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generallynerdy · 3 years

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Maybe it does all add up to a single hush (Kanan Jarrus/Cal Kestis)

Summary: 15 years after the Fall, 10 years after the death of Caleb Dume, Kanan Jarrus and Cal Kestis find each other again.

Warnings: Jedi: Fallen Order Spoilers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, cursing, brief suicidal ideation/thoughts Word Count: 5,143

Author’s Note: the effort I had to put in not to make this another series...I had to stage an intervention for myself. Anyway, I love Cal and Kanan’s dynamic, whether as partners or as friends, and an Idea struck me that wouldn’t leave. Also, idk how old most people think Cal was when the war ended based on JFO clips, but I always just kind of went with him being the same age as Kanan at the end of the war bc I love them and I need them to know each other. The title is from the poem “So They Say— They Finally Nailed— The Proton’s Size— & Hope— Dies—” by Rosebud Ben-Oni.

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When the hard part is over, Cal returns to Bracca, his new lightsaber tucked under Cere’s old robe that still smells like the Temple, with the intention of burning Prauf’s body.

Caleb still had his own robe. He kept it in the deepest part of their shared closet, bringing it out only on the worst days. If Prauf saw it, he never mentioned it, and both boys were grateful for it. There was a lot he didn’t mention.

Cal thinks, sometimes, that Prauf knew who they were before. After all, it’s hard to look at two abandoned kids in the wake of the Clone Wars that can survive being riggers and not think of the thousands of Jedi younglings that died on Empire Day. It’s even harder to ignore two lightsabers and one ratty, brown robe.

Maybe Prauf wasn’t sure.

But he had to be, on that last day, when they found that fighter. When Cal caught him with the Force. He knew then, maybe before. But he still took care of them.

Maybe he knew when the Empire showed up, when Caleb heard the roar of a TIE Fighter and looked instantly to the redheaded boy beside him like he was about to die before his eyes. Maybe that was the moment he put it all together. Or was it his last moment? When the world began to go dark and both Cal and Caleb lashed out in fury at his killers with matching, bright blue blades—did he know? Did he know that he died for the children of an already dying Order?

Standing over the bonfire, Cal holds the Holocron in shaky hands.

Did Prauf know his sacrifice would save the life of every child just like them?

Cal moves away from the flames to the gap in the ground that they’d held Caleb over, his calloused hands clawing at the Ninth Sister, who clutched his throat.

Deep in Cal’s heart, he knows half the reason he beat her was for his best friend. He’d almost given in to rage but stopped himself at the memory of him. Revenge is not the way of the Jedi. But justice is. And so is survival, these days.

Caleb’s lightsaber fell long before he did. When he did fall, he went screaming bloody murder, the noise echoing in the silence that rang in Cal’s ears.

Standing at the edge now, Cal almost considers simply...stepping off.

He can survive it. He has before. And what’s to say that Caleb isn’t waiting at the bottom?

Caleb...used to like animals, he remembers. He preferred them to plants, which are unreadable if you don’t have practise with them. Animals, like people, are complex but tell you in simple terms what they want and what they don’t want. Cal has always been better with plants. They’re simple, grounding, natural. Caleb used to tease him for it.

The only plant he ever managed to grow on this place was a seedling in a boot filled with dirt he kept in their room. It had been making good progress in their last weeks, enough that he’d actually felt some semblance of hope.

And then...and then he’d lost everything. Again.

The Holocron burns in his hand, reminding him that there is more in store for him than an endless chasm. Hundreds of thousands of Force-sensitive children are depending on him now, him and the Mantis crew.

Cal lets out a shaky breath. “I couldn’t save you,” he whispers to the wind. “But maybe I can save them.”

On the way back to the Mantis, he turns around to go find the robe and the plant in its boot. The robe smells like blaster fire and the plant is wilting but both are comforting: one because it’s familiar and the other because it’s not quite gone yet.

Kanan changes his name.

It doesn’t feel right, hearing his given name from anyone that isn’t Cal or Prauf. The first and only time it happens, nausea sinks in and he quickly makes the change.

Some days, he wants to go back to Bracca. Some part of him still hopes Cal survived the Inquisitors, that he’s waiting for him back at what used to be home, but the logical part of him knows that he’s not. Kanan surviving was a miracle, a fluke, and those don’t happen twice. Sometimes he wishes it had never happened at all.

He managed to save his lightsaber, as broken to bits as it was. It and the necklace Cal gave him are all he has now.

Kanan doesn’t let himself grieve, as much as he knows he needs to. He hardly did it before, on Bracca, but now he won’t allow even a tear. Surviving is the only thing on his mind, though for what he doesn’t know.

When he almost loses that little piece of metal on a string, though, he breaks down sobbing.

It’s the stupidest thing, really. All those lessons on attachment are lost on him now, as he cries over the rusted symbol of the Jedi Order on a piece of scrap metal that Cal had put on a cord for him. He keeps it close to his heart, hanging off his neck every hour of every day if he can help it, and getting that close to losing it is the last straw.

He knows now, why he’s surviving. Because Cal would want him to.

Meeting Hera is a relief. She’s kind but curious, which is more of a bane than it should be.

(Painfully, he’s reminded of himself as a youngling. His Master always said his frequent questions were what drew her to him.)

She’s the first to know about his past, both as a Jedi and a rigger on Bracca. He doesn’t think to mention Caleb, doesn’t think it would matter to anyone, not until after a mission gone bad.

Hera is putting bacta on his wounds and graciously ignoring his constant wincing when she sees it.

She points to the cord after examining what hangs on it for a minute. “For someone who’s trying to be discreet, you wear a lot of Jedi stuff.”

Kanan snorts. “Yeah, well, I won’t get rid of this one.”

“It’s important to you,” she points out. “Can I ask why?”

He hesitates, swallowing roughly. “My best friend gave it to me...on Bracca, befo-before the Inquisitors caught up to us,” he admits. “He didn’t make it.”

Her eyes are full of empathy, something she never lacks. “What was his name?”

“Cal,” he says, voice quiet. “Cal Kestis.”

“If you remember his name,” she promises, “he’ll always be with you.”

It’s not so much a Twi’lek belief as it is her own but it reminds Kanan of Grey more than anyone else. His buir. The clones subscribed to many Mandalorian beliefs, including the echoing of remembrances for the dead. Before the abrupt end of the war, little Caleb used to say his every morning with his Master and buir.

So, he decides to start again. It’s difficult, at first, to even get through the first names, his oldest names.

“Depa Billaba,” he says through tears in the quiet of pre-dawn, “Grey, Styles, Prauf...”

He stops.

It’s hard to think, even harder to say, but he knows he needs to. He needs to tell himself the truth, needs to accept the truth.

“Cal—”

He sobs, shaky and painful. His throat burns just like it did when he fell down the chasm on Bracca, screaming his head off, part out of fear for himself but mostly for fear of what was happening to Cal above him. It hurts to speak it into the world, into the Force and those marching on. Cal is among them now, he knows. He just...has to admit it.

“Cal Kestis,” he finally says, the admission wobbly and half-hearted.

He never loses the necklace again.

They’ve finally settled on Bogano, after wiping every trace of it from Imperial data servers. The Holocron is safely locked away in the Vault, guarded by their crew and the Binog, fondly called ‘the big guy,’ mostly by fault of Greez.

Though mostly self-sufficient, occasionally some of them will leave the planet for supplies they can’t make themselves. While off on supply runs, well, they can’t help it if some Imperials just look like easy pickings. Apparently, slavers get the same treatment because Merrin ends up a figure in some sort of oral tradition of a Tatooine family, which Cal finds hilarious. Cere is not so amused and grounds them—literally, in that they can’t leave Bogano—for over a month.

Cal spends most of it repairing old platforms and ziplines, not to mention entertaining the Boglings.

They’re fond of him, for some reason, and BD-1, who loves to run around with them while Cal works. One in particular, named Rabid by Merrin after she stole her entire plate of food, is especially loveable.

Cal snickers as he pulls Rabid off his shoulder. “I have to finish this, then I can play.”

Rabid is not pleased with his answer, nibbling at his trousers.

“Rabid,” he chides, ignoring her in favour of his work. He laughs again. “I used to know somebody who would’ve loved you, annoying as you are.”

BD, who has taken Rabid’s place, beeps curiously.

Cal’s face falls a little. He pauses in his work. “Oh. I guess I’ve never told you about Caleb, huh?”

The little droid shakes his head.

Cal never intended to talk about Caleb to anyone, really, but it all comes pouring out. He tells BD and Rabid all about his old best friend, his confidant. The story is a long one, reaching from the creche all the way to Bracca and its bitter end. By the time he’s finished, his voice is quiet and hesitant, his grief echoing through.

Rabid curls up in his lap, nudging his hand, while BD sits in front of them, tilting his head.

A little light on the side of his scope says that he’s recording. He does that a lot, Cal knows, for prosperity, just like he was programmed to. Cal doesn’t mind, really.

When he finishes, BD gets his attention by chirping.

“Huh? You have something to show me?”

BD’s projector whirrs to life and a blue image appears. It’s Cordova, again, but not a video this time. It’s only a holo, of him and another Jedi—Master Jocasta Nu, Cal realises. Master Cordova is dead asleep on her shoulder and she’s leaned over to kiss his brow.

“Oh,” Cal breathes out, something jarring in his chest.

BD-1 thinks that he and Caleb were—well, were like that.

“I—” he pauses. “I dunno, buddy. I never asked him if...but I think…”

Well. It’d be a stretch to say Cal loved him, but he certainly cared for him more than he ever did anyone else. When they were thirteen and stupid, he might’ve said he had a crush on him. After the Fall, on Bracca, he just...didn't think of it. Caleb was all he had and he clung but he never...thought about what it was, thought about what they were.

It hurts to think of now, all that he missed.

“I don’t know if I did,” Cal tells BD quietly. “But I think I- I think I could have.”

BD asks about Caleb a lot, after that. Maybe he can tell that talking about him makes Cal happy. The others know about the one he lost but they don’t ask. They all have their demons and Cal’s are just...just too great to pile on another person. BD, though, is a little easier. All he wants is to see Cal smile again.

“What’s this?”

Kanan doesn’t think to look up at whatever Ezra—the newest addition to the Ghost crew—has swiped from him, until he notices a weight missing from his neck. His head snaps up to where a cord hangs from Ezra’s hand.

“Give that back,” Kanan growls, not meaning to be so aggressive.

Ezra’s eyes widen. He holds it out immediately, dropping it into Kanan’s open hand. “Sorry,” he mutters, watching curiously as Kanan puts it back on.

Almost by instinct, Kanan tucks the piece of scrap metal back under his shirt and breathes out a sigh of relief. He goes back to his datapad. Then, a moment later, when he notices the entire room is still silent, he looks up. Sabine and Zeb have joined Ezra in staring incredulously.

“What?” Kanan asks, his voice back to normal.

“I’ve never seen you that mad before,” Sabine admits with a half-shrug, though her eyes betray her concern.

Zeb nods, arms crossed. “And I’ve never seen you without that thing on your neck.”

“Yeah, you even sleep with it!” Ezra adds. “What’s up with that?”

“I—” He goes to make an excuse but stops, his hand fidgeting with the necklace.

“You don’t have to…” Sabine starts to say, but he shakes his head.

He sighs. To be honest, he’s surprised Zeb and Sabine haven’t asked before. “My best friend gave it to me.”

Ezra immediately sits down across from him, eyes wide. “Another Jedi?”

Admittedly, the kid is a lot like he used to be: always asking questions, always pushing. It’s going to get him in trouble someday but for now, it just gets him more stories out of Kanan, stories about the Jedi.

“Yeah. Yeah, another Padawan. We grew up in the Temple together.” He smiles, a fickle and fleeting thing. “He was picked by a Master before me, so we were separated...at the end. But I found him again, on the planet he was last assigned. He gave me this.”

Ezra’s face is bright, curious. Sabine, on the other hand, looks prepared for a gut-punch.

“What happened to him?” she asks quietly.

Kanan exhales sharply, ruefully. “Inquisitors. After 5 years of nothing, they came out of nowhere. I never saw what happened to him. For all I know, they still have him.”

“Oh,” Ezra says, his face falling.

“You know, Zeb,” Kanan begins, not wanting to make things any sadder, “his Master was a Lasat.”

He scoffs. “No way.”

“He was, swear it on my life!” he claims, raising a hand. “First time I saw you, I thought Master Tapal came back to haunt me for being a bad influence.”

Zeb snickers. “Bad influence? You?”

“Eh, a nudge here and there. We were not good kids.”

He tells them a few stories before Sabine and Zeb are called away by Hera and Chopper, leaving Ezra and Kanan alone. Ezra makes to follow them but stops, his expression cautiously blank.

“What is it, Ezra?” Kanan asks, already knowing that he’s brimming with curiosity.

“You said he was...your best friend?”

He frowns. “Yeah, ever since we were kids. Why?”

“I dunno. The way you talked about him just reminded me of my parents,” Ezra admits hesitantly. “Sappy. Did you—?”

Kanan sighs, touching his necklace again.

He had always been more reckless than Cal, back then. He threw himself into everything, into every situation. No matter the problem or the person, he was all-in. No matter what. And that included Cal. Once he took that step, he was karked. Before he knew it, he was hanging onto the redhead’s every word.

Cal was...different. Kanan had known that for a long time but the war only brought it out.

Kanan had a stupid crush, that was all. But on Bracca, it was everything and more.

He’d known then, known for a long time. Cal had never seen it but he didn’t have to. Kanan was fine the way things were. It didn’t feel right, bringing things up after...well, after. So Cal never knew.

(Sure, he could see the past of things with a single touch of his hands but he’d always been pretty oblivious.)

“Love him?” Kanan asks, raising an eyebrow.

Ezra nods.

It’s without hesitation that he answers. “I did.”

When they go in search of Master Luminara, Kanan’s kids buy him a precious few minutes to search for a Cal Kestis in the prisoner logs. He’s not there, of course, but Kanan thinks he prefers that to a death certificate.

“Ho-oly shit,” Greez says over comms one day. “You guys better get up here.”

Cal shares a look with Cere, following her out of the workshop with BD on his shoulder. Merrin has already teleported to Greez’s side when they arrive, lightsabers in hand. Greez passes the young man—not so young anymore, Cere has commented teasingly as he desperately shaves away any trace of his age—a pair of electrobinoculars.

Squinting through the scope, he spies a trail of smoke on the horizon attached to a ship.

“Kriffing hells,” Cere says after she gets a look.

In all their 10 years here, no one has ever landed—or crashed, for that matter—on the planet. The few ships that have come into orbit were Imperial and always quickly dealt with before word could get out. This one, however, isn’t exactly your standard Imperial cruiser. And it’s wrecked.

“Looks like a modified VCX-100 light freighter to me,” Greez says. “It’s a nice ship.”

Merrin rolls her eyes. “Are we waiting for them to come to us?”

“Looks like we don’t have to,” Cere declares, still looking through the binocs. “They’re headed this way, six hostiles. Three humans, a Lasat, a Twi’lek, and a droid.”

Greez laughs. “A Lasat? We’re kriffed.”

“Says you,” Merrin snorts.

“I’m with her,” Cal agrees, a cocky smile on his face. “Merrin and I will take the Vault. Cere, Greez, take home. BD will lure the big ones our way.”

“You got it, kid.”

Cere puts a hand on his shoulder before he can follow Merrin—more or less, seeing as she just teleports everywhere. “Be careful.”

The worst part of intruders is that even the hypothetical good ones can’t know Bogano is here. They’ll have to knock them out hard enough for their memories to be spotty and dump them in a nearby system if they’re smart—and they are.

Cal slips on his robe, a gift from Cere, and flips the hood up, making for the Vault.

If these visitors think they can take the Holocron, they have another thing coming.

“Are you sure we can find help here?” Ezra asks for the third time as they approach the massive building in the distance. “It looks...deserted.”

Hera sighs for the third time. “Scanners said there were signs of life here in a higher concentration than the rest of the planet. It’s worth checking out.”

Sabine gestures through the mild fog. “There’s buildings up ahead.”

“Good, let’s head there,” Kanan says, a cautious hand on his lightsaber.

Hopping across platforms is a pain, but they all manage to make their way to what looks like a residential area. A small path digs into the ground, leading deeper inside the planet’s crust. With a look at her second in command, Hera starts toward it. However, she stops when Kanan freezes.

“Do you feel that?” he asks suddenly, squinting as he looks into the distance.

Something is...tugging at him. Something in the Force is insistent that he go...that way. The feeling of incompleteness settles inside his chest.

“No…” Ezra replies uneasily. “What is it?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.” After a moment, he decides. “I think I should go this way. You guys go on ahead.”

Zeb scoffs. “I’ll go with you. We don’t know who lived here. Could be Inquisitors for all we know.”

“They generally prefer places with lava,” Ezra counters.

The group splits, with Hera leading Sabine, Chopper, and Ezra into the abode. She and Sabine have their blasters raised, while Ezra keeps a hand on his lightsaber. Chopper is always ready to give someone a nasty shock.

“Anyone home?” Sabine calls.

There’s no answer.

They come across a small kitchen and dining room, where two chairs are pulled out. Over one hangs a small, ratty brown robe with multiple blaster burns.

Ezra plucks it off the back of the seat. “Woah, cool,” he breathes. “Very Jedi-like, huh?”

“Leave it, Ezra,” Hera chides fondly.

“You’d best,” says another voice.

All three of them jump as a lightsaber hums to life. Double-bladed, the weapon burns bright white throughout the room, illuminating its bearer, a woman with dark skin and hair, and her companion.

“Inquisitor!” Ezra cries, lighting his own.

The lightsaber wielder’s friend fires off a blaster right at Hera, who’s shoved out of the way by Sabine. Chopper shrieks, his head spinning.

“Look out!”

On the surface, Zeb follows Kanan to the edge of the platform. There, they find a zip line, which they intend to brave before a series of chirps stops them.

Zeb yelps and lifts his rifle when a droid appears, only stopped by Kanan’s raised hand.

It’s...a buddy droid.

“Hey, little guy,” Kanan greets cautiously. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

He beeps excitedly and backs away, indicating that they should follow. With a single leap, he attaches himself to the zipline and whirrs as he zooms all the way down.

“Don’t tell me we’re following the droid,” Zeb groans.

Kanan just smiles. “We’re following the droid.”

Using the Force to balance himself, he leaps atop the zipline and begins to tiptoe his way down. Behind him, Zeb sighs but reaches up to grab the line, following right after him. They land on a platform a good distance away, where a small slope is guarded by two statues; the beings depicted are of an unknown species, one lost to time.

“I don’t like this,” Zeb says as soon as he hops onto the grass. “It’s like the start of a bad horror holo.”

Kanan snorts. “If that were true, it would be raining tookas and massiffs.”

The buddy droid whirrs loudly to get their attention and bounces his way up the sloping path, on top of which sits a fluffy native creature. Kanan doesn’t know what they’re called, but this one is adorable. She chirps at them, much like the droid did.

“Oh, you’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Kanan coos, moving to meet the creature and let her sniff his hand.

She makes a happy noise and nudges him.

“Ugh,” Zeb mutters, “more things.”

The droid and the creature lead them to the entrance of the massive, ancient building that had caught Kanan’s eye from the crash site. He steps in front of Zeb, placing his hand on the runes in the rock as the Force sings. This isn’t what’s calling him, but…

“Something is here,” Kanan whispers.

“I hope it’s not something that wants to eat us,” Zeb says long-sufferingly.

The slab of rock retreats into the space above, leaving an open tunnel of sorts.

“Karabast,” the Lasat curses, “I hate Jedi stuff.”

Kanan rolls his eyes. “C’mon.”

It’s a tight fit, but the two squeeze their way through, Kanan leading the way. They exit into a large cavern filled with a few inches of water, just enough to be annoying. Standing in the midst of the cave is a figure in a brown robe. The moment Kanan spots him, he draws his lightsaber and stands in front of Zeb until he can ready his rifle, too.

“You are not meant to be here.”

Kanan frowns. “The Force says otherwise. Who are you?”

“The guardian of this vault. You need to leave,” the figure says.

From underneath their robe, they draw a very familiar weapon. With a snap and a hiss, two blades of yellow light appear. Kanan lights his own lightsaber in response but it’s too little too late.

A green smoke encompasses Zeb, who yelps as he’s flung across the room by a pissed off Nightsister—which makes zero sense because they’re all supposed to be dead.

Kanan makes for his friend, interrupted only by the mysterious guardian rushing at him.

“Where did you get that lightsaber?” the faceless figure hisses.

And, well, Kanan doesn’t know how to answer that question except with another question. “Where did you get yours? ”

Back in the residential platform, Hera leaps in between Ezra and the lightsaber-wielder. “Wait!” she cries.

Both stop, staring at her like she’s crazy.

“That’s a healed kyber crystal, isn’t it?” Hera asks, pointing to her white blade. “You’re not an Inquisitor. You’re a Jedi.”

The woman lowers her lightsaber just slightly. “I was.”

“I’m one, too!” Ezra chirps, popping out from behind Hera. “Er. I’m training to be one!”

Her eyes widen. “A Padawan? Who’s your Master?”

Before he can answer, Hera speaks for him. “Kanan Jarrus. But his name used to be Caleb Dume.”

“Caleb?” she asks, her voice hushed in awe. “Depa Billaba’s Padawan?”

She nods.

Abruptly, the woman turns sharply on her heel, raising her comm unit to her lips and rushing out the door. “Cal, they’re non-hostiles, non-hostiles! Don’t hurt your boyfriend!”

“What!?” Ezra and Sabine cry at the same time, the former’s voice cracking.

Without another word, they follow her and her friend outside.

Merrin has the Lasat out of the Vault long before Cal gets his opponent to the entrance, admittedly. Lightsaber to lightsaber combat is significantly more balanced than Nightsister magick against a bo-rifle, poor guy.

Still, Cal pushes the intruder to the top of the Vault’s slope, the man just on the edge of slipping.

That’s when Cere’s voice crackles through the comms.

“Cal, they’re non-hostiles, non-hostiles! Don’t hurt your boyfriend!”

Hand grasping the intruder’s shirt, holding him above the edge, Cal freezes. He meets brown eyes and suddenly can’t breathe, gaze drifting to the cord around the taller man’s neck. His gloveless fingers just barely skim the material, Force signatures exploding in front of his eyes.

And suddenly, he can see it. He can see himself, painstakingly painting that symbol onto the metal and bartering for a cord. He sees an older Caleb sobbing in the quiet of an unfamiliar room, clutching that necklaces like a lifeline.

“Did you—?”

“Love him? I did.”

A shaky breath passes his lips.

“Caleb?” he asks, voice breaking on the name that’s so unfamiliar on his tongue.

The grip on his wrist loosens.

Kanan hears the woman’s voice, clear as day, but he almost doesn’t believe it at first. He almost doesn’t believe when he hears that whispered question. Caleb. It’s the name of a stranger and yet—yet when that robe’s hood slips off to reveal red hair and bright green eyes, he feels like he’s never known any other name.

“Cal?”

The Force wasn’t calling him to the Vault. It was calling him to its guardian.

Silence falls, the rest of the world fading away. All they’ve been through, all they’ve seen, and it all stops in this moment. It all adds up to this.

Cal lets go of his shirt, letting him balance precariously at the top of the muddy slope down from the Vault. Neither of them speaks—neither of them knows what to feel, except bright, unparalleled joy.

Cal doesn’t let himself flinch when Caleb reaches, his fingers just barely skimming his cheek.

He doesn’t get much further. Green smoke encompasses his body and before Cal knows it, his best friend is being flung from the Vault entrance to the platform beyond, screaming as he goes. The platform beyond, where the Oggdo used to reside, is covered in flowers. It was there that Cal planted his little sapling in a boot and there that the plant spread, covering almost every inch of land with budding blue and yellow flowers.

Cal whirls around to see Merrin, her eyes glowing green.

“Merrin, no!” he protests, eyes wide with desperation. “That’s Caleb!”

Merrin’s glowing fades as she glances at the nearby Lasat and her friend’s horrified face. “My mistake,” she says in that tone that says she knows exactly who he is.

(They were taking too long to speak, in her opinion.)

Cal huffs at her before getting a running start toward the entrance, using the Force to balance himself as he slides down that muddied slope, sailing right toward Caleb. Near the end, he leaps into the air, propelling himself a mere few feet from his collapsed companion.

“Caleb!” he cries, stumbling the last few steps and falling to his knees, where Caleb is face-down in the damp grass, his hair-tie mysteriously missing.

Caleb is—well, he’s okay. He’s just...wheezing with laughter.

He pushes himself up on his elbows and flips over just as Cal makes it to him, his chest heaving with the effort. And still, he laughs, a half-mad sound.

“Are you o—?” Cal is cut off by his own yelp when Caleb flings himself up from the ground and pulls Cal with him.

He embraces the redhead, dragging them both to their feet so he can swing Cal around. Cal shrieks and hitches his legs up on his hips, as difficult as that is with the man’s height—the bastard, he grew. He reaches desperately for Caleb’s shoulders to hold onto when they spin, completely unaware of Cere and the rest of Caleb’s group appearing on the platform.

Finally, Caleb stops, looking up at Cal with shining eyes and a smile that could kill a man. Cal leans forward, letting his forehead fall against his and breathing out a sigh of relief.

“I thought the Inquisitors had you,” Caleb whispers, a thousand more words in the back of his mind, too many to count.

Cal’s eyes well with tears. “I thought you were dead.”

Caleb has always been more reckless than Cal but the latter was the one to hear his words echo through that necklace, an admission years too late. It’s because of that little echo that Cal buries a hand in the hair that falls to his shoulders and pushes his head upward, meeting him in a searing kiss.

Out of shock, Caleb both squeaks—adorable, Cal thinks—and clutches the back of Cal’s shirt for a moment before dropping him. Luckily, his instinct has him landing on his feet.

The drop pulls him away and, looking up, he sees Caleb looking shell-shocked.

He just grins, grabs the taller man’s shirt, and pulls him in for another kiss, this one saying much more than the first. Caleb plants his feet and buries a hand in Cal’s hair for good measure.

They both ignore Greez cackling in the distance and Sabine’s whispered: “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck —”

Because in that moment, all is right with the galaxy. Cal’s flowers are fully grown and blossoming beneath their feet, Caleb’s robe is waiting for him in the other room, and they have each other again.

And that’s all they’ve ever really wanted, isn’t it?

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

#kanan jarrus x cal kestis #kanan jarrus #cal kestis #kanan jarrus/cal kestis #cal kestis x kanan jarrus #cal kestis/kanan jarrus #sw #star wars #sw fanfic #star wars fanfic #jedi fallen order #jfo #star wars rebels #sw: rebels #river #rivika #generallynerdy

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retro-rezz-the-est · 5 years

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The Right Alpha pt. 2 (Drew/Reader/Roman A/B/O)

Summary: A/B/O action with Drew and Ro accompanied by real time plot lmao. No smut this time, but plenty of angst and fluff.

(A/N: I wanted to get this out for my birthday and for the 500 followers milestone last week but since I’m a lazy piece of shit who’s brain doesn’t work properly, I forgot lol. So here it is! Thanks once again for 500+ and let’s hope that I haven’t lost my marbles due to VKM’s crap by the next milestone. God bless @writinglionqueen and @writing-reigns for being my betas and my support system throughout this. Love y’all both! ^3^)

Warnings: a lot of harassment/sexual harassment, brief flashbacks of the douchebag ex from the first part and Roman and Drew bc they should come with their own warning labels lmao

Word Count: 6728

Read part one here

(Y/n): your name

~~~~~

“You sure you don’t need anything tonight?” Roman asked.

“Trust me, Ro, I’ll be fine,” you said, holding your phone to your ear as you walked towards the backstage door. Even though Ro was still scheduled to be at tonight’s show, he still had yet to show up to the arena. Duffel in hand, you shouldered the door open and were met with the bustling sounds of the production team and the stagehands prepping for that night’s SmackDown Live taping.

You heard him chuckle in your ear. “If you say so, baby girl. Love you.”

“Love you too, Big Dog.”

Your heart felt light as you ended the call, sighing to yourself and holding the phone to your chest. You’ve been floating on air since Roman and Drew confronted you in that hallway after RAW a few months ago and with the implementation of the new, albeit incredibly stupid, “wild card rule”, you were able to spend more time with your Alphas. For the first time since jumping ship to the blue brand thanks to the new rule, you felt…

...happy.

You were actually eager to come into work that day, mentally preparing for your tag match with Bayley against Alexa and Nikki Cross. Sporting one of the merch tees you stole from Ro and a pair of jean shorts, you tried to maneuver your way around everyone and make it to the women’s locker room in one piece. You tugged on it and bought the collar to your face, inhaling and smiling as the scent of your alpha washed over you.

You really have it bad, don’t you? you asked yourself, your thoughts taking over.

Yep, and I don’t mind one bit.

You didn’t notice the figure in front of you until you crashed into them nose-first, bashing your head against the back of theirs.

“Shit,” you said, pocketing your cell as you tried to speak with a mouth full of hair. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention!”

“It’s ok, girl. I shouldn’t have been standing around like an idiot,” the voice replied, their body turning to face you.

The now-revealed Smackdown Women’s Champ ran a hand through her long hair and smiled at you, taking her other hand off of her suitcase’s handle briefly to give you one of her iconic hugs. When you first transferred from the Monday show, the Beta was the first person to show you any sort of kindness. So, the two of you became fast friends, looking out for each other both in and out of the ring. “So, how’s my fave tag team partner doing?”

“I’m doing well, actually,” you replied as you started off on you way again, her trailing closely behind you. “SmackDown’s a lot more chill than Raw is, to be honest.”

She let out another short laugh. “You’re not wrong here, (Y/n), but the wild card rule keeps shaking everything up around here.”

“Ugh, tell me about it. If I keep having to see the same people getting pushed when there’s quality talent just sitting back here, I’m gonna pull my hair out.”

“I know, right? I’d love to face some of the other girls here, like Kairi or Ember,” she added, unzipping her dark grey hoodie.

You raised your brow at her suggestions and noted, “I would actually pay to see those matches happen.”

“Well, at least it hasn’t been all that bad lately. You still get to see your mates every day thanks to the rule,” she sighed in content and looked at you. “I’m literally so jealous of you. Two mates! How do you guys even function?”

You started to ramble on about your relationship with the two Superstars as the two of you continued to walk down to the locker rooms, but you soon noticed Bayley glancing at you funny.

“What?” you asked her, brushing yourself off. “Is there something on me? Is there something on my face?”

“Nah, there isn’t. I was just hoping that you were gonna get into the more… juicy details,” she cheekily wondered, a sly grin plastered on her face.

“B-Bayley! I’m not gonna gossip about my sex life here! There are three topics you don’t talk about at work: politics, religion, and sex!”

“Aww, come on, live a little!” the beta whined. “Just this one little thing? For me?”

She already knew the answer the moment she looked back at your face, pouting in defeat. She made a move for her pocket and paused, feeling around in it when her eyes went wide.

“What’s wrong, Bayley?”

Groaning, she answered, “My hair ties. I think I left them with that stagehand I bumped into when I got here about an hour ago. Can you wait for me here and watch my bag while I try to find them? I promise I won’t be gone for long.”

“Of course,” you responded as she handed her small suitcase over to you. She shouted a “thank you” in your direction as she ran off and turned a corner.

You dropped your duffel on top of her suitcase and pulled your phone back out and leaned up against the wall behind you, scrolling through your old texts as you drowned out the hustle and bustle around you. You opened your group chat with Drew and Ro, giggling at how they both complained about working with Shane and his behavior.

Reading through the messages, you didn’t notice the shadow that had just loomed over your body. A hand slapped the wall next to your head, but you didn’t want to look up. You didn’t want to look up because you already knew who it was.

Speak of the fucking devil.

“Hello, (Y/n).”

You could already hear the sickly sweet adoration dripping from his voice, but you still didn’t look at him when you responded. “What the hell do you want, Shane?”

“Woah there, Omega. Is that any way to speak to your boss? I feel offended,” he said, his voice still filled with endless loads of fakeness. You could smell the cockiness rolling off him in waves, so much so that you had to hold your breath whenever he was around. The hand on the wall was slowly moving closer to your head and you could hear it, and you hoped to whoever’s above that someone would do something about it.

But no one ever did.

You could feel your hands starting to tremble as he leaned closer to your face. “I was just gonna ask where your two big, bad Alphas were, sweetheart. There’s no harm in that.”

The weight of his leer felt like a brick pressing against your forehead and you kept getting whiffs of want her and mine that you sure as hell didn’t need today. The Alpha above you moved a piece of hair away from your face and chuckled at your hesitance, already familiar with it.

“Y-You should already know where Drew is, you prick. And Ro’s here as well. He’s just not… here… right now.”

Your wolf was going absolutely batshit at the sight of him, and the thought of him touching you made it even more ravenous.

Hit him! Tear into his smug face! Kick him in the balls! Tell him off! Do something already!

You could feel your teeth start to grow sharper as he chuckled again, his free hand descending to your waist while the other made its way to the back of your head. You could feel his gaze lingering in your cleavage, and you felt more exposed than before.

Why can’t he just leave me alone, for fuck’s sake?

“Oh, he’s not here right now? What a shame. Truly,” he said teasingly. Shane’s hands gripped you tighter as he pulled you closer to him, forcing you to look up at him and drop your phone to the floor with a clatter. His eyes were malicious, but they held in them a caring look so fake and plastic that it made you sick.

Your entire body shuddered as you looked into his empty eyes. “Yeah, he’s not here now. So, w-what do you want from me, S-Shane?”

It was still shocking how no one passing by saw him do this to you. It still shocked you how no one interfered with him tormenting you like this.

“You know what I want, (Y/n). Just say yes and I’ll go.”

Resisting the urge to scoff, you uttered, “The fucking answer’s still no and you know why.”

“Aww, come on, live a little!” he whined, mocking Bayley’s earlier comment and making you cringe. “I could show you a really fun time.”

He managed to pull you even closer to his chest and he leaned down to your ear. “Just picture it: a night out celebrating with me and Drew after beating your pathetic, waste of space mate to a pulp once again. And as the night grows even later, we could get more… intimate, if you will.”

Don’t say anything, you told your wolf despite the immediate pushback from it. Shane’s breath was near potent and you actually felt the need to eject a wave of vomit onto his Jordans. Keep quiet and don’t make this any worse for me.

“Plus, seeing as those two idiots haven’t even claimed you yet, I can show that Scottish dud how it’s really done.”

Gripping your hair, he yanked your head back and bashed your head on the wall, ogling at your unmarked neck while you hissed in pain. With your arms stuck against his body, his head fell and he drew his nose over the skin. “You’d love being mine, Omega. I’d treat you right, unlike those absolute brutes you have for mates.”

Don’t do anything because if you do, then you’ll bite his nose off and we’ll be out of a job.

“What do you say, (Y/n)? You wanna take this for a test drive?”

His wedding band started to dig into your side through your shirt and you yelped, telling him, “You shouldn’t be doing this, Shane. You’re married, right? And you have pups?”

He roared with laughter at your comment, and all you wanted to do in that moment was curl into a ball and hide with your mates at your side. He responded with a large grin, saying, “And what about it, sweetheart? She doesn’t have to know now, does she?”

Moving up to your jaw from your neck, his lips brushed against your cheek as he added, “And besides, you like knowing that, don’t you?”

Before he could move closer to your own mouth, his own phone rang and you thanked every deity in existence that he released you and moved away to take the call.

“We’ll finish this conversation later, (Y/n). I’ll see you around.”

Holding the phone to his ear, he brushed off his chest with his free hand and casually walked away, you looking bewildered as he did so. You felt nauseous and dirty, feeling your now sharpened nails digging into the palms of your hands as you curled them into fists.

You hated this.

You’ve hated it since he started this little “game” of his a month ago, and you sure as hell hate it now. You hated how easily he could corner you and make you feel as vulnerable and weak as a small child. And you couldn’t even do anything about it because he was your fucking boss!

Your wolf howled in anger, letting out kill and must tell mates with every other breath. Everything around you continued as normal, but you knew that it was far from it. Your eyes burned with the feeling of unfallen tears and you could feel your breath grow faint when a familiar voice reared in the background.

“Hey, (Y/n)! I’m back! Sorry I took so long, the stagehand wasn’t in the spot where I had found them originally and I had to go searching for them again but that took ages-”

Bayley stopped her mini rant and took a good look at you, your entire attitude seeming to deflate since she had left originally.

“Hey, are you okay?” the Beta asked you. “You look...sick. Like you’ve just seen a ghost or something.”

Blinking the tears away, you forced a laugh out and moved your hands behind your back. “It’s fine. I’m just… just a little nervous about tonight. It’s my first time going against Alexa and I want my first match with her to go well.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be fi- oh my god, (Y/n)!)”

You quickly looked around, eyes wide with shock. “What? What happened? What is it?”

“Your hands!”

“My wha- oh.”

Drops of blood were currently dripping from your fists and onto the floor, making small puddles at your sides. You didn’t feel the bite of your nails digging into your skin, but you chuckled nervously and tried to hide them again. She grabbed your wrists in one hand and reached for her bag with the other.

“We have to get these cleaned and wrapped before out match tonight. Come on!” she told you, hoisting your bag onto her shoulder and dragging you by your wrist to the medical personnel with her free hand.

~~~~~

“Haha, take that, Bliss! You’re never getting your hands on this!” Bayley exclaimed at the blonde as the woman clutched her sides at the champ’s feet, you raising her arm above her head in victory. Moments later, Nikki slid into the ring as soon as you two slipped out of it.

Bayley gave you a hug as she started to make her way up the ramp with her title held high, Bliss and Cross limping back up a few minutes later. You, however, walked in the direction of the announce table where an empty chair and headset were waiting for you. You gave a brief greeting to Graves, Saxton and Philips before situating yourself next to the first man.

The last match of the night was a one-on-one bout between Ro and Shane and as always, Shane cockily walked out to the ring with Drew in tow to the sounds of boos from the crowd and his “best in the world” introduction. Drew grabbed two mics for him and Shane before they both climbed into the ring, looking like they absolutely owned the place. It would’ve made you smile if it weren’t for him being the lackey at the likes of Shane.

Shane raised his to his mouth and was about to talk, but he was interrupted by the blaring sound of Roman’s theme. He came out with a smirk on his face and you could almost hear the thud of his boots as he stalked to the ring.

He threw you a wink when he made it to the ropes closest to you and you smiled, hearing the ref signal for the bell and seeing Shane immediately rush at him from behind. He threw his forearm into the back of Roman’s head and crippled him, making you gasp. Drew applauded at ringside and the two of you locked eyes.

You shuddered under his intense gaze and you quickly looked away just in time to see Shane stomping out Roman, your mate groaning as his heel connected with his chest. You glanced away from the match briefly to discuss other matters with your fellow commentators (minus Graves, of course) before turning back and seeing Shane glaring directly at you, the look in his eyes making feel nauseous as you wrap your arms around your torso.

He winked at you like Roman had, taking his time raking those eyes along your figure and Roman was quick to notice. The Samoan bared his teeth and growled as he began to let out his wolf and rose from the ring floor, charging at Shane and spearing his head into the ringpost he was closest to. As the grey-haired Alpha started to regain his senses again, he threw his chest back and howled with the rest of the Universe and speared Shane again. The match was over before you could even blink, and Roman quickly pinned the other Alpha to pick up the win.

Huh, Shane’s off his game tonight. Good, you thought as you heard the three-count and you stood to clap for your mate. Taking off your headset and thanking the three men at commentary, you made your way into the ring and took Roman’s arm to raise it.

You two quickly moved out of it and began walking up the ramp side by side, his arm thrown around your shoulders and your own wrapped around his waist. Glancing behind you, you saw the dirty look Shane threw you and you smiled internally at that, claiming it as a small victory over him.

He pulled you aside near some supply crates as you made it backstage, bringing you into his chest while you inhaled his familiar scent. It had momentarily calmed your nerves down, being there with him, but they were briskly replaced by a new feeling of dread when he moved your hands from around him and looked down at your bandaged hands.

“How’d this happen, Omega?” Roman asked, worry making his brows furrow. “Did you hurt yourself?”

He started to rub at where the skin of your palms would be as you answered him. “Yeah, I did. I was nervous my match and I didn’t notice my nails digging into my hands. Bayley bandaged me up well, so I should be fine.”

You and your own wolf felt bad for lying to him about them, but you didn’t need him going after Shane with a death wish in tow and getting fired because of it.

This is better, you assumed, seeing his eyes grow soft. It’s better for all of us.

“I’m just glad that you were able to pin Shane tonight,” You raised your hands to cup his face and he nuzzled himself into them, making you chuckle. “Lord knows he needs to be put in his place.”

Roman laughed as you said the last bit under your breath, squeezing your waist before lifting his hands to move yours from his face. “Speaking of Shane,” he questioned, looking down at you with concern in his warm brown eyes, “what was that wink all about during the match? Is there something you’re not telling me, baby girl?”

“What? No,” you scoffed, answering him quickly. “Shane’s just being his usual dickish self in order to get under your skin and make you mad. Nothing more.”

The quickness of your response made the Alpha quirk his brow for a second when he smelled hurt and shame wafting off of you but he brushed it off, agreeing with you. You rose onto your toes and planted a kiss to his cheek, saying, “Now, you wait for Drew here while I go and get our things ready, ok?”

You let go of him and began walking away, hearing him reply with a “yes ma’am” and pivoting on your heel to see him throw up a faux salute in your direction. His eyes lingered on you even as your figure grew smaller until you finally turned a corner.

Your heart wanted to fall out of your chest and flop around on the floor when he asked you about your hands, and even more so when he asked about Shane’s shitty excuse of a wink. But, you persisted, even though your wolf continued to berate you about the situation.

Lying will not make this better. Makes it worse for you and mates. You’ll see.

~~~~~

Since your tag match with Bayley against Bliss and Cross went over so well on SmackDown, you were told that you had to give a dual promo with the blonde Omega the next week on the red brand.

You arrived to the arena dressed in a casual black tank with some skinny jeans, your sweater tied around your waist. Since the skin on your hands was starting to heal and you didn’t want to encounter Shane again, you decided to take the longer route to the locker room instead, using as many of the hallways as you could. He was always lingering somewhere on both shows and was always eager to find you, and you weren’t taking any chances.

A few minutes had passed since you’d seen anyone and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Turning down another empty hall, you felt a presence trailing behind you as you walked, but you paid it no mind. Then, a rough hand grasped your shoulder and spun you around.

“Thought you could run away from me, little Omega?”

How in the absolute hell?!

Your eyes went wide when he spun you around and pinned your arms to your sides. Shane moved in closer and you had the incredible urge to just raise your head and scratch his face up with your teeth.

“H-How did you find me?”

His laughter bounced off the concrete walls, making your bones vibrate. “I told you last week that we’d finish our conversation later. And to me, ‘later’ means ‘right fucking now’.”

He laughed again at your lack of words, your mouth slightly agape and hyperventilating. You were smart in that you didn’t ball your hands up as to not puncture the skin of your palms again, but you were damn near close to.

You could feel his hands sliding up your bare arms and situate themselves at the base of your neck, his thumbs drawing figures along your collarbone. All you could see was his smug grin, complete with eyes that were filled with absolutely zero remorse for what he was doing.

“Why do you do this to m-me, Shane? What did I do to you?”

This caught his attention. “You haven’t done anything yet, but you will.”

Huh?

“Like I said numerous times before, you’ll need a real Alpha like myself to show you the ropes. You’ll need me to claim you and show you how to be a good-”

He talked to you as if you were an incompetent child, and his hold on you grew tighter with every word. You began to struggle and try to get yourself out and away from him, but to no avail.

This hurts.

“- obedient -”

Pain.

“- little Omega for me, (Y/n).”

Struggling became useless as your breathing became quicker and quicker with each passing second and you shut your eyes tight, feeling them shift along with your teeth. His words were reminiscent of those from your ex-lover, and you couldn’t help but see blood red all over at the sound of them.

All you could think of was how dirty your ex made you feel, putting you down constantly with his hurtful, disgusting actions and words, and he made you feel the exact same way that he had and you wanted him to. You had to physically hold yourself back from pouncing on him and dragging his face into the ground.

Get him now!

“Shane? Shane, where th’ fuck are ya? We’re on in thirty bloody minutes!”

Oh, thank the gods above.

Shane groaned and released you abruptly, causing you to stagger back. “Fucking hell, Drew.”

The large Scottish Alpha’s feet reverberated off the walls around you and he turned the corner closest to you two, looking around. He spotted you both and stomped over, clearly pissed off with Shane.

“What th’ hell, man?! Ya say you were gonna meet me here, an’ then you just rush out like a bat outta hell!”

Dressed in a simple white tee and jeans with a leather jacket on top, he curled his hands and growled, letting off more feral scents combined with his usual one. Through his frustration, he saw the glow of your shifting eyes and how much you were trembling, accompanied by the growing of your nails at your sides.

Eyes flickering between the two of you, he looked at the other Alpha and grimaced. “And what were ya doin’ all alone here with my mate, Shane? I thought I told ya she’s taken.”

The other man chuckled nervously as you cupped your neck, feeling the imprints from his fingers already beginning to bloom into small bruises.

“We weren’t doing anything, McIntyre. I just caught up with her and was just politely asking her a question about her new feud with Alexa. Isn’t that tight, (Y/n)?”

You nearly barfed at his piss poor attempt at being nice, but you decided to play along. “Yeah,” you murmured, willing your eyes to fade to their normal hue and your nails and teeth to shrink down. “We’re all good here.”

You feigned another laugh and quickly put your sweater on, zipping it up fully to keep your skin hidden. Drew looked as if he didn’t buy any of it but soon turned around, grabbing Shane by the collar and dragging him away.

“Woah, hey now, watch the shirt! This thing is worth more than your monthly salary!”

“Cut th’ shit,” the Scot grumbled, stomping away with him in tow. “We’re already running behind schedule and I don’t need t’ hear your daddy runnin’ his mouth at me again.”

And with that, the duo disappeared behind another wall, their voices fading into nothing while you stumbled back into the wall behind you, clutching your chest and feeling your heart race.

“Great,” you muttered, briskly walking in the opposite direction of them. “Hope the Glam Squad has enough concealer to cover these up.”

Your promo was one of the first segments of the night and you were finished with it relatively quickly, getting a fairly good reaction from the crowd when the other woman had come out to do her bit. You were glad everything went smoothly once you finished and when you finally got backstage, you started to make the journey back to get the remainder of your things and head back to the hotel.

You made it to the women’s locker room and shut the door, grabbing your sweater and bending down to stuff it into the bag you had Natalya bring for you. You got out your phone to text your mates and ask them when they were going to be finished when the door behind you creaked open, twin footfalls thudding on the floor. Their scent slowly filled the room surrounded you before you saw them and you relaxed your shoulders.

“Hey, are you guys finished for the night? I was gonna text you to see when you-”

You pivoted on your heel to face the two large Alphas with a grin on your face, Roman dressed in a long sleeved black tee and shorts and Drew in the outfit you saw him in earlier. They stared back at you intensely, Roman crossing his arms and Drew moving to go lock the door.

You shuddered under their intense glares, asking, “Is everything okay?”

Roman was the first one to speak, uncrossing his arms and walking over to you. He moved your bag and took your hand, sitting you down on the bench behind you as the Scot watched from the door.

“Me and Drew were talking earlier, and we feel like you’re hiding something from us, ‘mega.”

Oh, help me now.

“Me? Hiding something from you two?” you pondered, scoffing and chuckling anxiously. “Everything’s totally fine. Trust me.”

“And there it is again,” he shot back, “you’re doing that thing again. You’ve been acting skittish and dodging our questions for almost a month now. Why won’t you tell us what’s wrong?”

He was confused, and you could clearly see the hurt in his eyes when you looked into them. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them yet.

Do it.

“I mean, was it something that we said? Something we did?”

“N-No, of course not, Ro! You know you’d never do anything to hurt me! You both wouldn’t!”

You sighed and took your hands out of his, placing them on your head as your eyes fell to your lap. It took everything in you not to burst out into a fiery mix or rage and tears. “Look, I already told you guys before. It’s noth-”

A loud bang brought you back from your stupor and you yelped, jumping out of your skin and directing your attention to the door. Drew stood there with the side of his fist against the door, and there was a crack emulating from the impact.

“Enough of this, (Y/n). We’re your Alphas, your mates. You’re supposed t’ tell us when something’s up. Why’re ya hidin’ from us?” he whispered, his voice cracking near the end.

Drew didn’t really express his more sentimental emotions outright but when he did, it absolutely crushed you. You could see your mates hurting - feel them hurting - and they were slowly chipping away at your walls. The silence after he spoke was deafening and you knew that if a pin fell then, you would hear it.

Every second felt like a minute and every minute felt like an eternity until you opened your mouth again.

“I don’t want you both to think that I’m a bad Omega for not saying something sooner.”

Your soft voice prompted Drew to move away from the door and kneel down to your height, placing both of his hands on your thigh. “Leannan (sweetheart), nothing ya say right now will make us ever think that. You’re our mate, and ya should be able to tell us anything plaguin’ ya.”

“We love you, (Y/n), and we do care,” Roman added, moving his hand to cup your cheek. “You don’t have to tell us everything if it’s too much, but at least give us something.”

Tick.

The fuse was lit.

Boom.

With that permission, you didn’t notice how quickly your body shifted into attack mode and you hastily stood, knocking your bag over.

“It’s fucking Shane’s fucking fault!” you barked, baring your teeth and nails to no one. “He keeps on stalking me and harassing me and bothering me and saying how much fucking better he’d be as my mate!”

You moved from the bench and began to pace the room, huffing and blocking out all outside noises as you continued to rant. “That little rich shitbag thinks he can do all of this over and over again with no consequence, and he thinks that he can just grab me and toss me around like I’m some useless thing! It makes me feel sick and dirty and… argh!”

The two Alphas jumped when you kicked a nearby locker, putting a dent in the shape of your foot in it. “I want to claw his eyes and scratch his smug stupid face! I hate it when he says that he’s gonna ‘show me the ropes’ and fucking claim me as his own when he’s got a whole wife and pups!”

You paused to catch your breath but you couldn’t stop the tears that were burning your eyes from falling. Your back hit the wall and you slid to the floor, cradling your face in your hands.

“I just… what did I do to deserve any of this?”

Your mates rushed to your sides as you cried, Drew holding you to his chest as you let the tears flow. You could feel Drew's heart beat faster and faster and you could feel Roman's heavy breathing on your neck.

The Samoan stood up and looked at your wrecked form, growling. You could see his eyes dilated and flash gold for a second before he turned away from you and unlocked the door, almost ripping it from its hinges as he stormed out with murder on his mind.

“Shane! Where the fuck are you, you bastard?! I’m gonna tear you apart!”

Oh fuck, you though, untangling yourself from Drew and getting up as quickly as you could to follow him. You two scrambled outside to find the wild Alpha and spotted him barreling through anyone who dared to get in his way as he continued to shout.

“Everyone get the hell out of my way! Where’s Shane?! I’m gonna fucking kill him!”

You ran after him, shoving past poor stagehands and other Superstars to get to your angered mate. Reaching him, you took his wrist and spun him around, seeing his eyes blown out to a full gold. His chest heaved with every harsh breath, and you could see veins popping out of his neck from how hard he was clenching his teeth.

“You see? This is why I didn’t tell you in the first place! I didn’t want you to go on a murder-happy fucking rampage and lose your damn job!”

“She’s got a point,” Drew added, firmly grasping Ro’s other wrist. “You need to think!”

He was having none of it. “He hurt my mate, our mate, and that waste of space needs to pay! I’ll find him and rip out his eyes myself.”

It scared you how aggressive he was when he meant it, but you stood your ground. “You’re not the only one who wants to kill that bag of human scum, Roman, but we do have to be smart about this.”

“We can deal with him next week,” you sighed. “Just… just calm down, please.”

No! Now! Get him now!

Drew nodded, agreeing with you and helping you to pull the other man back in the opposite go get the rest of your things even though he continued to try and escape. You smiled to yourself, though, at the thought of the things you were going to do to Vince’s son in the near future.

~~~~~

For the next week, your two mates didn’t leave your side for a second, with Roman escorting you out to the ring for your match on SmackDown the next night and Drew acting as your personal bodyguard when the cameras weren’t rolling. They wouldn’t let anyone get near you, growling and baring their teeth at anyone who wasn’t a personal friend who dared to get in your personal space.

Monday came far too soon and the three of you arrived to the arena, game faces on as you waltzed in like your own little pack. They each had an arm around your waist with a hand in each of your back pockets, leering at everyone while you grinned.

Roman and Drew were already planned to have another in-ring bout prior to Extreme Rules, but they wanted to have you out for the main event as support. You already knew that Shane was going to be there, going ringside to cheer the Scotsman on and berate his opponent.

You all had your roles, you all had your positions. Now, it was just time to put it all into play.

As their match was the one to close out the night, you had to deal with hearing Shane’s long introduction when him and Drew went through the curtain. You watched them travel to the ring and you saw the Scottish Alpha’s hand twitch, eager to get his large hands on the man next to him.

Shane continued to rant before you and Roman cut him off, trekking down to the ring to meet him. He swiftly ducked under the ropes as Ro approached him but he smiled at you when he saw you, instantly making you sick to your stomach.

Gripping his elbow, you whispered, “You know what to do, right?”

“Of course I do, baby girl,” he replied, brushing you off. “I got this.”

He smirked at you, climbing up the steps and under the ropes. The bell rang and the match began with the two men locking into each other in the middle of the squared circle, Drew quickly getting Roman into a headlock and bringing him down to one knee.

He managed to shove the larger man off of him and into the ropes to throw his forearm into his clavicle and drop him down with a thud. Roman roared as a “Let’s go, Roman!” chant erupted from the crowds. You applauded him and Shane sneered, creeping closer to the ropes like a rat to freshly tossed food.

The match went on for several minutes, each filled with blows delivered and taken by both Superstars. Drew took a harsh Driveby from Ro on the edge of the ring and you were almost certain that he had been knocked out, had it been for the groan he made when he reached up to rub at his head.

It quickly turned to the Samoan being on the receiving end of most of the blows when Drew landed a nasty Glasgow Kiss to his skull, dropping him like a fly. He dragged the fallen wrestler to the middle of the ring, standing above him menacingly.

“Pin him! What are you doing, man? Just pin him already and get it over with!”

Shane’s loud voice could be heard above all else and you prayed that Roman would get up and walk it off like it was nothing. Instead, Drew chuckled and ducked out of the ring, walking around it to come face to face with the McMahon. As the older Alpha continued to go on and on, your mate threw the fastest right hook you’ve ever seen, making Shane plummet to the floor like a stone in water.

You looked around at the shocked faces of the commentators as well as various members of the WWE Universe, but you didn’t expect the roaring cheer that one move got.

He kneeled down to his level and proceeded to pumble the man further, driving fist after fist and hit after hit into him. You were full-on belly laughing at that point, noting how comical it was to see the once high and mighty Shane McMahon who had cornered you numerous times be put in a similar, vulnerable position.

It was beautiful.

Hearing the newfound commotion, Roman arose from his spot on the ring floor akin to the Undertaker and the crowd went wild once more. He got up and ran to the ropes behind him, bouncing back from them and diving over the set in front of him, Drew moving so he wouldn’t get hit.

Shane’s head struck the ramp below and began bleeding as his face and body grew battered and bruised. The two men towered above him and rained down blows and kicks galore, and you wished you had a phone with you to record the magic happening. They then hooked an arm under one of his and hoisted him up from the ground, looking at you gleefully.

It was your time to shine, your chance to get your licks in.

“Go on, leannan!” Drew shouted, a wide, wicked smile plastered on his face. “Show this ugly bastard what’s for!”

Roman laughed alongside him. “Show ‘im your spitfire, Omega! Make him pay for what he did to you!”

Make him pay.

You roared, baring your sharpened teeth and charged at the silver-haired man, landing a solid dropkick to the middle of his chest. He fell with an “oof” and laid there like a limp ragdoll, but you weren’t going to let that deter you from having your own fun.

“If you ever-”

Punch.

“-ever-”

Another punch.

“-ever-”

One more for good measure.

“-think about touching me or talking useless crap about my mates again, I will fucking. End. You!”

With every word let out, you let out led to another hit to his body, your feet flying everywhere they could reach. After a solid five minutes of you three tossing him around and beating him to a pulp, you landed a fine tuned pointed-toe kick to his crotch. He crumbled to the ground, clutching his body as you and your mates looked on victoriously.

You could barely hear yourself think over the commotion going on around you, but you didn’t care. You got your payback. You all did and if he tries some shit like that again, you’ll be bound to pay him back again by a ten-fold.

You raced up the ramp to meet your lovers at the head, raising their arms to signal your win against Shane’s bullshit. You felt a weight being lifted off of your chest and you felt relieved for the first time in over a month.

Karma really is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?

~~~~~

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spiderman-homecomeme · 5 years

Note

Omg I just thought of something really cute for the anon that wanted parents!petermj : their son is starting kindergarten and peter dressed up as spiderman and spy on him to make sure he’s okay and mj gets Mad at him for not letting their son breathe

HI! once again!! an old prompt that has taken me a LONG ASS TIME to get out there, but I was on a roll and was I N S P I R E D !! I hope you enjoy this!!

Here’s about 1.7k of cute parent stuff bc I can’t NOT go overboard on writing

It was a day Peter had been dreading for some time now. A day he’d hoped would take just a little bit longer to come, that he’d have more time to prepare.

The first day of school.

Not his, of course.

It was Benjamin’s.

His very first day of kindergarten, to be exact. The beginning of his educational career; a long, twelve year journey; one that would hopefully guide him smoothly into the troubled world of adulthood. Monday through Friday, little Ben would be at school from about 8:40 AM to 3:00 PM, learning to read and write—though, he’d gotten a head start thanks to daycare and living with two walking brains—and hopefully take away some basic social skills from interacting with children his age. Sure, he’d had some of that experience, but those other kids were related to him. This was different.

It wasn’t like it was the first time Ben would be out of the apartment for long periods of time. MJ and Peter both had full-time jobs, so a high quality daycare was more than necessary.

But school… public school was another ball game altogether. And Peter couldn’t help the pit of dread that was swirling and sloshing in his stomach.

What if the other kids were mean to Ben? What if he had an allergic reaction to something?

(He didn’t have any allergies, doctor confirmed, but… you never know, anything was possible in kindergarten).

What if he tripped and fell on the playground during recess and broke his leg? What if all of Peter’s—Spider-Man’s enemies found out which school his kid went to and—

He didn’t want to finish that thought.

“You’re thinking way too much into this, Mother Hen,” MJ had said, grabbing her books and keys. “Don’t worry. Ben will be fine.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry, Peter, okay?” She turned, finally making steady eye contact, her gaze unwavering.

He looked down, pursing his lips. “I—… I’ll try….”

If only there was a way that Peter could check up on—

Wait.

Michelle’s eyes widened slightly. “No. No no no no no I know that look. That’s your ‘bad idea’ look. Don’t you dare follow him.”

God, she could read him so well.

He sputtered. “What are you talking about? I’m not gonna follow him?? Why would I— I cannot believe you would think that… that I would do anything like that?”

Quirking a brow at him, she sighs before rolling her eyes, shaking her head as a small half-smile pulled at her lips. “You better not.”

Okay, maybe he should have been more conscious about the non-use of contractions in that sentence.

Peter Parker was many things, but a good liar wasn’t one of them.

But he didn’t technically lie when he told her he wouldn’t follow him.

Because… it wasn’t technically following. Ben had to get to school somehow, and Peter just happened to be the parent that was dropping him off. He returned home promptly after!

Putting on the suit when he gets back is just part of his perfectly normal morning/mid-afternoon routine.

And Ben’s school just happens to be on one of the routes Peter likes to take.

It was all just pure coincidence.

Spider-Man was currently perched atop the school building, super suit and all, watching quietly as his five-year-old son played on the monkey bars with a few other kids.

Good; so he was making friends!

Nothing exciting was happening, not that Peter expected it. He was only there just in case something by chance, were to… well… happen.

It was all perfectly normal.

After all, what parent would pass up the chance to check on their kids if they could do what Peter could?

All was quiet on the playground front.

When the final recess bell sounded, Peter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He was almost in the clear, just about to leave when he saw the tiny little hand waving up at him from the swingset, Ben’s little voice shouting, “Hi Spider-Man!”

Obviously, Peter waved back, he wasn’t a monster, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was not necessarily all that great that he was spotted.

See, Ben didn’t really understand that his dad was the Spider-Man. In his mind, they were two separate entities.

No, he hadn’t realized yet that his father was also numbers three and four on his list of favorite people in the entire world; Spider-Man and Santa Claus.

(Of course, Mom—MJ, is number one; Dad—Peter, is number two. No contest.)

Now, there is a plan to eventually tell their son. After all, his dad being a crime fighting vigilante isn’t something a parent can just… stop doing when the kid turns eight or so, letting the belief just fizzle out. It’s something that will need to be addressed soon; just, maybe not when Ben is at the age where he’s telling everyone he meets all of their family secrets.

(Okay, maybe telling the kids at daycare that his granddad has diabetes wasn’t a Spider-Man level secret, but they couldn’t take any chances.)

Peter knows that this—this little spying stunt he’s pulled—could come up later, judging by how excited Ben got when he saw the familiar red and blue suit just chilling on the roof of his school.

At this point, he’s just hoping and praying that the kids do something more exciting in class that can draw all of the attention.

Luckily for Peter, the rest of the day flies by; he stops a few shoplifters here and there, making sure to grab some pictures for the Daily Bugle while he’s at it. He makes sure to swing by home before he picks Ben up, changing into normal civilian clothes before driving over.

“Daddy!” Ben, of course, rushes to wrap his tiny arms around his father’s knees, squeezing with all of his might.

Peter laughs, bending down the best way he can to hug his son back. “Hey, little dude! How was the first day?”

“Good!” he grins. “I drew a picture!” He pulls back, fumbling with his backpack and pulling out a sheet of paper, nearly every color of crayon marked all over it.

But the blue and red is unmistakable.

“It’s Spider-Man!” The little boy says proudly, holding the picture out for his dad to take.

Peter, though he begins to panic only a little on the inside, smiles back. “Very cool.”

“Yeah! I saw him today!” The way Ben positively beams up at him, giving the literal sun a run for its money, pulls at Peter’s heartstrings. But the feeling dissolves, his eyes widening slightly, as soon as he realizes what will happen Ben shows his picture to MJ.

He helps Ben put the picture back in the little bag, lowering his voice to a comically whisper. “Hey, bud, let’s not show this to Mommy right when we get home, okay? Let’s surprise her!”

Peter figures he can just hide the picture for a few days before putting it on the fridge, all to avoid any suspicion. No big deal. Piece of cake.

What MJ doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Ben, of course being five and not realizing at all what is going on, nods enthusiastically as he takes his dad’s hand.

And for a while, Peter almost thinks he’s in the clear.

He’s so close.

It’s at the dinner table though, that his own son betrays him.

“I saw Daddy at school today!” Ben says through a mouthful of spaghetti.

MJ’s fork freezes before it reaches her mouth, her eyes moving to her husband in an instant. “Oh, really?” She asks slowly.

Peter stops, eyes widening for a fraction of a second as he feels MJ’s glare burning into him.

“Yeah,” Ben nods thoroughly. “He picked me up!”

And again, the tension leaves Peter’s body as he lets the breath he’d been holding in anticipation.

A gentle smile breaks across MJ’s features as she turns her attention back to the pasta on her plate.

Whew. That was close.

“And I saw Spider-Man at recess, too!”

Shit.

Well, Peter was certainly in for it tonight.

“I wanna say I’m surprised, but honestly,” MJ had thankfully waited until Ben’s bedtime to say anything, Though, while it was good for their son, Peter was filled with every anxiety known to man waiting for this conversation. “Yeah, honestly, I’m not.”

She doesn’t seem that mad, from what he can tell.

He thinks.

Then again, he’s kind of oblivious. Has been for a while, so he could be completely wrong.

“Are you on something?” she asks, finally facing him, a brow raised in question, stare calculating. “What could have possibly made you think that spying on him was a good idea?”

“I mean, it’s not technically spying—”

“Not technically spying?”

Peter falters, suddenly feeling very small. “Well, I mean—I was just… just watching him. From the roof. And—… well… he didn’t… know… I… was there…”

“Yeah, so… spying.”

He gulps. “When you put it that way… yeah…”

“Peter,” MJ groans, running a frustrated hand over her face. “We talked about this. Literally this morning.”

“I know, I know,” He sighs, plopping himself down on the edge of the bed. “I just… got so worried. I don’t know. I know that he’s safe and all… but… It’s just so fast and—”

Maybe it was the way he seemed to shrink after that, the genuine worry and concern in his tone, or the way his eyes seemed to do that whole puppy-dog thing they always did, but… okay, MJ wasn’t made of stone.

She lets out a breath, releasing tension as she sits herself next to him, bumping her shoulder to his. “Hey, I know it’s scary. Believe me, I’m scared, too. He’s growing up… But…”

Peter looks up at her. “But?”

“You have to let the kid breathe. Let him grow. He’s gotta have a couple of non-successes before he can… well, succeed. If that makes sense.”

His lips quirk up into a smile. “Non-successes? You mean failures?”

“Hey, I’m trying to be positive. Shut up.”

He playfully nudges her, sighing again. “No, I’m kidding. I get it. I need to back off. No more helicopter Spider-Dad.”

“Not saying you can’t help him at all… Just…” she starts again, looking him dead on. “Promise me you’ll be more chill about it. And less…” She pauses, eyeing him, carefully choosing her next word. “Creepy? Maybe try that?”

He laughs at that, nodding. “Yeah. Sure. Okay. I’ll give that a shot.”

The corner of her lip quirks upward into a half-smile. “Good,” she leans in, planting a sound kiss on his lips. “Because if I hear about Spider-Man spying on our son again, there will be hell to pay.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

#spideychelle #fic #fluff!#prompt #this was late ahhh #also lol kindergarten is always so different so forgive any inaccuracies #anyway pls enjoy!!#i had fun writing this one

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