw back, squirming against the large man. That only made Miguel’s predicament worse.

“Stop moving you are making it worse,” Miguel snarled, eyes flashing dangerously bright. You froze beneath him. “I can barely control myself as it is.”

You processed his words, wondering what you could possibly be doing to make this any worse. Then your brain finally decided to actually pay attention to what was going on with his body rather than just freak out. Elevated heart rate, blown pupils, uncontrolled muscle spasms, now that you thought of it, his reaction reminded you of a certain issue Earth-69 had almost a year ago.

“Shit, you don’t think…” Miguel’s eye twitched, right on the money as usual. But it was mortifying to have you see him in such a position. He watched the varying expressions flash across your face. “Okay, okay, we can deal with this, we can deal with this.”

“And how exactly do you propose we deal with this?” Miguel hissed, his muscles bulging. You winced as the tips of his claws dug further into your flesh. He really was strung up fighting against his urges. Sighing, you ran your thumb along the sharp line of his jaw.

“I take it medical is out of the question?” You softly questioned. Red eyes glowed dangerously and the hulking man let out a rumbling growl. You moving was entirely out of the question. Period. “Lyla, how long will it take for this to be metabolized?”

“Seven, eight hours at most.” Lyla informed you. Seven or eight hours? That wouldn’t be too unbearable and you could just hop, skip and swing your way out of Nueva York and not return for at least a month afterward! Staying far too busy with missions would also help you avoid Miguel.

“You better not rip my throat out for this,” You muttered to yourself before pulling Miguel’s head down and stretching up to kiss him. The large man pinning you down froze in place at your action, his addled mind finally focusing one one thing. You kissing him. With animalistic rumble in his chest, Miguel surged downwards and nearly smothered you with his lips, drawing a sharp gasp from your when a fang dragged across your lower lip. Almost immediately your situation went from you kissing Miguel, to Miguel kissing you.

For a brief moment, his claws dug a little further into your flesh and drew blood that rapidly soaked into your suit. Miguel could smell it and the metallic scent only made him want you more.

As Miguel pressed you further into the floor, your hands desperately tried to find purchase on his slick, muscled body. A hard thing to do when he wore his spider suit. His claws gripped your suit tightly, and you could feel the sticky warmth of your blood seeping through the fabric. The scent of it only seemed to fuel Miguel's desire, and he began to grind his hips against yours with a feral intensity.

"Miguel," you panted, "you need to...slow down."

He growled in response, his eyes burning with lust as he stared down at you. "Do we? I recall you giving me permission, Cariño." Fuck. His lips trailed down your neck, his fangs grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

As Miguel's claws tore through your suit, you felt a mix of fear and arousal surge through you. His eyes were locked on yours, and you could see the animalistic desire burning within them. You braced yourself as he roughly pulled the tattered remains of your suit away, leaving you entirely naked beneath him.

Miguel's gaze roamed over your body, taking in every inch of your exposed skin. His fangs gleamed in the dim light of his office as he lowered his head to your breasts, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise on your flesh. He ran his tongue over your nipple, and you arched your back, moaning at the sensation.

Miguel chuckled, the sound deep and throaty. "You taste so good, Cariño," he said before moving lower, his lips trailing a path down your abdomen. He paused for a moment, inhaling deeply, and you knew he was drinking in your scent. Then, with a growl, he continued his descent, his claws digging into the floor for purchase.

When Miguel's face finally reached your cunt, you felt his hot breath against your sensitive flesh, and your hips bucked involuntarily. He chuckled again, this time the sound was more like a hungry purr. "Eager, aren't we?" he said before doubling down on his efforts and rabidly eating you out.

His tongue lapped at your folds, his claws gently parting your labia to give him better access. You could hear him slurping and moaning as he feasted on your cunt, getting drunk on the taste of you. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt your body tensing, ready to explode with pleasure.

You gasped and moaned, your hips bucking against his face as he devoured you. The hot, wet sensation of his tongue on your sensitive flesh sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel your orgasm building, inching closer with each passing second.

Miguel growled in approval, his grip on your hips tightening as he tried to hold you still. "Stay still," he commanded, his voice rough and hungry. "I don't want to have to bite you to make that happen, do I?"

A lightning bolt of pleasure erupted in your body at the threat, and the sheer animalistic nature of his words only served to heighten your arousal. You found yourself whimpering in response. This motherfucker absolutely would paralyze you if it meant he got what he wanted! You tried to hold back your squirming, but the sensation was too much, and you couldn't help but thrust your hips upwards, seeking more of his tongue on your throbbing cunt.

"No!" Miguel snarled, his fangs grazing your thigh as he tried to keep you still. "I said stay fucking still!"

His warning sent a thrill of fear and excitement through you, and you found yourself moaning even louder. The mixture of pleasure and pain was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but press your hips against his face, begging for more.

"Miguel, please," you begged, your body straining to writhe against him. Miguel growled in response, his claws digging into your hips as he wrestled you into submission. His tongue continued its relentless assault on your cunt, and you felt your orgasm cresting, threatening to break free.

“Dios mio, you taste so good," Miguel purred, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "I could do this all day."

As he spoke, you felt his fangs lightly graze your skin, warning you to stay still or risk being bitten. You'd die if he kept this up all day! The threat only served to excite you further, and you cried out as your orgasm finally crashed over you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Miguel moaned in satisfaction as he felt you come apart in his grasp. He lapped up your juices, savoring the taste, before finally releasing his grip on your hips and pulling away. His eyes were locked on yours, and you could see the lust and possession burning within them.

With a low growl, Miguel's suit began to retract, revealing his now weeping and erect cock. Seeing how big he was made your heart race and your breath catch in your throat. You felt slightly afraid, yet a part of you was intrigued by the sheer size of him.

Miguel pinned you down with a fierce look in his eyes, his claws digging into the floor on either side of your head. "Suck me off," he commanded, his voice a deep rumble that made you shiver.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes darting between his fangs and his massive cock. But the desire to please Miguel and the danger of the chemical burning away within his veins overrode your fear. Slowly, you reached out your trembling hand and wrapped it around his thick shaft.

Miguel let out a low groan as you began to stroke him, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight of him, feral and wanting, sent a thrill through you and you found yourself growing more confident in your movements.

"Ahh, that's it," Miguel moaned, his hips thrusting forward into your eager grip. "Don't stop, changuita. Make me come."

You listened to his command, pumping your hand faster and tighter, using your other hand to rub his swollen head. Miguel's breathing became labored, and his claws dug deeper into the floor as he struggled to maintain control.

"Fuck, I'm close," he growled, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Keep going, don't stop!"

Encouraged by his reactions, you continued to stroke him, using your thumb to swirl around the sensitive underside of his cock. Miguel let out a strangled howl, his entire body tensing as he came, spurting his hot seed over your hand and onto the floor beneath you.

As his orgasm subsided, Miguel relaxed his grip on the floor, his breathing slow and ragged. But of course, it was only a few seconds later that his cock swelled back up into an erection. He cursed and threw his hand behind your neck, dragging your lips to his for a rabid kiss.

As Miguel's lips pressed against yours, you couldn't help but moan in response to the intoxicating taste of his blood mixed with your own. His tongue, hot and demanding, explored every inch of your mouth, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

Miguel broke the kiss, his eyes locked onto yours as he panted heavily. The aphrodisiac coursing through his system made his cock throb with such intense need, and he could barely control the urge to fuck you right there on the spot.

"I need more or I am going to tear you to pieces," You flinched slightly as his growled words. He was more than capable of that. Your eyes dropped to his throbbing cock, still straining and erect. What about your mouth? You were hesitant at first, but the way Miguel looked at you with such intense desire made it hard to refuse him. Besides, you had come here to help him, and if this was what he needed, then you were more than willing to oblige. It wasn't like you hadn't dreamed of what it would be like to suck your boss off.

That wasn't a normal thought. Nothing was normal about this, you reminded yourself.

With shaking hands, you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. The taste of him was salty and musky, and you couldn't help but moan as you took more of him into your mouth. Miguel let out a low growl, his claws digging deeper into the floor as he thrust his hips forward.

You braced yourself against the floor, using your hands to steady yourself as Miguel began to fuck your mouth. His cock slid in and out of your lips, the rough texture of his skin rubbing against your tongue. You could feel the veins throbbing beneath the surface, and the sheer size of him made your jaw ache.

Miguel's breathing became ragged, and his hips moved faster, his cock plunging deeper into your throat. You gagged slightly, but he didn't seem to notice, his eyes locked onto yours as he continued to thrust. His next orgasm takes you by surprise and you almost choke on the seed pouring down your throat.

"No es suficiente, no es suficiente," he growled, his hunger for more apparent in his voice and actions. You could faintly pick up on what he was saying, but the look in his eyes was unmistakable—a raw, desperate need that left you breathless. What did you have to do to ease his discomfort? You pull back with a cough and wipe your smeared mouth with the back of your hand.

"Miguel, please," you rasped. "English. What do you need?"

His eyes bore into yours, dark and feral, as he gripped your hips tighter. "Everything," he hissed, his breath hot against your neck. "I want everything."

You blurt out your thoughts without fully thinking, "take it then." He was moving before you could blink.

Miguel was nothing but raw need and unabashed desire as he flipped you over onto your stomach and yanked your hips back towards him. His cock, still rock hard, teased your entrance, and you couldn’t help but gasp in anticipation as he positioned himself to enter you.

With a primal growl, Miguel thrust his hips forward, plunging his thick cock deep inside you. You cried out in both pain and pleasure as he stretched you beyond your limits, his claws raking down your back in a shower of sparks. The burning sensation was almost too much to bear, but the heat of his passion and the intensity of his need were intoxicating, and you found yourself wanting more.

Miguel pulled out slowly, only to slam back into you with brutal force, over and over again. His hips pounded against your ass, and each thrust sent shockwaves through your body. You could feel the warmth of his seed leaking from your pussy, mixing with the sweat that dripped down your skin.

As Miguel fucked you, he couldn’t resist the temptation to ravage your breasts. His sharp claws dug into your sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of red marks in their wake. You cried out in pleasure, your body arching towards his as you reveled in the mix of pain and pleasure. Your nipples, already hard from the exertion, tightened further under his rough touch, and you could feel the blood rushing to the surface, making the marks even more pronounced.

With each thrust, Miguel’s cock hit that perfect spot inside you, sending a thrill of pleasure through your entire body. You could feel your own orgasm building, the tension in your core coiling tighter with each passing moment. As Miguel’s pace quickened, you gasp and whine, batting an orgasm that was ripping its way out of your cunt. Violently.

Suddenly, Miguel’s grip on your hips tightened, and his thrusts became even more erratic and desperate. With a final, forceful push, he drove himself as deep inside you as possible, his cock pulsing with the force of his release. His hot seed filled you, and the sensation sent you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing over you in waves of intense pleasure.

Your thighs tremble and twitch while your hands and fingers claw at the floor of his office. You feel completely and utterly spent, your body limp and boneless as Miguel's softening cock slips from your aching cunt. His claws retract, leaving your tender flesh bruised and marked, but you can't help the satisfied smile that spreads across your face.

Miguel's heavy breathing echoes in the room as he collapses onto the floor next to you, his body still twitching from the aftershocks of his intense orgasm. You settle on your stomach and allow the cold floor to cool your flaming body. Perhaps now he was finally sated? Maybe Lyla had been wrong about her calculations? Miguel's eyes meet yours, his eyes full of a mixture of satisfaction and hunger, his fangs still peaking out from his lips. .

"Do you… feel better?" you pant hopefully, your voice barely above a whisper.

Miguel nods, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "A little, Cariño," he says, his voice rough and gravelly. "But we're not done yet."

Your heart skipped a beat as you feel his fingers trailing up the back of your leg, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers, "I want more." A moan escaped you because were you not already spent? This was far more than you had ever experienced.

Miguel chuckles, his fingers circling your nipple and sending a jolt of desire through your body. "Don't fight," he murmurs. "Let me take care of you."

Weren't you supposed to be taking care of him?

You blink languidly for but a moment, wondering if your body could in fact, keep up with this stupid chemical, when his hands grip your aching body and you find yourself dragged on top of him. You are now perched on him, your cunt placed just perfectly over his cock which you can feel twitching and hardening. For fucks sake! Miguel's gaze was hungry, his fangs peeking out from his lips, and his claws still unsheathed.

"Ride me," Miguel commanded, his voice rough and gravelly. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your cunt positioned so perfectly that his thick cock prods at your entrance.

"You want me to what?" You questioned, your voice at a higher pitch than normal. No one had ever blatantly told you to ride them.

"Did I stutter?" He growled at you and you swallowed thickly, your fingers curling against his chest. His hands gripped your hips and he pulled you down onto his waiting cock, watching in satisfaction as your face contorted and your back arched. As he filled you once again, a moan escaped your lips as his girth stretched you wider than before.

Miguel groaned in pleasure, his hips bucking upwards to meet your downward motion. A yelp escaped your lips as his cock sank deep and you whimpered. Miguel's eyes focused on your fluttering ones, his gaze intense and hungry. "That's it, Cariño," he said, his voice a low growl. "Fuck me."

"Mi-Miguel," You sputter, fingers now making claw marks in the floor. "It's— it's too much."

Miguel's grip on your hips tightened, guiding you as you moved up and down on his cock. "You can take it," he encouraged, his voice filled with a mixture of desire and authority. "You were made for me."

Hesitantly, you began to rock your hips back and forth, your cunt sliding along his cock as you rode him with increasing intensity. The sensations were overwhelming, the feeling of him inside you so deep and intense that it almost bordered on pain. But the mixture of pleasure and pain was intoxicating, and you found yourself moving faster, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Miguel's grip on your hips tightened, and he pushed you down harder onto his cock, driving it even deeper inside you. You cried out in pleasure, your body straining to keep up with his relentless pace.

With each thrust, Miguel's cock hit that perfect spot inside you, sending a thrill of pleasure through your entire body. You could feel your own orgasm building, the tension in your core coiling tighter with each passing moment. As Miguel's pace quickened, you gasp and whine, battling an orgasm that was ripping its way out of your cunt.

Suddenly, Miguel's grip on your hips tightened, and his thrusts became even more erratic and desperate. With a final, forceful push, he drove himself as deep inside you as possible, his cock pulsing with the force of his release. His hot seed filled you, and the sensation sent you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing over you in waves of intense pleasure.

As you collapse against Miguel, your body boneless and sated, he runs his hands up and down your body while kissing your neck. His touch is gentle now, tender even, a stark contrast to the feral passion that had consumed him moments before. You can't help but sigh in contentment, your fingers curling into his chest as you enjoy the feeling of his lips on your skin. But this contenment doesn't last as nearly as long as you want it to.

With a primal growl, Miguel rises from the floor, his powerful arms easily lifting you with him. He strides across the room, his eyes never leaving yours, and clears his desk of papers and tablets in one swift motion. He placed you down, with your legs dangling off the end, and cages you with his arms.

As Miguel held you down on his desk, he towered over you with an animalistic hunger in his eyes. His massive, engorged cock throbbed against your inner thigh, and you could feel the heat emanating from it, a testament to his unbridled lust.

Jesus, how could he still be hard!?

Without warning, he gripped your hips and slammed his cock inside you, filling you with a force that made your entire body shudder and your back arch off his desk. Your eyes widened in shock, but before you could even process the sensation, he began to fuck you with a feral intensity that left you breathless.

His hips pounded into yours, each thrust driving his cock deeper and deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you that sent sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. You cried out, your fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulders as he continued to pound into you relentlessly.

Miguel's hands roamed over your body, his touch rough and demanding as he kneaded your breasts and pinched your nipples roughly. The mixture of pain and pleasure was overwhelming, and you found yourself arching your back, your hips bucking against his as you sought more of his brutal touch.

"You like that, changuita?" He growled, his eyes locked onto yours as he continued to fuck you with a primal intensity. "You want me to fuck you harder?" Your mind screamed yes as your voice remains silent. You could only manage a breathless nod, your entire body consumed by the sensations coursing through it. Miguel rewarded your response with a feral grin, his pace increasing as he pounded into you with even more force.

Beneath him, you writhed and moaned, your body responding to his every touch and thrust. Then your claws came out and you began raking them against his shoulder and desk, leaving grooves behind. As Miguel continued to pound into you, his eyes locked onto yours, a primal hunger consuming him. Without warning, he leaned forward, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your neck.

The pain was searing, but it was quickly replaced by a surge of pleasure as Miguel's venom coursed through your veins. Your body went rigid, paralyzed, as the pleasure intensified, becoming almost unbearable. You could feel your orgasm building, the tension in your walls coiling tighter with each passing moment. But now you couldn't move, couldn't claw at him, couldn't pull him closer.

Miguel continued to thrust into you with an unyielding intensity, his teeth still embedded in your neck as his venom coursed through your veins. The pressure inside you built, the singular focus on the pleasure between your legs consuming your entire being.

Your walls clenched around Miguel's cock, desperate for release, and he seemed to sense your approaching climax. He pulled his teeth from your neck, a line of blood trickling down your skin, and leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

"Cum for me, changuita," he growled, his voice rife with desire. "Let go and show me how much you enjoy my cock inside you."

How did he expect that to happen with you paralzed!?

You could feel the pressure mounting inside you, your walls clenching around Miguel's cock as the pleasure built to a fever pitch. The paralysis caused by his venom made it impossible for you to move, but the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body left you unable to focus on anything else.

As Miguel continued to fuck you with relentless ferocity, you felt your orgasm approaching, like a storm on the horizon. The tension in your body coiled tighter and tighter, and you could feel your cunt throbbing around his thick cock.

Miguel seemed to sense your imminent climax, and he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, his voice low and hungry. "Cum for me, changuita," he growled, his words sending a shiver through your paralyzed body. "Let go and show me how much you enjoy my cock inside you."

His words were all it took to send you over the edge. With a muffled cry, your orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure so intense they bordered on pain. Your cunt clamped down on Miguel's cock, milking him for all he was worth as you rode out the storm of your release.

As your body shuddered through the aftermath of your orgasm, Miguel's own release came roaring up to meet him. With a guttural groan, he slammed his hips forward one last time, his cock throbbing inside you as he emptied himself into your warm, wet depths.

The haze of pleasure began to clear, you became aware of the tears dripping down your face. The mixture of pain and pleasure had been too much, the intensity of the experience overwhelming your senses. Not to mention you had just fucked your boss. You felt Miguel's lips on your cheek, gentle kisses that contrasted sharply with the roughness of his earlier touch.

"¿Estás bien?" He asked softly, his voice filled with concern. You manged to grunt out a sound that resembled a 'yes', but he isn't pleased with just a grunt. "Words, Cariño," He urged.

"I'm fine, Miguel, just paralyzed," You reassure him, your eyes moving his. Miguel lifted himself off you, his movements slow and careful, and you almost mourn his cock leaving your body. He then reached for a nearby towel to wipe the blood from your neck.

"I didn't mean to lose control," he says softly. "Your scent drives me crazy and that chemical pushed me over the edge."

You lie there, staring up at the ceiling as you try to process what had just happened. The room is filled with the scent of sex and violence, and your body still hums with the aftermath of your intense orgasm. Miguel's venom continued to course through your veins, leaving you paralyzed and vulnerable.

"Lyla said your heart rate was crashing," You whispered, your mind trying to understand why she had told you that. "I thought— I thought you were dying. That's why I came."

Miguel paused in wiping the blood from the places with claws had opened up, the wounds now healed. You can't figure out what is going on in his mind. You can see a decision form in his eyes and he leaned over and kissed your forehead. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

You managed a weak smile, your eyes locked on his. "It's okay, I heal fast," you replied to him. "I know you didn't mean it. And... pretty sure I sunk my claws into you as well."

Miguel chuckled softly, a warm, genuine laugh that made you feel even more at ease. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispered, "Te quiero, changuita."

As Miguel wraps you up in a warm blanket, your eyelids grow heavy with each passing moment. He gently scoops you up and places you on the couch, tucking the blanket around your body. Despite the intensity of the situation, you feel a sense of security in his presence.

"Rest here while the venom wears off," Miguel says softly, his hand resting on your forehead. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the feral passion that had consumed him earlier.

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. "That chemical is out of your system, right?" you ask, your eyes half-lidded. Miguel's suit reactivates, the familiar blue glow enveloping his body as he nods in confirmation.

"Yes, it's gone," he said. "I'm going to have a word with Lyla outside since she took the effort to cut communications in here. I would tell you to stay here because we need to talk, but I don't think that will be nessessary." You wished you could have given his smirking face a scowl as he departed his office.

You are disturbed from deep sleep when you heard the grumbles of rapid spanish. Eyes cracking open, it takes you a few moments to realize that you aren't in Miguel's office but his personal bedroom at the Spider Society for when he needs to crash. Which is a lot.

You sit up in bed, the blanket falling away from your naked body, revealing your pristine healed skin. You don't bother to cover yourself. Your eyes locked on him as he paced back and forth across the room, muttering in Spanish about the potential consequences of your tryst.

"You act like there isn’t Plan B here," you said, your voice firm and resolute. You hadn't expected to be in this situation, but you were determined to take control of it. Miguel's pacing ceased abruptly, and he turned to face you, his expression a mix of surprise and relief.

"You're right," he said, running a hand through his dark hair. "I just... I wasn't thinking straight. The thought of..." His voice trailed off, but you knew what he was trying to say. The thought of potentially impregnating you had sent him into a tailspin.

"It's okay," you said softly, patting the space on the bed beside you. "Come sit with me, and we'll figure this out together." Miguel hesitated for a moment before joining you on the bed, his body stiff and tense as he sat with his back straight, his eyes fixed on a point on the wall.

"Miguel," you said gently, placing a hand on his arm. "Look at me." He turned to face you, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. "We'll be okay," you reassured him. "We'll find a solution, I promise."

Miguel nodded, the tension in his body easing slightly as he leaned in and rested his forehead against yours. "Gracias," he whispered. "For understanding."

"I'm not going anywhere," you said firmly. "And neither are you. We'll get through this together."

Miguel pulled back and smiled at you, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Given our luck," he said softly, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek. "Somehow, we'll make it worse." You laugh at his words, because in reality, you will probably make things worse at some point.

"Probably," You agree before sobering up. "Miguel, what you said—" He stopped you from speaking further by placing his thumb on your lips.

"I've been torn for a while now," Miguel said, his voice raw with emotion. "I've always been focused on maintaining the canon, on keeping the timeline intact. But..." He paused, his eyes searching yours as if he's seeking reassurance. "But I can't deny my feelings any longer. I'm in love with you, but I couldn't act on it because I didn't want to jeopardize my responsibilities. I can't."

You feel a surge of affection for Miguel, knowing how much he's struggled with this dilemma. He was technically correct. "Miguel," you say softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "I understand. I know how important your duty is to you, and I admire your dedication to it. But..." You hesitate, unsure of how to express what you're feeling without sounding like you're pressuring him.

"But what?" Miguel asks, his eyes fixed on your face.

"But maybe there's a way to have both," you suggest tentatively. "I know it won't be easy, and we'll have to be discreet, but... I'm not exactly one who likes to mix pleasure with my work. I don't think it would be a problem."

Miguel nods, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're right," he says, squeezing your hand. "Besides, I've had a taste of you and I can't get you out of my mind now that I know what it feels like for you to be mine."

"Now that we've got that out of the way, we have another topic to discuss." You told him, thinking back to your precious suit which was now in tatters and currently not usable. "My suit."

Confusion flashed across his face for a moment before he remembered. "Shit, I'm sorry about that," he said, running a hand through his hair sheepishly. "I wasn't in my right mind, and I... I just wanted to get to you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, you did a number on my suit," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's completely ruined."

Miguel's expression turned guilty. "I know, and I'm sorry," he said with a heavy sigh. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll make you an even better one."

"With what?" You scoffed, looking around the small room. "Your sewing machine?"

Miguel chuckled, shaking his head. "No, with my technology," he clarified. "I can improve it, make it even more advanced than before."

Your interest was piqued, despite your annoyance at the destruction of your suit. "Really? How so?"

Miguel stood up and moved to a small workbench tucked in a corner of the room. He retrieved a small device and brought it back to you. "With this," he said, handing you a tablet. "I can easily draft up a new suit for you and have it made by the end of the day."

You took the tablet from him, examining it with curiosity. "So, what are we talking about here? Better web-shooters? More advanced sensors? Built-in air conditioning? Snack dispenser?"

Miguel grinned, clearly excited about the prospect of working on a suit for you. Yet another claim to your body. He can't help but give the naked skin he could see another look off appreciation. "All of that and more," he assured you before smirking. "I'll add Lyla, no extra charge."

Date Published: 5/25/24

Last Edit: 5/25/24

Previous | Masterlist

[aurorafables]

From the Grey, Chapter 14.

Hey! I hope you will like this chapter :) I didn’t have to hide my desires from him anymore, I didn’t have to turn away in shame if he caught me staring at him… I felt so insatiable as a teenager, so last night was a bit like being reborn, wrapped in Noah’s long fingers, pink lips, and intoxicating scent.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Nicholas Ruffilo

Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Angst, Past character death, Suicidal thoughts

Tags: M/M, M/F, Slow burn, Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Family drama, Band fic, Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism, P in v sex, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex

Word Count: 4k

Cross-posted: AO3

14.

Noah lay next to me, both of our faces turned toward the ceiling, and the room was silent. Strangely, the sound of the sheets rustling had completely stopped, and our rapid breathing didn’t break the silence. I turned my head to the side, and he looked at me for a moment. Then he sat up in bed. He leaned forward, his head between his shoulders. I reached out and, barely touching it, my index finger slowly began to stroke the line of his spine. The little hairs stood up on his arm, and I felt him take a deep breath.

I frowned and sat up on the bed behind him.

"Is something wrong?”

"It's too much... lying here next to you on the bed with no clothes on.”

"Why?" I asked, but it was more of a rhetorical question. Noah looked back over his shoulder and laughed to himself in embarrassment. We knew what was going on, he didn't even have to say anything. I crawled behind him on my knees and wrapped one arm around his chest.

"I'm sorry, I needed a few minutes to process everything that happened," I whispered in his ear. "Please stay."

Noah nodded and leaned his head back against my shoulder as I stroked his stomach with my free hand. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the touch. I felt his shoulders slump, trying to get even closer to me.

"You don't have to... ask twice," he muttered, sighing, his voice trembling as my fingers wandered to the crotch of his bottom.

“Okay?” I asked. I leaned down to his shoulder, tracing the pulse along his neck with the tip of my nose, then knelt up to see what I was doing.

"What's mine is yours," Noah replied with a breathless, stifled chuckle. I buried my face in his hair, laughing too. I was crazy about him and wanted to bathe in his scent. If possible, from now on, night and day, always and everywhere.

Curiously, I held him in my palm through his underwear, just to feel his weight, how hot and wet he was. My mouth watered, my penis, pressed against his back, twitched, and for a moment I had to close my eyes too. Then I let go of him and pulled back a little.

"Come on, lie back down, please. I'd like to finally unwrap my present too.”

"You're impatient... There are still three days until Christmas." Noah said, but he immediately did what I asked.

He lay back on the mattress, his long legs stretched out, one arm tucked under his head, his eyes half-closed, waiting. I sat on his thighs, my gaze traveling over all the tattoos in sight. I had barely any on my chest and stomach, but enough to know they could hurt like hell when they were being done. I ran my finger over the ink-soaked skin above his ribs, then up to where his old, tiny scars were, perfectly hidden. But I knew where to look for them anyway. Noah followed my hands with his eyes, and he was completely silent until my fingers slid to one of his nipples. The little pink tips stood out against the black and gray patterns on his chest, catching my attention. I heard Noah take a deep breath, and the tattoos on his skin came to life as his muscles moved. I leaned down and after a soft kiss, sucked one of the tips between my lips, then ran my tongue over the already hard nipple. Noah's fingers slid into my hair, and then he let out a trembling breath. I moved to the other side, but I didn't stay there too long, because he started pushing my head lower and lower. As I kissed his stomach, my hand moved down the small strip of hair from his navel, and with our combined strength we freed his cock from the last piece of clothing, so I naturally continued to spread kisses along its length. I leaned towards his wet, glistening glans and licked it, just to taste him. Noah lifted his hips off the bed and gripped my hair tightly as I tried to analyze his taste. It was salty, sweet, and totally Noah, in the best way possible, but I knew I had to get used to it. I was momentarily caught off guard by how light toned his skin was compared to mine, especially where the sun didn’t reach it, and then I leaned back and licked him from his balls up with my tongue. The sound he made was like something out of a porn movie, and I was starting to get intoxicated by the thought of how much of an impact I was having on him with something so small.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," I said, giggling over his belly as Noah's grip on my hair eased.

"Just...just don't stop," he pleaded in a choked voice. It wasn't very helpful, but I guessed that maybe I should continue with what I like in a similar situation. I quickly figured out how to involve my hand in the game. I grabbed the base of his cock and slid it into my mouth as far as I could, then moved up, sucking harder on the head. I repeated this sequence of movements, sometimes licking the tip of my tongue along his silky skin, following the lines of the protruding veins. After a while, I got used to the taste of him, and I grunted in satisfaction when I felt another dose of precum in my mouth. From his soft moans, his gasps, and the tension in his muscles, I deduced how close he was already.

"Nick, look at me, please!" His voice broke the silence, sounding completely different than usual. I immediately looked up and was momentarily stunned. I had never seen his eyes so dark before, and his face was shaped by desire, giving him a beautiful yet wild look. I moaned with his cock in my mouth.

"Fuck, fuck..." he repeated, like a litany, and grabbed my hair again tightly. He struggled to keep his eyes open, almost devouring me with his gaze as I continued to suck him demandingly, watching him. He pulled my head back firmly, just before his voice trailed off, closing his eyes and his neck tensing back on the pillow. It was amazing to see him fall to pieces under my hands and lips. Some of his seed landed on my hand, some on his stomach, painting the black ink on his skin and mine white. 

“Shh, shh,” I whispered to him, pushing myself up so our heads were the same level, because he was a little louder than he should have been, and I was afraid the others would hear us. Noah nodded that he understood what I wanted, but he was still too far away to open his eyes. I clung to his neck, making sure his tattoos kept the little bites in secret, and I smiled when he flinched one last time.

"Fuck, Nick..." he moaned with awe in his voice.

"Hm, I agree," I replied, grinning, and started to shower his face with kisses.

I found the T-shirt thrown by the bed and dried ourselves off, turned off the small lamp, then lay back down next to him, snuggling up to him, my own raised legs draped over his thighs. When Noah came back from his high, we kissed for at least another half hour, at first intensely, then more and more lazily and sleepily, before we managed to fall asleep, completely wrapped up in each other.

I woke up with my heart pounding, afraid that I had only dreamed the whole night. It would have been the most vivid dream I had ever had, and for that very reason, I am not sure I would have survived with my mind intact if Noah had not been by my side. The first thing I noticed was that his hair was tickling my nose, and all my senses were overwhelmed by his closeness. He was lying on his side, back to me, but our hips were almost fused together, fitting like two puzzle pieces. I moved barely perceptibly, and the position ended with my already semi-hard cock rubbing against his ass. I sucked in air between my teeth, put my hand on his hip, and wanted to grip him, to hold him close to me, but I didn’t want to wake him. The next moment Noah sighed softly, pushing his bottom back, but he was still sleeping soundly. I felt like this wasn’t going to end well, so I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, trying to calm my hormones. I bit my lip and smiled. 

It was incredible to know that I could have done it. I didn’t have to hide my desires from him anymore, I didn’t have to turn away in shame if he caught me staring at him… I felt so insatiable as a teenager, so last night was a bit like being reborn, wrapped in Noah’s long fingers, pink lips, and intoxicating scent. I decided I desperately needed a cigarette, so I quietly got up, grabbed a cozy sweatpants, and went downstairs with the cigarette in my pocket. I was proud of myself for managing to do all of this without waking Noah, and my good mood held up even when I went out onto the patio and realized it was a little chilly outside in sweatpants, a T-shirt, and no socks. 

Jesse soon joined me, two mugs of coffee in hand. I was surprised that he was already up, since it was only after seven in the morning, but I was very happy with the hot coffee and thanked him profusely. 

"The good thing about California is that you don't have to freeze in the winter if you go out for a smoke," he said, and he lit up too. I laughed softly and nodded in agreement as I sipped my coffee. "So you're spending Christmas here?"

I glanced at Jesse. I know he and Noah were good friends, but I didn't want to let anyone down. I couldn't read anything negative on his face, I just saw curiosity.

"Maya and I broke up, and the family will have a hard time fitting in at the holiday table anyway," I replied jokingly. "And as you mentioned, it's warmer here."

Jesse laughed, pushing back his wavy curls. 

"You and Noah seem to have drifted apart over the last few years," he said, leaning against the wall of the house. Even that comment couldn't dampen my spirits - which was actually completely true.

"We were just… living our lives," I replied. "Then I realized that he was more important than anything."

It might sound a little strange, but it was the truth. Jesse nodded and stubbed out his cigarette, then picked up his mug from the windowsill. 

"How do you feel, is Noah handling the sudden growth of the band well?”

I thought about this question and vowed to myself that I would talk to Noah about it. I was confident that if we were alone in the house, we would have time for that too, not just to take advantage of it, no one was within earshot. I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning like an excited little girl when I thought about it.

"If it's too much for him, he'll find a way to give introverted Noah space and hide somewhere he can be by himself.”

"And what do you think about the pressure? His maximalism sometimes… takes too much out of him, doesn't it? Of course, it's understandable…”

"Why are you asking?" I turned to him, because his questions seemed more and more strange. As if he wasn't just simply interested, but outright worried about Noah.

Jesse took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. He could tell it was bothering him, but I stared at him intently, waiting for an answer because I needed to know what was going on.

“It’s just weird that he’s messing with guys,” he finally said. I was sweating profusely and silently thanking my ancestors for my darker skintone again, because I was sure all the blood had suddenly rushed to my head. A thousand questions raced through my mind at record speed. Were we too loud? Will Jesse tell everyone? What does he know about our relationship?

"So you didn't know either," Jesse continued worriedly, while I was still looking at him with huge eyes. What didn't I know?

“What… I mean, what do you mean?” I blurted out in a shaky voice, and to keep myself busy, I took another thread out of the box.

"Before Karin, there was that guy with dreadlocks. And last week, there was that librarian-looking boy, who had a really sweet smile and seemed like a good guy, don't get me wrong. I also want to make it clear that I have no problem with gay people, and I don't mind Noah being gay... or bisexual. It just occurred to me that he was doing it to suppress other, negative feelings inside himself, "Jesse explained worriedly.

I turned away from him, stared back at the garden, and took a deep drag on my second cigarette. I looked up at the sky. It would have been too nice if my morning hadn't started with descriptions of the guys Noah had been hooking up with recently, right? 

"Why don't you ask him?" I said to Jesse, not even looking at him.

"I don't know if it's a good idea. I don't want to upset him," he admitted after some thought. "I thought it would be better if I talked to you about it first, to see if you knew something or if you were just more knowledgeable about talking to him about such topics..."

I rolled my eyes. 

“I’m not a psychologist, and he hasn't shared much with me about your love life lately, so I can’t help you,” I replied, grumpily and completely dismissively. Jesse took the call because he didn’t ask any more questions, just continued to sip his coffee in silence. Of course I felt guilty, and when I turned to look at him apologetically, I saw Noah coming down the stairs and heading towards the terrace to join us. For a long moment, I forgot about the past ten minutes and could only think of his messy hair, his endlessly long legs, and his sleepy eyes as he came out to us in his underwear and a T-shirt. His arms immediately became goosebumped as he stepped next to me and slowly smiled at me. I remembered what it was like when his lips parted that night, I recalled the smell of him between his thighs, and by the time I could tear my gaze away from him, I realized I was completely screwed.

"Can I have some of your coffee?" he asked quietly, and I handed him the mug without a word. "Jesse, can we take you to the airport?"

Jesse… it finally dawned on me that we're not alone, and I have to pretend that last night only exists in my head. 

"Mike is picking me up early this afternoon, so it's all sorted, but thank you. I'll be heading to Leyla's soon, I'll have lunch with her today, and I'm already getting ready to take my suitcase there.”

That meant it was only a few hours before Noah and I would be alone. He probably thought so too, judging by the sideways glance I noticed over the coffee mug he still had in hand.  

“And what are you guys going to do here?” Jesse asked the thousand-dollar question. I had to be careful not to even look at Noah, because my eyes probably would have given everything away.

"We started a song yesterday, and I'd like to continue today if Nick is up for it.”

I just nodded silently, reaching for the mug to keep myself busy. Luckily, Jesse soon went inside to pack his things, so we didn’t have to pretend for long. I turned to Noah as soon as we were alone on the patio.

"You're going to be cold," I glanced at his arms wrapped around himself. I was so tempted to pull him closer, run my palms over his skin, and try to warm him up.

"Why did you leave me alone?" he asked, completely ignoring my concern. He wasn't being judgmental, he just wanted to know the answer to his question.

"Because I wanted to smoke a cigarette," I said.

"Try again," he tilted his head to the side like a puppy.

I knew that cheeky look. I laughed to myself and shook my head. I have no idea if it's possible to love someone more than that.

"You were awake, right?”

"Your erection has been pressing against my ass all morning," he said in a low voice, barely louder than a whisper. "How could I have slept?"

I swallowed hard, my gaze drifting from his sparkling eyes to his lips. 

"If I know you're awake, maybe I'll take you up on your offer from last night. You know, the one with that damn sexy mouth of yours." 

Jesus, it was both very strange and exciting to talk to him like this. Noah wet his lips barely perceptibly, and as I looked at him, it dawned on me why everything that was still completely new to me was so natural to him. At night, I naively thought that it was the first time he had discovered another man's body. How stupid I was! I should have noticed that there was not much hesitation in his movements, and that he knew exactly what I needed at every moment. I thought he just knew me too well, but it was obviously more than that. 

I cleared my throat to clear the lump of frustration and desire.

"Let's go inside, it's cold.”

The smile disappeared from Noah's face, and I saw the fear of rejection in his eyes. I closed my eyes for a moment and exhaled slowly. It's going to be okay, we'll figure it out together, I reassured myself before looking at him again, this time much less coldly.

"I know Christmas isn't your favorite holiday, but I'm sure you wouldn't turn down a little gingerbread.”

Slowly but surely, that little smile I love so much reappeared on Noah's face.

"When it comes to sweets, I'm persuasive," he agreed generously.

“I’m going shopping. Can I take your car?” I asked him, and he nodded. Sure, I could have offered to go with me, but I thought it would be good to have an hour or two alone to gather my thoughts and let go of any jealousy.

Noah and I went back to the house, and after a simple breakfast of cereal together, I headed to the store. The plan was that by the time I got back, Jesse wouldn't be there anymore and we would finally have a chance to talk. 

I was looking at the gingerbread recipe on my phone as I walked through the aisles. All I needed was the honey, and when I found it, I headed for the checkout counters, satisfied. I won’t say I had everything sorted out, but I was calm and ready to talk. As if Danielle could read my mind from so far away, she sent me a message at that moment.

So?? Did you clear things up?

I frowned. I suspected she wasn't referring to the kind of clarification Noah and I had been doing last night.

I'm on it - I wrote back quickly, pausing between the lines. 

If you need me, you can call me anytime <3 

I replied with a heart emoji, and as I walked on, I noticed condoms on one of the shelves out of the corner of my eye. I stopped dead in my tracks at the end of the line, clutching the basket. What the hell was wrong with me? It hadn’t even been half a day since I’d been paralyzed by Noah’s erection pressing against mine, and now I was thinking about buying condoms? I stared blankly for a moment, my heart rate already racing, then I turned around and threw the first cute little box into the basket. I bit my lip and read the flavors of the lube, telling myself that buying it meant nothing, that it didn’t obligate me to anything, but it was still a grown-up decision. It was only two days until Christmas, and after that, the only place we could get these things was at the 24/7 gas stations. I might have patted myself on the back for my foresight if there hadn’t been so many people in the store. As I walked to the self-service checkouts, with all the gingerbread-making and gay-sex supplies, I was already thinking about how Noah might be happy to get me for Christmas. He didn’t like the holidays, and I knew he didn’t want us to buy each other presents, but this was different… This was so different. I scanned the barcodes, then my credit card, and packed everything in a bag and headed out to the car. I didn’t head back right away, but I smoked a cigarette in the parking lot first, trying to shake off the excitement of the two small things lurking there next to the spice mix, eggs, and flour.

By the time I got home from the store, Matt had called me four times during the twenty-minute drive, but I didn’t answer. It wasn’t until I opened the front door and heard his voice coming from the living room that I began to feel that something was serious. Matt was pacing the carpet, and Noah was sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands.

“Why the hell can’t you answer the phone?” Matt snapped when he saw me in the hallway. I was so surprised by the welcome I just blinked, pinned to the floor. Noah finally took his hand away from his face and pressed his palm to his thigh. I saw him grab the fabric of his sweatpants, and I was increasingly afraid to continue. I turned back to Matt:

"I drove…”

"Yeah, and in your little world, they haven't invented the speakerphone and bluetooth yet?" our manager asked sarcastically.

"Matt, get the fuck out of here or I'll throw you out of the house!" Noah said in a menacing deep voice. "This whole thing has nothing to do with Nick, so don't take your anger out on him."

I walked closer to them, stopped next to Noah, and gently placed my hand on his shoulder, hoping that would calm him down a bit.

"What happened?" I asked from the angry Noah to the worried Matt. 

"Noah's girl created a story that deserves an award," Matt replied in a tired voice and slumped into the armchair.

"What kind of girl?

"Not my girlfriend," Noah said, staring at the pattern of the carpet.

"The one he invited to his hotel room, during the tour" Matt helped out. "I can't reach Folio, Jolly is on the plane to Sweden, so the three of us are left to sort this shit out.

I was starting to feel a bit like I was in a tragicomedy. After the previous day had been one of the best days of my life, I couldn't believe that everything could go so wrong so quickly, and it wasn't even noon yet. 

I sat down next to Noah on the couch, close enough that our knees and sometimes our shoulders touched because I was afraid for him. I just felt a protective instinct rising inside me, completely illogically ignoring the fact that we were both grown men now, and I wanted him to feel that I was with him. And anyway… the two of us could handle anything.

[x-ceirios-x]

City of Lost Souls, Chapter 6: No Weapon In This World

please see the masterlist for notes about this series/collection of works

The redbrick warehouse Magnus lived in rose above them. Jocelyn pushed open the glass doors to the entryway, and they crowded inside, Clary trying to breathe through her mouth as her mother pushed the buzzer for Magnus one, two, and three times. At last the doors opened and they hurried up the stairs. The door to Magnus’s apartment was open, and the warlock was leaning against the architrave, waiting for them. He was wearing canary-yellow pajamas, and on his feet were green slippers with alien faces, complete with sproingy antennae. His hair was a tangled, curly, spiky mass of black, and his gold-green eyes blinked tiredly at them. 

“Saint Magnus’s Home for Wayward Shadowhunters,” he said in a deep voice. “Welcome.” He threw an arm wide. “Spare rooms are that way. Wipe your boots on the mat. I’m glad to say for one night, and one night only, I have wonderful company for you, biscuit.” He spoke monotonously, yet stepped back into the apartment, allowing Clary to wonder what he meant by that. They passed through in front of him and shut the door. Today, the place was done up in a sort of faux-Victorian decor, with high-backed sofas and large gilt mirrors everywhere. The pillars were strung with flowers. 

“What was that about one night only?” said a second, equally sleepy voice, as someone emerged from the hall where Magnus indicated the spare rooms. Clary’s face melted as they saw Rowan, clad in much-too-big sweatpants tied tight around their waist and a plain undershirt, wiping their eyes from behind a pair of glasses she’d never seen before. When they pulled their hands away from their face, they sat crooked on their nose, just like Simon’s always did. It was cute. Their eyes, looking gray instead of blue in the shadowy apartment, widened at the sight of her. “Clary? By the Angel, are you okay?”

Clary stammered. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m okay—” she looked down at her shirt and realized just how much blood had dried on; she grimaced. “It’s not…mine?”

Rowan looked at her for a moment and they glanced at Jocelyn uncertainly, before rushing forward and grabbing their arm. They drug her away, towards a bedroom down the hall. She heard them mutter something about Aric Ashfair’s daughter? and Magnus chuckle, no doubt silently correcting her. 

“You want to tell me what happened or do you just want patched up?” they asked, sitting her down on the bed. Standing over her for the split second, she realized just how tall they were compared to her—not quite as tall as Jace, but around Isabelle’s height. They didn’t look thin and slender like Isabelle, but they had broader shoulders and a stronger build, more like Jace or maybe Simon. As they turned away and began flipping through things on the desk, she watched the muscles in their shoulders and arms contract and stretch, and very quickly found the carpet below her feet more interesting. She’d never seen Rowan in something so…revealing, it felt wrong, despite the fact it was only a tanktop. 

“I’m not really injured,” she said, rifling through her bag in an attempt to find her clothes. “I wanna get out there and see what happened to Luke?”

They strode towards her, having found what they were looking for—a stele. “What did happen to Luke?”

“We got attacked,” she said quickly. She stood and yanked her sweater off violently. It was covered in blood—Luke’s blood—and her worry for him made her nauseous. She couldn’t stand to think that he was hurt because of her. 

Rowan quickly turned away from her, busying themself with Chairman Meow, who was sitting on the chair in front of the desk. She swore they were blushing. From her backpack, she took a clean pair of jeans and a black V-necked thermal shirt and changed into them. “You’re like…the cat whisperer,” she said in an attempt to distract herself. “Animals hate Simon since he’s become a vampire. He’s super mad about it.”

They chuckled, and when she glanced their way, she noticed them holding the quite large, fluffy cat in their arms, lazily swinging back and forth. “I know. He’s told me about that. Not even the Chairman likes him.”

“What’s going on with you two, anyway? Simon, I mean.”

They paused for a moment, then grumbled, “why does everyone think I have something going on with Simon?”

Clary huffed. “He only has, like…a super obvious crush on you.”

“Says the girl that didn’t know he was in love with you for literally years.”

She glanced at herself in the window, which showed her a pale, but warm reflection. The table lamp next to her glowed a warm, orangey hue, but she looked ghostly in the image. Her hair hung limply, hamp with snow, and her freckles stood out like paint splotches. Not that it mattered what she looked like. She thought of Jace kissing her—it felt like days ago instead of hours—and her stomach hurt as if she'd swallowed tiny knives. She reached for the edge of the bed and held it in a white-knuckled grip until the pain subsided. 

“Too soon?” they asked, glancing over their shoulder to see if she was done. In an instant, they were by her side, sitting on the edge of the bed in front of her. Clearly, they’d dropped Chairman Meow, because he gave a disgruntled yeow! and went to pout in the corner. “Clary? Clary, are you alright?” they asked. 

She nodded her head quickly, though held her hand out for them in an attempt to balance herself. “Yeah,” she said, a little breathless, swallowing down the terrible feeling in her chest. “Sorry.”

Their face softened for a brief moment, though the crease between their eyebrows never went away. They laid their hand on top of hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t apologize.”

She took a deep breath and walked out to the living room, Rowan in stride next to her. 

Her mother was seated on one of the gilt-backed chairs, her long artist’s fingers wrapped around a mug of hot water with lemon. Magnus was slumped on a hot-pink sofa, his green slippers up on the coffee table. “The pack stabilized him,” Jocelyn was saying in an exhausted voice. “They don’t know for how long, though. They thought there might have been silver powder on the blade, but it appears to be something else. The tip of the knife—” She glanced up, saw Clary, and fell silent. 

“It’s okay, Mom. I’m old enough to hear what’s wrong with Luke.”

She stared for a moment, and she realized it was past her and at Rowan. Rowan had rarely come to visit Luke’s house, and out of all of her friends, she probably knew her the least. Before she had a chance to say something, Magnus spoke up. “Jocelyn, if both your daughter and I trust this one,” he said, gesturing vaguely to them, “then you’re in good company. Rowan’s quite the bright child, they might be able to help figure this out.”

She nodded. Rowan shrugged and sat next to Magnus, casually shoving his shoulder over to make room for them on the sofa. “No hard feelings,” they said. Clary was sure they understood how vital information to stay secret was, especially lately. 

“Well, they don’t know exactly what it is,” Jocelyn said softly. “The top of the blade Sebastian used broke off against one of his robs and lodged in the bone. But they can’t retrieve it. It…moves.”

Rowan sat up a little straighter. “It what now?”

“When they tried to dig it out, it burrowed into the bone and nearly snapped it,” Jocelyn said. “He’s a werewolf, he heals fast, but it’s in there gashing up his internal organs, keeping the wound from closing.”

“Demon metal,” said Magnus. “Not silver.”

Jocelyn leaned forward. “Do you think you can help him? Whatever it costs, I’ll pay—”

Magnus stood up. His alien slippers and rumpled bed-head seemed extremely incongruous given the gravity of the situation. “I don’t know.”

“But you healed Alec,” said Clary. “And Rowan, right? When the Greater Demon attacked?”

“I would have been fine, he just spend up the process,” they muttered. 

Magnus had begun to pace. “I knew what was wrong with him. I don’t know what kind of demon metal this is. I could experiment, try different healing spells, but that still wouldn’t be the fastest way.”

“What’s the fastest way?” Jocelyn asked. 

“You could call your friends,” Rowan said, which to Clary, sounded incredibly questionable, and she wondered what kind of friends these were. 

He shook his head. “I’ve used up all my IOUs with the Riges, and they might not even know, anyway. But…” He thought for a moment. “The Praetor. The Wolf Guard. I knew the man who founded it—Woolsey Scott. Because of certain…incidents, he was fascinated with minutiae about the way demon metals and demon drugs act on lycanthropes, the same way the Silent Brothers keep records of the ways Nephilim can be healed. Over the years the Praetor have become very closed-off and secretive, unfortunately. But a member of the Praetor could access their information.”

“Luke’s not a member,” Jocelyn said. “And their roster is secret—”

Rowan, who had been staring at the floor in front of them, lost in thought as Magnus spoke, had an idea. “Jordan,” they said. “I have his number, I could call him—”

“I’ll call him,” said Magnus. “I can’t get into Praetor headquarters, but I can pass on a message that ought to hold some extra weight. I’ll be back.” He padded off to the kitchen, the antennae on his slippers waving gently like seaweed in a current. 

“You were attacked by Sebastian?” Rowan asked, looking between the two of them. For the first time in two weeks, they looked fragile about the topic, and she knew what they were looking for. 

“Your brother wasn’t there,” Jocelyn said. Clary felt a pit grow in her stomach as she heard the words and turned away from them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rowan shuffle out of the room. She looked at her mother, who was staring at her mug of hot water. It was one of her favorite restoritaves, though Clary could never figure out why someone would want to drink warm sour water. The snow had soaked her other’s hair, and now that it was drying, it was beginning to curl, like Clary’s did in humid weather. 

“Mom,” Clary said carefully, and her mother looked up. “That knife you threw—back at Luke’s—was it at Jace?”

“It was at Johnathan.” She would never call him Sebastian, Clary knew.

“It’s just…” Clary took a deep breath. “It’s almost the same thing. You saw. When you stabbed Sebastian, Jace started to bleed. It’s like theyre—mirrored in someway. Cut Sebastian, Jace bleeds. Kill him, and Jace dies.”

“Clary.” Her mother rubbed her tired eyes. “Can we not discuss this now?”

“But you said you think he’ll come back for me. Jace, I mean. I need to know that you won’t hurt him—”

“Well, you can’t know that. Because I won’t promise it, Clary. I can’t.” Her mother looked at her with unflinching eyes. “I saw the two of you come out of your bedroom.”

Clary flushed. “I don’t want to—”

“To what? Talk about it? Well, too bad. You brought it up. You’re lucky I’m not in the Clave anymore, you know. How long have you known where Jace was?”

“I don’t know where he is. Tonight is the first time i’ve talked ot him since he disappeared. I saw him in the Institute with Seb—Johnathan, yesterday. I told Alec and Isabelle and Simon, and he told Rowan, but I couldn’t tell anyone else. If the Clave got hold of him—I can’t let that happen.”

Jocelyn raised her green eyes. “And why not?”

“Because he’s Jace. Because I love him.”

“He’s not Jace. That’s just it, Clary. He’s not who he was. Can’t you see that—”

“Of course I can see it. I’m not stupid. But I have faith. I saw him possessed before, and I saw him break free of it. I think Jace is still inside there somewhere. I think there’s a way to save him.”

“What if there isn’t?”

“Prove it.”

“You can’t prove a negative Clarissa. I understand that you love him. You always have loved him, too much. You think I didn’t love your father? You think id idn’t give him every chance? And look what came of that. Jonathan. If I hadn’t stayed with your father, he wouldn’t exist—”

“Neither would I,” said Clary. “In case you forgot, I came after my brother, not before.” She looked at her mother, hard. “Are you saying it would have been with it never to have had me if you could get rid of Johnathan?”

“No, I—”

There was the grating sound of keys in a lock, and the apartment door swung open. It was Alec. He wore a long leather duster open over a blue sweater, and there were white flakes of snow in his black hair. His cheeks were candy-apple red from the cold, but his face was otherwise pale.

“Where’s Magnus?” he said. As he looked toward the kitchen, Clary saw a bruise on his jaw, below his ear, about the size of a thumbprint. 

“Alec!” Magnus came skidding into the living room and blew a kiss to his boyfriend across the room. His cat’s eyes shone as he looked at Alec. Rowan, who was half-hidden by the doorway behind him, wrinkled their nose in performative disgust at him, then looked at her, waiting to see if she would laugh. 

She offered a half-smile instead. Clary knew that look; that was herself looking at Jace. Alec didn’t return the gaze, though. He was shucking off his coat and hanging it on a hook on the wall. He was visibly upset. His hands were trembling, his broad shoulders tightly set.

“You got my text?” Magnus asked.

“Yeah. I was only a few blocks away anyway.” Alec looked at Rowan, then Clary, and then at her mother, anxiety and uncertainty warring in his expression. Though Alec had been invited to Jocelyn’s reception party, and had met her several times besides that, they did not by any means know each other well. He and Rowan shared that sentiment. “It’s true, what Magnus said? You saw Jace again?”

“And Sebastian,” said Clary. 

“But Jace,” Alec said. “How was—I mean, how did he seem?”

Clary knew exactly what he was asking; for once she and Alec understood each other better than anyone else in the room. “He’s not playing a trick on Sebastian,” she replied softly. “He really has changed. He isn’t like himself at all.”

“How?” Alec demanded, with an odd blend of anger and vulnerability. “How is he different?”

There was a hole in the knee of Clary’s jeans; she picked at it, scraping the skin underneath. “The way he talks—he believes in Sebastian. Believes in what he’s doing, whatever that is. I reminded him that Sebastian killed Max, even asked about Jensen, and he didn’t seem to care.” Her voice cracked. “He said Sebastian was just as much his brother as much as Max was.”

Alec whitened, the rest sports on his cheeks standing out like bloodstains. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rowan disappear back into the kitchen, followed by the sound of a few cabinet doors slamming. “Did he say anything about me?” he asked. “Or any of us?”

Clary shook her head, hardly able to stand the look on Alec’s face. In the far corner, she could see Magnus watching Alec too, his face almost blank with sadness. She wondered if he was jealous of Jace still, or just hurt on Alec’s behalf. 

“Why did he come to your house?” Alec shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“He wanted me to come with him. To join him and Sebastian. I guess he wants their evil little duo to be an evil little trio.” She shrugged. “Maybe he’s lonely. Sebastian can’t be the greatest company.”

“We don’t know that. He could be absolutely fantastic at Scrabble,” said Magnus.

“He's a murdering psychopath,” said Alec flatly. “And Jace knows it.”

“But Jace isn’t Jace right now—,” Magnus began, but broke off as a shattering sound, followed by a loud stream of curse words came from the kitchen. Clary, sometimes, forgot that Rowan’s mouth would put a sailor to shame. Then, the phone started ringing, and they called for him, sounding like they were in pain. “I’m going to take care of that,” he said. “Who knows who else might be on the run from the Clave and need a place to stay? It’s not like there are hotels in this city. And maybe that was my favorite mug. What a day!” He padded off toward the kitchen. 

[the-obiwan-for-me]

Crash

Bo-Katan Week 2023

Day 5, alternate prompt: Ursa and Bo Being Besties (but with a different spin)

AO3 link here.

There was a short time where Bo-Katan thought there might be another path, without Pre Vizsla.

Their first kiss was quick. Almost shy. Very much a bit awkward.

The next one was a bit like the first, but lingered more.

By their fifth kiss, they had learned each other’s lips. There was a familiarity in it that lended a sense of comfort to what were stolen, brief moments.

It was during the tenth kiss, this one longer and more searching, fingers twined through hair or grazing the other’s skin, that made Bo-Katan wonder if she could have a life with Ursa Wren. 

And it was the twentieth kiss that it all came crashing down.

The heat of Ursa’s body, pressed close to Bo’s, chased the cool of sunset in the dim forest away. The weight of Ursa’s hands on her hips grounded her as Bo laced her arms around Ursa’s neck, wanting to hold on to her forever. Wanting to run away, far from Concordia, far from the stubborn refusal to accept the outcome of the war that had ended everywhere else in Mandalorian space five years earlier. Bo wanted to be free of it all. To be free from Pre Vizsla. And Ursa Wren, who was only here out of obligation to her House, was the first time Bo thought maybe she could actually get free. 

And then it was all ripped away. A familiar vice grip clamped down hard on her bicep and yanked her back, severing her connection to Ursa. She was thrown to the ground, tossed aside like a forgotten child’s toy, the air knocked from her lungs at the force of it. Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked up at her attacker, knowing who it would be.

“Pre,” she whispered. His face was twisted into a furious sneer as he stared down at her. 

“You lying bitch,” he growled, his voice low with rage and hurt.

Movement caught Bo’s eye, and she glanced behind him to a stunned Ursa, her hand falling to the grip of her blaster, Ursa’s eyes pinned on Pre’s back. Bo shook her head, silently pleading with Ursa not to follow through with her thought.

Pre followed Bo’s eyes, turning toward Ursa, his massive framing dwarfing the smaller woman. “You. I knew it would be you.”

“Pre, no,” Bo shouted, scrambling to her knees, grabbing onto Pre’s belt. “Please don’t hurt her, Pre.”

Ursa stilled, but her hand still rested on the blaster. Her spine straightened, she tilted her chin up, defiant, looking exactly as one would expect the daughter of the leaders of Clan Wren to look. “He wouldn’t dare. He knows if he so much as hurts a hair on my head, my fathers will bring the wrath of Krownest down on this camp.”

Her confidence was intoxicating and beautiful. Bo wished she had a sliver of it. It reminded her of her own mother, long dead. And, though she’d never admit it out loud, her sister. Ursa was brave in ways Bo could only ever dream of, and it made her love her more.

The moment ended. Pre chuckled. It was a menacing sound.

“I’m not going to hurt her, Bo.”

Pre whirled, twisting quickly to grab Bo’s wrists, wrenching her arms up and back as he moved behind her, pushing his knee into her spine, bending her backward, her body screaming in protest as joints were flexed in the wrong direction, muscles and tendons stretching to their limits. Ursa went to move, jump to Bo’s rescue.

“Don’t!” Pre shouted, pulling back on Bo’s wrists more. Bo, despite having trained herself not to react to Pre’s physical outbursts, let a cry of pain slip from her lips. Ursa froze.

Pre dragged Bo to her feet, letting go of her wrists to wrap a sinewy forearm around her throat. She could feel his hot breath, smelling like cassius tea and death sticks, on her face and neck. “I won’t hurt Ursa. I’m not a foolish man.” The arm tightened and he lifted Bo until only her toes scraped the ground. “I can’t hurt Ursa because I do need the Wrens to stay on my side. But you, Bo?” He nipped at her ear, then brushed his lips to her cheek, in some sick pantomime of a kiss. “The only one who would miss you is Ursa. So, you I can and will hurt if I ever catch wind of you running around together behind my back.” 

He tossed her back to the ground, and she landed hard on her hands and knees, the rough forest floor biting into her palms. She looked up at Ursa, her gold-brown eyes round with horror. “Got it, Wren?” Pre asked. Ursa nodded. “Good. Find yourself another plaything. I don’t share.”

With that, Pre turned and disappeared back into the woods in the direction of camp, leaving Bo and Ursa staring at each other, Bo’s breaths ragged.

“Ursa-” she started, but Ursa shook her head, her eyes closing for a beat as she took a deep breath. Then, she turned and walked off into the forest, deeper, further from camp, leaving Bo alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pre’s head hit the floor with a sickening thud, his face rolling to face her, steel blue eyes dead and as resigned as his last words.

Bo-Katan felt her heart hit the floor beside Pre’s lifeless body. She could not process what was happening. It was too much. It was all too much. It was everything she had been afraid of, and yet it was still incomprehensible. 

“I claim this sword, and my rightful place as leader of Death Watch!” the monster growled. Bo dragged her eyes away from Pre’s face to see Maul holding the dark saber aloft, Death Watch commandos moving to take a knee at his feet.

She shook her head, working some sense back into her grief stricken brain. “Never!” she shouted. “No outsider will ever rule Mandalore!” Behind her, she sensed other commandos gathering behind her. She heard weapons priming.

“If you will not join me, you will all die,” Maul said, his voice deep and full of self assurance. The kneeling commandos stood, turning toward her and the tight bunch of commandos behind her, moving slowly, but with menace.

Bo shook her head again. This could not be happening. How could this be happening?

“You’re all traitors!”

“Unfortunately for you, history will not see it that way,” he said, sounding for a brief moment, apologetic. Then even the very air in the room seemed to shift. He swung the saber toward her. “Execute them!”

With a fleeting glance back to Pre’s face, Bo slammed her helmet on, and fired, immediately taking out a charging commando. And then, she fled, not totally comprehending, until much later, how many people had fled with her.

They had found refuge deep in the underbelly of Sundari, far from the city center. She wasn’t sure if night was falling or if this particular place was just dark, but she pulled her helmet off and sat down on a low wall, deep in the shadows of a boarded up building, feeling exhausted, terrified, and confused. She looked around, counting the heads of those with her. A dozen, maybe. Some had removed their helmets like her, and she was relieved to see many familiar faces.

Someone sat beside her, pulling off their helmet. Bo turned absently to see who it was, and gasped in relief. “Ursa!”

“What next, alor?” Ursa asked, her face looking as shell shocked as Bo felt. 

Bo ignored the question and instead threw her arms around Ursa. “You’re here.”

Ursa tensed for a long moment, her arms still at her side. Then she softened, and pulled Bo into a tight embrace. “Of course I’m here, Bo-Katan. Where else would I be?”

Bo let go, pulling back to look at Ursa. She shrugged. “I just thought…well, I guess because we haven’t been close….” She trailed off, not sure how to put her complicated feelings into words. She and Ursa had once been very close. But that had changed.

Ursa smiled sadly. “I was protecting you from me,” Ursa said simply. “But while things may be different now, I still care for you. So, what next, alor?”

Bo stared at Ursa for a long moment, fighting the urge to get lost in old memories. Lost in old dreams that were never meant to be. Then she sighed, looked up and around and realized the rest of the group were waiting for her reply. 

Now was not the time to wallow in old memories of girlish romances or to mourn the death of a complicated man murdered by a monster.

Mandalore came first.

“Right,” she said, standing up. “We get the duchess out.”

[capsensislagamoprh]

The ladder wobbled dubiously. It was a few feet too short for the task at hand, but Yuri was determined to make it work. He just didn't want to go get the longer ladder. It would mean the most dreadful thing. Admitting Victor was right. Okay, yes, he was right sometimes, but be damned if his pride would let Yuri admit it. Besides, he was almost done with hanging the flower arrangements around the pavilion.

Giving himself a full stretch, Yuri tried to hook the pot up, but even his elastic spine couldn't help him reach that peg. Looking left and right, Yuri contemplated his situation. Taking the forbidden step, he stood on the top rung of the ladder, extended his calves in a liquid stretch, and arched his feet until he was as close to en pointe one could get without the proper shoes. Slowly pulling his length as far as his abdomen would allow, through to his shoulders, across his neck and up his arms, he drew his whipcord muscles to attention, lifting the plant. Pulling it along his fingers, tracing the edges until they rested, he once again tried to hook the peg.

The ladder wobbled. He kept trying. He kept folding his feet, hoping beyond hope to en pointe without the proper footwear. He could not of course. What he did was wobble, feeling sweat prickle at the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades. If he could just spontaneously grow about seven, maybe eight centimeters he could get it, he could hook that peg. Leaning forward, he tried to wiggle the pot about, hoping the extended curl would catch, his breath slow and labored. He tried hard not to move too much, at the same time he could feel twitches and growing trembles as he stretched. Every movement seemed to go through the ladder, every quiver pumped his adrenaline, because he knew it would hurt if he dropped. And then the world tilted.

The sound of something plummeting, watching the floor come closer much too fast, almost feeling metal ricocheting with a rattling clang barely registered to him. Yuri didn't have time to think before the wind was being knocked out of him, his feet dangling an inch from the ground; he could see the hanging plant rolling away, dirt splaying everywhere. His head spun with a rush of blood and adrenaline. Feeling like the world was out of focus as his feet touched the ground, Yuri gripped onto his point of balance.

"You okay, Yuri?" Otabek asked, holding the blond steady, mere inches from the floor.

"I, uh, yeah. Thanks. I just..."

"Take a deep breath. Get your bearings."

"What happened!" Yuuri called, rushing towards the pavilion.

"Yurio, are you alright!" Victor asked with eery restraint.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just trying to hang a plant, that's all."

Yuuri looked at the mess of roots upturned and stems broken, the fallen ladder, and the precarious flush to Yuri's face - as if all the blood had drained out, unsure if it should return just yet. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Victor pulled a frown, his eyes steady as he pressed a finger to his lips. "Otabek."

"Yes?"

"When was the last time Yurio ate?"

"This morning."

"Hum. Perhaps a break."

"Yes, sir."

Victor raised a brow, a sparkle of pleasure at the formal address in his eyes. It felt good to be respected. Could he get Yuri to call him sir? No, that felt wrong. He wanted him to call him dad just to rile him up. "Good. Yurio, you will eat a snack and rest. We can't have our son in the hospital on the day of our wedding," Victor smiled, his hand slipping about Yuuri's waist. "Can we?" he cooed in his beloved's ear.

For a moment Yuuri's wide eyes said he wouldn't play along, but that mischievous smile tugged at his lips. Before Yuri could protest his name or Victor's aspersions, he nodded. "Oh, yes, this is correct. Family events should contain everyone."

It was a testament to just how shocked Yuri was, that the best protest he made was an unbalanced little kick that almost caused him to drop as his head spun. Gripping Otabek's arm, balling his fist into the shirt, he growled. "Not my name. Not my parents. I'm fine, I just fell. That’s all. We fall all the time. Just give me a minute."

Victor took in the scene. The stoic Kazakh carefully correcting Yuri's balance, Yuri slowly regaining his color as blood returned to his brain, the way Yuri didn't let go. Oh, he was going to get some of his own back after this was all over. Right now he had to focus on his Yuuri and their wedding. Ah, to have Yuuri all to himself, papers signed, ceremonies completed, lives formally tied! He filed things away for later, but just to be sure, he'd tell Chris. A comrade in jest was always welcome.

"Alright," Victor chirped. "I'll get okāsan to make her... Yuuri, how to say grandson?"

"Mago," Yuuri supplied.

"Mago! Like Yurio! Yes, very good! Okāsan will make mago a snack." Glancing at Yuuri to check if he said the Japanese word right, he beamed with pride when a little nod came his way. Yuuri bit his bottom lip. It felt good to hear Victor speak fondly of his soon-to-be mother-in-law.

Yuri was coming back to himself quickly. The absolute rise in blood pressure from Victor and Yuuir's teasing caused his face to turn red as his eyes began to focus into murderous slits. Now that Otabek wasn't holding him up, he was holding him back. Victor laughed merrily as he guided Yuuri towards the onsen.

Yuri made claw fingers, teeth grinding as he stared at the retreating couple. "I'm going to make headlines, Beka."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Skating prodigy turns justifiable assassin for the good of all humanity! Receives massive rewards and all their gold medals in compensation!"

Otabek's tiny smile formed as he watched Yuri fume. "You might want to take the snack. Hiroko makes very nice selections." Yuri turned his bright eyes to the Kazakh with a vicious glare, daring him to agree with Victor one more time. "It may be the last rest you get before supper," he added in that infuriatingly calm way of his. "I'll clean this up while you get a break." Yuri had the grace to look chagrined.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"Do you want me to hang the rest of the plants?"

"No, I can do it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I -" Yuri sighed. "I didn't fall because of..." Otabek waited for Yuri to stop biting his bottom lip in frustration. Finally he burst out, "I'mshortandIcan'treachthepegandItriedokay! I Tried!"

Otabek blinked. It took him a minute to understand what the blond had said. His lips twitched. "I understand. I will get the taller ladder."

Yuri huffed, looking through his bangs at his best friend. Wait. Was that humor? Was he laughing? He kicked him. "Don't laugh at me."

Otabek pressed his lips into a solid down turn, his eyes glittering.

"You're still laughing at me!"

"I am not laughing. I will get the ladder and clean up while you enjoy your break."

Yuri huffed as Otabek stepped back to pick up the plant, shoving dirt into its pot. "Fine. I'll get a snack, and you won't, which serves you right for laughing at me." Yuri glared daggers, even if he didn't mean it, at the back of his friend's dark head. "And I won't enjoy it!"

"Don't tell your okāsan that. She might feel hurt."

Yuri shoved him, greatly frustrated by the lack of fall-down-go-boom that followed. The flicker of a real smile on Otabek's lips made up for it.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

[alumort]

ao3

@nejileeweek day 2: mutual pining / freedom

I like this one

After so long, Kakashi had finally allowed him to go on missions once more– just simple ones to begin with, while his body adjusted to not having his Byakugan anymore, pretty much having to change his fighting style from scratch. Lee was in charge of tagging along, making sure everything was fine with him and he didn’t overdo his still recovering muscles, pretty much being his mentor for a while even if they never said it out loud.

Though, it was boring to spend his day chasing missing pets and fighting weak thieves. Neji was bored easily, even if it was an excuse to spend more time with his rival, who tried to turn everything into challenges that were more fun than anything else; seeing who could cut grass faster, who could water flowers more swiftly, and so on.

He was aware that the Hokage had pretty much assigned his best friend as a teacher of sorts, at least while he returned into shape, but he didn’t really mind– Lee really made everything more fun just by being beside him, smiling from ear to ear and supporting Neji whenever necessary. Going as far as paying for some of his things without letting the brunet complain, not wanting him ‘to worry too much’ according to him.

His rival had been beside him since he woke up from his coma, patiently helping him get back on his feet over the months. Even allowing him to move in with him, if only so Hiashi wouldn’t be bothering him as much as before the war, keeping him safe from his own blood– not minding sharing his small home, if it meant Neji would be alright.

Lee hadn’t left him alone while he recovered, and he was always by his side whenever his dreams turned into memories from the war, ready to offer him comfort and napkins for his tears and whatever his sleep deprived brain desired in the middle of the night. Never questioning him, never forcing him to explain, just… waiting until he felt ready to go back to sleep, or even to play cards if the brunet preferred to avoid his bedroom for a while.

Whatever he needed, Lee made sure to give it to him as soon as he could. Even if it mean sharing his bed for a hug, on the few occasions in which Neji was so afraid of his own dreams that he found himself unable to distinguish between what was real and what was on his mind. Never making him feel less for needing a hug of sorts.

Slowly, his heart had warmed up towards the other man, giving him casual glances during their easy missions without him noticing anything at all– smiling when he caught the brunet observing him from time to time, not making any comment about it.

They were good friends, though Neji wished they could be more than that, one day. But he wasn't sure if Lee would feel the same, or if he would be so ashamed of his preferences that he would kick him out– it was better to keep everything buried in the depths of his soul, in order to maintain his rival beside him. Just in case things took a wrong turn.

“I think that is all, dear rival! We can call it a day,” Lee exclaimed, startling Neji who had begun to automatically pull out weeds, submerging himself on his thoughts for a while. “Do you need help?”

He wouldn't say it out loud, but his body was still a bit weak– instead of forcing him to train endlessly, his friend just wanted to make sure everything was alright. Denying with his head he slowly got up from the grass, stretching in complete silence before informing the client that the job was done; they only needed to report to Kakashi, then they had the rest of the afternoon off.

There wasn't much to do, though. His muscles were tired from sitting down under the sun for hours, and Neji didn't really even feel like walking… he didn't want to be carried by his rival, so he kept quiet and followed him around the village, still in awe of the many changes that could be seen everywhere– from new buildings to bright signs, Konoha seemed like a whole different place from what he remembered.

He had slept for years, after all. One of the changes that Neji did expect was that Tenten had stopped being a ninja, settling down on a weapon's shop of her own alongside Hinata; not even his Byakugan could've seen his cousin's crush coming, but he didn't mind as long as his teammate treated her right. It was alright.

“There is a restaurant I like near here. You seem exhausted, so maybe… Do you want to go, rival? They have the best sake!” the brunet heard Lee suggest, and he squinted his eyes in confusion, but didn't really question it.

“That sounds nice. But I'll pay this time,” Neji teased, receiving a huff in response as his friend guided him through familiar yet unknown paths, which still confused him to no avail. “Tsunade won't be happy with this, though.”

“They also have apple juice, if you prefer. Or even water.”

Now he was the one huffing, rolling his eyes with a playful smile– Lee liked to tease him with little things like that, if only to lighten his mood. It always worked.

“You're the one who'll drink juice, Lee. Or have you forgotten what alcohol makes you do?” was all Neji replied, chuckling as his friend frowned, and their small ‘argument’ would've continued had they not found two familiar faces in the many restaurant tables– a tired blacksmith and her sweet wife, both waving at them with bright smiles.

“Hey! We didn't know you two would be here too! C'mere,” Tenten said with a smile, and the men soon sat down with them, content to see their friends (and cousin). “It’s been a while since I saw you, Lee! You’ve been busy being Neji’s nanny, right?”

“That is not true, Tenten! I am just making sure his missions go smoothly,” the taijutsu master replied with a frown, more annoyed than his friend himself. “He can take care of himself just fine!”

Neji just ignored his friends’ playful banter, already used to their ‘arguments’ that always ended in laughter– his cousin let out a soft smile and grabbed his hand, observing it to make sure he hadn’t gotten hurt at all. Hinata worried a lot, and she had ended up learning some medical jutsus after his close encounter with death, not wanting to let her beloved people get hurt without being able to do anything about it.

She was gentle with him as a soft green light appeared from her palms, closing small scratches caused from digging weeds all day long; it felt like tickling somehow, and he nodded in acknowledgement.

“Thank you, Hinata. But it’s just something small, you didn’t need to waste chakra on this,” he whispered to her, and his cousin denied with her head, making sure all of his wounds were closed before letting go.

“No, brother, after– after what happened… I don’t want you to be hurt.”

It wasn’t like he could tell her to stop it, not with the guilt filled expression that Hinata tried to hide from him– without success, but he wouldn’t call her out on that. She still regretted not being able to defend herself in the war, years afterwards, and Neji understood completely. It was the reason she had stopped being a ninja and actually dedicated herself to helping in the hospital, or even to her friends and family if something happened.

He couldn’t blame her, though he still had no idea what she had seen on his teammate while he was asleep, or why they had gotten married. Though, seeing the soft smiles that appeared on Hinata’s lips whenever Tenten was close was enough for him, more as he realized that his cousin actually seemed happier alongside her wife than she had ever been in the compound during her whole life.

At some point, laughter filled the air after his teammates had enough of their bantering, and Lee relaxed on his seat while checking what was on the menu as if he hadn’t gone there a million times in the past– the weapon master just chuckled and made a gesture for Neji to get closer, so he could hear her whispers.

“Well, it’s time to enjoy our double date, don’t you think?” Tenten teased, and he ended up focusing on the other menu in front of him if only to avoid his friend from seeing his reddish cheeks, knowing well she would continue pestering him until the end of their lives if she noticed.

“Quiet. I’m deciding what to eat,” he replied, although his eyes refused to focus on the words in front of him no matter what, so in the end he chose some herring soba as usual to not think too much. “... don’t say a word, Tenten.”

After noticing how close Neji had become with Lee through the months, his friend had noticed something was up– whenever he visited Hinata and her at their homes, they both realized that his eyes seemed to shine in a special way whenever he mentioned his rival, and that he pretty much enjoyed spending time with him without reason between his missions outside of the village; more than with anyone else, and he wasn’t a really sociable person.

So they pretty much figured out his most recent crush on their own… and Tenten loved to bother him about it on every opportunity she had, trying to push him to confess. Neji just rolled his eyes and went on with life, enjoying small moments that he had with the other man even if nothing else happened between the two.

It was better that way, so their friendship didn’t end suddenly. That was what terrified him the most even if he never said it out loud.

Without him even realizing it, the waiter appeared beside the group, and everyone gave him their orders– he raised an eyebrow once Lee asked for sake, knowing well that he would become destructive in mere seconds, but nobody batted an eye. They had a long week, so why would he not allow him to relax somehow? The day was extremely warm anyways, and even he got tempted by the coldness of the bottle that his friend was given.

Though, Tsunade would kill him if he tried to drink alcohol without permission… so Neji only ordered some water with ice, refreshing himself with that alone alongside his noodles. Tenten and Hinata exchanged strange glances as they also saw Lee drink, as if they were getting ready to immobilize him if anything (expected) happened. But the taijutsu master served himself a couple of glasses and his cheeks ended up blushing without other apparent changes, so the other three relaxed and quietly chatted about their day.

It was pretty monotonous for everyone; Hinata healed some injured Genins in the hospital, Tenten forged and sold weapons, and Neji did some gardening for a client. Not too much to say about it, and there weren't many changes in their routines, but it was nice to just spend a while talking about everything after not seeing each other for a while. That helped him get relaxed, imagining the things he would do as soon as Tsunade finally allowed him to go on more important missions.

He was getting tired of finding lost pets, as if he was a child unable to do anything on his own. It made him feel useless, even if everyone reassured him that wasn’t the case, and that soon he’d be guarding clients or fighting dangerous beasts once more– still, Neji didn’t feel so convinced, complaining once more about that feeling to his friend and his cousin, who knew better than to try to change his mind.

It was true that everyone was pretty much being too watchful with him, too careful no matter how much progress he was making; everyone tried to protect him against his will, and the brunet was annoyed even if it was because they worried about him– his teammates and his cousins mostly, his real family.

“Uh, Neji… you have someone on your shoulder,” Tenten said, distracting him from his soba and thoughts. Neji turned around and soon saw a drunk Lee with a blush all across his face, his expression seeming pleased that turned into shock as soon as his gaze fell on the Hyuga.

Of course that would happen, no matter that they were both in their mid twenties and not teens anymore. His rival could barely drink anything without paying the price, somehow not punching anything yet but seeming extremely joyful now.

“Ooh… heyy, handsome,” Lee mumbled with a goofy smile, throwing himself towards his companion without thinking about it, chuckling as Neji held him close so as to not let him fall. The taijutsu master ended up hugging him back, still focusing his dark gaze on Neji’s lavender eyes, almost in trance. “You are sooo handsome, baby. So handsome…”

The brunet felt his face warming up in an instant, and his companions just chuckled at the situation, not making any movement to stop it at all. He felt betrayed by them, though it was nice to have Lee so close to him… more as he kept observing him with awe filled eyes, calling him beautiful on every breath. That made his chest feel full of warmth, even if his rival’s hold was a bit tight.

“See? I told you it’s a double date!” Tenten teased, receiving a deathly glare from the brunet which didn’t stop her laughter at all. It was worse when the taijutsu master stirred up with something akin to surprise, hugging the other man even more with an enormous grin decorating his lips.

“Date…? Oh! Am I dating you, handsome? I am so lucky!” Lee exclaimed with tears in his eyes, sobbing when Neji finally returned the embrace, unsure about what else to do. The brunet was too nervous to say anything at all, hiding his face on his companion’s chest in complete silence. “You are soo beautiful, Neji… I love you.”

It was as if his heart had stopped right there, leaving him unable to breathe– he couldn’t believe what the other man had said, couldn’t just trust his words under the effect of alcohol. But it was true that Lee was holding him so gently, caressing his hair with the goofiest smile on his face, almost as if he had been told great news in mere seconds.

And neither Hinata or Tenten seemed surprised at the confession, as if they had known all along; perhaps that was why his teammate had teased him earlier on, knowing everything thanks to her fortune telling… or maybe Lee had told her, which wouldn’t be a surprise either. Just like he had let her know about his feelings, his rival must’ve done the same.

“You knew, and you didn’t tell me anything,” he complained in a mumble to the other two, who looked away at the same time, not really saying anything for a while until the weapons master finally observed him with a malicious shine on her gaze.

“He told me not to tell you, just like you. I can’t betray my friends like that, Neji! It was a secret,” Tenten teased with a smirk, chuckling once Lee pretty much dropped his whole weight on the other man, humming softly every now and then with closed eyes. “Why do you think he's spending so much time with you? Or why did he spent all his days off visiting you in the hospital, even if everyone told him you’d never wake up?”

Neji remained quiet afterwards, observing his rival to have a better look at him; he was calm on his arms, making a great effort to blink and avoid falling asleep, still seeming in awe with the brunet’s affectionate hold. Lee soon caught him staring and grinned, not letting go but loosening the hold just enough to let him finish his meal, accommodating wild strands of hair whenever they hindered his vision.

Always careful enough to not startle him, gentle even when drunk. The brunet felt his cheeks warming up even more as his rival offered him some of his food, though it was too spicy for his tongue… abandoning his sake bottle just to make attempts at pampering him somehow.

“I think we should go home,” Neji exclaimed, rolling his eyes when Lee pouted like a small child, playing a bit with his food while keeping his curious gaze on him. “You’re too drunk, Lee. We don’t want you to destroy the restaurant.”

“But… I want to stay with you, baby,” the taijutsu master replied, shyly extending a hand towards his friend without saying anything else, waiting for some kind of response in complete silence.

Hinata and Tenten watched them with curious eyes, already finished with their food and just being nosy together for a while. Entertaining themselves with a live romance telenovela, acting as if they weren’t observing once Neji glared at them.

His palms felt wet with sweat, and his wrist trembled a bit due to his nerves– but he ended up holding Lee’s hand, letting out the faintest smile upon noticing his companion entwined their fingers without delay, chuckling a bit as the brunet didn’t push away. Relaxing with his touch in mere seconds.

“... ah, let me pay for our part. Thank you for letting us join you today,” Neji told the women, who just nodded and grinned knowingly, not wanting to delay them for longer as he helped Lee get up from his seat afterwards.

“Yeah, go take care of your eternal rival, Neji. He needs you!” Tenten replied, sticking out her tongue at him, knowing well he wouldn’t slow down now. “Have a nice night!”

“See you, big brother. It– it was nice to see you two.”

Not looking back for the night, the two slowly made their way home, taking a bit longer than expected as Lee playfully pushed him every now and then; latching to his waist once he got too tired to walk, closing his eyes and just letting Neji carry him on his back. Yawning and getting comfortable on him, as he knew well that the brunet wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

There was no need to defend themselves in Konoha, but they could never be too sure; their neighborhood was quiet, though villages ended up with too many people after the war, and not all of them had a good heart. The brunet still wasn’t able to avoid looking everywhere before entering to their house, not wanting anything unexpected to happen at all.

Their home wasn’t too big, but it was just big enough for both of them– they had their own space and that was enough, at least for the brunet, who usually preferred quietness and being on his own if nothing happened during the night.

Though, it was different on that occasion; Lee was the one who needed company then, still drunk and way more affectionate than usual. Being in the safety of his house just worsened it somehow, allowing himself to hug Neji even more, going as far as resting his head on his shoulder without any kind of warning. It made his chest feel on fire, as if his heart could melt at any moment…

“Neji, I love you, you are so beautiful,” the taijutsu kept repeating, observing him with big eyes, as if he was in a trance of sorts. “So handsome. I– can I kiss you, baby? Beautiful…”

His cheeks warmed up once more, even more than they had earlier that night; Lee was close but made no movement, and perhaps that made him get even more timid. His seemingly never-ending patience, how gentle he was with him at all times, and the pure joy on his gaze.

Neji had dreamt of being able to share his life with him, his unrestricted love for the other man– who actually felt the same, even if he had only admitted it with alcohol.

“I… I've never kissed anyone before,” he muttered, looking away in shame. “But I'd like to kiss, if you don't mind that.”

“Do not worry, baby. I have never kissed anyone either,” Lee replied with an enormous grin, his lips trembling as his gaze now focused on the brunet's face, getting into a more comfortable position beside him.

Neji could feel his warm breath on his chin, on his nose, and the smell of sake invaded his nostrils in mere moments– just before he felt a pair of lips on top of his own, barely touching his mouth before making space between the two. The brunet couldn’t think about anything but the sensation of his rival's lips on his own, or his deafening heartbeats that didn't let him focus on anything apart from the other man.

Lee chuckled with another goofy smile after they separated from the other, and soon began to lean towards him for another kiss, and another, though the Hyuga didn't want to go further than that– after all, his friend (or were they boyfriends now?) was still drunk; he pushed away as soon as Lee tried to use his tongue on him, receiving a confused look from him and a pout at the same time.

“I'm sorry, I… I don't want to do anything else. Not when you’re like this,” he whispered, cupping his companion’s cheeks with his hands using all the gentleness of the world, smiling a bit once Lee lazily closed his eyes. “Let’s just lay down, alright?”

Neji could see that his rival’s gaze brightened up in mere seconds, and that he leaned towards his touch without thinking about it at all– not even observing where things were, too exhausted to care. So the brunet wrapped him between his arms, guiding Lee towards his room in complete silence, making sure he didn’t trip on anything before placing him on his bed, slowly letting go after some minutes.

It didn’t take long for Lee to start snoring, already asleep by the time his head hit his pillow or maybe even before that. The brunet didn’t know, but now it was his turn to get ready for bed, his gaze lingering on an empty spot on his rival’s mattress that usually was reserved for him; on those days that nightmares kept him up, or when flashbacks invaded his soul, his companion made sure to always make him feel safe at home no matter what it took.

Perhaps… he was an affectionate man; Lee wouldn’t mind having him around, not after so many kisses. If he even remembered that they had kissed in the following morning, of course. Which might not even happen at all.

Still, Neji didn’t want to leave his rival alone just like that, and he knew well how to sneak into his bed without startling him up; gently lifting his arm and sliding under his blankets, resting his chin on Lee’s shoulder like a cat, knowing well he wouldn’t mind it at all– and all his companion did was yawn, snuggling closer to him without opening an eye.

Would he remember what had happened that night? Neji wasn’t sure, but he was ready to face the truth after eight hours of sleep or more, exhausted from being under the sun all day long and due to the adrenaline of the confession. It was too much for his tired mind… as long as he was with Lee, everything would be okay.

And if he was woken up by a pair of gentle lips before the sun even appeared on the sky, he didn’t complain for the first time in his life– instead, he leaned towards Lee and kissed him back, not rushing at all. Neji still felt his cheeks warming up with every gesture, though knowing that his love was reciprocated helped soothe his nerves.

He just needed to get used to calling Lee his boyfriend, then not much else would change. It would be alright.

[cinnaki]

X-115s Very Bad Day

Comm for @grassfedburger

2,600 word count

Autotrooper lands in Bayverse somewhere in Texas.

    "Alex! Breakfast is getting cold." a gruff voice called from outside the young adult's comfortable burrow of pillows and thin sheets. They had not slept well. Between the summer Texan heat, and the lulling sound of a fat horse fly bumping around between two glass panes, they barely blinked their eyes and the morning sun demanded their attention.

    "Better than sweating all night again..." they grumbled, peeling the sheets from their sticky skin. "Charging four hundred in rent for one room and no air conditioning?" Alex huffed to themselves, as they stumbled into the included closet-sized bathroom to wash up. At least get the film off of their skin before cold eggs and the best hashbrowns they've ever had.

   They stared at themselves in the old mirror. Short, frizzy hair they never could quite tame. Peach-colored eyes stared back as they admired their recent natural tan. "Now, if only we could build some muscle..." they mused, staring at their twiggy arms. They barely fit in their old white tank top and orange track shorts they wore everywhere.

   Alex made their way into the main room, lined with old tacky paneling, and photos of people they never knew shaking the hands of the home and auto-shops owner. "Morning Harold." They said politely.

   Harold set down his pipe, "Morning, Alex. Sleep well?" he asked, not looking up from a broken water pump for a car in his shop.

   "You know it," Alex responded, plopping down to start stuffing their face. They noticed the pump, "Do you ever stop working?" Harold had been working on that Kia Sorento for weeks, unable to figure out what was wrong with the engine.

   "I think I have it figured out finally." The older man finally responded, after clicking a panel back into place. He watched Alex eat like a starved animal, waiting for them to finish before tossing the part their way. "You got younger hands, think you can install this before your start your shift at the train yard?"

    Alex caught the pump, eyeing it up and down. "You clever bastard--" Harold gave them a wicked smile. "Alright, alright. But I want a steak dinner." Alex laughed, heading towards the garage door.

   "Careful--that door has been acting--" Harold shouted, as Alex pressed their back against the door, falling through into the shop with a loud bang, followed by even louder crashing. A scream followed, but Harold knew that was not Alex. It sounded mechanical.

   What followed were more mechanical sounds, as Harold and Alex both froze in place. The very Sorento Alex had gone out to fix stood up, screaming and tearing a car tarp from its back to no success. It slammed into several walls, knocking out the garage door before changing back into a car, and speeding off out of town, tarp still stuck in its seems.

   "What the hell--?" Alex asked, pulling a piece of wreckage off their back.

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

   X-115 blasted down the old paved road, yelping once it changed into dirt. "Scrap, scrap, scrap--" The tarp finally flew off, and the Auto-trooper slammed on their brakes but still crashed into a small group of cacti. A couple of birds quickly escape, pecking at the car before flying off.

   "What in the Allspark is this junk?" he asked himself, barely registering anything beyond the heat, and gummy substances leaking under the hood. They transformed back into root mode, flicking some of the cactus juice from their servos. "Ew--"

   X-115 looked around, their spark rapidly pulsing. "Where am I?" They got to their feet, dropping sand, dirt, and cactus chunks from their frame. Miles and miles of the same stretched before them. They could see heat radiating in the air and felt it on their chassis.

   "Okay--okay protocol. Establish connection--" They held their servo to their helm. "Autobot base, attention Autobot base. This is Autotrooper X-115, requesting status report. I repeat, this is Autotrooper X-115 requesting status report."��

   They waited in silence, "Nothing. Scrap." they stared off in another direction, hoping somehow that would change their situation. "How did we get here--" he tried to recall. If the Autobots found him, they would want answers. "I was on a mission...." he held his helm, pacing back and forth. "Scrap-- Commander Gearshaft will decom me for sure. They probably think I turned tailpipe and rolled out."

    X-115 ran the situation through their head multiple times. "Okay, you're clearly not on Cybertron--but how did I get here?" he played back his memories but found nothing beyond the tarp now sadly flopping on the ground some distance away. He grunted, walking over to pick it up. He could feel the heat of the sun taking a toll on his systems. But could not figure out why. Placing the tarp over his back, the Autotrooper started walking. "Better find someplace to shelter, this world's sun is worse than the melting pits."

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

   Hours pass, and X-115 finds nothing. They swear by Primus they have seen that same group of cacti seventeen times now, but could not recall by this point. The heat of this planet's sun fried their circuits. They tried multiple times to kickstart the cooling process, but despite their fans' hard work, no coolant flowed. "This is it. This is how I join the well of Allsparks. On some blasted planet." they whined to themselves.

   The twentieth time they passed the same group of cacti, something changed. Down the dust-covered road, a young adult on a pedal bike hurried over. Wearing a shade hat, and reeking of sunscreen. X-115 stopped, staring at the odd sight and swearing they finally went crazy.

   Alex stopped thirty feet from the obvious giant alien robot, "Hey, are you one of those bad guys who destroyed Chicago?" they asked.

   X-115 glanced around them, then back to Alex. Their processor clicked, then accessed a...oddly large database, for a planet made of dirt and pointy plant things. He thought nothing was here, a dead world but...maybe there was more to this planet that met the optic. They downloaded a language filter matching the words the other spoke, then tried to reply. "What is a Chicago?"

   Alex raised a brow, "Cool--uh, speaking of. Uhh--I don't really think--I mean. Could you uh--" they scratched the back of their head, then pulled out the water pump from their bag. "I think you might be overheating without this."

   X-115 observed the object, then clasped their helmet. "HAH--HAHAHAH!!" his laugh sounded creepy to Alex. "OH, PRIMUS THAT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE!" he continued laughing.

   "Yeah--" Alex silently wondered why they were swearing to a band, but that would wait. Right now, they felt responsible for making sure this big idiot did not die in the Texas heat. It might be easier to not be abducted by the men in black if the alien is still alive. "Hey can you uh-- I don't know how to ask this, but could you be a car again, so I can put this back in you?"

   "....You mean, put your tiny, gross, organic arms in my engines? No." X-115 retorted.

   “Would you rather fry? It's only going to get hotter." silence filled the area, broken only by the whisper of gentle wind. "Welcome to West Texas, it's not nice to people who aren't prepared."

   "And you choose to live here?"

   "Not really. And you don't look like you got much of a choice." Alex replied with a cheeky grin.

   X-115 stared flatly, blue optics narrowing on the stick-like arm stretching out to them.

   "C'mon, I'm trying to build a bridge between species here. After those Decepticons tore up Chicago, not many people like you uhhh--" They studied X-115, spotting the Autobot insignia on them. "Autobots, right?"

   "There are Decepticons here?!" he asked, stunned.

   "Yep. Some big guy named Megatron has been running around wrecking stuff."

   X-115 rolled back, moments flashing before his eyes as Alex began describing what happened to Chicago. They could remember the trenches, hunkering down with their thermo rocket launcher pointing at the enemy seekers--

   "Hey!" Alex snapped them back to reality. "You want it or not? My arm is getting tired."

   X-115 muttered to themselves nothing in particular before transforming into a dusty red Kia Sorento and popping the hood.

   "Don't take my arm off, okay? Trying to help you." Alex said in a calming voice. They got to work, bending their flexible arms to reinstall the water pump. After a few minutes, they tapped the Autobots bumper. "Okay, try that!"

   Instantly, the Autotrooper could feel cool relief running through their engines. Alex had packed a couple of ice-cold water bottles to help X-115. The sigh from X-115's engines is all they needed to know it worked.

   "Why is your...West Texas so hostile to life?" they eventually asked.

   "Dunno. That's just how the Mojave desert is. But it's full of life...if you know where to look and--you don't destroy the cacti..." Alex mused.

   "A small creature attacked me."

   "Probably because you wrecked their home." Silence again consumed the two. "So uh--your Autobot buddies coming for you?"

   "...I already reached out, but got no response," X-115 responded plainly.

    “....Ah. .....I uh--you got a place to hunker down in until then?"

   "No. But the directive when encountering organic species is to--"

   "Buddy, I think you already broke directive enough. C'mon, I know a place you can hide out in for a bit." They got back on their bike, "It's just a few miles out, but you gotta stay a car for this. People around here are pretty nice but wary of newcomers. And your kind doesn't have the best reputation here." X-115 sighed and followed Alex slowly.

   "So, you got a name?" Alex asked.

   "My desgination is X-115, I am an Autotrooper--"

   "Wait, you got a number when the others have cooler names? Wheeljack, Hound--Bumblebee. And that cool one that turns into a truck, Optimus Prime--"

   "OPTIMUS PRIME IS HERE?" They asked, speeding ahead to look Alex in the eyes.

   "Well, yeah--he seems cool. Bit aggressive but--"

   "WHERE?!"

   "Bro, I don't know! Government has been hiding them."

   X-115 angrily revved their engines but could tell they weren't lying. This however gave them hope. Rest for a while, but keep contacting the Autobots. That would be the plan. "Alright--take me to this place you're talking about."

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

   Alex had snuck X-115 into the train yard, letting them into the abandoned containers yard. Old containers not fit for duty anymore, but no one really wanted to pay fees for them to be destroyed. No one went out there, except a few of the smokers who did not want to be caught smoking what they should not be on duty.

   The Autotrooper had a lot of time to themselves. Alex came by for their lunch, filling them in on the Autobot's known adventures on planet Earth, and exactly where they were. Everything they said did not quite line up with what he knew. The Optimus Prime he knew was not nearly this aggressive, Bumblebee was shorter, and Mudflap was not an Autobot. Many of the others Alex described he could not place. They seemed to be a fan, however. That was good.

   Worryingly, his sleep cycles were rougher than they had been before. The same scenes play out, but as if looking through frosted glass. In the trenches, rockets aimed, then a loud bang.

   X-115s sleep was interrupted, that bang was real, not a dream. The Sorento was pulled from his hiding spot by a massive clawed servo. He screamed, before coming fact to bumper with a monster. The mashing metal plates were an abomination to Primus' perfect creations. He could barely understand the mangled mechanical mandibles slurring words before he was thrown away from the old train cars. His roof hit the ground, forcing him to transform into root mode.

   Instantly, the Autotrooper ran on instinct, aiming his built-in missile launchers and firing directly at his attacker. They wailed in pain before rushing him, despite the fire and slag pouring from them. X-115 caught a glimpse of their chassis under the twisted metal, spotting a Decepticon insignia.

   "You 'Cons are way uglier than I remember." he snapped, firing his rocket launcher while his missiles took time to reload. Taking cover, the Autotrooper transformed and bolted. He could not take some bot this big without causing serious damage. The whole train yard was full of flammable and explosive material, and....he'd rather not get Alex in trouble.

   But out in the open, he felt more vulnerable. He drove to the tracks, sliding onto the rails to drive even faster away from his assailant, as they took to the skies. They chased X-115 down the tracks, taking and dodging missiles as they came in. "You want some, Decepticreep?!" X-115 was cut off, as the Decepticon returned fire, blowing X-115 into a ditch.

   On his stomach, the Autotrooper glanced up, groaning. He could hear the other transform, and hobble over. But his vision was hazy, seeing both the stars in the sky, and the distant rocks shift between reality, and the scene playing out in his nightmares. But this time, it kept playing.

   He raised his missile launcher to fire, but a Decepticon towered over him. The line had been broken, and as the enemy trooper raised his weapon, they aimed right between X-115s optics. He screamed, and the vision flashed to white. He remembered now. He woke up in the auto shop, terrified and under a tarp. He died in that battle but lived here. It made no sense, and in his hesitation, history repeated itself.

   "So long...Autobot." the words echoed previously, but the bang never came. Instead, a loud horn from a massive truck sounded, before ramming into the Decepticon.

   As X-115 stared, unmoving. Servos wrapped around his kibble, yanking him from the ditch, and his stupor. "MOVE, KID!" a voice he did not know shouted. It came from a bright yellow bot, but massive and wearing medical insignias. Not Bumblebee...possibly Ratchet?

   His question was answered as a yellow Camero swerved around, assisting the truck in dispatching the Decepticon. X-115 glanced around, finally noticing the helicopters, and other little humans, as Alex called them, swarming the area to help capture the Decepticon...sadly alive. They also point their weapons at him, despite Ratchet shouting to let him work on triaging X-115.

   "Dents, covered in dirt--" Ratchet began reporting, as he felt Optimus Primes EM field come up from behind him. "But operational," he spoke aloud as a cover, speaking privately to Optimus over an encrypted channel.

   X-115 sat stunned. All of that happened so fast, and now he was sitting there, staring at his leader. Or...someone much like his leader. He thinks he heard of something like this from Perceptors ramblings while guarding the scientist. Multi-versal travel or something. "Sir?"

   "I was told all Autotroopers perished before Cybertron went dark..." Optimus Prime mused, waiting for the Autotrooper's response. When none came, he continued. "It seems we have much to discuss." He gestured to the humans busy loading up his previous assailant. "These are our allies. N.E.S.T, or The Non-Biological Extraterrestrials Species Treaty."

   "We did not pick the name," Ratchet grumbled, catching a quick glare from Optimus.

   "Sir, I have so many questions--Why are you here?"

   "Much of your questions can be answered back at base. But I must ask, what is your designation?"

   "X-115, sir!" he stood at attention, saluting his commanding officer.

   "You did good work leading that Decepticon into our trap. I ask that you join us for the trip back, we can converse there." Optimus Prime turned to his fellow Autobots, few in number now. "Autobots! Transform, and roll on home."

[blu-joons]

Bam Walks ~ Jeon Jungkook

Your head shook as soon as the first bark came from Bam as the two of you walked through the gates of the park, with Jungkook gripping much more tightly on Bam’s lead to keep him under control. His hand reached out, allowing you to pass the toy that you had brought for Bam across to him for him to hopefully get Bam to let go of some of his energy.

Once Jungkook had placed the tennis ball in the holder to be able to launch across the park, he took Bam off of his lead. The wave of the ball in front of his face had Bam’s attention as Jungkook swung his arm back before launching the ball forwards quickly.

Bam shot off as the ball flew across the patch of grass, managing to find a clear spot for Bam to stretch his legs. With Bam off, Jungkook glanced across to you by his side, noticing your hand resting against the top of your bump as you took several slow steps, not wanting to exert yourself too much as you entered your final stages of pregnancy.

“We’re not going too quick, are we?” Jungkook asked you as Bam returned, taking the ball out of his mouth and placing it back into the holder to throw again. “We can sit down on the benches like we usually do if you want.”

“I’d like that,” you weakly smiled across to Jungkook, “I think I might need a bit of a rest before we turn back around to head back home again today.”

Jungkook nodded straight away, more than happy to do whatever you wanted to do as you continued to try and get yourself out and about with your growing baby bump in tow.

“You want to go again?” Jungkook as Bam as he bounded around in front of Jungkook, desperate for him to throw the ball once again.

A chuckle came from you as Jungkook threw, “he’d do that all day long I reckon.”

“I’m far too tired to do that all day long,” Jungkook laughed in reply to you, “I can’t imagine management will be too happy if I show up with a pulled muscle tomorrow.”

Your eyes rolled as Jungkook pointed to the back of his shoulder, “if you pull a muscle throwing a dog toy, I might just find myself questioning what it is that you’re actually supposed to be doing whilst you’re at the gym.”

“I’m working out ready to protect you whilst you’re pregnant.”

“No one protects me quite like Bam does though.”

Jungkook nodded in agreement as Bam arrived back again, “he’s got his eyes looking everywhere, he’s suspicious of just about every little thing in this park.”

“He doesn’t stand for any nonsense,” you laughed, running your hand over the top of Bam’s head, “I quite like knowing that I’m safe with him around me all the time.”

“Me too, two protectors are better than one, especially whilst you’re pregnant too.”

As Jungkook threw Bam’s toy yet again, an elderly couple walked past the two of you, stepping aside so that you didn’t have to move. With an appreciative smile on your face, the lady couldn’t help but enquire about your bump, stopping the two of you from your walk towards the benches as you answered the questions that she had for you.

However, as soon as a laugh came from you, a pair of eyes were looking up and across at you. His ball was forgotten as Bam came running over, sitting himself right beside your bump, with a firm stare on the couple as they continued to talk to you.

“It’s alright,” you smiled across to Bam, moving your hand over the top of his head once again. The man stepped forwards to try and stroke Bam too, but as he moved a little too closely to your bump, a loud bark came from Bam, warning him off unintentionally, getting the wrong end of the stick as to what the man wanted to do.

“Sorry, he’s a little bit protective,” Jungkook told the man, looking around for the ball as Jungkook expected to find it in his mouth or dropped to the floor.

Bam’s bark was taken as a cue by the old couple to leave the two of you alone, wishing you well with the final stages of your pregnancy before walking away, leaving the three of you frozen, with Bam still watching to make sure that they walked off properly.

“Where’s your ball?” Jungkook asked Bam, unsure as to where it had gotten to, as you looked over the field, noticing a few white stripes lost in amongst the high grass.

“I think the ball was forgotten about when protective mode switched on,” you laughed, pointing Jungkook in the direction of the ball that was lost in the middle of the field

“I’m going to have to get that, aren’t I?”

“Bam had more important things to do,” you joked.

Jungkook’s head shook as he began to walk off to get the ball. “Go and sit on one of the benches, I’ll be there once I’ve got this stupid ball back,” Jungkook told you, with Bam making no effort to go and get the ball with Jungkook too.

“I’ve got my sidekick with me to get me to the benches,” you smirked, watching Jungkook’s eyes roll as Bam yet again positioned himself right by your side.

“He’d be glued to your side if he could be I’m pretty sure.”

Your head shook as you made your way across to the bench, taking slows steps. Your strides were matched by Bam who took things nice and slowly to keep his eye on you, even as you sat down, sitting as close to your feet as he possibly could to stay by your side.

“That was so embarrassing,” Jungkook announced as he joined you a few moments later, “that old guy looked like he was terrified when Bam started to bark at him, for no reason too.

You couldn’t help but let your smile grow, “I know he’s protective, but I wasn’t expecting him to bark at someone in public like that, he jumped out of his skin at the noise.”

“It made me jump too, and I saw it coming.”

Once he was sat down on the bench beside you, Jungkook placed the ball back into the thrower again. He raised it up, but Bam didn’t move, unsettled by the elderly couple, he wasn’t quite as sure about leaving your side as he was when he entered the park.

With a bit of reassurance from Jungkook though, he was soon able to throw the ball in the same direction again, with a slightly hesitant Bam rushing off to go and get it, with the aim of being away from your side for as little time as he possibly could be.

“Do you reckon he’ll be as protective when the baby arrives?” Jungkook honestly asked you. “I mean, if he’s like this whilst you’ve only got a bump, imagine what he’ll be like when we have an actual baby. No one will ever be allowed to go near the baby unless it’s you or I without being barked at first.”

A laugh came from you as Bam came bounding back towards you both, completely unaware of what he was doing, aside from doing his best to keep you both safe.

“He’s protective Kook, but honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

---

Masterlist

[treescape]

Spoilers for Obi-Wan Kenobi episode 6, Rated T, ~600 words, below the cut.

This is a fix-it fic that picks up and goes AU when Vader tries to bury Obi-Wan and things...go a little wrong for him. Or maybe they go right.

-----------

When Obi-Wan comes to, he feels the sharp jut of broken earth beneath his aching limbs and the suffocating press of stone just inches above and thinks: Oh. I do believe I’ve been buried alive. How inconvenient. The rest comes more slowly.

Jabiim. The desperate flight, and the agonizing clash, and then—

—a dark twisting of the Force, like nausea seeping in. Stone surging beneath his feet and light in his veins as he reaches for a hold, and then—

Cataclysm, and darkness.

He feels Vader in the same instant he hears the breathing, discordant and cracked, a presence so familiar and foreign his heart can hardly make sense of it. There’s a shuddering inhale, an untold stretch of seconds, and then an exhale that’s all fractured pieces.

Obi-Wan tenses instinctively, muscles stinging at the pull, fingers cracking as they tighten around the lightsaber still miraculously in his hand. He hurts everywhere, like—well, like someone has dropped him thirty paces and entombed him with an avalanche of stone. Sweat stings in cuts on his face, his hands, through rents in his clothing.

Slowly, painstakingly, he rolls to his stomach in a clatter of gravel, waits through a count of held breaths, and then laboriously, unthinkingly, instinctively, he drags himself forward, stone scraping above and below, until his touch find durasteel and armorweave.

There’s no light, except for feeble flickers of red and green that reveal nothing, but through touch and the Force, Obi-Wan can tell that Vader’s suit has been pierced. The smoothness of his helmet is cracked, his respirator pierced, and for a moment— an awful, terrible, breathless moment—Obi-Wan is back on Mustafar.

Vader lies helpless and broken before him, and Obi-Wan is faced with a decision he should never have had to make even once.

A shivering inhale, Vader’s suit fighting to sustain him around the damage, and then there’s fingers tight around his arm, grip heavy beneath iron-strong gauntlets.

“Is this—am I dreaming again, Master?”

The voice is nothing Obi-Wan has ever heard before, a patchwork of man and machine, flickering piecemeal from one to the other.

For entire, aching syllables, it’s a voice he remembers every moment of every day and every night—in every breath, in every dream, deep within his blood.

“Anakin—” he says, the name harsh around dust and dirt and heartbreak, and then stops, because he hardly recognizes his own voice. It’s as fractured as that of the man who lies sprawled next to him.

“I always dream of you, Master,” that broken voice slurs, catching here on Anakin’s voce, there on Vader’s. “You always tell me I can still come back. You always forgive me.”

“Anakin–” Obi-Wan says again, the entirety of his vocabulary reduced to that single word, those three syllables that once made up his entire world.

Those three syllables that still do.

“And then I wake and know it’s a lie.”

Obi-Wan presses his eyes closed, tight, even though it makes next to no difference. The bitterness in that voice, the bleakness, something so far beyond broken—

“No,” he finds himself saying, desperate and sharp. “No, Anakin. You can. You can come back to me, Anakin, you can always—you can always come back.”

For a long minute, there’s no answer. Then, a slow exhale.

It sounds like a sigh.

“Are you going to disappear again when I wake up?” Anakin manages, and Obi-Wan feels his eyelids lift, reaches up with a hand—steady, firm, somehow, inexplicably, impossibly not trembling—and smoothes fingers over the broken mask until he can feel skin, scarred and warm beneath.

“Not if you want me to stay,” Obi-Wan says, and he means to hold on to that promise no matter what faces him in the next moments, or weeks, or years, no matter who faces him once the confusion has passed. “Never again, Anakin, so long as you want me to stay.”

This time, Anakin’s exhale sounds like relief.