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anakinisvaderisanakin · 4 years ago

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When Conviction Fails - Darth Vader POV post ESB Fic

Vader was a man of conviction, as far as he saw it. As was expected of any successful Sith Lord; letting the emotions rule and take full control without ever truly allowing them to conquer you. Using fear to his advantage, using rage to gain power, and pain to enhance said power. It had taken two decades to come to this point. Wavering was expected early on; during the initiation towards the Rule of Two. Vader himself had started out with an unquenchable fury in his soul, and a fresh open wound where heart used to be.

When She died, She had taken his compassion with her. She had grasped at the hand of his spirit, and all that he stood for as The Jedi. As Her life withered away, so did all that was good inside him. Left was only an empty shell of suffering; of agony. What was left, he had deplored. In the remnants of the man that had once been; all that he loathed came to light.

And with the passing years, while the pain never faded completely; it had shifted. From a sharp, searing red hot poker constantly burrowing its way deeper into his side; to a dull, distant ache only there to make its presence known. To make sure it was never forgotten, as a cruel reminder. But no longer at the forefront of his mind.

Eventually, it became enough to numb any other emotion. The remorse over the way in which he had, directly or not, caused Her death was enough to daze and desensitize any other reprehensible act he may commit himself to. The slaughter of innocents, of civilians, of women, of children. All in the name of justice, all in the name of the Empire. It weighed little on his conscience. Why should the blood on his hands matter? If he could kill the person he loved the most, and still go on albeit as an empty shadow of his former self - what did it matter who else joined Her beyond the grave?

Except, he hadn't killed Her.

It had been the first thing Palpatine revealed to him; as his severely burnt and scorched flesh still stung and charred within the fresh confines of its haphazardly crafted life support system. As he was still confounded regarding what was real, and what was a waking nightmare. Trapped within the suit that would become the prison of his own making.

“You killed her,” Palpatine had rasped.

Those were his Master’s words. His only explanation. Insinuating that Vader had for one crucial moment lost control, lost his mind; and subsequently ended the one person he'd fallen so far from grace to save. The one soul he had been so desperate to salvage that he had willingly sacrificed his morals, and his very identity, if only to reach for that tiny sliver of hope Palpatine had dangled in front of his nose.

‘But I didn't kill Her.’

If he had killed Her, there would be no child. His son - their son - would have died with Her, still in the womb. Would have been buried alongside his mother in the Naberrie family tomb on Naboo. Would have never seen the light of day, never grown into the bright, promising young man who had destroyed the first Death Star. Would never have been named, never have been hidden away, never have been living life peacefully unaware of his heritage in the shadows of the Empire for nearly twenty years.

But he was alive.

Luke had changed everything.

The discovery of his existence had been like a slap to the face, like a stupefying wakeup call. Like Vader had found himself dunked beneath the icy cold waters of truth, forced to realize the bleak reality. Forced to realize that the one person he’d been blindly clinging to in this world, was even cruel than he could ever have anticipated.

Palpatine had lied to him.

Perhaps, Vader had indeed inadvertently caused Her demise - but She had lived long enough to birth their son. She had not died on Mustafar, She had not been strangled to death by the invisible hand of his Force choke. She had survived long enough to set their only child to the world. Long enough to name him Luke; granting him the name She had picked out for their child if it were a boy from the very beginning of Her pregnancy.

She had been right.

The Jedi had been convinced that their child would be a daughter, She had been adamant it was a son. Their son. Luke Skywalker. Named by his mother, bearing the stark reminder of who had fathered him.

‘Luke.’

Dark, shaggy blonde hair and deep blue eyes. The same hard, defiant conviction in his eyes as his mother’s hazel ones had carried. He'd inherited The Jedi's facial features; the same angular boyish face, the same dimpled chin; the same complex. But his spirit was that of his mother's. Burning like a furnace flame, fighting for what he believed was right with a conviction only death could steal away from him. Vader had hoped Luke would be more like himself; easier to break, easier to manipulate, easier to steer in the direction he'd have liked. He had wished he himself could mislead, and pull the strings as well as Palpatine had, some twenty years ago when The Jedi had become tangled in the Emperor's web of lies. Trapped like a fly, to be feasted upon by the ravenous spider.

But Luke was different.

Luke was sensitive, emotional, vulnerable and desperately searching for a way to bond with his long lost father. The Jedi would have recognized himself in those qualities; would have appreciated the similarities. Luke had been deluding himself into expecting a heroic fantasy, envisioning his absent father as one of the men who had singlehandedly led the opposition of what would become the Empire. A as beacon of hope. Instead, he had found himself saddled with the knowledge of what had truly become of The Jedi who had sired him.

Vader clenched his gloved hands into tight fists; the visual memory of Luke's hard set, intent expression as he let go of the ledge still etched into his mind. Blue eyes cold as ice; denying their familiar relations despite knowing very well how the Force did not lie. His Force signature bursting with mistrust, and contempt.

But Luke had lived.

For a short moment, as he watched Luke fall; Vader had been unexpectedly reliving the pain of that moment he came to his senses while still strapped to the operation table, as he broke free from his makeshift shackles.

Crippled; less than half the man he'd used to be. More cybernetics and machine, than flesh and blood. Reaching for Force powers he could no longer tap into; taunting him by remaining just out of reach. He was reminded of crumbling to the harsh floor, beneath the load of his own reconstructed body’s weight; of the searing pain as his respirator attempted to match his sobs with its own periodically synchronized breath cycles.

The physical torment, while a menace in its own right; bearing no likeness to the mental anguish of his breakdown. It had stabbed viciously at his already blackened heart, until nothing but a mangled piece of malformed meat remained; the pang in his chest as he watched the last link to Her fall to his doom bringing it back as a distant echo. He was choosing death over his own father, just as She had chosen death over him and the Empire.

But Luke had survived, by some miraculous whim of the fates. The will of the Force, perhaps. Still in denial; still battered, bruised and disabled. Doomed by his own father to experience the same loss of a limb that Count Dooku had once bestowed upon The Jedi.

The Jedi had been bereft of a right arm; Luke merely of his right hand. It had been a selfish, wicked way of attempting to have his son experience the same indescribable humiliation. Stripped of a part of himself; at the hand of an enemy he had been rushing unprepared to face. Overconfident; in over his head. With this, Luke had learnt never to throw himself head first into a battle he was not equipped to win.

But at what cost?

Vader found himself glaring out into the vast black void ahead of the Executor; clutching at the distant mental link humming between them for a brief moment - like a flicker of light before going out in an instant. Luke was too far away to read; as his signature disappeared along with his ragtag crew of rebels. The Princess no doubt on-board; Vader could tell. Ironic, how it had been her saving his skin this time around.

Still, he felt the frustration bubble up inside. Felt it mingle with the fury; with the disappointment. Despite the carefully calculated trap he'd set, the way it had played out all in his favour until that last moment where Luke broke protocol. His reaction had aligned with none of the scenarios Vader had prescribed beforehand. It had failed; he had failed - and Luke was gone. Just like his mother.

Vader knew he shouldn't be surprised.

Everyone had left him for dead. Whenever he’d dared to love, dared to trust, dared to open up and be vulnerable and sincere - it had been for naught.

Mother, watching with glassy dark eyes when he turned to peer at her over his shoulder one final time; ever the terrified little boy as he left Tatooine behind. The boy who believed the Jedi order would help him free her. Instead; it had kept him from saving her. The last time he’d seen her before her demise; he was only nine years old. She’d been all he knew. Albeit without intention of hurting him, and beyond her own control; Shmi Skywalker had passed away in his arms to leave him alone. Had torn the first hole in The Jedi's heart; had triggered the first act of rampant, blind revenge. His first step towards his dark fate.

“I’m so proud of you, Ani,” she had breathed; as the life left her eyes.

Ahsoka had followed; abandoning him for her own selfish reasons. Walking away from him, dismissing his importance in her life and the value of the lessons he had taught her; the value of their bond. She had made it clear he was never going to be enough; had turned him down despite his pleading, his admission that he understood her feelings better than anyone. The Jedi had failed his padawan, the only one to believe in her innocence and to what end? Ahsoka had still turned him down.

“..And without you,” she had whispered.

Obi Wan was next in line; siding with the maniacal teachings of the Jedi order. Fighting to avenge them - all the while outright lying to his face, trying to trick him into believing he could still return to him. Trying to make The Jedi believe that his former master had ever considered him a brother. That they were ever more than merely master and apprentice; that The Jedi was never the burden or a disappointment he’d felt he was. That he was important to Obi Wan, too, in a way he had never outwardly expressed. That Obi Wan, who never formed attachments after what happened to the Duchess of Mandalore; had been so overtly attached to him.

“I loved you,” he had sobbed.

And then Her; who had turned down his offer of keeping Her by his side. Turned down the offer to become untouchable, as his Empress. Betrayed him, in spite of all he had sacrificed for Her. He had killed younglings for her. His brothers and sisters; his entire life slaughtered in the crumbling ashes of the burning Jedi Temple. To learn the ways of the Dark Side, to join the Sith - to keep Her from dying. And She had thanked him by rejecting him; by claiming She could not follow him anymore.

“I love you,” she had cried; and for the first time in his life - he didn’t believe her.

Now, Luke had chosen to stride the same path. Selfish, like Ahsoka. He too believing in the lies Obi Wan had fed him. Believing himself too virtuous, too pure just like Her. Believing that any lives he had taken in the name of the Rebellion - and his misplaced sense of civil justice - to be easier to explain away, than those his father had claimed. But in a way, Vader supposed it was no surprise Luke took after his mother. His son’s intentions were fair, his sacrifices rational. She had been pure, and good; though She was not fully innocent in the wake of the war, either; she had known where She stood.

Luke had inherited the same sense of morality, the same hunch for standing up for the weak. Standing up against the Empire, as a way of breaking free; of fighting back against the leading elite. Although, his desperation to make a difference and be of importance mirrored that of The Jedi.

Vader had sworn before the battle at Bespin that Luke would be turned. But could he?

Luke was still but a youth; still naive and starry eyed - despite some of that innocence being ripped away in the very moment Vader had revealed to him the truth. But he was secure; he was so steadfast in himself and who he perceived himself to be. The Jedi had been going astray when he was the same age; his fears and insecurities eating him alive. Luke was already an adult; had already defeated his demons.

“I am your father,” Vader had said to him.

The response he’d received was that of Luke crying out in agony, in begrudging despair. All the while knowing that the grim revelation was nothing but the truth. Perhaps Luke would now see that the line between good and evil; right and wrong was not as straight as he had supposed. It was a blurry, tangled mess; the road to hell paved with good intentions. Vader's own road to hell surely had been. But Luke was paving his very own road elsewhere, it seemed.

Still, it stung Vader’s damaged eyes. The rage swelling in his chest; filling the empty void of broken, shredded pieces of what was once his heart. For a second, the shade of glowing amber that coloured his eyes a sickly, Sith yellow faded. Gave way for a pale, tired blue. Bleached by the scorching flames of Mustafar’s lava streams. The same blue eyes The Jedi had once sported. The same blue eyes his son now possessed. Vader shook his head in frustration, and in an instant the shift was reversed. The embers of his fiery stare bleeding through, devouring the remnants of The Jedi resurfacing.

Or, so he would have hoped.

But the pulsating ache inside; dull and sharp as a blade all at once, remained. Vader knew the feeling; recognized the emotion he’d thought long gone. One that had been numbed and buried deep for so many years; underneath the heaps and drones of twisted, lifeless bodies of his victims.

Remorse.

Regret.

Guilt.

Remorse, for the way in which he had handled his first meeting face to face with his son after he had learned the truth of their connection. Regret, for the way in which he had physically, and mentally, snuffed out some of the light of hope previously clear in Luke's bright blue eyes. Guilt, over the fact that he had purposely driven a wedge between them himself; much like he had done between himself and Her. He found he knew no other way.

Vader pursed what was left of his charred lips behind the face plate. He glared at the distant stars, sparkling like burning orbs against the inky sky behind them. Spanning eons of light years ahead. Filling the distance between himself and Luke, making it palpable. Tangible.

He despised Obi Wan for lying to his son. Despised the way in which he had deluded Luke into believing in a childish fairytale. Despised him for telling Luke that his father was dead, that his father was now unreachable.

‘But is that not what you tell yourself?’

Vader turned his head to the side, as if to deny the suggestion. Still, the quiet voice nagging at the back of his head would not be silenced.

‘Do you not constantly tell everybody that Anakin Skywalker is dead? That you destroyed him? Is that not what you tell yourself? Luke is not your son; he's The Jedi’s son.’

‘Luke is my son. My flesh and blood. Mine alone,’ Vader shot back silently; his inwardly projected diction a sharp hiss of a threat; angled towards the defiant part of his own psyche.

‘Then, you must also admit that you are Anakin Skywalker.’

‘His name means nothing to me.’

‘Then, Luke Skywalker cannot be your son.’

‘He is.’

‘Then, you are indeed Anakin, and you accept that as the only truth.’

‘I am not The Jedi; he was weak and foolish. I destroyed him and his pathetic legacy, he is nobody now. He is nothing.’

‘You cannot claim Skywalker as kin, if you do not acknowledge your own identity.’

‘Silence!’

‘Silence will accomplish nothing. It is too late to undo what you have revealed to yourself.’

Vader forcefully ignored his own intrusive thoughts; locking them back away inside the darkness of his past where they could not bother him.

But weren’t they right?

If Luke was indeed his son; did that not mean that The Jedi had never fully died? How could he be a different man, a separate entity, if he recognized The Jedi's son as his son?

‘And Luke is my son. My son, and he belongs to me. With me.’

He could feel it in his bones; could feel it as deeply as he felt the tendrils of the Dark Side surging through him. As deeply as he felt the connection to his own Force sensitivity, to his own memories of Her. Vader had loved Her - loved Her still - and She had been but the wife of The Jedi. If he thought of Her as his beloved, as his everything; did that not mean he must recognize himself as unchanged? A broken shell, a faded shadow of who he had once been. But the same nonetheless.

A fleeting image of Her passed before Vader’s inner vision. Her kind hazel eyes, full of mournful sorrow. Her silky brown hair, falling in springy curls over Her pale shoulders. His betrayal had destroyed Her; had ripped Her from him. How could he ever repent for that? His eyes prickling; Vader snarled silently to himself - deformed face contorting into a visage of hollow, yet overwhelming anguish.

The Jedi had known that what he had done was wrong; as soon as he stopped to think about it. Had known the lives he'd taken could never be accounted for, could never be justified. That, much as he liked to think killing the younglings had set them free from a cruel fate of being twisted by the unkind religion of the Jedi Order; he had been ridden with the burden of their murder. He had locked that knowledge away; had forced himself to deny its meaning.

Still, now, he was not as sure anymore. He found himself wavering; suddenly not as certain of his future as he had once been. Not as convinced of his purpose to suffer for eternity, while bringing upon others the same torment. Vader didn't even take note of the wetness pooling at the corners of his bloodshot yellow eyes until one lone tear broke free to trail down the grooves of his wretched face.

Only then, did the shock seep in.

When had he last cried? Had it been on Mustafar, after he had slayed the Separatists and the realization of what he had just committed himself to came crashing down on him? Had it been when he learnt of Her demise seconds hand after the brutal life saving ordeal, merging the bodily torture with the psychological agony? Had it been when Ahsoka swore to him that she would not leave his side this time, despite knowing what he had done as Vader? Had it been when he found Obi Wan's tattered robes were all that remained of the old man he had struck down, thinking it would bring him peace but finding himself stricken only by grief? Had it been the last time he was reminded that everything he felt, everything he stood for - everything he believed - came from The Jedi?

Luke knew who his father was.

Knew who he was; knew what he was. Despite having his world toppled over and turned on its head; despite trying to deny it. Vader had denied the same fact for so long, that he had almost forgotten where the line he'd forged between what he considered to be The Jedi and himself was drawn. All he knew for certain, was that Luke was his son. And if he wanted to cling to that one scrap of light; there were so many horrendous actions he needed to take responsibility for as well.

The Jedi had never truly died. The Jedi had only ever evolved, had only ever changed as life itself changed and formed him into a dark dealer of vengeance. Had been molded by the path he chose, and by the people he’d loved and lost. Had been hollowed out; until only the carcass remained.

It was The Jedi that had killed Her; he had stolen Her will to live, he had snuffed out Her longing for peace.

It was The Jedi that killed Ahsoka; having zero quells with beheading her as soon as she denied him what he wished for; denied him her allegiance.

It was The Jedi that had killed Obi Wan; striking him down after convincing himself that the blame was all on him, and that it would diminish with the death of his former Jedi Master.

Now, they remained lingering in his peripheral like translucent specters. Like a haunting reminder of how he may never escape. May never forget. May never be able to fully buy into his own lies. May never be forgiven.

The Jedi - Anakin - was still very much alive. Not thriving, but crumbled to the bare bones of a forsaken human being. Beaten down by life, enslaved by one person after the other. But he had a son.

As another tear trailed lazily down his cheek; Vader flinched. The sensation overwhelming him, a mixture of heavenly relief and excruciating devastation. It seemed one may never appear without the other in its tow. The name of The Jedi was supposed to mean nothing to him; was supposed to be an empty callback to a past long since abandoned and overcome. Was supposed to be a distant remnant of a man that no longer breathed. In itself, that was true from a certain point view.

But if it had truly meant nothing, it would never have stung the way it did whenever uttered for Vader to hear. When She said it. When Ahsoka said it. When Obi Wan said it. Whenever it was uttered, it would bring forth all the suffering The Jedi had caused. And all the contempt The Jedi harboured towards his own visage. Therein lay the answer.

‘I am Luke’s father. Luke is my son. I am Darth Vader.’

‘And Anakin Skywalker,’ the pestering murmur of his inner voice whispered.

Anakin no longer had the strength to suppress, or deny that statement.

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Can be found on my Ao3 below, repost from my original acc.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048643

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nxtheromoved · 3 years ago

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Isabela’s Early Life & the Assassination of Luis

[ Trigger Warnings for this meta because the subject is quite dark and involves a lot of nasty things: spousal abuse, toxic relationships, extramarital affairs, r*pe conspiracy/human trafficking. ]

In short, my interpretation is that Isabela was not the one that ordered Luis’s assassination, and to explain why I believe so, I’m going to start at the beginning of her relationship with him.

Naishe, as she was formerly known, grew up in horrible company. Her mother was a con artist and a scoundrel and associated with like-minded individuals. Naishe was treated more like a prop than a daughter, and while she hated how replaceable she felt she was to her mother, she accepted it as the way things were. The real conflict with her mother only came when she wanted to change. Their dishonest way of life was the only thing that connected the two, so when Madame Hari decided to convert to the Qun and no longer had a practical use for Naishe, she was as good to her as the dirt on her shoes. The Qun took away the only thing her mother valued in her, and thus took away the only thing she valued in herself. The only source of identity she had was gone, and the Qun was going to strip that down even further. Naishe didn’t want to lose her identity, not when she barely had one to fight for in the first place. She refused to join the Qun, so her mother found one last way to make some coin off of her: she sold her to Luis as a bride.

Naishe hated every moment she spent married to Luis. She was little more than property to him. It’s hard to picture Isabela as she is today ever being subservient to someone, but she was young and so incredibly broken down in spirit before Luis even came into her life. She was in the perfect position to not fight back, which made her the perfect wife for Luis.

For a short while, that is. You see, Luis counted on her being a meek and obedient woman for the rest of her days. He never saw the fire that she had in her before her life flipped upside down. He gave her plenty of freedom at first. If only he could have predicted what a mistake this was on his part. She took that freedom and ran with it. She used her new freedom to rebuild herself and find out who she was on her own terms. She became bold, and Luis didn’t like that. He began to restrict her more and more, but she rebelled at every turn. It was around this time that she began her affair with Zevran Arainai, who taught her self-defense and knife combat after Luis’s abuse began to turn physical.

The perfect storm was brewing for her to finally put her foot down and leave him, but she couldn’t do it. As much as she tried to work up the strength, she had been under his thumb for too long. She might have been discovering herself, but Luis was doing just as much to tear her down. Two steps forward, one step back. She hated him with every fiber of her being, but she was convinced that she would never be free of him and that leaving was pointless. She was there on the precipice, but she was young, afraid, and hopeless. Ultimately, she was unable to take that step herself.

I haven’t decided on who ordered the hit exactly, but I won’t fuss over that detail, especially when Isabela doesn’t know herself. It wasn’t her; when Zevran came into her room and told her about his contract, she was shocked. She did help him by giving him the key to Luis’s room as well as directions, and Zevran gave her weapons to defend herself and an opening to escape.

Isabela likes to tell the story as if she was the one that ordered the hit. She’s told it that way since she fled. She started the rumor to give herself an edge when she first became a pirate. No one wanted to hire some runaway wife, but a woman with the gall to have her husband assassinated? That was a reputation that could get her foot in the door. Now that she’s an established face, she doesn’t need to tell the story to be taken seriously, but she isn’t inclined to tell the truth of the matter; not even to close friends.

Saying that she had Luis killed was a false revenge, but it was better than giving the impression that she didn’t fight for her freedom. She did fight for her freedom; with every sour word, every knife-edge glance, every rebellion against him, she rattled the cage. Just because she wasn’t the one to free herself didn’t mean that she sat there and consented to the things that he put her through, and she believes it to be the greatest insult for someone to assume as much. For her to open up about how lost and powerless she felt is a rare thing. It’s the most vulnerable part of her, and she will only expose it to someone she has a deep connection with.

That’s why she told Varric the story she tells everyone else. Varric was a friend, a damn good one, but they didn’t have that particular connection. A romanced Hawke was potentially the first person she admitted the truth to since she joined her first crew, and it’s because they had that connection. Isabela is a loose canon, but Hawke was a comforting soul. She can’t explain it, but she felt like they deserved to see that part of her; like they would be the one to see it and not tear her down for it. I don’t restrict this to romanced Hawkes in my portrayal. The deep, soulful connection that is required to reach this side of Isabela isn’t restricted to sex and romance. If she finds a true friend in you, she will open up. (By extension, I headcanon that she eventually tells Varric the truth, but he only retells the story that Isabela herself gives publicly.)

#[isabela ; about]

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raekahwritings · 4 years ago

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A Second Life, Finding Redemption (Shinsou x Reader)

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x Villain!Reader Rating: Explicit, N*SFW Warning: Angst, Murder, Assassination, Fake!Death, Decapitation, Some Smut Word Count: 8,731 Words A/N: This does not have a tragic ending, I can’t bear to write angst without a happy ending.

Summary: You’re a cute coffee barista that Shinsou has feelings for-- and hopefully he never finds out your real purpose in Japan. You are a villain in pursuit of revenge but you wish you could’ve lived a simple life, that you really were the barista you masqueraded as. If Shinsou knows the truth, he would hate you. Or does he?

From Me: I’m trying to post this in time for @bnhabookclub (Antagonist x Protagonist prompt) and I haven’t had time to proof-read this or beta it so please excuse any mistakes or pacing issues. I hope to re-post at a later point but I definitely wanted this out.

Also, inspirations for this work is from @katsukisprincess, @lady-bakuhoe, @iwvs-on-ao3, @bnhabookclub, @/lemonlordleah-shinzawa, @/marilla-eldriana, @/queensynderella.

Sometimes, there was no other end in sight. You could rewind the moment a million times and try to find something you missed, but it would always end the same miserable way.

“Shinsou, you should know what people think of us.” You idly sat from the rafters of the room, simply a shadowed silhouette to the brain-washing hero Shinsou Hitoshi. He desperately looked but he was lost through the maze of unconscious people talking all at once. “They will never trust people who can manipulate others.” Numerous voices bounced around the room, making Shinsou’s eyes dart back and forth—were you even here, or was it yet another machination?

“Marionette—You don’t need to do this.” Shinsou tried to tempt you away from the shadows, trying to sift through the ‘dolls’ you had set in place. You knew he would be sorely disappointed. You had already known about his abilities and set countermeasures in place.

Shinsou caught an idle movement above him, letting his capture weapon snake up to the beams while imperceptibly turning on his own voice-changing mechanism—but it was foiled. “Don’t try that. You know I wouldn’t fall for something so obvious.” You backed away from even the shadows, dissipating, away from his empty oaths and reassurances. Away from the ignorant and unaware hero. With a flick of your wrist, you dispelled the strings of your quirk and letting the bodies fall to the floor.

Shinsou tried to make his way through the unconscious victims but it seemed like you had no more desire to speak to him—you soon disappeared in a silent farewell. Your dolls soon fell to the floor, crumpling as their marionette master was gone.

This is fucking creepy. When Shinsou had arrived onto the scene, it was eerie at how doll-like everyone had seemed with their glass-like eyes and lifeless motions. But upon his arrival, they had come to life and stalled the young hero.

“She got away again.” He frustratedly sighed. This wasn’t the first and this wasn’t the last time you escaped… But he was starting to get the hang of your quirk; it seemed you had to be somewhere nearby to manipulate people. Shinsou reached down for a child, relieved to discover they were breathing and no apparent harm. But as he garnered a better look – it didn’t seem as if anyone was harmed here.

This was strange; you had been responsible for the killings of several prominent people. A businessman. A minor government official. A doctor. The most notable was a visiting dignitary. This latest incident invoked a sense of international outrage and a greater calling for your arrest. Your signature calling card was a single severed head amongst immobile witnesses who only remembered a blackened haze. Their loss of memory was surprisingly similar to Shinsou’s own quirk which is why he had been called in. So far, the only clue he found was your spider-like wires.

“Hey, get the crew in here. There’s a lot of unharmed civilians who need assistance.” Shinsou radioed the information in and took one last look to make sure it was safe before back-up reinforcements were to arrive.

Strange. Shinsou tried to muse over this information; no one else aside from your victims was ever hurt. It seemed that you were aiming for something awfully specific. Shinsou didn’t know what though….

That’s how Shinsou found himself in a cat café, sprawled in a chair, and lost in thought. He was currently on-break from the case since the police were investigating the unconscious victims and the link. So far, they seemed to have found none.

“Hello. Did you want a refill on your coffee?” Shinsou looked over and gave you a slight grin—you were his favorite barista at this cat café. Most places served awful drinks, relying on the kittens to draw people in and shitty service. What a rare find it was to find both adorable kittens, cats, and amazing coffee.

Here you were, one of the most cheerful people he had ever met. Beautiful? Shinsou wasn’t much for conventional beauty or ‘instagram’ models that seemed to be so ‘in’ nowadays. But when cats were crawling all over you and you bundled them all in your arms in a fit of laughter—yes, he thought you were pretty.

Shinso gave you a grateful smile, especially since a napping kitten seemed to have him rooted to the chair. “That would be wonderful.” You leaned over to take his cold cup and Shinsou politely leaned back. Albeit, even he was a virile male and couldn’t help but to take a lightning-quick look at you bending over and shoving down thoughts of how delectable your ass looked.

You apparently didn’t notice but you took a look of your own at his face. Of course, he had his darker-than-usual eye bags and you sighed sympathetically. “You look like you’re working harder than usual.” Shinsou didn’t think he looked different…? But fuck yeah, he felt tired. “Why don’t I add an espresso shot? A little bit of milk to make it sweeter?” He was your favorite customer after all. The purple-haired man had become something of a fixture around the café—you wondered if he ever actually slept sometimes. But he was always wonderful with the cats and often over-tipped. It was to the point that you as a barista, had to hide the tip jar and give him a very pointed glare.

You had caught him stuffing fifty dollars once and you had to draw the line; the poor man needed food and you sent him home to buy dinner for himself. Instead, he sheepishly came back with food for you both and had left it for you at the counter.

This was probably the first moment you had fallen in love with the purple-haired sleepy customer that constantly came to your café that you worked at. The owner gave you plentiful shifts because of your coffee skills.

“…. I think you’re the only one to know about my sweet tooth.” Shinsou said sheepishly. You took that as agreement, happily walking over back to the counter.

You filled up the metal tins and efficiently started frothing the milk, snagging the espresso shots, adeptly mixing the syrups and continued. “Hey, hey, I know when someone doesn’t like Americanos.” You gave him a mischievous smile. “I also saw your nose scrunching up and if you had a cattail, it would’ve been stick straight.”

“Ugh, you remember that.” Shinsou face-palmed. He remembered the first time he came in and one of his hero coworkers had ordered it for him; apparently, he had cultivated the image for loving the watery and bitter brew. No, it was because his office had no fucking good coffee and he was forced to drink it to stay awake. Shinsou had bit back any words and stifled the longing he felt for something tasty.

Apparently, you had noticed. Then you had come over, profusely apologizing that you had given him the wrong coffee and given him a specialty drink with no one the wiser. That moment solidified Shinsou’s affinity for this particular store.

“Do you pay attention to all your customers like this?” Shinsou took the new drink with great appreciation; it seemed everything here was good. He had yet to dislike any of your coffee concoctions.

“I try my best.” You said honestly. Shinsou looked around, there were a few people left at this late hour but for the most part, you seemed to be lingering near him. He bit back a stray thought, maybe that you also liked him a bit more than a regular customer, and gave you a small quirk of his lips. Shinsou wasn’t much for smiling but maybe your drinks invoked some kind of magic.

Shinsou hummed with delight. “I noticed. How long do you think you’ll be working around here?”

“Hmmm. I wonder!” You gave a little bit of a laugh, scooping up a yawning kitten and putting it back in their bed. Another customer gathered their things and gave a friendly goodbye.

Shinsou was content to let the comfortable silence reign but he was compelled by his own curiosity. “What would you do if you left?” He could only hope you’d stay… but he hoped you’d do what you want to do. Life tended to take people all over the place.

“Owning my own café would be a dream.” You wiped the empty tables nearby and took a bit more time cleaning than you usually did… Staring down at the table with a furrowed brows and bitterness. It was an expression he’d never seen before because you were always so happy with the customers.

Shinsou looked questioningly at you. “I think you’d be rather good at it. What’s stopping you?” He gestured to the cafe and you gave him a bit of a melancholy smile.

“Life.” You put your hand on your waist and gave him a smile—it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Huh, Shinsou thought. He noticed you had a way about yourself… answering but not saying anything about yourself.

You tapped his messy paperwork. “Probably the same reason you’re here? Why are you inside my café on a Saturday night? You could be ‘living’ it up with all your friends.” You air-quoted the words, giving him an eyebrow raise at his lonesome self.

“Hey, when did this become about me?” Shinsou held his hands up in a ‘I surrender’ gesture. Interesting deflection though. You had smoothly changed the topic and you were rather adept at turning the conversation to others.

But he couldn’t resist having the last word, call it petty of him. “I still think you’d be great at owning your own café.” He muttered— he knew you could hear. But it was something you should hear. He could see your dedication; you had been here unfailingly every weekend and he knew you took over shifts no one else would take.

“You, my dear customer, need to take no for an answer.” You jokingly rapped him on the head with a familiarity that few people showed.

Then you turned around to see someone secretly taking a picture of Shinsou. He had heard the click of the phone but unfortunately, it was all too common. He was going to ignore it but you weren’t. You shot a daggered look at the customer. “Excuse me, we value discretion in this store.” You courteously told them with a steely undertone.

Shinsou… was surprised. “Hey. Thank you for that.” He didn’t realize you noticed. This was a new side to his barista. He had never once seen you other than impeccably friendly. to civilians and heroes alike.

You dismissed his thank-you. “No, that’s my bad. I should be making sure our customers know not to bother you. You need your privacy too.” Your flippant words caused something to click within Shinsou. You weren’t like the others, you knew heroes were people. People who also should be respected, unlike those goddamn paparazzi sell-outs.

Yea, Shinsou liked you. He really liked you, more so because you didn’t seem to give a damn about his hero-fame. So he finally got the courage to ask you—

“Would you want to grab a bite to eat after the café closes?”

You looked back at him, a bit startled. “Me?” Even the kitten, napping in his lap, jumped away at his suddenly terse invitation.

Shinsou was now a bit embarrassed – he wished he was smoother about this. “No pressure. You just work super hard and I really want to treat you for everything you do for me. I know you stay late because I’m here--” Shinsou was rambling. He never rambled. God, you threw him off his game.

“Sure.” There was no harm in accepting his invitation. “You mind if I choose? I know this izakaya with home-made food but it’s a bit out of the way.” Shinsou nodded. The door rang as another customer entered. You gestured to him ‘five minutes’ and rushed off.

Soon enough, you were both at the amazing izakaya and Shinsou swore to himself that he would drag Aizawa here. This place had black garlic ramen and delicious chicken and sides. His mouth was watering from the moment he entered the place. You wasted no time in getting your orders in.

“I take it I picked well?” You were really happy you got to see your favorite, not-a-crush, customer eating with you. Your elbow was on the table, your face leaning on one hand as you watched him demolish the ramen in front of him.

He nodded, his mouth too full otherwise. “Calm down, the food’s not going anywhere.” You leaned over to push his messy locks back and gave him a chiding smile.

Shinsou froze. You froze. You leaned awkwardly back in your seat. “Um, I don’t want you to eat your hair.” You said lamely. Shinsou… leaned in to get another bite, trying to pass this off as a casual moment. You took an awkward sip of your drink. He could see the pink blush at the tip of your ears and he wondered…. Maybe you liked him back too?

The night was over too soon. He wished it could last longer… You both were at the nearby station, ready to part ways.

He had made the first move so you could take a step too. You tugged at his jacket to catch his attention. “If you ever need a ramen buddy, I’ll be happy to keep you company.” You… nervously said. Because what if he didn’t enjoy the night as much as you did?

Shinsou gave a grin as big as a Cheshire-cat smile. “Now I know what to do to pay you back for all those free lattes!”

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

Who knew that random ramen night would lead to café shenanigans between you two?

If anyone were thinking perverted thoughts, they would be disappointed though. Shinsou now helped you to coral mischievous cats and kittens into their cages.

You both had collapsed on the couch after a particularly troublesome kitty had decided to dart every which way and crawl near the coffee beans. It had taken every trick in the book to outsmart this particular kitten.

“Oh god.” You started giggling. “When did a kitten get smart enough to outsmart both of us?” Shinsou started chucking as well. You had to say between fitful of laughter—“You’re a pro-hero and you’re supposed to be smarter than this.”

Shinsou pointed accusingly at you. “I wasn’t alone in this!” You gave him a ‘ohohoho’ laugh as you got up. As a reward for his troubles, you dropped a brown paper bag of pastries onto him to take home. “God, if people saw us, they would’ve thought we were insane.” Chasing the kitten around, scrambling to get it before it escaped to the shelves…

Shinsou meant to get up. He really did. But as he lazily lied on the couch, watching you turn off the coffee machines and the glow of the lamps left a hazily ambient glow… He even shut his eyes for a few moments, relaxing his guard around you… You leaned over him to wake him up…

And then you heard it. The soft, sleepy whisper… “I wish I could see this every day.” He said it before he could think to shut himself up.

Shinsou was so gentle and sweet. You ached for him so much, so much that at those words, you gave in to the temptation. You leaned down to kiss him before he fully woke up. It was chaste, a gentle press of your lips against his.

“I hope you meant that for me and not the kitten?” You teased.

Shinsou’s eyes widened as he woke the fuck up.

Had you overstepped your bounds? Was he not interested? You hesitantly leaned back.

Not to be beaten, Shinsou tugged you down this time. “You don’t get to confess and become all shy, kitten.” His fingers entangled themselves into your hair and he caught your lips with his. He craned his head to lick your lips open, gently requesting permission.

And how quickly you caved, as you crawled into his lap.

You wished you could kiss him forever, Shinsou tasted so sweet— of caramel and sugar— he made you feel so preciously loved. His fingers stroked the nape of your neck, his lips moved down your throat, and his chest met yours as you both breathed heavily.

“I wasn’t hoping for this…” Shinsou whispered. “But I would be lying if I said I didn’t think of this.”

You nodded in a daze. Shinsou leaned forward to cup your breasts in his hands, relishing the feel of your skin against his. He claimed one for his own as he took your hardening nipples into his mouth. You writhed against him as Shinsou took his sweet goddamn time licking both breasts.

You writhed in his lap, feeling the burgeoning erection but Shinsou kept you still. “That isn’t fair…” You whined. You wanted his pants off, you wanted to feel his throbbing length against yourself. But Shinsou merely laughed, letting you suffer through the feel of the maddening cloth barrier. “Are you trying to torture me?” You whined.

“Hm?” Shinsou tugged at your hair, making you arch your chest against his. He took a chance to nip at your throat, giving you just a hint of dominance underneath his nice-guy exterior.

You thrust impatiently against him. “Pay a little attention down here, won't you?” You locked your legs around his hips, bunching your café skirt up, and shoved your wet panties against his tightening pants.

Shinsou nearly groaned, he could swear he felt you throbbing against him. But he did have to concede— there was too much between you two.

“Alright, alright kitten.” He lifted you up from the couch— oh god, you didn’t expect it but his lanky build hid more strength than you realized— and splayed you on the table. What a delicious view. Your lay passively back as he took off his shirt, exposing his toned muscles and inching down his pants. Your eyes didn’t leave his hands for one moment, he had a way of inching his pants down like he was a goddamn stripper.

His cock? You weren’t disappointed when he finally shimmied out of those pants. It was long and curved, already erect at the sight of you. You opened your thighs lewdly and snuck a hand down to rub lightly—

“Kitten, oh no.” Shinsou let his voice drop low, a slight threat to this tone. “You are going to wait patiently for me.” It wasn’t a question. This Shinsou— this wasn’t the awkward, endearing Shinsou that you came to know. This was…

He bent to a knee, looking straight into your soaked panties. You thought he was going to fuck you, not this— you closed your legs but Shinsou wrenched it apart with his hands. “Patient means you get to wait as I get my fill.” What did he mean? You gave him a wide-eyed look, questioning… “Oh kitten, are you embarrassed?” He leaned forward to lick at the wet patch forming. You jerked away but he held you still, teasing you and making you wetter. He could almost taste your slick, the heady damp-heat enticing him. But he wanted to see you beg. He pushed his finger against your cunt, letting you feel his decisive movements through the irritating fabric.

Oh god, it was the first he had touched down there all night. But he didn’t touch you, you needed the panties off. You needed more. But no man had ever cared for foreplay with you before, you had always been used for their pleasure— you only knew to do what they wanted.

“Wait.” You tried to move away from his heated breaths— “I can handle it. It’s better for you if I just take it all in—“ Shinsou withdrew his fingers, his other hand tightening on your thighs and stopping your movement.

“Kitten. You are wet but you’re not wet enough to handle this.” Shinsou glared at you. Did you make him mad? You didn’t understand.

“It’s not about me though, it's about what feels good for you?” You tried to offer.

It was definitely the wrong words to say. Shinsou was feeling a little baffled and a little incredulous. “What do you mean by that?” He demanded. You… didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t this how it worked? Even more so because Shinsou was so important to you, you should’ve been on your knees for him.

Shinsou didn’t like your silence. “Y/N, who have you been with?” You looked away… Shinsou pinched your thigh in warning, “Let me clarify. I’m not asking who. Did no one take care of you?” He had stopped his ministrations.

“What would anyone ‘take care’ of?” You thought Shinsou wanted to fuck you. This was about him. You honestly didn’t know what he wanted of you. So you tried to cajole him out of his increasing irritation with practiced words, “It’s okay, I’m okay. I’m wet enough for you to just take what you want. Don’t you want this?”

Shinsou looked at you with darkened eyes and finally, finally slid your panties off. “Y/N, I’m not trying to just fuck you with no pleasure. I want you to feel this,” he circled your clit with his calloused fingers. “Feel like you’re wanted.” You felt wetness coming from you, getting wetter and wetter. “Have you hot and needy,” You jerked your entire body as he plunged his entire tongue into your cunt as he licked you— you had never felt this before. No man had ever decided to eat you out there but Shinsou ate like a man determined and starved. It felt like forever, Shinsou just wouldn’t let you go. You felt your entire body go taut and Shinsou squirmed his fingers in to pinch your throbbing clit and you screamed as an orgasm washed over you.

“And have you scream like that.” You weren’t even down from your high as Shinsou thrust his fingers in. He scissored his fingers in there, searching, not letting you rest until he found a spot that made you tear and cry. You tugged at his head futilely and Shinsou gave you his Cheshire-like grin again. He finally crawled up to relish your awed, tear-stained expression but he still didn’t stop.

“Shinsou, just stop. Just fuck me, please.” You implored and pleaded with him. In a way, you were trying to escape a pleasure you had never encountered before. No one had cared enough, no one had ever found this spot within you. Why was he doing this? Why did he care? This made your heart hurt, this made your cunt throb in a rising heat you had never felt before.

“I’m not going to fuck you, not like that,” Shinsou said in a low, raspy murmur. “I’m going to put it in you.” He thrust his fingers in time with his words. “When you’ve come.. a few times. Until I’m satisfied that you’re taken care of.”

Shinsou relentlessly pursued the spot within you while leaving his bite marks all over you, his mind tucking away every detail of your skin and every spot that made you feel sensitive. Until you had squirmed, screaming on breathless climaxes. Until you could no longer beg, beg those selfish words.

He never wanted to hear that this was about himself again. He waited until your throat was hoarse and your thighs utterly soaking in your release before he inched himself into your luscious warmth.

Then he started an achingly slow pace that had you feeling every ridge of his cock, your tired body heightened in pleasure. Only when did you utter the most delicious little sighs, did he piston his length into you and finally take his climax alongside yours.

*****

At least you were on closing shift the next day. You didn’t have to wake up early, you and Shinsou had messily cleaned up after yourself in the café and you had followed Shinsou to his apartment.

Shinsou didn’t want to be apart from you and had been accompanying you at the café.

“We’ll be closing soon. Do you want me to come over tonight?” You inclined your head towards the last few customers. Shinsou was about to say yes but then an incoming call came again.

“Sorry!” Shinsou cupped his hands over his phone and walked to a corner to take a call.

He heard the familiar creation hero’s voice, “Shinsou! We have a meeting tonight!” Shinsou realized, oh shit, he was supposed to be meeting with Yaoyorozu tonight. He had enlisted her help for after-hours with the case for Marionette.

You looked curiously over but said nothing. Shinsou still turned away though, sighing. “Yes. Sorry, it slipped my mind but I’ll be home in thirty minutes.” He hung up the phone.

He looked sadly at you. “Work.” You understood his work was important so you nodded. He gathered his stuff but you busied yourself and made several drinks for him to go. “Your co-worker can choose what they want.” You had included muffins, hot tea, a latte, and a coffee.

Shinsou gratefully accepted, a little at a loss for words. You were endearing yourself, more and more, even sending him off with food so he wouldn’t starve. He left the café but not without throwing a look over his shoulder; wondering if you were ever lonely closing or if you were safe.

You noticed him standing outside and made another ‘shoo, shoo’ gesture. Shinsou reluctantly walked away, curling his jacket around himself in the cold night air. Maybe he would take more patrols in your area to make sure you were okay?

Shinsou nodded to himself and decided, that would settle it. At this time, he wouldn’t possibly have known how this would have turned out—

You lay dying on the floor with a small hand reached out to Shinsou. “It was always going to turn out this way… Don’t cry. I don’t deserve it.” The pro-hero lay over your body, his arms forced at his sides as he shoved back his questions, his outrage, wondering how he could’ve ended this differently. He couldn’t even lend a hand to you. You gave him a pained smile despite bleeding out and let your arm fall. “Thank you… for letting me finish this until the end.” He could see the light of your eyes leaving, the blood choking any further words you wanted to say.

It was always going to end this way. It didn’t matter what he did.

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

You saw Shinsou off with a fond smile. A smile you shouldn’t have had; judging by your fellow ‘friend’ who was watching you from the corner of the café.

You leaned in to pick up your so-called friend’s book, thumbing through it to find the loose-leaf sheet you’d been waiting for. “Y/N, are you getting soft for him?” She murmured in a soft voice. You had hoped she wouldn’t notice. You shook your head decisively but she grabbed your arm, looking at you with near-desperate eyes.

“You know that he’s a hero right? If the option came down to it, you will have to choose.”

You shook her off, giving a glare of your own. “No innocents, heroes or no heroes. I’ve accomplished it so far. There’s only one target left.” You scanned the address listed.

“Y/N…” She dug her nails into your skin, tears in her eyes. “You know we have nothing left. This is the last chance to set things straight.”

You leaned your hand reassuringly over hers. “I promise you, nothing, absolutely nothing will stop me.” You looked at the time; noting it was nearly time for you to take over tonight’s operation after the café closed. A customer walked in so the conversation came to a halt. “The shift is almost done here so why don’t I go and get you a drink?” You sent her off with a drink, waited until closing and bidding goodbye as everyone left.

You let the smiling façade fall and curled your fingers painfully into your palms. A cat came up to you, weaving around your legs and gently comforted you. Cats are uncannily perceptive. You hunched down, picking it up and burying your face into its soft fur.

Shinsou had made you think for a second, you could continue to live this life. To indulge in a second of whimsy, to hold onto this brief and mundane happiness.

“It’s such a stupid dream… so stupid for someone like me.” You felt the rising emotion in your throat, but you dammed back the tears, and shoved the anxiety that threatened to overcome you in your lonely moments. You loved this place, adored the gentleness of the innocent kittens, and cherished the trivialities of this daily life. A life that was simple. Working, having fun, laughing, maybe having a secret, starry-eyed relationship with a certain sleepy customer.

It was too bad that this was never meant to last; night had fallen, and you needed to finish one last thing before this illusion overtook you.

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

“Yaoyorozu, none of this adds up.” Shinsou frustratedly pushed away the numerous papers surrounding him. All of Marionette’s victims seemed to have no connection, no reason or rhyme as to why she targeted them. But that wasn’t possible; the precision in which she chose her victims should prove she had motive.

Momo sighed, staring at the list again. “Let’s go over what we know, shall we?” She lined the portfolios up. A businessman. A minor government official. A doctor. An international dignitary. They had both been pouring over the victim’s backgrounds but had yet to see a connection. Momo looked at their respective work and occupations, their paths had occasionally crossed but nothing stood out.

Shinsou looked up the families, the nationalities, their political beliefs but none of those stood out either. Except for their… religion? He stared at the church on the dossier for the businessman and doctor. Something was familiar…. But he could not put his finger on it.

“Hey, can you check on the government official and dignitary? Their list of funded causes?” Shinsou frowned. He couldn’t find information on the their religious beliefs; it wasn’t listed because government entities couldn’t publicly pledge allegiance to any religion—lest it be known, and their commitment swayed away from public conviction. But he had sworn there was a familiar name.

Momo scanned the sheets. “Both their records showed they funded a Russian church.” Shinsou tapped the sheets before him. “This doctor is Russian and this businessman had numerous Russian business deals.” He leaned back, thinking…. Then Shinsou pulled up a slightly illegal database, a website he had obtained from one of his informants on the street.

“Don’t look too closely, Yaoyorozu, or you may see things you don’t want to see.” He typed in the church organization, pulling up a number of results. He rapidly keyed in some back-door codes, punching through sensitive data files.

Yaoyoruzu looked at him with lilting eyes, her fingers paused on the paperwork. “You don’t want to ask the police?” Surely, police would be privy to any information they would need.

Shinsou shook his head— “They don’t have enough international information. What I need probably isn’t on official servers.” Regardless of his warnings, Yaoyorozu inched closer and peeked over his shoulder. What had so raptly caught his attention? Shinsou jotted a note on a paper, monologuing to fill his fellow pro-hero in. “As you well know, Russia is one of the worst criminal countries in the world.” He let that sink in. The creation-based hero was informed of the world events—Japan had taken control of their villain society and with All Might, they had issued in one of the most peaceful eras to date. Not to say there wasn’t the League of Villains lurking about. Other countries hadn’t been so lucky. “If you know about Russia, their justice system is highly corrupt and their church and government is known for propagating war crimes.” Yaoyorozu nodded but she wasn’t sure what exactly they were talking about. “And this unique equation of victims makes me think of something really bad.” Shinsou rapidly clicked through the results, not quite finding what he suspected.

He typed in the dignitary’s name, opening an article about his funded endeavors…. “Well, shit.” His tired eyes glazed over the newspaper and article, noting the familiar faces.

Yaoyorozu leaned in and gasped at the contents of the picture. “That’s all four of our victims.” She realized with dawning horror at who they were with. “Shinsou, they couldn’t possibly have….”

Shinsou grimly nodded. “I think so. If I’m right, this last person is the next victim.” He tapped the computer screen and rapidly looked up the captioned woman—“And she lives here in Japan… as a airport customs official.” Shinsou punched in a call to Tsukauchi.

“Hey, I think we found the next victim. Can you send a police escort to them while I fill you in? I’d like to go over and talk to them personally as well.”

-----------

Shinsou was soon driving over, with the police requesting assistance from Tokoyami and Todoroki. Yaoyorozu had teamed up with the police investigators, filling them in on their research.

He met up with Todoroki at the bottom of the apartment building. Was Tokoyami missing? Todoroki answered his question before he could even ask, pointing to the dark night sky and emergency stairwells. The raven bird hero was much more adept at dealing with the situation that Shinsou might be.

“I assume you read up on Marionette?” Todoroki nodded. “Looks like we’re prepared.” Shinsou and Todoroki advanced upwards. They both entered the darkened hallway while Shinsou stared pensively at the eerily silent door of the apartment. Where were the police escorts? Where were the neighbors?

Both of the pro-heroes had a bad feeling; flinging open the door without warning. Todoroki instinctively put up an ice barrier, deflecting the lethal cut of wires flung at the door. Despite the icy steam and darkness, they could still make out the bloody severed head on the floor and unconscious police officers, lit by the blue light of the computer screen.

You, Marionette, looked back at them in your disguised mask. Your blade ran fresh with blood, still dripping heavily and they realized they must’ve only been minutes too late. Shinsou took a lightning-quick assessment, noting the police were still breathing and unconscious, and again, only the victim looked dead.

“Marionette.” Todoroki stepped in. “You’re under arrest by the authorities of the hero association, for the murders of—”

“Stop.” You let the knife fall and waved away his words. For the first time in all your encounters, you deemed to speak a word. In your real voice. Shinsou knew they had you cornered... but it didn’t make sense. Why? Why had you chosen to stay when you could’ve escaped in the ample few minutes? You didn’t attempt to escape, even as Todoroki froze the only other window over. “It didn’t take you very long this time.” Why did you choose to speak, when you had evaded his abilities so well before? Shinsou and you stared at each other.

Shinsou could’ve taken control but he wanted to hear his suspicions proved wrong. He wanted to believe that the victims… were truly victims. That you, Marionette, was a cruel murderer.

Todoroki faded into silence but you all knew if you made a move, he would not hesitate to freeze you in a split second. With that in mind, he let Shinsou step forward closer to you.

“Marionette, we just want the truth. You told me before, no one would trust us.” Shinsou let the past memory sink in, let its weight fall heavy. “Tell me the truth about St. Magdalene boarding school.”

Your breath hitched at the mention of the school. It was the first, discomposed, emotion he had heard from you in all his encounters.

“Trust? Figures you’d be the one to figure it all out, hm? Shinsou.” The brain-washing hero’s blood ran cold— he recognized that familiar way of speaking. More so, how else would you know his name? Todoroki now looked confused. You cast off your hair clip, letting the familiar locks fall and crooked your head at him with a sigh.

“It’s not…” Shinsou rasped out. He had caressed those silky locks this morning, pressing a vulnerable kiss to your sleepy face. He could even see the finger-shaped bruises of your passionate interlude— you couldn’t. Please, not you. But you took off the mask, dispelling any hope Shinsou could’ve had. You looked at him, your expression one of martyred determination. “Why?” His voice come out more agonized than he wanted to show, Shinsou died inside at seeing you.

You leaned forward, pulling— Todoroki got ready to deter you with fire but you simply pulled a thumb drive from the computer. The screen flashed with the same information you had withdrawn, slowly panning pictures of innocent girls. If Shinsou knew the truth…. Then he would know what you were about to say. “St. Magdalene is a Russian school from all appearances.” You felt Todoroki’s ice experimentally but made no violent movement and the pro-heroes remained alert. “If you believe the records. But we both know its far more than that?” Todoroki looked at the girl’s pictures with a dawning realization.

Shinsou decided to fill in the gaps. “But it was an operation for human trafficking, especially from Japan. All the victims— no, culprits, had the connections and means to get children through the channels and have them disappear.” You had to give him credit, he got farther than anyone else.

Yaoyorozu had researched the supposed names that had graduated from the school, only to have them disappear from any official records. “Where they went? We haven’t found a connection but the police are working on that.” Shinsou couldn’t find anything more but he was determined to.

You traced the computer screen, tracing the faces you had grown up with and had seen sacrificed, suffered, and mutilated. “I can help you with that. ”

Todoroki shook his head, muttering. “Disappearing means there’s a chance we can help—“ You let out a cruel scoff.

“You’re naive pro-hero.” Your voice dripped with disdain for Todoroki. “Disappearing would’ve been a kinder fate than what we went through. You name it, you got it.” You tapped the screen at one girl. “Bought and sold to the highest bidder, found dead from sordid sex gone wrong. She was dumped like an animal.” You watched as another face flashed on by. “This one, she wasn’t very pretty. Cut up for organs for the nouveau-rich.” You waited for another one, grimacing. “Drug mule; except she was cut up countless times, screaming every time they carved out her innards.” Shinsou could only imagine it but already, he felt sickened. “My sister?” You hesitated at that one. “She was given to the church, probably from some pedophilic fetish— didn’t help that she was crucified and burnt alive as a whore.”

Both pro-heroes wanted for you to lie; otherwise, the consequences of those well-known officials and the longevity of their career meant there had been countless victims over numerous years. It means that countless people had been involved in hiding these atrocities.

You shifted from the computer to walk directly to the brain-washing hero. You turned your emotions to cold steel, willed your sentimentality to die. Right, because it was oh-so-easy. If it had been, you wouldn’t be on this vendetta for revenge. You would’ve been gone to live the life you wanted.

“I will hand this thumb drive to you if you, Shinsou, promise to bring these people to justice.” You gestured to the rolling head beside you. “The organization will be in disarray but what’s left of it, they probably don’t deserve to die. Just rot the rest of their lives in jail.”

Todoroki regarded you suspicion. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

You clapped your hands in a mocking gesture. “I’ve left you not only the names but times, dates, locations, names, and potential future victims. You should be able to work off of that.” How you got that information? Well, it certainly wasn’t through official channels otherwise it would’ve been covered up.

Shinsou was reluctant to let the conversation end. “Why didn’t you just run then?”

You gave a weary sigh. “It’s not like I could’ve continued this forever. How many more bodies would I need to kill? How much longer before a so-called pro-hero ‘arrests’ me? If it's not you, it’ll be a hit on my head. I’ll die without bringing this to light.”

They couldn’t deny it. But you... you gestured to them. “But I’ve heard of you two. You and Deku, you won't abide seeing the system like this.”

You looked world-weary, bone-tired to all the killing you had done. You looked like you had given up. So Shinsou tried to consider a way you could be saved— a way that was right as a pro-hero.

But none of you had time, not as a gunshot rang loud and clear in the room and you lurched, looking down at yourself.

You were bleeding. You were bleeding heavily as you fell forward. Todoroki swore, leaping forward to disarm the weapon as one of the police officers look triumphant.

“What have you done?” Shinsou looked near venomously at the police officer, kneeling forward to catch you.

“No!” You coughed blood up, holding Shinsou back. “It’s not safe for you.” You could feel the taut wire of control fading, your life ebbing with the flow of blood. Your quirk was reacting badly, you weren’t sure if you could keep it in check.

So you kneeled on the floor, your body crumpling. Shinsou looked agonized above you— but you gave him a lackluster smile. You reached out your hand… and looked for no comfort. “You look like you’re gonna cry. I don’t deserve it.” You tossed the thumb drive to him.

Todoroki lay a hand on Shinsou’s shoulder. “We have to call the ambulance… but I’m not sure she’ll make it.” Shinsou wondered how he could’ve ended this differently. Could he have helped you? What if you had come to him? But none of that would’ve changed how this ended. You had been on a lonely path to vigilante justice.

The fiery streak of pain and bullets was nothing new to you. Neither was bleeding. You know what was new? Seeing someone who actually cared that you were dying.

Paramedics pushed past Shinsou to take Marionette in, others cordoning off the scene with the decapitated body. Tokoyami flew in, having heard everything from outside.

“Shinsou, take a look at the computer.” Everything was well and truly deleted from it, the bios flashing with erased data. Some kind of virus program? Meticulous planning.

Someone brushed by him to examine your wounds… Shinsou’s eyes flickered over to the paramedic.

“Todoroki, can you run this to Yaoyorozu? Make sure I get a copy and to pass one to Aizawa. I want the originals before this moves up to the police and higher-ups.”

“Understood.” They both understood how.. ‘sensitive’ this was. “I’ll protect this on my life.”

***

You woke up, groggily moving and wincing as pain shot through your stomach. You gently laid a hand on the gunshot wound, expecting to see red— but came away to see neat bandages on yourself. Surprising, she’s not usually so thorough.

“I didn’t expect such loving care.” You turned to your friend, expecting to see the informant from the coffee shop. But instead, you saw a purple, messy-haired and raccoon-eyed hero.

One who was smirking at you like you were an idiot.

“What the fuck.” It was the first of your plans that had gone so awry, the brain-washing pro-hero was sitting there as if he was a figment of your imagination. Maybe he was. Maybe your drug-addled brain was hallucinating. So you turned away, scrubbing your face with your hands.

“I’m not disappearing,” Shinsou said helpfully—giving credence that your hallucinations were extremely vivid—never mind that fact you’ve never had any before.

You took a deep, deep breath. “Humor me. How did you find out that I was alive? And if you knew, why aren’t I in jail?”

Shinsou gestured to the medical equipment hooked up to you. “We have mutual friends, for once, in our line of work.” You… didn’t expect that. Your cohort at the coffee shop had promised you an escape route—albeit risky—and you didn’t think to check on the connection. “Turns out you’re not the only one who’s had the idea to fake their death. But it usually needs very specific quirks and connections so here we are.”

You looked down at your bandaged and nearly naked form, sighing. “It was that or just dying on the way here. I didn’t expect to get shot.”

Shinsou scoffed at that. “What did you expect then?”

“I thought Todoroki might try to kill me. Either that, I could try to poison myself. “You threw out suggestions as conversationally as one might discuss the weather. “The better question is, why did you let me live? If you knew what I was up to?”

Shinsou leaned back in his chair, giving you an assessing look. “Your information, as far as we can tell, has panned out to close multiple cases.” So Shinsou knew you hadn’t lied about what you’d told him. About anything you told him. “So I’ve made a case to the Eraser Hero that you be kept alive to supply the police with information.”

You … absorbed that knowledge. “So you want me to be a confidential informant.” You closed your eyes wearily. “From one organization to another, I’m going to be used like a scapegoat.” You were changing hands from the Russian government to Japan’s government and used like their dirty little patsy. “I thought you would be different, pro-hero.”

Shinsou shoved himself to his feet, growling in frustration. “I’m not that much of a fucking low-life—don’t accuse me of that bullshit.” You may have shrunk back a little bit; this was the first time you had to see him angry at you. Honestly, you thought you would never see him again. You’d never face the moment of truth because you’d either be long-dead or long-gone. Here he was with all your secrets laid bare—and he was going to use you like the rest of them.

“You’re under the direct protection and surveillance of me and Eraser Head—we are the heroes who are holding you accountable. We give you the orders; not some fucking government organization.” Shinsou pointed to himself, scowling because of your accusations. You.. were reeling. Because how could he have worked that out?

“I can’t believe that. There’s no possible way you could have that authority. At best, I’ve got life in jail.” You knew how this worked. “At worst? I’m more than dead from Russia. I’ll be lucky if they kill me first.” You had already killed too many… You regretted the innocent you killed. You regretted the path you used to climb to the top. But after that? You could justify every sordid thing you did to get to Japan and to get the culprits responsible. “I know this can’t be true.”

Shinsou could finally get the upper hand here. “And this is where you’re wrong. Aside from a few of us pro-heroes, you’re dead to the world.” He flung down the newspaper at your bed, you shakily took ahold of the articles. You could see the gallant statements of heroes, Shoto and Tsukuyomi having taken down the international villain, Marionette. You were pronounced dead at the scene—inconspicuous pictures of your supposed corpse with no discerning features.

He could see your confusion. “Aizawa and I are handling the rest. You’re getting a different identity; hopefully you like the name Y/N because I’m not even sure that’s your real name.” Shinsou was mildly, oh-so-very-fucking irritated that he didn’t even know your real name. He couldn’t even find this one simple fact about you.

You… couldn’t believe it. If what Shinsou was saying was true…. It was too good to be true. You could finally be free. Whatever they’d want of you, it couldn’t be as bad as the others. You felt warm emotions claw up, the composure you held for so many years crumbling at this possibility ahead of you.

Shinsou sat at the edge of your bed, watching you. Evaluating and gauging you. You were a trained and murderous assassin—but he could see that you fought for good. That you hadn’t lost your humanity. “Y/N… if that’s your name. Listen to me.” He held a hand to your cheek, gently. “We’re going to arrest everyone who’s been involved in this. And when we do, I want you to find peace.” He had been there. The desire for revenge, the desire to shout to the world that they were wrong—it was all-consuming and would burn the entirety of your soul.

“Shinsou…. I’m so tired. So tired.” You finally sobbed out. “I don’t want to kill anyone anymore. I don’t want to lose what’s left of me— Was it just too much to ask for a simple life where I can be happy?” You cried, probably disgustingly into your hands.

“A life of cat cafes and being a barista?” Shinsou ventured to ask. If anything, the words made you cry even harder. You tried to nod between all the hiccupping breaths and tears. You tried to stop, you tried to breathe—but it was so hard. Even as you tried to believe him, the fear that all of this was fake, that this would all be taken away like some cruel dream had you almost hyperventilating.

“Please tell me if this is a lie. If you’re going to send..” You tried to breathe, still losing more oxygen than you were taking in. “… Me to jail, just don’t torture me.” You beseeched him, imploring with your eyes—it was too cruel.

Shinsou could see how desperate you were; a hint of the lost little girl you must’ve been at one point. The girl who probably never had a chance of a childhood, of meeting friends, of growing up and falling love. How did it feel to have that all taken away from you with no choice?

Despite all his logic and rationale screaming at him that this could be the worst decision, that he would be yet another naïve hero you so disdainfully scolded—Shinsou leaned forward to kiss you, to give you the oxygen you deprived yourself of.

You were too shocked to cry more. Shinsou took that chance to give you his own breath, stealing what was left of your panic and just kissing the life out of you. If you thought he was hungry before, Shinsou was stealing what was left of your soul. He eventually lifted his mouth from yours, whispering gently. “If you promise you want to be good, Y/N, that you won’t kill anyone—that if I can believe you, I’ll do my best to save you.”

You gave a watery smile. “I want to be. I want to be someone that can atone for everything I’ve done.”

Shinsou brushed your hair back from your face, mindful of your injuries. “Just atone? Don’t you want a chance to try to be happy?” You… looked up at him.

“Do I deserve to try?” You dared to ask. You dared to even try hope.

“I think you do.” Shinsou murmured.

You hesitantly laced your fingers with his, hoping he wouldn’t pull away. Not that you could blame him if he hated you. “What if I told you… that you made me happy?” You were a little scared to meet his eyes, your gaze flitting nervously between his limp hand and his unreadable expression.

“I would tell you, I’ve never tried dating an assassin but I’d make an exception for you.” Shinsou laced his fingers firmly with yours and gave you another stolen, chaste kiss.

“But you definitely need to heal up before we talk about anything else.”

#bnha #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #bnha smut #boku no hero academia #boku no academia #bnhasmut #smut #angst #bnhabookclub

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jiskblr · 4 years ago

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Blauprinz and his crew

My blood parents I never knew. Berliners, probably, but they left me in an anarchist-affiliated charity orphanage in Potsdam before I was six months old, so all I know for sure is that they named me Artur. I was adopted fairly late as these things go, about five, by the people who I consider my parents: Jurgen and Verena Carolingt. They could have had blood children, but chose to adopt, and frequently. When I was twelve I had five foster-sibs, but they slowed down after that; I only have two more sibs from the next decade, and they were adopted as the eldest four of us moved out. That's not counting Leo, who was their second fosterling; he was a real hellraiser and chafed at the academic's morality they tried to enforce, so he ran away to join a street gang. I got back in touch with him years later; for all that he left, he was as angry as me about - but that's getting ahead of myself.

My parents were academics, professors at Viadrina Universitat in Frankfurt-Oder, but in their more subtle way raised hell just as much as Leo. They grew up during the first partition, Da in East Germany and Ma in West Berlin, and they both hated the idea of hiding what they believed to cater to the powerful. They didn't budge in their convictions that everyone deserved a chance or that their conclusions deserved to be followed to their end. They believed in equality and metahuman rights, even when that was fairly unpopular, and they lived it. I'm a norm as were they, but my sibs are an even split of norms and orks plus one dwarf. They didn't adopt elves, who got snapped up more easily by more prejudiced parents, nor trolls, who posed logistical hurdles they didn't think they could deal with. (They felt bad about leaving out trolls, though, and donated generously to several charities for them. I do too, now, in their memory.) They budged just as little in their research, not even to stay quiet about it. When their research topics - applied sociology and economics of magic, for Da and Ma, respectively - developed from postulates to specific, inconvenient predictions and prescriptions for the practical world which got the corps to lean on their deans to quiet them down or kick them out, even so they stuck to their guns.

That pressure started to build around when I turned 18, and got worse as I went through my degree. When it all went to hell, I was a post-doc in applied modern theology - university-speak for 'shaman-ology' - and Zanne was a thesis candidate in high-energy experimental thaumics - studying when magic goes 'boom'. Gabi had given academia a serious try but it wasn't for her, so she'd become a net security wageslave in Potsdam - though honestly she'd be happier as a SINless decker. Fritz and Deb were undergrads at Viadrina, and Jost, Lotte, and Sascha were still young and at home. I don't understand what exactly was enraging the powers that be about their research; I think Mother had published something demonstrating that the publicly-known processes for producing refined orichalcite should produce a far lower market price, indicating that there was a covert cartel, and Father had models indicating that parts of the Eurowars didn't fit naturally with the known social dynamics pre-bellum, indicating deliberate provocation by some powerful force. True or not, either might have been the provocation. There had been escalating threats, but I wasn't living there, so I didn't hear about that; later, when I researched the background, I learned there’d been a fire started in the garage, broken windows, a chemical warfare agent left hissing in Dad's office after hours. But the first I heard of it was when I was back home, a week in late April, for Easter and Mother's birthday.

When some fucking Johnson carpet-firebombed the entire fucking house.

I don't know if they knew we'd be there. They had to know there were innocent children, there; Jost and Sascha weren't even ten yet. My parents died in the first few seconds, their corpses vaporized. Lotte was hugging Mother, so she was, too, and Fritz was just far enough away to leave dental records. Jost was less lucky; he roasted, but not quickly, and survived three hours before he died in agony. Deb lost a leg and an eye and as far as I know the pain's never stopped. Sascha was in the other room and got out, with severe scarring but none disabling. Zanne as well. Gabi wasn't there; the bosses wouldn't give her time off, and I'm not sure if that was a mercy or a curse. I was next to Father, and as far as the records know, I flash-fried like Lotte. But I'm a shaman of the Dragonslayer, and the fire washed over me. I tried to shield Dad with my body, but my totem isn't a protector; it preserved me, and much better than it would most of its shamans, but that didn't extend to him. I tried to help Jost when I realized he'd lived, but he told me to run and get revenge. I didn't realized Zanne or Sascha made it until much later; Zanne had hit her head and went unconscious quickly, and Sascha's response to pain always was to freeze up. But I kept it together enough to get to the basement, and there was ductwork Zanne had discovered years earlier and shown me, which connected it to three doors down. She'd also shown me the nearest part of the Berlin Underground - we snuck out through that ductwork - which had an ork gang she'd run with sometimes, so I thanked her memory about a hundred times that night. The gang leader by then, Ratbite, turned out to be one of the toughs she'd run with, and recognized me. I wasn't shy about using her memory to get a favor, and traded my shamanic skills - and some medical assistance - to get help going completely dark, wiping me from the databases so I could go truly SINless. He was pretty pissed when he found out she wasn't dead, but by then the favor was spent, and when she went dark as well she did him a couple favors and he mostly forgave me and accepted my excuse that I'd thought I was telling him the truth.

The official story was that the firebombs were thrown by a human-supremacist policlub, Nationale Aktion I believe, who objected to our outspokenly mixed-race family. This was bullshit, but plausible enough bullshit that the department heads and local politicians could easily pretend to believe it and be seen to Do Something in response, without that Something doing anything to harm corporate interests. Sascha I think believes that story, or prefers to act like he does. Deb, Gabi, and Zanne, though, didn't. And Zanne was good at causing explosions, but terrible at keeping her temper in check. She retaliated, with prejudice. Headline-making prejudice, which is how I and my temporary friend Ratbite learned she was alive. She had a big bounty for a couple years, but some anarchists gave her shelter before the corps reacted, and from there she became a runner as well. She didn't know I'd survived, though she did suspect, so I found her first, and joined the crew she ran with at the time. After that one came apart, the two of us have assembled all our future crews together. Well, mostly me, I'm the Face, but she still has better ties in anarchist and goblinoid circles; there's a lot of orks and trolls who won't trust a smoothskin, even one like me with an established rep.

Our vengeance is still a work in progress. The men who carried out the hit were deniable contractors, corp security from a minor place. They went down in an op our second year running, and the company got enough blowback from that job that it folded a year later. Finding out who gave the order is not quite done, but we've narrowed the field. I've got a solid network, and, well, my surviving siblings aren't any happier about it than me. Sascha pushed back when Zanne tried to contact him; I think he wants to put it behind him. Deb's a professor herself now, but she hasn't given up on justice, and Gabi-. She works for the corps, and counter to the ork stereotype is a very cold person in most ways; rationally, I know that gave me reasonable cause to doubt her. But after we finally made contact, we found her heart was cold, but a cold-burning hatred. A grudge aged like wine, but still so raw and deep that it feels unthinkable she could have made any other choice. Even the idea that she might have sided with her bosses over her family feels completely embarrassing to have considered. And Leo, like I said earlier, was almost as mad; he left home, but he still loved them for giving him a home to run from. (I hadn't realized, but he sent them gifts every Christmas, mostly hand-made, from the first year he'd left right through their deaths - he didn't learn about their deaths until he tried to deliver their gifts that year.) He's a complete ork stereotype, though, his anger is intense and searing. He'll let it go for months and then find something that reminds him again and smash up some corp's office, mostly at random. I try to give him more productive outlets when I can, but he refuses to go professional runner so he's probably going to end up landing in an early grave with his gang despite my best efforts. Not that we're really close, but I've lost too much family to let my crazy ex-brother join them.

#shadowrun #jisk writes

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 1 year ago

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There’s a deal. Of course there is a deal. She is Ursula’s daughter. What else did you expect?

"Wait, so why are you two doing this again?" Gil asked the duo half an hour later, as Uma swore and ruffled through her drawers while Harry searched under the bed.

Both looking for some parchment to make a contract with rules and conditions on.

As they had been doing ever since they had moved to the study to privately discuss their little deal.

Chad froze at the question.

Audrey didn’t.

"Because we can!" she chirped cheerfully.

’No feelings' definitely included 'No need to be truthful', especially now. Besides, some of those reasons weren’t hers to tell.

"Fair enough," said the pirate Captain, finally producing a clean sheet of paper and sitting down. Mostly clean—there was a doodle of sea pony in the corner, Audrey noted absently.

Chad let out a relieved sigh. Glad Uma had just taken Audrey's answer at face value instead of demanding a real answer.

He really didn't want to explain how he was doing this so his adoptive parents would remember he existed.

That would be humiliating and he could only imagine how much they'd ridicule him for it.

Harry gave Uma a surprisingly fancy pen with an easy "Here, Captain," and Uma started writing on the paper.

Audrey raised her eyebrows at that.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Making sure everyone is on the same page," Uma answered dryly. Harry laughed at the pun and sat down at the armrest of Uma’s chair.

"We always do this when we make a deal with someone," Gil added, trying to stop any offense from being taken. "It makes it harder for people to go back on their word. It's pretty much a tradition at this point."

"Oh. That makes sense, I guess" Chad chimed in, quieter than usual. He'd likely agree to anything Gil said and Audrey knew it.

It was pretty obvious, really: so obvious that the trio of pirates exchanged a rare set of gestures, which meant something like "Gil can talk."

It did seem pretty useful.

Audrey looked at Uma’s crooked handwriting and tried to decipher the words as they were, upside down. Needless to say, she didn‘t have much luck, and what’s worse, she was almost definitely grimacing. Which is, as everyone knows, bad for wrinkles.

Harry laughed at her face and started reading out loud what Uma was writing:

"Agreement between – here she list our names and titles, guys – to enter a romantic relationship as defined below: "

One Audrey had to say: Uma, daughter of Ursula, sure knew how to word contracts.

"The relationship is for the cameras, there needn't be any true feelings of romantic love involved. Mutual willingness to cooperate is required.

If there is a suspicion that an action could hurt the Lost Revenge crew, Audrey Rose and Chad Charming are forbidden to take such action.

No involved party will pressure another into actions they didn’t consent to."

So far, the contract was pretty thoughtful.

Especially coming from a villain kid.

"Failing to do so will result in harsh punishment," Harry looked entirely unbothered as he read that sentence, only leaning closer to Uma as if to get a better look at the paper.

Gil winced at the phrasing but said nothing. There was no telling where on the scale from ’timeout’ to ’keelhaul’ was ’harsh punishment’ gonna land.

Uma was still writing her next sentence, so Harry flashed Gil a quick crooked smile: "Don’t worry man, she’s our Captain. You know her."

This seemed to calm Gil down a bit.

It had no such effect on Chad, who, in fact, did not know her.

Chad started fidgeting. Just as much as Gil was at the phrasing, no doubt remembering his years in the orphanage.

Which the pirates wouldn't know about.

The whole adoption had pretty much been kept hush-hush to those that weren't royalty, family friends, doctors, or in charge of Chad's schooling.

The one news outlet who had tried to investigate Chad's origins had been sued into oblivion, if Audrey was remembering it right.

She looked at Chad to see how he was doing; he seemed to be doing relatively fine, and staring at the blonde pirate an entirely normal amount of time. Audrey will ask him about that when they leave—but when they’re still in the port, safe from the cameras. It will be fun to tease him about it.

When she looks back, Uma has already finished her next point, writing the dot with an exaggerated motion of her hand.

"Any actions that piss of Auradon media and its old council in general are encouraged," read Harry Hook. He sounded very pleased with that sentence, and Audrey couldn’t fault him, really.

"Anything to add?" Uma looked up from her paper.

"If you commit murder, don't get caught. Also" Audrey looked at Harry and Gil, a bit warily. "No hitting Chad or locking him in small spaces if he annoys you."

"We wouldn’t do that!" protested Gil immediately, looking at Chad with big wide eyes.

"Not unless he likes it rough," said Harry quietly–he pretended to lock his lips shut on Uma’s glare.

Chad blushed at the comment.

Audrey shrugged apologetically "had to be sure."

She was probably giving too much away with even suggesting that condition but she didn't care. She wasn't taking any chances.

Especially not after how she treated him during her Queen of Mean episode—which she still regretted heavily.

Uma wrote her conditions down—at least Audrey hoped she did. She was certainly writing words, at least.

"Anything else?" Uma asked, "Harry? Gil? Chad?"

Chad was surprised at being included so directly, and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts.

"All good with me," answered Gil, and, "Sounds good, love," Harry.

"Uh. No unneeded remarks regarding how stupid I am." Chad finally settled on after a few minutes. "Otherwise, I'm all good."

Seeing the confused look Audrey threw his way, he clarified "Evie and Doug like calling me the prince of 'not a lot of there there' when they think I can't hear them. And I'm kind of tired of hearing it and similar remarks."

Before Audrey could come up with an answer that didn’t sound like a page ripped out of the Queen of Mean handbook, Uma drawls a long "…Okay," and "No remarks about anyone’s intelligence or upbringing."

Audrey therefore decided to deal with Chad’s feelings later, when they weren't in present company and when they were somewhere she could swear properly.

Harry was winding up Uma’s braids on his Hook and they both seemed to be spacing out rather quickly, which was not disturbing to witness at all.

Gil looked exasperated.

"Okay!" Audrey interrupted, "Where do we need to sign?"

"Wait–" Uma shakes her head, "Do you guys want a break clause? Oh nevermind I’m writing one anyway."

Audrey waited till she stopped writing, and then gestured at her to hand over the paper. She knew better than not to read over her contracts.

Chad waited for her to finish and sign before signing himself—knowing that she wouldn't have signed it if the contract wasn't a fair one.

Plus she was better at business-y things than he was since she wanted to be a CEO and CEO's had to be good at that kind of stuff. So he usually just let her deal with that kind of stuff, knowing that if she needed his input she'd ask.

"Glad we have ourselves a deal, Gentlemen and…Captain." He hesitated, not sure if now was an appropriate time to use her title or not.

If he had to guess by the mad smiles he received, any time was a good time to use Uma’s title.

Good to know.

"It was pleasure doing business with you, little Royals," Harry said, still smiling like the Cheshire cat, and he leaned forward to kiss Audrey’s hand. Which Audrey let him do.

They were in a "relationship", after all.

Uma yanked her first mate back, frowning, but he only smiled more at that.

"Jealous, darling? Why, I’m flattered…"

…Anyway. Now looked like a good time to leave to Audrey.

And to Gil apparently, who stood up to get the door for them. "Here. Let me escort you two safely out of the port."

Right before they got to their car, Audrey could hear some shouting from the ship.

"Oh, that’s fine," answered Gil without being prompted, "Uma just remembered that Jonas was supposed to hold the watch when you two came."

Okay.

This was going to be interesting.

Piss Off Your Parents

A new story written together with @hannahhook7744

We hope you enjoy!

Summary: Audrey comes up with the perfect way to piss off her grandmother and get the attention of both her parents and Chad's.

And the answer lies with the sea three.

Chad stormed into Audrey's cottage and into her room, before plopping down onto her bed—face first—with a quiet sigh as she read one of her fashion magazines. Quietly fuming about something her grandmother said while her parents were away doing another season of her mom's show.

Some people might be put off by the fact that Chad just entered her cottage without knocking, but the two of them had known each other for so long that knocking wasn't a necessity between them.

Which could have something to do with the fact that the two of them had been each other's only true confidantes since Chad's grandfather died and since their other friends started drifting away from them.

But who knows.

Audrey raised her head to greet him, and then set the magazine down when she saw him.

"Chad? What happened?“ she asked.

He looked awful. His hair was a mess and his clothes were disheveled. "They forgot they were supposed to spend the day with me. Again."

Them likely being Chad’s parents.

Audrey felt a sudden urge to curse a kingdom or at least few monarchs at that, which she contributed to the lingering effects of her Queen of Mean episode. Good girls didn‘t curse kingdoms nor start international incidents. Good girls also notably didn’t argue with their grandmothers.

So Audrey neatly compartmentalized the raging inferno in her mind and instead focused on the problem at hand, that is, upset Chad.

“We could just spend the day together,“ she suggested, "They don’t know what they’re missing.“

Chad still looked glum. "It's like that but… I… I just…sometimes, it feels like they forgot about me after Chloe was born. And I know it's stupid to be jealous of a 10 year old but I can't help it. I can't remember the last time they spent time with me when it didn't have to do with my grades or telling me when Chloe's sick."

He felt stupid and a bit selfish for admitting it but he couldn't help it.

It wasn't fair that he had only gotten to have parents for two years after having waited six to be adopted.

In a notable show of self-control, Audrey didn‘t get up to go curse one particular kingdom–she didn’t even reach for her phone to dial King Charming and Queen Cinderella, which was good, because she‘d have yelled at them otherwise.

"Chad,“ she said softly and laid her hand over his,"it’s not stupid at all.“

There was an awkward pause.

"You know,“ she said with a light chuckle, "Until you try to violently overthrow the current rulers, you’re fine.“

It was a weird joke, but hey. Their life was weird.

And it did make Chad respond.

Chad snorted, swiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "You know… Sometimes I feel like you're the only one who even cares about me anymore. "

He gave her a weak smile, trying desperately to hide the fact that he wasn't joking.Trying desperately to hide the fact that he had felt like he was abandoned all over again after Chloe was born.

To hide that he had felt alone since he was only eight years old.

"Chad! That’s simply not true!” Audrey exclaimed, very much hoping she wasn‘t lying. She was trying not to lie, it wasn’t good for her mental health.

Neither was it good for Chad to lie here on her bed and think about sad things all day. Probably.

“Let‘s go do something?“ she proposed, “Perhaps a shopping spree?“

"Sure… but before we do… are you doing okay? You seem off." Chad asked hesitantly, trying not to phrase it wrong.

He'd been much more careful with his words since the Queen of Mean–closet incident.

An incident that he hadn't told his parents about.

“Of course I’m fine!“ Audrey smiled brightly, and ignored the buzzing of her phone, “ I want some new skirt, what about you?“

He shrugged, heartedly. "Sure. I could use some stuff for my hair, anyway."

When Chad looked away, she casually swiped the incoming call into the red. She didn’t need another lecture from her grandmother today, thank you very much.

She was entirely fine being told that she’s “a disgrace of a family name“, a “poor excuse of a princess“ and “Probably gonna die old and lonely and unloved the way she is going, and dragging her two ancestral kingdoms to doom with her“ only once a day.

Still smiling, she got up and picked up her favorite heels to wear today. She was used to walking on cobblestones, and if she fell, Chad could always catch her. At least the paparazzi would have something to talk about, she thought bitterly.

————

Chad kept checking his phone every so often in the car and even when they got into the mall, silently hoping that one of his parents would remember that they were supposed to hang out today.

Only to keep being disappointed when he found nothing.

No phone calls or texts from either of them.

Or from anyone else.

His shoulders slumped as he tucked his phone away in his pocket and trailed after Audrey, helping her carry her things as he tried not to get overwhelmed by the loud songs and bright lights of the mall.

The last thing he needed right now would be a sensory overall.

But that would be just his luck.

Audrey smiled and glared at people, keeping most of them at respectable distance–she was quite delighted to see that not all of that venom belonged to the Queen of Mean, and it did come in handy sometimes.

On another note, the fashion selection this season was just awful.

But nevermind, she could work with it. She tried on clothes and asked Chad for his insight, and they tried on the most disastrous pieces together. She just hoped the stores had good enough security, so there would be no photos that could leak.

And when walking in between the shops, well. She was used to the attention.

That doesn’t mean she appreciated it.

But still better than her "concerned" grandmother, no?

Chad was having a decent time despite the fact that his senses were aching something fierce at the moment.

He was just starting to think that maybe, just maybe today wouldn't be such a bad day after all when it happened.

When they showed up.

Their cameras flashed blinding light; only a lifetime of photoshoots saved Audrey from violently flinching away and ruining her image. She couldn’t imagine what it was doing to Chad.

Chad, despite having the same experience as her, had never been able to get control of his reactions and flinched immediately. Before he instinctively dropped Audrey's bags to cover his aching eyes.

And, what was worse, there was nowhere to go. No decent stores to hide in under the guise of shopping.

No. That would be asking too much.

The only shop nearby sold bloody LINGERIE.

Understandably, Audrey and Chad couldn’t go there. Never ever, nevermind the attacking paparazzi.

Audrey decided to ignore those for the moment, instead turning around to Chad and briefly brushing her hand against his in reassurance.

Zoom.

Click.

Snap.

Click.

Of course.

Of course they would.

Audrey smiled and crouched down to help Chad gather the bags.

Chad did his best to collect them carefully—fully aware of the fact that Audrey had bought several fragile things such as perfume bottles—but he was probably rougher than necessary given the fact he was in sensory hell.

Next thing he knew, Audrey was rushing him past the paparazzi and ushering him into his car.

Quickly snagging his keys before closing the door and getting into the front seat, and speeding off.

Definitely going faster than the speed limit allowed.

But Chad couldn't find it in him to care as he curled up in the backseat, hands clasped tightly over his still ringing ears.

He hated the press.

Audrey kept her eyes on the road the whole time and kept talking at Chad, and definitely not thinking of wherever the newest media sensation might be.

But when they got home and settled and she finally checked her phone, she was not surprised to find it blown up with missed calls and messages from her grandmother.

’Audrey, dear,’ one of them read, ’I’m just worried about you. It’s for your own good. Are you involved with the Charming prince again? I do wish you settled finally. It would bring me peace. Think of the kingdom!’

And, of course: ’That store?! What were you even doing, Audrey? Do you know how that looks?’

Audrey scrolled through what felt like miles of messages without breaking her poker face. It was… It was too much. She would not stand for this.

She left her grandmother on read.

Chad's phone rang at that moment causing him to whimper in pain (as he was still in the midst of sensory hell) and her irritation to spike.

Now they care? She thought. Only now?

Well, if it is so…

If only media attention made Chad’s parents care…. then yeah, Audrey had the perfect plan.

The fact that it might give her dear old grandmother a heart attack was, well, just a… bonus.

“Chad?“ she said sweetly, "I’ve got an idea…“

#chad charming #audrey rose #disney descendants #uma descendants #harry hook #gil descendants #poly relationship #for the drama you see

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sunset-embers-warriors-designs · 4 years ago

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Hey hey I have another warrior cats AU where Sandstorm, Dustpelt, and Ravenpaw are littermates originally born in Shadowclan

- The three kits are born to Dawncloud and Stumpytail (Chose this pair because Dawncloud mentions having lost kits to Brokenstar’s leadership, and she and Stumpytail are noted to be really close in Tigerclaw’s Fury). Dawncloud knows for sure she can’t keep her kits here because of what happened to her brothers, so she and Stumpytail take the kits to the Thunderclan border in hopes a patrol will pick them up. They don’t tell anyone in Shadowclan about it, but folks are suspicious.

- In the morning, a Thunderclan patrol finds the kits and brings them straight back to camp, where they’re adopted by Dappletail. Dappletail’s two kits, Cricketkit and Featherkit, had passed away very recently, and she was among the only available queens to nurse them. It takes like 2 hours for her to decide that these kits are hers now, and she names them Sandkit, Dustkit, and Ravenkit. Thunderclan has no idea where these kits could’ve come from - they smell a little like Shadowclan, but they were right on Shadowclan’s border so cannot confirm. The running theory is that they’re rogue kits who’s mother died on the thunderpath.

- Dappletail absolutely adores these kits, and they adore her. She’s a very no-nonsense mother and expects them to be on their best behaviour at all times, and raises them on traditional “hard work is good” values. Much to her dismay, Ravenkit is the only one who follows rules without making a fuss about it every time. Sandkit and Dustkit are both really energetic and rebellious, and they love to test the boundaries every chance they get, but Dappletail is way more patient than they are.

- Sandkit, Dustkit, and Ravenkit grow up with little knowledge of how they were found. They know they were brought into Thunderclan from the outside, but only because their clanmates keep talking about it like it’s a big deal. Dappletail tries to shield them from cats like Swiftbreeze, Sparrowpelt, Tigerclaw and Darkpaw who keep muttering about them, but some of it starts to settle in their minds. Particularly Ravenkit

- Ravenkit’s social anxiety starts to take form, which doesn’t make his reputation among his clanmates any better. To combat this, Redtail introduces Dappletail’s kits to Graykit, his nephew who’s got no littermates of his own to play with. Sandkit and Dustkit still prefer to keep to themselves, but Ravenkit and Graykit are immediate best friends.

- The three of them become apprentices shortly after Graypaw. As he’s entered this teenaged stage, Dustpaw has become a bit more angsty and difficult to talk to, so Bluestar assigns him Redtail, as Redtail is experienced at being the cool uncle and she thinks he can get through to him. Sandpaw demonstrates really great hunting and stalking potential, and so to encourage those skills even more, she’s given Whitestorm as her mentor. For Ravenpaw, Bluestar *had* planned Rosetail to mentor him before she all of a sudden decided to retire. Mousefur and Runningwind were only just made warriors, so they aren’t ready for their own apprentice yet. The only option left is Tigerclaw; Bluestar figures Tigerclaw can help Ravenpaw become more bold and sure of himself. Dappletail fights her on this because of Tigerclaw’s attitude, and offers to train her son herself, but Bluestar tells her “Parents can’t mentor their own kits, sorry”

- Ravenpaw departs on a patrol with Tigerclaw, Redtail, Runningwind, and Mousefur on a mission to go get Sunningrocks back. Dustpaw would have come, as Redtail’s apprentice, but he’s grounded for misbehaving during training or something. In the chaos of the retreat after the battle, Tigerclaw commits the Redtail murder, and Ravenpaw is the only witness. When he gets back to camp to scream that Redtail is dead, he gets sick to his stomach when he locks eyes with Dustpaw.

- Redtail’s death drives a wedge between the brothers. Ravenpaw has this immense guilt that he just can’t explain to Dustpaw, and Dustpaw takes it as pity, which he’s far too proud to accept. Sandpaw is caught in the middle, but then floats over to Dustpaw. Ravenpaw still has Graypaw, and the new guy Firepaw to keep him company, but as Sandpaw sees it, Dustpaw doesn’t have anyone else.

- As they get older, the siblings feel the pressure to prove themselves as loyal Thunderclan cats more than ever. Tigerclaw uses Ravenpaw’s unknown background as a way to spread rumours about him being a Shadowclan spy, which Dappletail refutes every time its brought up. Dustpaw tries to speak out against it, but his new mentor, Darkstripe, shuts him up by saying if he was “really” Thunderclan, he’d be wary of Ravenpaw like the rest of them. Sandpaw feels the need to demonstrate her allegiance to Thunderclan by bullying Firepaw, which Dustpaw then joins in on. Firepaw being the most recent outsider to come into camp makes her and her brothers less of a target for suspicion and gossip, so she does not hesitate on getting involved in the Firepaw bullying.

- Back in Shadowclan, someone overhears Dawncloud and Stumpytail talking about their kits and how they’re doing in Thunderclan, and reports back to Brokenstar. Brokenstar exiles the two and decides he’ll get his revenge on Thunderclan by taking some kits of their own.

- Ravenpaw’s death is faked after Brokenstar is dethroned, which makes Dustpaw and Sandpaw kind of snap back into reality. Dappletail is absolutely heartbroken, and becomes very bitter with all of her clanmates that took part in the Ravenpaw being a spy gossip. She always knew her son was a good cat, and she’s furious that the only proof Thunderclan would accept was his death. Dustpaw and Sandpaw stand by their mother, but they can’t hold it against their clanmates like she does. Dustpaw was *part* of the rumour’s start. They opt not to tell her this, and the two just try to focus on being good warriors for the time being.

- Dawncloud’s only confirmation on her three kits making it safely to Thunderclan was when she saw them at their first gathering, and heard them announced as new apprentices. When only Dustpelt and Sandstorm are announced as new warriors, she feels a dire need to ask someone in Thunderclan what happened, but also is terribly afraid to.

- While he’s still somewhat associated with Tigerclaw’s crew, Dustpelt isn’t as into it as Darkstripe and Longtail are. Dappletail talks his ear off all the time about how Tigerclaw was one of the cats who started those rumours, and to “keep an eye on him”. Dustpelt was never one to listen to his mother unquestioningly though, he kind of keeps a paw on both sides to observe and see for himself whats really going on. Meanwhile, Sandstorm becomes more of an ally to Fireheart. Clanmates turning on one another and playing this game of outsiders and real warriors is the very thing that got her brother killed, and so Sandstorm has given it up as she’s grown older and lets both herself and Fireheart prove themselves real warriors by their actions and dedication to their clan. Because they’re focusing on such different things, Sandstorm and Dustpelt have drifted apart. Dappletail thinks the independence is good for them, since they’ve been side by side since they were kits, but Sandstorm still gets worried when she sees Dustpelt growing further away from her.

- Tigerclaw is revealed as a traitor, and the truth about Redtail’s murder and Ravenpaw’s witnessing is revealed. Dappletail has this moment of rage and triumph, because once again, it’s proven that her son wasn’t a traitor. Dustpelt is furious, and has to re-think a LOT of how he acted in his apprenticeship. After the exile, he cuts ties with Darkstripe and starts talking more with Sandstorm again

- Around the time that the battle with Bloodclan is approaching, Ravenpaw and Barley arrive from the farm to assist in the fight, and Dappletail and her family realize he’s still alive. There’s a very tearful family reunion. After the battle is won, they beg him to come home to Thunderclan, but Ravenpaw chooses to stay on the farm. They make him promise to visit when he can.

- Dappletail gets to celebrate her first grandchildren in Spiderkit and Shrewkit, followed closely by Squirrelkit and Leafkit. Squirrelkit and Shrewkit are Best Friend Cousins and become the same kind of dynamic duo that Dustpelt and Sandstorm were when they were kids. Unfortunately, Dappletail starts to become senile when they become apprentices, and eventually dies.

- Shrewpaw, Larchkit, and Hollykit’s final resting place is around the same place as Dappletail, so she can keep an eye on them

- On their way to leave the forest territories, the clans stop by Barley and Ravenpaw’s barn. Sandstorm and Dustpelt ask him one more time to join them back in Thunderclan, or else they might never see each other again. Ravenpaw still wants to stay at the barn, and the siblings say their final goodbyes.

- Both Sandstorm’s grandsons and Dustpelt’s granddaughter end up being part of the prophecy. When this is revealed, they’re both just a little bit proud.

- At the end of the battle against the dark forest, Dustpelt and Sandstorm have both lost their mates, and Dustpelt’s lost another kit. Sandstorm decides that she wants to retire, and tries to convince Dustpelt to do the same. He refuses, because keeping up with things around camp is the only way to keep from thinking on his grief. Sandstorm waits a season or two to see if he changes his mind, but he dies in battle before he can retire. Sandstorm retires alongside Graystripe instead, and regrets that she didn’t do more to for Dustpelt. She, Spiderleg, and Birchfall are his most frequent visitors at his resting place.

- When Sandstorm dies on the journey to find Skyclan, Firestar is the first to fetch her and bring her to Starclan. However, right past the entryway, there are Dappletail, Dustpelt and Ravenpaw.

- The three of them end up meeting Dawncloud and Stumpytail in Starclan. They’re not very close, and their relationship is less parents and children as opposed to friendly acquaintances, but they’re glad to finally learn about exactly how they got to Thunderclan.

#warriorcats #warrior cats #warrior cats headcanons #warrior cats au #thunderclan #shadowclan #sandstorm #dustpelt #ravenpaw #dappletail #dawncloud #stumpytail

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descendantofthesparrow · 5 years ago

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Two parter commission - Harry Hook x reader - Hidden

commission from @musicarose

The Reader lives on the Isle of the lost. She is very beautiful. She's not the daughter of a big villain. So she has no protection from her parents name. In order to protect herself, she dresses up as a boy. She knows Uma from her past and get along quite well with her. Uma needs her help and she stays with the pirate crew for a while. In doing so, she gets to know Harry. They fall in love with each other. However, Harry has problems with this because he thinks she is a boy. He learns the truth and is angry with her. But she can explain it to him and they come together.

2 parter commission.

I know we all headcanon harry as pan, so “realistically” he wouldn’t care that reader is a boy, but in the case of the commission, I made him a straight boi

You weren’t the daughter of a big villain or a big sidekick like smee or lefou. You were just…there, though you were noticed you see you were very beautiful in the traditional sense.

Shining (e/c) eyes, thick (h/c) (h/l) locks that shimmered when the light hit it, (plump/thin) lips pulled into a smirk.

But without protection from a villain parent, you were a target for the darker side of the isle, human trafficking being one of them, so you chopped off your hair, bit your lips, lowered your voice and wrapped your chest.

You were (m/n), son of a lowly thief.

Though you did have one thing going for you, being one of Umas true friends. You had been friends with her since you were young, now being apart of her crew after she had come to you when she had won the lost revenge, you being the second mate just after the first mate Harry Hook.

Speaking of Harry, he had just entered the chip shop, handing two crabs to cook as the passed by her. He plopped down on a chair next to you, roughly planting his hand on your head, rubbing it around and messing up your beanie.

“Harry!” you grumbled in a low voice “stoop” you ducked down, his hand slipping down and landing on your shoulder.

“sorry laddie” he chuckled, digging into the tray Uma had tossed infront of him.

In case anyone was wondering, Harry, didn’t know you were a girl, he thought you were 100% boy. Uma however, knowing you since you were a kid, knew that under the baggy clothes, choppy short hair, and low boyish voice that you were a girl.

She also knew why you were doing it, keeping the secret for you.

“Hey pretty boy!” what sucked was you couldn't always hide your face, which was still feminine, so you still got hit on and shit. “Why don’t you come hang out with us and taste some, real men” you turned sneering at the disgusting pirates.

“Leave ‘im alone yeh idiots” Harry jeered, laying his hand on your shoulder and turning you back to the table.

“oh come on hook! Share your pretty boy! We want to know what he feels like!” Harry turned red, hunching his shoulders and turning back to the goons, a raging fire in his eyes.

You felt a pit in his chest, you have had feelings for Harry for a while now, but…. Harry was known to be a boy who was strictly interested in women, though he did flirt with males to get what he wanted before he hooked them.

And you had a feeling that Harry would never feel anything but shame and anger at people suggesting your relationship. Harry stood, brandishing his hook.

“wha’ did yeh say!!” he bellowed, the goons turning pale and stuttering, regretting angering the insane son of James hook.

“Harry” Uma snapped, he turned to her, Uma simply snapped her fingers and pointed back down at his chair. He grumbled and sat back down, continuing to glare at the two goons.

Uma sighed “Harry, (m/n), can you two go grab something from Maddy for me?” you nodded, Harry asking her what it was.

“just payment for protection” Harry sighed and nodded, standing and making his way to the door. You stood and followed, grabbing your sword.

As you followed behind him silently, not wanting him to get angry again.

“GET EM!”

you screamed, arms roughly wrapping around your waist, tossing you away from Harry. He spun around panic on his face and eyes, his body preparing to launch at you.

“(m/n)!!!” he screamed, drawing his blade and trying to run towards you, yelping as a goon with a dagger swiped at him.

You stood from where you were tossed on the ground, spitting out dirt that had gotten in your mouth, you drew your sword, flipping it in your hand and leaping into battle.

As you battled a hun goon, Harry screamed out your name in panic, you shoved away the goon, going to look at Harry when a searing pain stretched up your back.

You screamed in pain, feeling a warm liquid rush down your back and soaking your shirt and the top of your pants. You collapsed, head spinning as Harry stabbed the goon in front of him, launching himself at the goon standing above you, digging his gook into his neck.

“ILL KILL YEH FOR HURTIN’ ‘IM!”

As you lay on the floor watching Harry dispatch the goons who had jumped you, darkness encasing your vision.

“harry” you whimpered, he stopped, whipping around, tears lining his eyes.

“(m/n)!” his voice was horse, wobbly and breaking, he dropped his sword and quickly hooked his hook on his belt loop. He ran to you, sliding on his knees at the last second, gingerly wrapping his arm around your shoulder, taking care not to brush against your sliced back.

“iv-I've got yeh” he muttered in a panicked tone, tears slipping down his cheeks “we-yer gonna-yer gonna be-yer gonna be okay!” he ended with a yell.

“Harry…Uma” you whispered, not even trying to keep up the boyish tone.

He nodded wildly, standing to his feet and racing off back to the shop.

“UMA! HELP-“

Everything went black.

Harry paced outside your cabin, wringing his hands together. Uma opened the cabin door, wiping her blood-covered hands on the cloth she held.

“har- woah wait! Harry!” he ignored her, he needed to see (m/n) he needed to know they were okay! He pushed past Uma, stepping into the cabin.

“(m/n) are yeh-” Harry's heart stopped, there…on (m/n) chest….was something…that males usually don’t have “(m/n)?” Harry whispered, glancing at you, you stared back in horror.

“yer…yeh lied ta me?” Harry whimpered, backing up slightly, you sat up, ignoring a searing pain in your back, waving your hands in panic.

“wait harry it's not what you-“Harry's eyes widened, hearing your feminine voice for the first time.

“yeh did! Yeh lied ta me! Yer a girl!” he yelled, a pit of anger swelling in his chest. “Harry listen-!” you tried, but he turned, storming out of the cabin, and you heard Gil call after him, asking where he was going.

Uma entered moments later, her face pale.

“shit” you both muttered.

--end of part 1--

@sephiralorange

@daughter-of-pan12

@marichat4lyf

@random-thoughts-003

@queer-cosette

#descendants #Descendents #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #commission #writing commission

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damn-stark · 4 years ago

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All That’s Left ch.8

Star Wars Au

A/N- I really liked how this came out :) leave your thoughts??

Warning- deals with a panic attack, swearing, light fluff, angst, long chapter

Pairing- Poe Dameron x reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

Quietly you look down at your trembling hands with a numb expression, your eyes meeting Ben’s from across from you and gasping out in a shaking voice, “Ben...I-I just...oh god.”

Ben stands up to his given height, his eyes still wide in surprise, his lips parting but not knowing exactly what to say to your seemingly panicked person. After all, only Poe knew of your now broken moral. He right now was the only person your eyes searched for through the thick of the dark forest, coming up empty through each sweep and even more overwhelmed by the minute.

Ben seemed like a mere hallucination, the sound of your name coming out of his lips in a highly worried tone as you began to walk back was tuned out by your racing heart thumping in your ears. It was cold but your body was covered in hot sweat, all you could see was your trembling hands that were in a more metaphorical sense covered in blood of the man you had killed. All you wanted was one person, but he wasn’t here.

“Wh-where’s Poe? I need—” you muttered, whilst you kept walking away from Ben. “I need Poe, please.”

Everything around you began to spin in circles, what was once reality around you, felt as if it was all some fake alternate world, everything felt out of this world, it felt like your body was beginning to lose gravity and you were floating up into the void of space, only holding on to the earth by a thread. Ben was trying to help, but he was clueless on what to do, he began to hear you hyperventilate as you fell to the floor, but he was frozen, caught like a deer in headlights. He knew and you knew that what you were having a panic attack, only he didn’t know why. That or his mind just wasn’t grasping the idea with everything that was going on. Maybe he needed the help of the man you had called out to too.

“Hey, y/n, listen to me,” Ben tried to assure you, as he crouched down in front of you, pulling your hands away from your face as he noticed that you seemed to look at nothing else but that. “Listen to me.”

His voice was again, distant, felt like he was calling you from millions of miles away. You managed to shake your head and make the mistake to let your eyes fall on Ren splayed on the ground a couple feet away, the inside of your mind spinning more and your chest rising and falling down in a rhythm that wasn’t normal.

“Y/N!” Immediately at the shout of your name coming from Ben’s, your eyes snap away from Ren and you focus on Ben; who’s face by the way was inches from your eyes, his hands carefully and hesitantly cupping your cheeks. “Listen to me. Talk to me about your sister, okay? Describe her to me.”

You shook your head and swallowed thickly, feeling hot tears still streaming down your cheeks, still hearing the loud thumping of your heart and feeling as if everything was just going to come to a sudden and violent end.

“Please, just describe her to me, you talk about her all the time, tell me how she’s like.” Ben repeated, tilting your head so you continued to focus on nothing else but him. “Please.”

“Sh-she had red hair,” you panted, “she was my-my step sister. Her eyes were a mixture of the earth, brown and green,” it was slow at first, but his attempts to calm you down seemed to be working; only talking about your sister made your mind focus on what happened last. The event that left you somewhat the way you are now. “I left her to turn,” Ben freezes at your words, realizing that your breathing had calmed down, but the emotions had remained the same or even just worsened.

He just did the opposite of what he was trying to reach.

You sniffle and feel Ben wipe the tears off your cheeks, the panic that had overcome your mind, now drifting into nothing as you continued, “I left her to die, I loved her and left her to turn into one of those things because I couldn’t do it. I-I couldn’t end her life, so I left her to turn.” You sigh and feel tears once again cloud your eyesight, “it’s true what Armitage said about me isn’t it?” You blink to meet his gaze, your frown a permanent residence on your face, “I’m-I’m weak.”

Ben lips parted, his brown irises searching your face for the right answer to give you, to try and not say something dumb to ruin the moment, or make you more upset. Because he knew that right now it’s like you were made out of glass, one wrong move and you would break.

“You—” Ben’s comment was cut off the moment your eyes drifted to catch the movement behind him, a soft smile tugging at your lips signifying that it was no one dangerous.

“Poe,” instantly you ripped Ben’s hands away and quickly got up, noticing that Poe’s once clean face, now had a red marking that would soon fade into a purple bruise. Whatever had gone down with the knight, Poe came out the winner, even if he got hurt. Which was good in some ways. Regardless you were content at finally seeing him approach, the frown that once heavily decorated your features making a quick return when you saw Poe’s eyes flicker to Ren's dead body by his feet. His own gaze apologetic as he came to the realization of what happened.

Poe’s lips parted to pronounce the nickname that had quickly gotten accustomed to his tongue, but as he saw Ben stand too close to you he had to go by your name. “Y/N.”

Maybe you should have been more discreet, hidden more your enthusiasm to see him, but after what you did, he’s all you needed. So quickly you ran up to wrap him in a hug, letting out a shaky breath of air at the comfort of his arms wrapping around you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered into his chest, not having a care in the world if this singular moment was going to give away your relationship; “I-I didn’t mean to kill him. I’m sorry.”

Poe parted away only far enough to cup your cheeks, his usual gestures of affection forced to be nothing more than imaginary for the time being. His words were the only thing for comfort, even if those were guarded too. “It’s okay, you saved Ben’s life, that’s all that matters.”

Your eyebrows knot together and you shake your head, “but,”

“It’s okay, remember what I told you before...it doesn’t matter. Okay?”

You hesitate, but nod nonetheless. “Okay.”

Poe fully broke away, looking to Ben nervously and hoping he saw your interaction as nothing more but platonic. Just friends that weren’t really friends, finding comfort in each other because they had spent a day full of bonding….but Ben wasn’t stupid either. Shit.

Let’s hope he was clueless at this instant.

Poe swallowed thickly, “where’s Finn? And chewbacca? And BB8?”

Ben sighed and his eyes shifted to the ground, signifying nothing good was going to come out of his response. “We don’t know. Rey was hoping to have found them by now, but nothing. I don’t know where they are or if they’re together, all we know is that we got separated after the attack at the camp.”

Poe’s face fell, and his eyes glistened with tears once again, responding with a simple nod and nothing more in regard to that matter. “Well, Rey is in the car, we can take it, I doubt they’ll miss it. We just have to leave before they want a rematch. Or revenge for their dead master here.”

Your face falls and your eyes drift once more to Ren. A chill running through your body at the flashing memory, feeling your gaze get lost on the harsh dark crimson color that impurified the white snow. Only reacting to the real world as Poe’s whisper startled you. “Hey, come on.”

His eyes were set on you, his worry for your well being undivided. He wanted to talk, you could read that off his body language, the way he kept his eyes trained on you, a hands on your shoulder with his lips parted to add hundreds of things to comfort you. But with Ben around now, it was impossible. Maybe the truth was he needed you as much as he saw you needed him. But again impossible, all either of you could do was dance around your words.

“Are you okay?” You manage to ask, your eyes moving away from Ren to focus on Poe, your hand lifting to give his shoulder a comforting squeeze before you slowly slid it down to hold his hand for a short second, his hand squeezing yours for a moment before you pulled away from his grasp.

Poe nodded, one corner of his lips tugging into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I will be.” He sighed before guiding you to the car he was going to take as a parting gift from the Knights of Ren, “now come on, before they wake up.”

You sigh and nod, leaving Ren behind physically, but feeling his torturous presence now cling to your mind; “Okay.”

——

The rest of the night was enveloped in an equally quiet car ride, albeit the only noise that occupied your space was the sound of the car's tires on the asphalt that was slowly being swallowed by greenery that was overcoming every inch of man made things. Surprisingly Ben and Poe kept their talking to a minimum, no arguing at all, just simple directions, and maybe that fact had to be due to Rey, who was still passed out in the seat by yours. Her chest slowly rising up and falling down in a gentle rhythm, the only indication that she was alive and not actually dead.

Good, as much neither of you have gotten along, even thinking of losing someone else hurt your soul.

Thinking about those crew members that you were still missing was aching at your heart to the point where you were going to bawl your eyes out if it wasn’t for, Ren’s body haunting your mind. Keeping you from fully drifting off to the peacefulness that was sleeping, watching as the sun pushed the stars off the horizon to introduce a new even colder day. Any moment you closed your eyes, two scenes vividly played in your mind, both equally as traumatizing and draining to your sanity.

One, was seeing his scared body laying on the floor with the blood staining the snow.

Two, and the most prominent one was when you impaled Ren's torso with Ben's lightsaber. The sound of the blue blade bursting out buzzed in your ears, a sound so vivid it felt like if someone was now taunting and torturing you by repeatedly activating the saber right by your ear. It was deafening and horrible, but when you thought it was all over and felt like your mind could get some ease and drift to sleep, the vivid image of the same saber going through Ren’s torso startled you awake; sometimes the scene would play different, but nothing ever nice. At times your mind played games and mixed the truth, leaving you in a haze unable to tell the difference between the lies and truth of what was real or not after a while. Sometimes your hands were covered in blood, or your whole body; sometimes you would see him rise from the dead and kill you instead. Overall whatever horror trance you were under kept you awake, the only connection to your sanity and reality was Poe.

Who quietly sat in the passenger seat, his eyes often drifting over his shoulder to watch you numbly look out the window, or actually meet your exhausted gaze. A faint smile on each other’s lips when your eyes did meet. Feeling grateful that you had chosen the seat behind Ben’s driver's seat to get a good view of your equally as exhausted boyfriend. At least that went according to plan.

“Okay, I got some good pilot jokes, okay?” Poe voiced out loud, making Ben express a loud sigh, only causing Poe to get a rather prideful and happier grin, his eyes drifting up to notice your attention was only partly in this car. The feeling of his hand pulling yours to rest it on his chest grabbing your still divided attention. Sneaky bastard. He practically almost threw Rey passenger seat after she woke up, with the excuse that “it's better to sit in the back. That way I can stretch my legs to sleep better.” While he had his head on your lap, making another excuse that “the seat's headrests are too hard, and the car ride is too bumpy to rest my head on the window. I could get a concussion.” To Ben and Rey, he was being whiny, while to you, it was all excuses to just be close you without raising suspicion. You'd say he was smart, if he wasn’t talking everyone's ears off.

So much for sleeping.

Before he could reveal his joke, you tried to pull your hand away from his chest, knowing that Rey or Ben were going to look over their shoulder to shoot Poe, a rather unamused glare at his jokes, but as you tried, he reacted faster and began to wrestle for your own hand. A teasing smirk on his lips as he saw you now fully give him your attention. And if no one was around, you knew deep in your soul that he would have either pulled you down for a kiss, or he would have lifted his head to press his lips on your own, gently and playfully biting your bottom lip before he would return to his previous position on your lap—well now, that’s all you wanted. Ugh.

“Okay here it goes,” he grinned, finally deciding to let your hand go before he continued, “what’s one thing a pilot can’t say in a job interview?”

Rey sighed, “what?”

Poe chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the pure enjoyment of his own joke as he tried to say it in between laughs. “I’m down to earth!” Poe laughed even harder. At least he was finding time to enjoy himself..that or what Zorii said, “Keep his mind from overthinking.” Nonetheless you giggled at his joke, even if it was forced due to the fact that neither Rey or Ben laughed, and well you were simply not in the mood to laugh or do anything at all.

But he was trying. Not only to keep everyone’s mood up, but your own. He was great that way…..

Poe shifted himself to now rest his head and shoulders on your lap, his warm brown eyes again shifting to your face, a frown threatening to show when he saw your smile fade away; “one more,” he continued, “I saw a ghost pilot once, guess what he was flying on?” You hum softly as a response, the only answer he needed to finish his joke, “he was on an ethereal plane.”

Ben this time expressed an amused huff of air, a very, very faint smile tugging on his lips that was only visible through the rear view mirror. Your own smile barely pulled through—at least he got Ben to smile.

Rey shifted in her seat, looking over her shoulder to change the subject and direct her painful question at Poe. “How about, Zorii? Have you come across her or know where she is? We lost sight of her after the attack. She was looking for the both of you.”

Poe’s whole face dropped at the mention of the woman’s name, his whole body stiffening at the memory you both witnessed. The guilt you barely managed to shove away, crashing back into your mind. Just piling on to your already overwhelmed headspace.

“She-she.” Poe fumbled with his words, his eyes looking to the car's ceiling to avoid his tears from rolling down, while he also let out a shaky breath of air. “She—”

“We...lost her,” you explained for Poe, “she found us the day of the attack and,” you pause and sigh, “we traveled together, until we found out she had gotten bit during the attack.” Tears roll down your cheeks, but you somehow manage to finish your explanation. “Without her, we would have died. She saved us before she…” You swallow thickly, “...died.”

Rey’s mouth is left agape, a sadness replacing her curiosity. “I’m-im sorry, Poe. I know you two knew each for a long time...I’m sorry.”

Poe expresses a soft thank you that barely passes as a whisper, the tears he wanted to keep away, rolling down regardless. The deafening silence from before covering the little space with added tension. You moved your hand to wipe Poe’s tears off his cheeks, making his saddened gaze drift to you, a small wince leaving his lips at the sting felt after your finger passed over his bruise. “Sorry.” You mouthed, looking up the rearview mirror to quickly glance at Ben, before looking at Rey, double checking that they both weren’t looking, to move your hands to wipe the curls off his forehead and show him a soft smile before mouthing your concern “are you okay?”

Poe nodded and returned your question, “are you okay?”

You hesitate, but answer with a feigned smile and a short nod, your eyes drifting beyond the tree lines as Ben rolled to a stop in an old camp ground. The vivid figure of Ren bleeding out appearing where your gaze fixated, causing an inaudible hitch in your breathing once you caught sight of his blood covered finger accusingly pointed at you, his husky voice sounding off loudly in your head. Almost feeling as if he were next to you. “You killed me.”

——

“You killed me.” Ren pointed at you again, only this time with the crimson red lightsaber humming in his hand, the raging tip threatening you from where he stood outside the foggy window standing between him and you. His white hair blended with the white color the background behind him, while his red blade stood out, his blood that dripped from the deadly wound you made sizzled on the snow. A sound your mind created to torture you that much more. You tried to rub your eyes in attempts for his ghost to go away, but when your eyes were given their visibility again, there he was, his boots buried in the snow with this lightsaber still threatening you. “You killed me.”

You gulp and firmly shut your eyes, whispering your wishes for him to disappear under your breath; only to be surprised that he stood before you now, a scowl painted on his face that soon transformed into a worried look.

What the fuck?

Again you shut your eyes for a second before they flutter open, the image of Poe standing in front of you taking Ren's place. His eyebrows furrowing at your reaction, while his eyes followed your line of sight as your eyes snapped back to the window; now seeing nothing but the falling snow. “Is there something over there?” He questioned in a highly worried tone.

Your eyes drift back to him, noticing the concern in his eyes when they met with yours. Letting you shake your head and whisper. “No.”

Poe hummed, his eyes drifting for a second to what you had been focused on moments ago to see nothing. Again. “Okay, well,” he scratched the back of his head, his voice lowering in volume, “Ben and I are going to scour the area just to make sure there's no infected lurking around, okay?”

You blink and look behind his shoulder to see Rey outside talking with Ben, letting you fully express your doubt for this “patrol”, “Poe, no. Please don’t leave me here with Rey.”

Poe chuckled, his hand stroking his beard. “You’ll be fine. We’re not going to be gone long.” He smirked, “just try to get along, alright?”

You shook your head, “no. Not alright.”

Poe rolled his eyes before crouching down to match your height as you sat on an old bunk bed. “Try to get some sleep. I know that you haven’t, so for me, please sleep.”

What you wouldn’t give to sleep in his arms again. Sneak off and find some dark cave to just sleep in the security of his arm again. You wouldn’t have to do anything else….well maybe just some kissing, but nothing else beside that. You just wanted to feel safe in the world of insanity that now had you by its grasp, feel warm in the cold season that had everything covered in a snow white blanket. Only that blanket was made out of small particles of cold ice. Stupid winter.

For someone born on Ilum, a literal ice planet, you hated anything that had to associate with snow or ice. It was a stupid cursed thing that did nothing but get you cold. It was beautiful to see, but it was cursed. There's no good memories associated with snow. Nothing.....well maybe Poe. But everything that happened with him, like him asking you to be his girlfriend happened before the first flake of snow hit the ground. The sex happened before too. So nothing good ever associated with this white tortures snow.

You sigh, “maybe. But that’s why you should stay too. You haven’t slept either, I don’t want you passing out in the middle of the forest. Plus you’re wounded.”

Poe looked over his shoulder, his eyes focused on the talking pair outside the window before he turned back around, his hand going on your knee and not on your thigh for precautionary reasons. “Baby, it’s just a little bruise.”

“And?”

A faint smile pulled on his lips, “I’ll be fine. I’ve also gone longer without sleeping. I’m more worried about you. Are you sure you’re fine? What you did took a toll, I know it wasn’t easy.”

You sigh and look to the ground for a brief moment before you meet his gaze to assure him. “I’ll be fine. It’s just going to take time, you know? To fully grasp what I did. But...I will be fine.”

He smiles, unconvinced but he does, his fingers aching to stroke your cheek, “you’ll tell me if anything’s wrong, right? You know you can trust me with anything, right?”

You nod, forcing a smile to really convince him. “yeah I know.” You wanted to tell him of what you’ve been seeing, but, it was just passing trauma. Nothing to worry about….nothing to worry about.

He hesitates to say what he wanted to say next, wanting to stay on the subject, but knowing that it wouldn’t go far with the people around. So instead he had to move on. “I want you to get some sleep, baby, for me, okay?”

You groan, “fine.”

Poe smiles, the exhaustion behind his eyes disappearing for a moment as he showed the little bit of joy when you answered. “We’ll be back shortly.”

You smirk, “no kiss goodbye?”

Poe scoffed, “You know if I could, I would.” He smirked, “don’t be a tease.” Poe followed by standing up, offering you one last smile before taking your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to place a light kiss on your scar. Making you genuinely smile. Before you could say anything on the regard he discreetly placed something hard and small on your palm, securing it by forming your hand into a fist. His gaze lingering on you for a moment before leaving out the door, that panic and hold to reality that was shoved away at his presence returning as he left. Leaving you paranoid and scared again. Just before Rey could come in, you turned your back to the door...for just in case and opened your fist, seeing a silver chain (not the one with the ring on it...good.) that had dog tags hanging from it, ‘Poe Dameron’ neatly stamped on the metal, with the symbol of the resistance logo stamped under the words. You smiled. A genuine and happy smile that even showed on your eyes at the sentiment, the neatly folded piece of paper catching your attention before you could hang the chain around your neck.

When you unfolded it, there wasn’t a lot written and the words were obviously written in a hurry due to how messy it all looked. But the thought still made your heart swell. If your sister were to see you, she would instantly call you out and tease you on how big your smile was and the effects this man had on you. But alas she wasn’t. Maybe it was a good thing, since her jokes would be endless and irritating….but then again you’d rather have that then what was the reality. Damn.

You sigh and choose to read the letter instead of wallowing. The smile you had returned in an instant as your eyes read the words.

I want you to wear these, a part of me, with you. So every time I have to leave you’re reminded that I’m there with you and that I’ll be back. No matter how short my leave is. I’ll be back. Everytime. I...

The letter ‘I’ was very messily scribbled out, whatever he wanted to write, chosen to be nothing but a mistake. Whatever it was.

...also please SLEEP! I mean it! I’ll be back.Try not to fight with Rey.

Your best boyfriend ever, Poe.

And he called you a dork—your smile widened and you neatly tucked the letter in your backpack. Quickly hanging the chain around your neck and hiding the dog tags under your shirt, unable to hide the smile that showed as the warmth from Poe’s body was still on the metal. You felt like a happy child after receiving a candy or a prize. Now you felt closer with Poe. What you wouldn’t give to kiss him.

You couldn’t, shame. Maybe if you actually slept he would be back faster and you would get to avoid Rey. That’s a good idea. Let’s do that. You shrug your backpack off your shoulders and drop it on the wooden floor, not even bothering to look back at Rey as you heard the mattress of the bed she was on, swoop down. The sound of her lips parting, making you bite the inside of your cheek in hopes she wasn’t trying to do what you thought she wanted to do.

But alas it happened…

“So,” she started, forcing you to turn to face her. “Poe and you....”

If you could see your own face. You knew it would be shocked beyond belief. Your eyes would be and are widened in horror and surprise. Your heart stopped beating. All the blood on your face disappeared.

“...were there when Zorii died?” She finished with a long face.

You finally exhale and relax, proceeding to offer her a short nod. “Uhh, yeah….well not really because we had to leave before she died, but there wasn’t much time left for her, she sacrificed the remainder of her time...so..yeah.”

What you wouldn’t give to have her here.

Rey hummed, her eyes lifting from the floor to you, the action making your heart race inside your chest; “look, I just want to say that whatever hostile we had with each other, I’m sorry. I was just...jealous I guess with the relationship you had with Ben.”

Your nose scrunches and you laugh out loud. Making her eyebrows knot in confusion. “Look,” You breath with a grin, “I’ll tell you what I told him. It’s not going to happen. Ben is like a walking reminder of my brother, I could never have a relationship with that man. Plus he’s rude, so, no.”

Rey smiles shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah you’ve got that right.”

“Did you have the chance to, uh,” you try not to laugh again, hiding your smile with your hand, “did you try making a move on him? Or?”

Rey shook her head, her smile softening. “No, no. He’s intimidating to say the least, at first I did find him attractive but, I don’t think he’s fully here. His mind always seems to be somewhere else. It’s weird.”

You hum as a response, knowing that his father mostly likely had to with his odd behavior.

“I’ve meaning to ask,” Rey paused, fidgeting with her fingers like if whatever she wanted to ask scared her. “Why did you leave the first order? I understand that General Hux is your brother. Why did you leave and not him.”

You swallow thickly, and hesitate to speak up as you thought of your answer. It wasn’t difficult to explain the reasoning. It was just hard to talk about; “he’s my step brother.” You correct her, meeting her gaze to continue, “uhh, he traveled with the group my sister and I were with after the outbreak, but he chose to return after a year. He decided that his precious order mattered more than his own family.” Tears don’t threaten to show like you thought they would, instead you were swallowed in a burning anger. “My sister and I left the order. A group of us actually. All before everything happened, because we knew that what the first order was doing was wrong. It was never us. My sister always said we were meant for greater things than to be part of a murdereous group.” A small warm smile makes it on your lips at the thought of your sister, a moment that was short lived as the memory of her passing makes your frown have a comeback.

“I’m sorry,” Rey sighs.

You quirk your eyebrow and quickly press on her comment. “What for?”

“It wasn’t easy, losing the only people you have in the whole galaxy. It’s hard and devastating. I understand.” Tears roll down her cheeks, the action and her words catching you by total surprise.

“I—” you exhale deeply and nod, “it’s shattering, but the loneliness after they’re all gone is the worst part.” And it was. You were left alone for a year after Amaras death. A year without having people watch your back or talk to, just feel safe. Not until someone came along. This guy named Enzo, he had these soft, pretty brown eyes that you could just get lost in. He had some soft brown hair and a pretty face, and his accent was amazing. He well, he could also pull off a beard. But that’s all. Well. All beside the point. Because just like everyone else he died...or at least that’s what you tell yourself. You were separated by a horde, one thing led to another and then you found Ben and his father. Or they found you. Whatever. The point is, you haven’t thought of Enzo since Ben found you. It would have been painful either way. Plus, he was part of the past. You weren’t alone anymore.

Focusing back on the person in front of you, you notice as Rey wipes her tears and offers you a kind smile, “you have us now. You know that, right?”

For however long that will be. Right?

You nod and wipe off your own tears, “right.”

“I know you’re scared that what you’re going to do is going to kill you, but I promise that General Organa will do everything in her power to make sure it doesn’t. I have faith you’ll get to see what your immunity brings to this galaxy too.”

You frown and gulp, blinking away tears to show a more feigned smile. All you wanted was for her to be right. But you couldn’t get your hopes up. “I’m-“ you excuse yourself. Changing the subject completely. “I’m going to try and get some sleep before the guys come back, okay?” Without another word, you look away and lay on the blanket you had over the bed with your back facing her. It was a little rude to leave her out in the cold like that after she was trying to be nice, but the topic she brought up isn’t easy. You couldn’t let your mind come up with the ‘what if’ scenarios. As nice as that would be. You just couldn’t….so instead let’s just get sleep. Or else your boyfriend would skin you alive for not at least sleeping for a couple minutes.

If that was even possible.

You closed your eyes and all could see was Ren. You wanted to picture Poe, imagine that he was pressed up behind you, or maybe even anything else but what came to mind. Stupid Ren. You sigh and pull out the dog tags that Poe had given you. A small smile pulling at the corner of your lips at the feeling of the metal in your hand. Knowing that he once had them around his own neck, had it against his smooth skin. Knowing that he thought of you when he chose to depart from something so meaningful as his war tags. This man truly managed to just mean everything to you in a matter of days. What was it? Maybe the way he didn’t see you like a broken toy. He didn’t treat you like a child, he was gentle, strong and brave. He cared for you and the thought of leaving you bothered him to his very core. And you knew your leave was inevitable, but he knew the risks and didn’t care. Maybe you were nothing else but a warm body to him...but if that were true, he wouldn’t bother to leave notes or small gifts. He would be uncaring and cold. But he wasn’t. He truly wasn’t.

Stars.

——

“Y/N.”

The afternoons bright light stings your eyes the moment you peel them open, a cold breeze rushes in and makes you pull your (Poe’s) jacket closer to your body. The exhaustion you had been trying to get rid of still there. Lingering. Pleading for you to shut your eyes again to continue with what your body ached for. Only you wouldn’t. It’s a surprise you even got to sleep. For however long that was.

“Y/N.”

You sigh and turn around at the sound of Ben calling you—when had they came back?

“Y/N.”

You groan, “yeah, yeah I heard you the first time.” You roll your eyes and flip around, keeping your eyes focused on the ground as you swung your feet over the bed, dreading even meeting Ben’s gaze. You were still mad at him. You might’ve saved his life, but he hasn't apologized for his very unkind words. He might think he’s off the hook but he wasn’t. Yet.

“Ben, look.” You sigh and as you’re tugging your boots on, the blood dripping from his body makes you stop mid sentence and for your brows to pinch together. Slowly and hesitantly following the leaking blood up to...No.No. Ren. “No. No I-I killed you. You’re supposed to be dead.”

Ren’s head tilted to the side, one of his burnt hands trying to stop his wound from bleeding while with his other he pulled his lightsaber off his side. “Right, because you killed me. Because you’re just like them. You had no mercy.”

You shake your head and stand up from the bed, slowly slipping past him and beginning to walk back. “No. I’m not. You-you were going to kill my friend.” A small whimper leaves your lips at the sound of his lightsaber igniting in his hand. The crimson color, basking the whole room in its red glow.

Ren walks towards you, the tip of his saber pointing to you, with every step he took forward you took one back, feeling the heat of the lightsaber on your own torso as it came mere inches from impacting it as your back hit the closed door. You tried to turn the knob to open the door, but your hand kept slipping, a small yelp escaping from you as Ren closed the remainder of the gap by pressing the burning blade on your body, the tip of the blade easily burning through your clothes and burning your skin in a blinding pain.

“You’re just like the people you ran away from. You’re no different from your brother. You’re just like him. Both weak. Both killers.”

“Rey?! Rey?!” Where the hell was she! “Rey!”

Ren suddenly thrusts his arm forward, the blade fully coming in contact and penturating through your skin. Making you express a loud scream from the agony. Having felt no pain like this one ever. His words only add to your pain. “Now we’ll die together.” Again he thrusts forward and you let out another scream.

“I’m sorry!”

Just when you thought everything was going to end, your eyes fly open and your upper body flies up until you’re in a sitting position with your hand where your wound was supposed to be. Feeling a blanket of sweat cover your body. It takes you a moment to fully recuperate from your nightmare, but once you do you turn your head to see that Rey was not in her previous position. The room was empty. “Rey?” You swing your legs over the bed and quickly tug your shoes on, ignoring how sticky your whole body felt from the sweat. “Rey?”

Quickly you push yourself off the bed and instantly head to the door, finally catching the sound of a woman's voice talking outside. A voice you didn’t recognize as Rey’s at all; “...we must be getting lucky, recently we’ve been able to save two lost wanderers and a little robot. Cute little thing. And now the three of you.”

You press your ear on the door and let your hand hover over the doorknob as you heard Ben’s voice. They’re back? “Yeah, lucky. Now those three you found recently, was one tall and hairy? They’re in your camp?”

“Yeah and yes!” The woman chuckles, more people chiming in and joining her, “sound interesting now?”

They found Finn? What the hell is going on?

A silence takes over, making you finally twist the knob to open the door, instantly recognizing Poe’s back blocking the door, his head along with the six newcomers turning to see you walk out.

“Another emerges!” The woman addresses with a warm grin. “I’m sorry for the intrusion. You must be so confused.”

You nod and stay by Poe, feeling his gaze on you as his hand hovers over the small of your back. He looks away after a moment, letting your eyes then meet with Rey, who’s by Ben. Who looked more or less as concerned as her as he awkwardly stood across from you and by the blond woman, her green eyes burning into you.

“We were just trying to convince your friends here, about joining us in our camp. Get you guys cleaned up and fed. A storm is coming. It’s better to be somewhere...warmer than these falling cabins.”

“Hmm, well, I do whatever my friend says, so. If he says no. Then, what can I do?”

The woman chuckles again, before shoving her hands in her winter jacket. “I like you.”

And you seem weird.

“Well the offer is on the table take it or leave it.”

Something felt off? No? Just paranoia?

From the corner of your eye, you meet Poe’s gaze, his eyebrow lifting to silently ask for your opinion. Receiving a very hesitant and simple shrug from you, both of you then looking to Ben and Rey to communicate the same. All of it concluding to Ben.

“The man’s name. The one picked up recently, what was his name?” Poe asked.

The woman pressed her lips together and let her eyes wander the white ground before locking eyes with the man next to her. “Uhh, I’m not sure. I didn’t have time to really introduce myself. Why? You looking for someone?”

Ben stepped up, “you could say that.” Ben’s eyes then drifted to meet your own, the battle of choosing the right choice obviously painted on his face. He just you like you knew that it was a risk. Because after all his own father did warn you about strangers. You just never know. But then there was the other choice. If he didn’t risk at least just going to check if Finn, Chewie and BB8 were in the camp, you weren’t the only one going to be mad at him for choosing to deny their invitation.

Ben sighs and clenches his jaw, his answer going unheard as Poe speaks up. Obviously impatient to wait for Ben to answer, and desperate to know if his best friend and his droid were actually there. “We’ll go, but we can’t stay long.”

The blond woman grins and claps her hands, “great! Now I won’t feel bad that I had to leave y’all behind when a storm is heading our way. I promise you all it’s going to be great.”

You offer her a feigned smile and swallow thickly, thinking to yourself as you feel Poe’s warmth finally come in contact with your back as he began to follow the blond woman and her group.

Was this really going to be safe?

Was it the correct choice?

Were Finn, Chewie and BB8 actually there?

Maker.

Hopefully, a yes, to all.

Hopefully.

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