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astranva · 3 years

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Falling Duet

Word Count: 2.4k

Category: Fluff but it’s so 🥺

Warning: Nothing

Request: harry dating singer!reader: he has to perform at some awards and he invites her to sing with him but no one else knows? love your writing🤧❤

Summary: You and Harry sing an unreleased version of Falling at an award show.

The lyrics used are of “Falling (other POV)” by THE cutie, Ally Naso 🤍

// masterlist //

**reposted bc tumblr is messing up the tags & nobody can view it. sigh.

It all started when a friend of yours had recorded you singing in your school’s bathroom during senior year.

7 years ago, you wouldn’t have believed it if somebody told you that you would be a 13-time Grammy nominated artist, as well as having 6 of that very award sitting on your shelf at your childhood home – one for Best Artist, and one for Album of the year.

You would have laughed even.

But it wasn’t a joke nor was it a dream you wished to never wake up from; it was as real as life could be.

You were successful in the industry and if any of your fans were asked, they would say that it was because of your immense talent and unproblematic, empathetic, kind character.

It was one of the many reasons why so many people on the internet had shipped you with a certain English man, him having been only 20 when you went viral and got signed.

A year into the industry, it was one day when you remember your Twitter notifications going crazy;

“HARRY STYLES JUST SAID HE LOVES YOUR MUSIC AND THINKS YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL”

“omg pls tell us you watched 1d’s interview with jimmy kimmel”

“IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING! CAN YOU PLEASE BE TOGETHER ALREADY???”

Looking back at that memory, you remember how you were a shaking and overwhelmed mess as you had clicked on the link everybody was sending you.

The video had begun with the audience cheering as the camera was on Jimmy and the 5 men near him.

And there he sat; in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, medium-length hair looking like he had run his fingers through many times, his hands clasped as he looked at Jimmy.

“Who’s most likely to let a woman split the band?” Jimmy had asked.

They had looked at each other, not answering for a moment before Niall chimed in with a laugh as he pointed at Harry, “Harry would let his celebrity crush do that.”

Harry rolled his eyes jokingly as his bandmates agreed and laughed, slapping his hands against his thighs in feigned annoyance.

“Who is that? Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Just this talented person.” He had tried to smile his way through the question, but no one was having it.

“You know Y/N Y/L/N? She’s an amazing singer,” Louis told Jimmy.

“Y/N!” Jimmy beamed, “We had her on the show two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, he watched that.” Liam had gestured towards Harry.

Hiding his face in his hands for a moment, the audience cheered as his friends continued to laugh.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Jimmy asked Harry in a teasing manner.

Having had decided to get it over with, Harry nodded as he clasped his hands together again, “She’s very talented and beautiful.”

“Lovie, can you help me with the necklace? My nails are still drying.”

You looked up from your place on the couch, sitting in your long dress looking so beautiful that Harry had lost track of time of getting into his own suit because he was too busy giving you a photoshoot on his phone.

Standing up, you reached and clasped his necklace for him, dusting his shoulders to signal that you were done.

Turning, you were met with your boyfriend of 4 years beaming at you before he leaned to press his lips against yours.

“You look so good.” You smiled up at him, “So beautiful.”

“Have to try to catch up with how you look tonight,” he replied with a wide smile, “Nervous?”

“Not really.” You admitted.

Amusingly and completely and utterly in love, Harry tilted his head slightly, “Any reason why you’re not? You usually hate those.”

It was true. You didn’t really like award shows because of how tiresome all the process was; hair, makeup, dressing up, walking only to pause every second, the repeated questions you have been answering for years, how more judgmental the world was on nights like these.

But it was always when Harry was able to be by your side that you liked the night, and the tall man knew it, but he had always loved hearing you say it.

To feed his ego, you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Because you’ll be there.”

“Music to my ears.” He joked, shaking his head slightly.

“Just feeding that already overfed ego of yours, baby.”

“Excuse you.” He pecked your lips, “Let me add food for Evie then we can leave.”

“I’ll do it, don’t mess up your nails.” You patted his chest before moving away to attend to your cat.

The fans and reporters all had anticipated the moment of yours and boyfriend’s arrival, and the both of you knew it.

You were fairly private with your relationship. While everyone knew you were together, the both of you didn’t always post about one another but when you did, it went viral – something you and Harry, shamelessly, enjoyed.

It was why during moments like this, everyone was eager. Reporters were hungry for content, all having different intentions, but you spend enough time in the industry and you sort of begin knowing what to say and how to say it.

Harry was scheduled to perform, something everyone knew of, but it was the fact that you were joining him not on the red carpet, but on stage that they didn’t.

Getting out of the car together, the screams and flashing lights were then doubled.

Harry closed the door behind you with a polite smile to the security standing. Bending a little, he adjusted your dress’s short train for you as you looked back at it before you looked up at him.

As if they weren’t snapping pictures like crazy yet, you reached and fixed Harry’s hair at the front, his eyes looking up with a smile as you did so.

“Thanks, love.”

With that, Harry placed his arm around your waist as you walked to the first spot on the red carpet.

“When was the last time we appeared together? They’re going mad.” You whispered, looking at Harry as he smiled to the cameras.

He chuckled, looking at you, “I think we deprive them too much.”

“Let’s give them enough content to last a year.”

Nobody but the both of you knew what you meant, and it was why the flashing lights and camera shutter sounds were then tripled the moment Harry’s lips were on yours in a soft kiss.

“Can we sign stuff?” You asked a woman standing on the sides, “Can we see the fans?”

When she nodded at you, you and Harry ignored posing for a few minutes to converse and meet fans.

“I love you and Harry so much!” One fan said shakily as you signed a paper for him.

“Thank yo- Hey! I saw you in Amsterdam last year, right?” You grinned.

And that was another thing not only your fans loved about you, but Harry, too.

You were no stranger to connections. You were no stranger to making people feel seen and treating them in a way that no fan expected to be treated – a friend, and you remember friends.

“Harry, do you think Y/N will win Songwriter of the Year?” A fan asked.

Harry shrugged with a smile, “I hope so but we all know she is anyway.” He waved his hand with a joking manner, making the closest fans laugh.

“What about you? Do you think you’ll win Artist of the Year?”

“I don’t know,” he smiled, “There are so many amazing artists. I wish them all the best.”

“He’s a humble man,” you teased, patting his shoulder, “We all know he is anyway.”

You were confused as they, Harry included, laughed in shock. “What?”

“He literally has just said the same thing about you.”

You laughed, looking at Harry, “Shut up, no way!”

“The both of you have been doing that for years.” One fan commented with a grin, “It’s adorable. It’s like telepathy or something.”

“Oh yeah, we are telepathic,” Harry nodded, “It gets a little scary sometimes.”

“Heeey!” You laughed, “It’s actually helpful. One of us would be just walking at home and we’d look at each other and know that the other just means something like “feed Evie” or “take out the trash””

“This is so cute!”

“Harry, what are you performing tonight?”

“You’ll find out in a bit.” He pointed.

Shortly, you and Harry had to take more pictures and do interviews before you were escorted inside.

It was the little moments that fans also lived for; how Harry held your hand as you sat so discreetly, how the both of you chatted and giggled among one another and those around you, how Harry fist-bumped the air the moment your name was called to receive your award of Songwriter of the Year before kissing you. It was how they knew this was real – how love wasn’t something you only listen people sing about or write novels for.

It was in how Harry’s eyes didn’t move from you as you gave your speech, a wide smile on his face and eyes resembling twinkling stars for crying out loud.

It was in how you ended your speech with: “This is to the man who has inspired and pushed me forward to write every single day. I love you.”

It was in how you looked more nervous than Harry himself when his category was called before you were the first to get out of your seat with a happy “yes!” once they announced that he won.

It was in how Harry cupped your face that moment to kiss you before walking to receive his award.

It was in how you remained standing, those behind you only smiling instead of being annoyed, with your hands clutched together against your heart, tearful eyes, and the brightest smile in the room.

“You’re going to tell me this is cheesy,” Harry chuckled slightly, giving a shrug as he looked at you, “But I wouldn’t be standing here, holding this, if it weren’t for you. I love you, too.”

But then Harry was about to perform and you weren’t in your seat.

The award show had decided to make a skit of it, the host being Miley had held her microphone as she stood in the empty isle beside yours and Harry’s empty seats.

“We know Harry Styles is performing in minutes,” she said, looking at the camera with a playful smile, “But where is Y/N Y/L/N? We know, we know,” she nodded, “Probably backstage for some extra good luck but-” people laughed, causing Miley to pause and chuckle, “But seriously, guys. There’s a show and it must go on.”

“It’s going on.” Harry said from backstage into his mic before the stage went dark.

It wasn’t until piano tunes sounded that the arena grew dim, a spotlight on the piano at the center of the stage where you sat, your fingers gentle against the keys as you played the beginning notes of Falling.

“I'm in my bed,

And you're not here

And there's no one to blame

But the drink in my wandering hands.” Harry sang as he came on stage, holding the mic in his hand before taking a seat beside you.

Everyone had expected him to sing the next verse, but it wasn’t his voice that they then heard.

“I'm in my bed

Instead of yours

Cried to sleep turned off all of lights and locked all of the doors.” You sang, eyes on the piano keys.

“Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I can't take it back

I can't unpack the baggage you left.” His eyes were on you, body turned slightly towards you as he felt like the both of you were in your living room in front of your white piano.

“I replay what you said

Don’t know if it’s true

Left with two broken hearts and there’s nothing that we could undo.” You sang, closing your eyes as you got ready for the chorus.

“What am I now? What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

“What am I now? What am I now?

Don’t want to cry ‘cause I can’t stand the sound

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

The both of you sang together, your voice being softer and quieter than Harry’s.

“What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

“What if I'm down? What if I'm out?

What if you’re someone I can’t live without?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

It was a version nobody had heard before, and it was why everyone was quiet, the only sound coming from you, Harry, and your lone instrument.

It was something you had written together following a rough patch of your relationship, and everyone knew that it was more personal with the way the both of you sang.

When his eyes weren’t closed, Harry sang as he looked at you, and he knew that performing this song meant more to the both of you than anyone could imagine. One look at your face and Harry knew you were reliving the night of when the both of you had written this; eyes a little red from crying, bodies hot, Harry wearing a hoodie of yours while you sat in your underwear with his purple fluffy robe on.

“Can I do this alone without ever needing you again?”

“And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again.”

You both sang the bridge together, yours being shorter than Harry’s note as you carried a softer tone, closing your eyes as you played the piano, feeling your throat close up before gulping.

He knew.

It was why the final chorus was sung softer and quieter, Harry’s forehead resting against your temple for a moment as the both of you sang.

“I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.” Harry finished, putting his mic down as he stared at you with a small smile, watching you in your element as you played.

Managing to look at him as you played single soft notes, you sang, “I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.”

You played the end single notes, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and a bashful smile.

It was like you were unaware to the erupted cheer and round of applause, you threw your arms around Harry, feeling his arms wrap around you instantly.

Crying from the overwhelming emotions, you were thankful your mascara was waterproof. You called it.

“I love you,” Harry whispered in your ear, “I love you so much.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot

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starlightrows · 3 years

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The Lady of The House

Pairing: Boba Fett x fem reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings and Tags: swearing, not a lot of Boba reader interaction, mostly reader just asserting her position as queen

Summary: Two guards, my original characters Tems and Rhys, have been tasked with informing crime boss Boba of an intrusion... but there’s one problem. It’s the middle of the night and he’s currently with his wife sleeping.

AN: Happy Monday! This blog is getting a bouns fic today!

“I don’t wanna go in there Rhys...” Tems said shakily.

“The boss said he had to be informed immediately if someone was caught trying to break in to the palace, if the alarm on his ship ever tripped, or if the Mand’alor hailed him.... and all three happened over the course of 20 minutes. We have to tell him Tems!” Rhys waved off his patrol partners fretting and made for the handle on the large ornate door leading to Boba Fett’s private chambers “he will feed us to the rankor if we don’t go in there”

“Look, you’ve only worked here for three lunar cycles. You ever wonder why there was a job open?” Tems grabbed his arm, yanking him back. The Rhys narrowed his eyes, and gave a shake of his head. “You’re all happy to point out the rules the boss has about being informed. But what is the other, number one fucking rule he has?”

The realization struck him and his eyes went wide, he gave a silent “ohhh”

Boba Fett’s number one rule, mostly for his business partners, but also his staff: Do not disturb the lady of the house. Boba Fett’s wife.

An unassuming woman, she was kind and gentle, slightly out of place among dangerous and somewhat violent bounty hunters and crime families that frequented the upper halls. She spent most of her days working on fixing the lower levels of the run down palace. She kept to herself, with the notable exceptions of her husband and his loyal bodyguard, Fennec Shand. The rule seemed to be, if she spoke to you, answer respectfully and do as she asks. But if you bother her, get in her way, or insult her... there would be hell to pay.

“W-what happened to the last guy?” Rhys shifted nervously on his feet. He honestly hadn’t considered why there was a position available when he accepted the job.

“He barred the lady from entering the throne room when the boss had guests. He didn’t know the guests were there by her request, but that doesn’t make him any less dead right now” Tems told him, looking uncomfortable at the memory.

“Well we just won’t wake up the lady then” Rhys said “we’ll be really quiet. We’ll only wake up the boss, alright?”

Tems still wasn’t convinced “Do we both have to go in there?”

“You’re a fuckin’ coward,” Rhys threw up his hands in exasperation “every second we wait to go in there, the more angry he’ll be that we waited. I’m going in there, you can stand out here like a little bitch if you want to,”

Tems was tempted to throw a punch, this guy had no idea just how dangerous Boba Fett really is, or how scary he could be right after waking up. Nonetheless, he followed as his partner made for the door again.

The heavy door swung open silently, surprising given how massive it was. The room was dark, lit dimly by the silvery light of the moon coming through the small window high up on the wall. Against the far wall, was an enormous bed where both guards could see their employer sleeping soundly with his wife tucked securely to his bare chest.

Tems wanted to die. Every step he took deeper into these chambers felt like a step closer to a painful demise. While Rhys was excited, he had never seen any of the residential chambers of the palace. And this one was huge.

Rhys creeped up to Boba’s side of the bed, while Tems stood awkwardly by the entrance to the chambers. As Rhys approached, reaching out to shake the bosses shoulder, Tems seriously considered making a run for it. Rhys made contact, giving the large scarred shoulder a few good shakes.

“Sir?” Rhys attempted to whisper. Boba made no movement towards wakefulness, he just continued softly snoring.

Your eyes flew open and a fearful gasp left your body. You backed up, trying to put distance between yourself and the supposed intruder.

“Oh my god. No no no no. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry ma’am,” Rhys backed away, hands raised. Tems practically blacked out but stayed frozen in place.

I’m gonna fuckin die, and it’s all that idiots fault he thought

Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and you recognized the young guard. You drew the covers up to cover yourself, you felt exposed in your thin nightgown.

“What are you doing here? These are private rooms” you whispered harshly

“I-I- I have orders,” Rhys stammered, knees knocking together in fear “To-to get the boss if” Rhys lost his voice. He could not seem to get the words to come out of his mouth

“Get out,” you whisper “Go back out there and do not move. I will be there shortly,”

Your tone was authoritative and stern, leaving no room for questioning. Rhys practically sprinted out of the room, dragging a paralyzed Tems with him. The door slammed shut behind them, making them both cringe.

Tems doubled over, placing his hands on his knees and heaving with labored breath. “Oh by the maker... we’re gonna die. We’re gonna fucking die. I’m gonna be sick. We’re gonna die”

Rhys was pacing back and forth, hands gripping and pulling his own hair. “Shit shit shit shit shit.... you were right. We’re gonna die,”

The large door swung open once more, and shut again firmly. Both men snapped their heads towards the direction of the sound of the door closing, awaiting the blaster blot that would surely end their lives. But it didn’t not come. Instead, there you stood, in a long robe tired securely about your waist, arms crossed over your chest.

“Alright, what’s all this about then?” You asked tiredly. Neither man spoke a word, staring blankly at you. You grew annoyed, and tapped your foot impatiently.

“Oh for heavens sake!” You exclaimed “He sleeps like the dead when he’s had a glass of wine before bed. He won’t be coming out here to throw you in the rankor pit anytime soon, but if one of you doesn’t speak up I most certainly will,”

“The Mand’alor hailed for the boss,” Tems said quickly.

“And the alarm on the bosses ship tripped,” Rhys choked out

“And a scavenger was caught at the southern entrance trying to get in,” Tems added. You blinked at them in surprise.

“That’s a lot of information to take in,” you said “Okay gentleman, first things first, has the scavenger been dealt with?”

“Yes,” Rhys piped up

“Yes ma’am,” Tems avoided your gaze, staring meekly at his own two feet.

“Lovely, and the ship. What tripped the alarm?” You asked, feeling slightly less angry by being awoken. If anything you felt a little bad for these two.

“We’re not sure ma’am. The guards in the landing bay couldn’t find anything wrong with the ship, and couldn’t find any intruders,” Rhys said, taking Tems’ cue to use a respectful title when speaking to you

“So then it can wait until morning for a follow up,” you noted “and the Mand’alor? Did he give a particular reason why he was hailing my husband?”

“No ma’am, but he said it was important,” Tems supplied

“Hmm, Djarin is a bit of a drama queen. But if he isn’t hailing repeatedly, or flying here himself, then I’m sure it can also wait until morning,” you mused. Rhys and Tems were visibly shaking with anxiety.

“Well, if that’s all settled then I would love to back to bed. Goodnight gentleman,” you said turning to go.

“My lady, I’m sorry” Rhys blurted out. You turned back to look at him.

“For doing your job?” You asked

“For disturbing you. For breaking the bosses cardinal rule,” he said “I should have listened to my partner. I shouldn’t have gone into your private chambers,”

“Your job is to follow the orders you have been given. Protect this palace. And report when circumstances deem it necessary, no matter the time of day,” you stated evenly “you’ve done well. And your loyalty will not go unnoticed by my husband,”

“Please don’t tell him,” Tems said “please don’t tell him it was us,”

You cocked an eyebrow at him “I won’t if you truly do not want me to, but tell me why,”

“My lady if the boss knew we came into your chambers, disrupted your sleep...” Tems shook his head “please don’t tell him my lady, I beg you”

You heart softened, you forget sometimes how truly frightening your husband could be. And these men were genuinely afraid of his wrath. You nod gently. “You have my word,”

“Gentleman,” you nodded quietly, slipping back through the door.

The with door now shut, a heavy silence settled over the palace. Tems still felt violently ill, and Rhys was quite sure the boss would kick down the door any second despite the reassurances of his wife.

“Rhys?” Tems said

“Yeah?”

“I fucking hate you,”

#Boba Fett x reader #Boba Fett #the mandalorian #Boba scares his own staff #Fennec Shand #Reader is a cute little badass #Boba definitely sleeps like the dead if he's had more than one drink #Boba loves his wife #OC's #OC Tems #OC Rhys #Tems is a goody two shoes #Rhys is pretty but dumb

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toloveawarlord · 3 years

Text

Ch. 1

Pairing: Wren Blackwell x Jonah Clemence

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @starry-starry-night24 @youreawizardharr (please let me know if you want to be tagged!)

A/N: Day 4 of the 12 Days of OCmas! Are Wren and Jonah as Star Crossed and Wren believes?

The tinkling of the bell above the door signaled their arrival. Too early for incoming influx of captains and merchants with documents to be reviewed and approved. Another two hours should have been free to work on overhauling the filing system that her boss had struggled to keep in order. She didn’t need to rush after hearing her son exclaim the visitor’s names.

“Uncle Fenrir! Uncle Ray!” The ten-year old’s voice echoed through the small building laced with surprise and joy. Abandoning his schoolwork for a chance to spend time with his two uncles. Amber eyes sparkled up at the two. Rarely did he get a visit from his family.

Fenrir beamed a grin at him, accepting the welcoming hug. “Reece, ya got taller!” He stopped by any time he came down to the ports, pitching in to help if Wren needed it.

Which meant today must be business. Never did Ray come by her work without warning. Placing down the files in their proper piles, Wren maneuvered through the chaos to emerge from the office. “Reece, you can go out for a break.” She didn’t want him to hear any military discussions, lest he want to join.

“Come on, I’ll buy ya a treat if it’s alright with your mom,” Fenrir offered to the eager boy, glancing to her for the okay.

It was like looking at two needy puppies. “That’s fine.” As Reece raced out the front door, Wren called to the ace with a serious tone. “No guns this time. I’ll kick your ass if you even think about it.”

She received a salute paired with wicked grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

“This time?” Ray questioned, emerald eyes moving from the vacant doorway to his sister.

“Reece is becoming increasingly interested in weapons ever since he was allowed to shoot Fenrir’s gun,” Wren replied with irritation. She’d agreed to teaching her son a little hand-to-hand combat for self-defense. At no point, had permission been given for him to wield a weapon.

Ray chuckled at her frown. “I count myself lucky that Fenrir came away in one piece.” His memories of a protective older sister when they were but children resurfaced with nostalgia. Though she came across as calm and collected, she possessed incredible fighting skill that could rival some of his chosen thirteen.

The army would gain much if Wren agreed to join, but he knew that she would never, not with her son to protect.

The two moved into the messy office for privacy. Wren cleared a spot on the desk to sit while Ray claimed the only empty armchair. “What are you looking for?”

“Shipping manifests that could pass initial inspection but might be importing contraband.”

Wren cast a glance over the organized mess. “I’ll look into it. Though, it will undoubtedly take me a few hours. What is it that’s being smuggled in?” If she had a frame of reference, then it would make the search much easier.

“You know I’m not supposed to tell you that.” The investigation now a joint one. He’d have to explain to the Reds why he involved a civilian in a sensitive, top secret mission.

“If I know what I’m looking for, the box size and contents will be much simpler to find.”

Ray shifted to cross his legs, mulling over his options. Trust wasn’t the issue. He knew Wren would be discrete and quick. But involving her meant bringing up her name at the meeting with Red Army late tonight. Was it better to have some information than come up empty with those smug bastards?

“Stop worrying. I want to help, so let me.”

He sighed. “Tainted magic crystals. They’re small enough to go undetected but a single one can cause massive damage. If the calculations are even slightly correct, the influx that has been reported could destroy half of Cradle. Wren, you don’t have to agree to this. I understand if you want me to walk away.”

A dire situation. Time sensitive.

Wren could see why he’d been hesitant to tell her. Part of her, the mother part, wanted to tell him no. Becoming involved opened her and Reece up to being targets. Her common sense wanted her to walk away.

But Ray would only come to her with something so dangerous if it weren’t his last option.

“I’ll do what I can.”

The King of Spades relaxed at her agreement. “Thanks, sis. I’ll assign a soldier to keep watch here and at your home. Just as a precaution.” His gaze flickered to the large clock sitting on the wall. They’d made a detour here.

“Go on. I know how busy you are. I’ll come by with whatever I find,” Wren said with a wave of her hand. They hardly saw each other but on a few of his off days.

After the two officers left, Wren gathered all the shipping manifests that were within the last few months to pour over at home. She only took a break to cook a light meal and eat with her son before it was back to examining the documents.

Night had settled in by the time she discovered anything significant. There were a handful of suspect items that had been flagged, but only one stood out. Regardless of her gut feeling, Wren took all of the evidence and would allow them to mark off the ones that were unneeded.

“Reece, I’m going to take some things to Ray. I’ll be back later-”

“I wanna come!” He cut her off, abandoning his schoolwork to scramble over the back of the couch. Amber eyes as big as a puppy, begging to for permission.

Wren reached out and brushed her hand through his red hair. Normally, it would be alright, but she wanted him nowhere near this case. “Not this time. I won’t be gone long. Stay here, okay?”

“Aww, but mom!” Reece protested with a frown.

“Please don’t fight me on this, Reece.” She pressed a kiss to his head as she gave him a tight hug. To admit it would be too hard, but there were more reasons than simply his safety from outside threats that she worried about.

<< << <<

Soldiers at the gate had redirected her to Central Quarter. The two armies had convened, and she’d have to find Ray there. The neutral zone hadn’t changed much. Wren only came when she absolutely needed to. She’d chosen to live in the port town of Black Territory, far away from anyone in Red Territory.

The meeting had come to a close by the time she arrived. She’d been greeted by the 10 of Spades on his way out with a tip of his hat. Wren stayed in the foyer of the Civic Center, finding a nice pillar to hide behind. The Jacks exited next and following them the Queens.

Their boots were all that echoed throughout the large room. Their dislike for each other well known. As one came to a stop, so did the other. “Who’s there? The Civic Center is closed. You’re trespassing.”

Ten years.

It had been ten years since she’d heard that voice.

And it still caused her heart to throb painfully inside her chest.

His steps grew closer.

If she continued to hide, it would reflect poorly. Wren moved from her spot behind the pillar. With stiff movements, she passed Jonah without a word, instead moving to Sirius. “I brought what the King of Spades asked for. I was only waiting for him to come down.”

“He mentioned that. I’ll deliver them for you.” Sirius took the compiled documents and headed back for the stairs. He cast a worried glance back over his shoulder, but the woman was already heading for the door.

Don’t look back. Keep walking.

Her palm pressed against the door, but cool fingers wrapped around her other wrist. Wren tensed at his touch, wanting to pull away but found herself unable to.

“I’m owed an explanation.”

He was right.

“You drop out of school and disappear for ten years.”

Her reason one that he wouldn’t understand.

“Wren! Look at me!” A gentle, but firm command.

Emerald green met beautiful molten amber.

Wren swallowed down the lump in her throat. It hurt more than she’d imagined it would. Strong emotions that she’d bottled up and shoved deep into her heart, rattled in their cage, threatening to burst out. If they did, she feared she’d lose all control. “We were dumb kids, who didn’t understand that it would never work.”

Not even she believed the words that passed her lips.

“How could you possibly know that?” He wore so many emotions. Hurt. Confusion. Anger. She’d vanished. The day prior they were sneaking off during a break to be alone, and the next, gone. No explanation. No note. “I searched for you. I went into Black Territory against my families wishes-”

His family the catalyst of her disappearance.

But she couldn’t reveal that.

“Jonah, we’re different people now. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, and if we’re being completely honest, the Queen of Hearts could never be with the King of Spades older sister. One thing or another always got in our way.” Whether it be his family or the Red Territory fan girls who hounded her for even speaking to him back in school. His duties joining the army would have broken them apart, and once Ray became the King, that would have done them in as well. “It’s for the best.”

He was still the Jonah she’d fallen in love with. His brows creased, not willing to accept that he couldn’t have everything that he wanted. “Did you think me not enough to protect you?”

It had little to do with protection. Wren tugged her hand free, shaking her head. “You would never go against your family.” She turned and shoved the door open to escape into the chilled night air. Pain blossomed across her chest. Her legs threatened to give out.

Return to Black Territory and try to forget.

As if it worked the last ten years.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He couldn’t simply give in. None of his questions had been answered. Jonah followed; his voice drenched in confusion. “This isn’t about my parents. You left me, Wren! Without so much as a word. I deserve to know why!”

She clenched her fists and whirled around to face him. “It’s always been about them, Jonah! Do you have any idea how many times your mother found a way to make my life miserable? She’s the one who had me pulled from your class, turned my teachers against me, and she tried to pay me off when--” Wren caught herself before she blurted out the one thing she refused to speak of. Emerald irises fell away from the shock on his features.

Their raised voices had drawn the attention of the Jacks loitering by the fountain and with them, someone who was meant to be at home.

“Pay you off for what?” Jonah couldn’t think of a single thing that would require an exchange of money.

“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t take the money, but I did leave. It’s over, Jonah. I think it’s better if we just pretend we’re strangers.”

“No. I refuse to leave things this way-”

A small hand slipped into hers. Reece wore a concerned expression. He’d never seen her so upset. “Mom?” He’d disregarded her wishes, following her all the way to Central Quarter, where he’d never been before.

Jonah glanced between the two. “Mom? You have a son?” It was dark but the moonlight illuminated the boy well enough.

Matching amber eyes met for the first time.

The missing piece walked right into the puzzle.

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #jonah clemence #ray blackwell #fenrir godspeed #reece blackwell #wren blackwell #star crossed lovers

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k1nky-fool · 3 years

Text

Between Regulations and Protocols

Part 1/?

Pairing: Thrawn x OC

m/f pairing

Rating: Teen

Warnings: bit of angst, introductions to characters and story.

Taglist: none yet. If you want to be tagged in future chapters, feel free to DM me or comment on this chapter.

It wasn’t as though she could have prevented this disaster. However, there were certainly moments which, in hindsight, could have been changed just by thinking through a decision with a wiser mind. By now, it was much too late, and the mess left in front of Ceka was as regrettable as it was dangerous.

For her at least, this was dangerous. She hadn’t meant for it to get so out of hand. As far as she was concerned one or two of the indulgences she allowed herself were fine. It was when these “indulgences” became so regular they might as well be the rule, that it began to be a problem.

Every time Ceka gave herself that allowance, every rule in the book ran through her head, making sure that none were being broken. As far as the book was concerned, crushing this hard on a superior was not forbidden so long as it was not acted upon and the individual in question’s work is not compromised.

There were rules for relationships. Probably because Ceka’s current predicament was not uncommon. Especially when one was serving under an officer as respectful and intelligent as Grand Admiral Thrawn. Feelings happened, and rules were in place. And while rules were not broken, Ceka could snake her way around them without even so much as bending them.

It was necessary with her situation. Long before she was ever harboring feelings for the Grand Admiral, Ceka had to claw her way to the top as a Togruta in a system that was clearly designed to cut those like her down.

Perhaps that was what drew her to Grand Admiral Thrawn in the first place. As shallow and rude as it sounded, him being a non-human, thriving in such a rigged system was astounding to Ceka. She knew first-hand what it takes just to get out of the academy in one piece. It took bone, blood, and tears just to get to her current position. It was probably another level of hell in reality to get to a position where people took orders from him instead of having to fight for enough recognition to be respected as a living being.

Of course the first thing she did when assigned as an ISB consultant on The Chimera was to do her research on her superior. Even if he wasn’t such a sight for sore eyes, she would have looked into him, just to get a map of the territory she was treading on. Ceka had served under her fair share of slimy bastards and downright war criminals.

Much to her surprise, he was almost spotless. A court marshall, but it wasn’t a severe offense, at least not to her. Above all else, nobody had anything very malicious to say about working under him. There were plenty of people who were conflicted, taking orders from a non-human. However, the vast majority of people, even Stormtroopers, had relatively nice things to say about working under him.

What they did say was that Grand Admiral Thrawn was a rather imposing presence. He ran a seamless ship, left little room for error so long as the crew did their work. It was said he was a ruthless strategist, which didn’t surprise Ceka in the slightest considering what she had read of him. He was intimidating, but very few had any elaboration on that comment. She didn’t see for herself until she was called into his office the next day. Ceka hadn’t the slightest idea of what he wanted.

Entering his office was damn near surreal. Ceka hadn’t met anyone in Imperial High Command that held such a collection of art. And especially not such a diverse lineup either. Everything from a Mirialan statuette of a goddess she couldn’t name, to a segment of a durasteel wall covered corner-to-corner in generations of graffiti, to a Clone’s painted helmet from the war it was so known for. The Grand Admiral, himself, was nowhere to be found.

Right away, this struck Ceka as odd. The art was the lesser of two analyses in her mind. She had been called over her wrist comm to meet Grand Admiral Thrawn in his office, where he is not currently present. If it were a prank from a superior officer for some hazing she was too familiar with, then it would have been a better move to call her here while the admiral was present. If it was indeed the admiral that sent for her, then there was a reason for this.

In interrogation, making the suspect wait was a tactic to put them on edge. And if that was the admiral’s goal, then it was working. But it wouldn’t do well to leave an unknown individual in your office, especially since she knew it was more than likely that he knew she was looking him up as soon as she got here. Letting her in here without supervision was a foolish move.

Unless of course, she wasn’t unsupervised.

Keeping her wits about her, Ceka began walking around the office, carefully observing everything in the room. To anyone watching, it would look more like she was admiring all the art on display, when in reality, she was scanning over every surface in search of anything that might be a recording device. If it’s sending a live feed, then it’ll be in something that can easily conceal wires or large enough and shaped well enough to hide an antenna to transmit the data to a screen somewhere.

She mentally cleared a random painting, and the durasteel graffiti wall. A few of the sculptures could barely fit enough material in them to remain standing, so those were cleared too. The Mirialan statuette was too small to hide anything. And it would be easy to see the mechanisms of a recording device inside.

More suddenly than Ceka would have liked, she stopped dead in her tracks. She turned to the clone helmet. She felt stupid as soon as she noticed it; this particular helmet was outfitted with a recorder by its visor. They were used to record and review battlefield footage in the Clone War. The antenna on the helmet and the device itself fit the categories to send live feed to a holoscreen somewhere. “Very subtle, Grand Admiral. I wish I had noticed sooner, but if you were looking to challenge me, you certainly did a good job.”

A door on the side of the office hissed open, revealing the man that set up this whole charade. “Not one new crew member has deduced the design of the test until now. Most giving in to impatience long before they attempt to find reason.”

“You do this with every new crew member?” She asked.

“Everyone assigned to The Chimera ranked Lieutenant or higher.” He said. “However, as mentioned, you are the first to realize you were being observed. Let alone to find the device I was watching from.”

Ceka wasn’t sure exactly how to feel about that. She was half certain he was complimenting her, but there was also a chance he was just thinking out loud about what he had observed. “Seeing as I am an ISB agent, and in charge of interrogation, I would hope I know my way around observation tactics.”

“You have found a place where your talents are put to good use.” He said, “However, I do find myself rather curious about you.”

Ceka moved to the space in front of his desk as he moved behind it to take something out of one of the drawers. "I'm more than happy to answer any questions you have." She said.

"I will keep that in mind." He noted, pulling something up in the holoprojector. It was just about every file The Empire kept on her. Every mission, every report, every personal file, and even her academy registration. "Much like yourself, I did my research when you were assigned to The Chimera. I must say, your talents are exemplary, yet based on the impression you made when faced with my test, your files do not add up."

Clearly the lack of reaction from her made him all the more interested. In truth, she expected he might say that. "What specifically do you want to know?"

"Agent Lo, I am no stranger to the ruthless ends humans will go to in order to assure they are not upstaged by someone they deem less than themselves." He cut in. "Yet you have managed to reach your current rank without any recorded incident. Not even so much as uniform code violation marres your record."

"I consider myself an upstanding agent." She said, as though to tell him respectfully to get to the point.

"Then tell me, Agent, why is it you actively dull any record of your success?"

"Sir?"

"I understand the need to blend in with your peers." He continued, "However every record that mentions an accomplishment of yours has been buried in unnecessary details; even your own reports follow this pattern."

Ceka could feel her throat tighten and her face heat as Thrawn observed her carefully as though he could see through her skin. He was indeed as intimidating as everyone had said. She had said she was willing to answer whatever questions he had, and now she wished she hadn't said that.

She forced herself to relax. "You said it yourself. I need to blend in with my peers. And you know better than anyone else what they're willing to do to cut me down should I rise above them." Ceka explained. "It's a method of survival, that is all. Remaining at the average minimizes the harassment I receive."

Thrawn considered her words. "Why minimize it?" He asked. "It would be far easier to simply retire from military service."

A small smile graced her face. There was so much more to her than just self preservation. "Because retiring is not my goal, sir."

"What is your goal, agent?"

There was the right question. "To make my home planet whole again." She answered without hesitation. "The Galactic Empire has redistributed the population of Shili to only major cities and tribes they had the ability to commit troops to. My tribe was among the many to be forced off their ancestral territory. My goal is to climb ISB ranks until I can bring to light that it is more dangerous to The Empire to force Togrutas off their homeland than to commit minimal troops to the smaller tribes."

"A noble cause, Agent Lo." He noted. "I have come to a decision. I expect you to take full credit for every successful assignment I give you. Should I find in any of your reports that you belittle your role in the accomplishment, the report will be rejected, and I will require a new one."

"Ah- sir, I-"

"That will be all, Agent Lo, you are dismissed."

Ceka opened her mouth to speak again, but the rulebook went through her head again. Disobeying orders was an offence one could be court marshalled for. But voicing disagreements were not prohibited, even though any officer would find a way to punish you for questioning orders.

However here, Ceka would risk it. "Indulge me for one more minute, sir." She all but demanded, causing him to once again pay close attention to her. "I understand what you're doing. You want me to step up; to be something greater than I am. Because after hearing what I am trying to accomplish, you believe you have a better strategy than I do."

Her words caught him off guard. She didn't give him enough time to recover before she continued. "I acknowledge that I probably don't have the best strategy. However, if you are going to require me to bend to your plan for my own life, then you're going to need a better strategy to get me to follow along." Ceka held her head high, and hid her nerves behind a strong voice. "Because if there is anything I know you have learned from your test and our minimal interactions, it is that I am patient, especially when I am being beat down and discarded."

"This is your way of telling me you do not intend to abandon your methods?" He inquired.

"This is my way of showing you the merits of my methods." She clarified. "And hopefully, I will change your mind."

Thrawn scanned her face once again, coming to some unknown conclusion. "It is unwise to reveal your end goal to the enemy."

Ceka offered a modest smile. "You are not my enemy, sir."

With that, she turned on her heel and made her way out the door. Ceka's heart raced and she had to make a solid effort to slow her breathing. Right then she promised herself that arguing with him would be forbidden from there on out. That was far too dangerous, and it was a miracle Thrawn hadn't cut her off and refused to hear her out. He could have her off The Chimera by morning. But even then she knew that this was an empty promise.

-X-

As it turns out, eighty-four was the magical number of rejected reports before Grand Admiral Thrawn finally gives in and calls you into his office to renegotiate the terms of his orders. It took twenty-eight days to reach this point. Every day, she would eat her meals and write out a new report to the same mission, even if Thrawn had yet to notify her that the last one was rejected. Ceka stood in front of his desk once again, as he flipped through all eighty-four reports on the holoprojector.

It was one single mission. An investigation into disappearing medical supplies from a medicenter on Pantora, that Ceka had figured out pretty quickly. But every single one of them was worded to shine the light of success into anyone other than her.

Thrawn must have been looking for something in the reports, but he was coming up empty handed. It was another brief moment before he shut off the holoprojector. "I admit, I underestimated your talent for persistence."

She couldn't have been more excited to hear that from him. In all honesty, it was wearing her out. Finding new ways to reword the same events was exhausting. "However, what you have shown me is something I did not expect to find." He said, now slowly walking around his desk to circle her. "My attempt to outsmart you was quickly turned into a challenge to outlast you. However, it has answered more questions about you than I could ever ask."

"I am glad the experience was illuminating, sir." She was careful not to appear smug or prideful in any way, even if she was rather proud of herself for this.

"What has come to light is exactly how you managed to remain unseen by those that wish to do you harm, yet impress those that you wish to be more visible to." He explained. "I would like to see you put this to use more often."

"What do you have in mind, sir?"

"To start, I will rescind my orders to take more praise in your reports." Thrawn said, causing Ceka to smile. "In light of your tenacity, I have another duty for you. As it is already one of your many tasks on my ship to assess the officers and troopers for information leaks, I would also like you to send me reports of those who rise above their peers."

Ceka was surprised to receive such a request from him. "Pardon me, sir, but can't you select your elite by looking at the reports yourself?"

"It has occured to me that you are far from the only officer under my command that hides behind their more obnoxious coworkers and modest wording in reports. Unfortunately, due to their efforts, it is difficult to find the more competent workers of my fleet." He explained. "You are in a particularly beneficial position to solve this problem. Seeing as you are not only interacting with the lower ranks of my fleet on a closer level, you also know what to look for in those that possess the same skill set as you."

"It takes one to know one." Ceka chuckled awkwardly, knowing exactly what he meant. Honestly it was a miracle he even saw her point of view at all. Let alone be open to changing his mind and instead giving her an assignment that they both agreed would suit her talents. "I can do that, sir."

"That is much appreciated, agent." Thrawn said, "You are dismissed."

Ceka turned to leave, but she stopped herself. Once again the rules made her hesitate. It might not be professionalism at its best, but she would give herself this allowance. "Oh, grand admiral, sir?"

Thrawn turned to face her once more. He was no longer a stranger to how bold Ceka Lo could be, but this time she wasn't angry. Instead, she smiled kindly. "Thank you. For giving me a chance." It was a split second, so fast she wasn't even sure it was completely real; Thrawn returned with a small percentage of a smile to her.

There was a faster moment that Ceka felt herself take a moment to recover, where her heart stuttered at the sight of him just smiling for a fraction of a second. However it was gone the moment she reminded herself where she was and who he was. "Sir." She nodded with a stern voice, bidding him goodbye before she marched back out the office door.

It was rare a superior gave her the time of day. And so rare to be given respect and a smile that Thrawn was the first to offer after many, many years of serving the Empire. Ceka held onto that image in her mind every time someone would say anything hurtful, or when someone would do something rude. She allowed herself to remember Thrawn gave her a chance to prove herself, and he respected her for it.

There were moments that she stood in his office again, whether it be for a strategy meeting or a PSA for the higher ranked officers, Ceka hoped to whatever god in the galaxy was listening that she might catch another glimpse of his smile.

He smirked quite often, she found. Not that it was very easy to notice those either, but once she was watching, she noticed. It was usually when he was explaining his strategy to his officers that his expressions were slightly more discernible. For the most part, he kept the same even tone, and strong, calculated glare. Red eyes kept up with every little detail going on around him, and Ceka had to wonder exactly which details he noticed.

Really at this point, Ceka found she looked for any reason to be around Thrawn. He was an island of peace in an ocean of exhausting people. But what really made her start to worry was when he probably figured out he was her island.

It was rather chaotic in the aftermath of an attack. The way The Chimera was run made the battle itself run like a well oiled machine. However, trying to get everyone on the same page, especially if there were significant losses, was pretty much hell.

One particular flight officer was being specifically infuriating. She just wanted to know how many TIE fighters they had left. Ceka did not need to know who was flying, and who came back, or why only four fighters could land properly. Cykla went off on another tangent about how they were going to need repairs before she finally cut him off. "Cykla, just tell me how many TIE fighters we have left in the fleet."

Despite her even tone, Ceka had murder on her mind and it must have shown on her face with how he shut up immediately. "Six."

"Great…" She hissed out. "Now I can go to my job and tell the Grand Admiral we need more TIE fighters. You are dismissed, Cykla."

He gave a curt nod, running off to do whatever the hell else he had to to get this ship running at full capacity again. Ceka busied herself punching the numbers into a slow datapad, being on the verge of throwing it against a wall.

"I take it Officer Cykla was being difficult." Thrawn's voice made her jump slightly, but the second her eyes landed on him, she gave a small smile, and she visibly relaxed.

"Just a little slow." Ceka chuckled, still trying to hit the datapad to get the damn number to punch in. "Which seems to be a running theme today."

"Is there something wrong with your datapad, Agent?" He asked.

"I dropped it off the hyperdrive room railing when the ship was first hit. Didn't have the chance to get it back until a few minutes ago, but it looks like a few people might have stepped on it." She explained, knocking it against her montral and hearing something make a pinging sound echo around in her head. That couldn't be a good sign. "Well, that's unfortunate. I have a few nostalgic files on this datapad."

"I am curious of what you might keep on a datapad that one would find nostalgic." He said.

"Oh, it was just a few of the Pantora Medicenter Investigation reports I never got to give you. I kept writing them until you told me I could stop." She shrugged.

"How many reports did you write?" He asked with clear curiosity.

Ceka actually had to think hard for a moment. "You gave up at eighty-four, but I had a few extras on queue. I wrote a total of one-hundred-two reports."

Thrawn usually did a great job of hiding his emotions, but ever since Ceka started paying close attention to him, she began noticing the smallest expressions he gave. Right now his eyes went to the side, as though he had to give himself a moment to process that information. There were eighteen more reports on that one mission. All of them ready to be rejected, where she was ready to write more.

When he did look back to her, Ceka was smiling again, now trying to stop herself from laughing. "Do you find something amusing, Agent Lo?"

She really wished she could say no. Usually when a superior officer asked that question it just meant to stop smiling and take things seriously. However it was not in Thrawn's nature to use many euphemisms or human sayings, so he was genuinely asking. "Yes, sir." She nodded, still smiling as she explained herself. "It's not all that difficult to read your expressions. And when I told you how many reports I had written it was like every gear in your head stopped turning all at once. I thought it looked a little uncharacteristic is all."

Thrawn became more interested in her words. "I have rarely heard that it is easy to read my expressions. In fact most say the exact opposite."

Now it was her turn to stop and think. How in the hells did she hope to explain this to him? Was she supposed to tell Grand Admiral Thrawn that he spent just about every moment of every day hoping to see him, or that if she did get to see him that she carefully watched him in hopes of seeing him smile again? No, that would be very bad. But lying to a superior officer was quite specifically stated in the regulation.

"I'm in ISB. I guess I'm just very good at watching for small details." Both statements were true. She didn't have to tell him that the two statements had little to no correlation in reality or that she was only good at watching him for close details. Everyone else she just knew how to interrogate.

A beat of a moment went by before she caught it. Another split second where he gave a genuine smile, only for it to be gone the next second. The instant that passed by in silence before he answered felt like an eternity. "Indeed you are."

His answer left Ceka more distressed than trying to figure out how to avoid confessing her every private thought to him. Did he know she was hiding something? Did he know all along what she was doing? She wanted answers, but nobody but Thrawn could give them to her. She was all the more terrified of what those answers might be.

Though, it was nice to come back to her cabin late that night to find a new datapad waiting on her desk.

She didn't see Thrawn for a while after that. Not one on one, at least. She would occasionally catch him in the bridge as she was doing rounds with all the stations. Though when Ceka looked over to him out of habit, more often than not, he would already be closely observing her. Every time he did, she would tense up again and focus back on her work.

The heart stopping call came later that week. Thrawn asked to see her in his office once again. She had no idea what this could be about, and nothing about the last week really stood out. And especially not since their awkward conversation.

Though, he didn't waste any time as soon as she entered the art-filled space. Right away, she could tell something was up. Thrawn had never looked so worn out, not even after talking to the lieutenants. "Agent, if you are not currently indisposed, I would appreciate some assistance."

"What do you need?" Ceka asked without hesitation. Either she would get this over with or she would have to prepare herself for a long task.

"There was an incident with a terrorist group on the planet surface this afternoon. Unfortunately, Commander Bengts is on medical leave for the next three weeks, and since you and I are the only officers left with the clearance and skills necessary to review the reports, we are the only ones to be able to complete the processing." He explained.

"Would these usually just go into filing? Unless there's something specifically abnormal about this incident?" Thrawn had already sent the reports to her datapad.

"Yes. According to several eyewitness accounts, an imperial officer was seen giving information and weapons to three of the attackers just before it began."

Ceka took a long breath, calming her nerves. It didn't help that she was already on shaky ground with Thrawn as she was still questioning if he was aware of her growing fondness for him. Good thing endurance was her specialty, otherwise she would have given up the first time he smiled at her.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she came to her choice. "This probably means they're waiting on some kind of information to pass on. They're not yet ready for a full attack, which is why they simply aided the terrorists and didn't blow their cover. By your estimation, how long do we have before such an informant gets their hands on severely damaging information?"

"Depending on their rank, approximately two days. In the next fifty hours, I will be receiving a transmission from the Imperial headquarters on the surface to account for the current number of troopers on guard and officers working." He answered.

Ceka took her datapad and began searching through the reports. "The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can sleep." She said. "Unfortunately, time is not something we have the luxury of."

-X-

-Thrawn-

"Let us start with who was present on the ground during the attack-"

"No, we need to start with who exactly these terrorists are, and what they were doing. What was their mission? How did they accomplish it? Where did they escape to after its completion? Or if they completed their mission at all." Ceka interjected. "We've been here on Wutellou for about a standard month. Start with the locals. What do we know about them as a people?"

Her interruption surprised him to say the least. To be completely honest, she hadn't ever stopped surprising him. However, Ceka had the right approach to the problem. He was certain she would just let him take the lead, but it was becoming increasingly clear that despite her near religious commitment to subtlety, when it came to him she was anything but reserved the way she was with everyone else. It was easy to see why Agent Ceka Lo had captured Thrawn's attention.

"Tellouans are a very spiritual people. They also place most of their values into unity and connection to one another and their planet." He explained. "The population seems to worship the ground, as a way of giving respect to the very thing that gives them the vegetation they grow for food and spiritual practices."

"That… sounds awfully familiar."

"I imagine it would." He said, pulling up a few sources on his holoprojector. "Watellou shares many similarities with your homeworld, Shili."

"However, they're largely vegetarians, from what I can gather. There aren't many animals big enough to eat on Watellou." Ceka noted, in a somewhat short tempered way. "So, they probably aren't as culturally focused on hunting as my people."

Thrawn noted how she grumbled about the lack of meat on the planet. It had occurred to him that Togrutas were carnivores, and unable to eat most of the food served in the mess. Though, he did make sure she wasn't starving, even though there wasn't a whole lot of good food for Ceka to eat. "You did say they hold a deep connection to their planet." She recalled. "So, it would be a fair assumption that they don't want the Imperial agricultural project on their planet, since it is so sacred to them."

"That is logical, yes." He agreed. "Which means their attacks are not likely to be carried out on a large scale, so as not to harm the ground."

"Let's take a look at the reports." She turned to her datapad, connecting it with the holoprojector. "The report of the soldier that saw what type of weapons were being smuggled said they were E-11 blaster rifles. However weapons were not the only thing given to the insurgents."

"The inventory report after the attack states several crates of empty gas canisters were also missing." Thrawn pointed out. "An attack utilizing poison gas would assure the land attacked would not be harmed."

One look to Ceka proved she was enjoying herself while digging for information. "Guess what the most poisonous plant on Watellou is." A smile cracked across her cheeks as she pulled an info file of a simple flower onto the projector. "The Osella blossom is a flower that is only found in the very few coniferous forests on Watellou. The one closest to where the supply warehouse was attacked is owned by a local businessman, who employs many people to gather these flowers. Oddly enough, four days ago, he reported that a large portion of his freshly picked flowers had gone missing."

Thrawn looked over the file on the flowers. "Only the roots are poisonous. The flower petals are dried and used for a tea that is very popular among the locals. Boiling the roots will secrete a poisonous gas known as Lesurra gas." He read. "We know the insurgents are planning a large gas attack. More than likely on the Imperial command center that has been established."

"So we know what they want, how they plan to do it, and because of the information you will be getting in the next two days, we know when they plan to do it." Ceka concluded. "Now we just need to figure out who is planning to leak that information to them."

"Now we must narrow down the list of suspects based on reports." He said. Ceka took a deep breath, finding a seat on his desk as she began reading through reports.

The low light of the holoprojector illuminated her more now that she was seated right next to it. The blue light did little to change the tone of her skin. It was rare that Thrawn met many Togrutas in his line of work, however, even Ceka was certainly something of a rare specimen of her species.

When Thrawn was researching her, he found that the specific shades of light blue that showed on her skin were only found in two clans of the Lo Tribe, and nowhere else on Shili. Ceka had a very soft appearance. Her age wasn't shown anywhere other than the length of her lekku, which placed her perhaps a year or two younger than himself. Her montrals rounded backward off her head and spiked back up like horns. The patterns across her skin were soft, bubbled shapes that spread all around like water.

But it didn't take a military genius to know she was so much more vicious than her appearance suggested. Particularly her deep violet eyes, that scanned everything as though it could give her something if she just convinced it of such. Ceka bit her lip in focus on the task at hand. She was quite brilliant, even if she was convinced her only talents were in enduring brutal treatment. Thrawn wanted nothing more than to show her that she had other talents that could help her never see such brutal treatment ever again.

In some ways Thrawn noticed Ceka's favor of him, though usually only through her demeanor. It confused him how she could manage to be both comfortable expressing herself to him and rigid the second he acknowledged her comfort.

In many ways, Thrawn saw himself being drawn to her. He rarely bothered to know his subordinates more than basic research, and in truth, Ceka was one of only seven people to ever peak his interest enough to give them the test she passed with such ease. Her response had only heightened his curiosity of her character. Even this was an opportunity for him to learn more about her. And every time he learned something new, his interest only grew.

This was indeed going to be a long night.

-X-

It had been nearly eight hours. Four a.m. galactic standard time. Every report from the warehouse had been looked through, and even people that weren't planetside had been looked into. Nothing looked even remotely suspicious.

"I don't suppose you've already ruled out the possibility that they had someone impersonate an officer?" Ceka asked with a dragging voice. She laid on her back on Thrawn's desk, staring up at the holograms that still hadn't given them a lead.

"You ruled that out three hours ago." He reminded her. "If I recall correctly, you said a Tellouan with a skin color and texture similar to a human's would be more rare than finding one with horns small enough to fit into an officer's uniform. I also agreed, stating that using an infiltrator would not guarantee they would be able to get the information they need for their attack."

"You're right." Ceka groaned, rubbing her eyes again. "Either way, we're running out of time. Forty-seven hours to find a traitor with no leads is damn near impossible."

"You say 'near impossible.' Is there something you believe would make the task at hand possible?" He asked.

"The ability to drink three gallons of caf in a minute would be helpful." She said, "More people to look through the reports would be useful. Many hands make for light work, after all, but alerting our subordinates that there is a traitor amidst them is too high of a risk. I think it's impossible to find the culprit in time with only two people."

Thrawn was impressed with Ceka in the eight hours they had spent together theorizing and even arguing at times. However, he would admit he would have never gotten this far on his own, this fast. Most of the investigation is credited to Ceka. It was his job to help her investigate, then come up with a plan once they had found their traitor.

"Agent, you are an exemplary investigator. If there is anyone that can accomplish this in the given timeframe, it is you." He said.

Suddenly, Ceka sat up. About a million thoughts looked to be passing behind her eyes before she settled on one. "Timeframe…." Her voice was quiet, as she once again took control of the holoprojector, still sitting on his desk. "We're looking at the wrong timeframe."

She pulled up personnel files from everyone who was planetside for the last four days. "Remember, four days ago, the report of a missing batch of Osella flowers was given by a local businessman?" She asked. "We know his own employee probably stole them, right?"

"That was the logical conclusion, yes." Thrawn agreed.

"First, what if the traitor isn't working alone?"

"Then I suppose only half of the information would be present in the reports of the warehouse attack. The other half would be with someone we have already ruled out, thus making it impossible for us to find the culprits on those reports, alone." He reasoned. "Who do you suspect?"

"Four days ago, Commander Bengts was hospitalized. The morning after the Osella flower batch went missing." Ceka explained with a smile on her face, searching for a minute before pulling up the commander's medical file.

Thrawn read the file thoroughly before landing on something that Ceka must have known would be there by the way she smiled. "Reason for hospitalization: Toxin inhalation." He read out loud.

He turned to Ceka once again, only to find her still smiling. "We can order a test for the Osella toxin and have the results in the next two hours."

"That only leaves her accomplice." Thrawn noted, searching through the reports again to see which officer specifically has been stationed with Commander Bengts for their assignment to Watellou. One name stuck out. "Supply Officer Cykla was planetside, stationed at the warehouse during the attack." He pointed out. "Cykla was also the officer that filled out the inventory report of what was stolen. And has also been assigned to the command center tomorrow to report inventory, where he will have access to the transmissions being sent from the command center."

Ceka placed her feet on the ground, standing tall, but a little wobbly from the sleep deprivation. "Shall I set up interrogations, sir?"

"No need." He ordered. "I will give the order to have Commander Bengts tested for the Osella toxin, and I shall reassign Officer Cykla to accompany me to organize the information from the command center. He will be forced to abandon his original plan and act in panic, giving us the evidence we need to incriminate him."

"I can help, sir. You don't need to carry this out alone." She was nearly pleading even if she could keep it behind a thin layer of professionalism.

"I am sure you can offer your skills to the mission. However you are sleep deprived, and until you are well rested, you would be unnecessarily placing yourself in harm's way if you were to continue like this." Thrawn reasoned. "As of now, you are relieved of duty until you have recovered."

"But, sir-"

"That is an order, Agent Lo." His voice became stern, but as he watched Ceka, she appeared to halted all cognitive thought as she suppressed a shiver. Thrawn noticed how her face became hot and the muscles around her throat tightened. He was unaware that Togrutas not only blushed on their face, but also their lekku.

Ceka had to force herself to breath again. "Yes, sir." Was all she could get out from behind tense muscles and a figure frozen in place.

"You are dismissed."

She marched off in a hurry, though Thrawn didn't get the impression that she was scared at all. In fact she seemed to be enjoying herself quite a bit.

Thrawn decided to focus on the task at hand. He had just barely learned the nuances of human behavior, he didn't have the time to figure out what made Ceka tick before his command center was eradicated.

-X-

-Ceka Lo-

After Thrawn had commanded her to get some sleep, Ceka was having a surprising amount of difficulty letting go of consciousness. There was a lot to process, particularly about how the entire night had gone.

She hadn't meant to so casually sit on his desk, though when he didn't stop her or even mention it, Ceka allowed herself to get comfortable. They had started the night speaking with formalities, though as time progressed and exhaustion began to take hold, she began interrupting him when she felt like it, as he would for her. She swore a few times without any shame. When she laid down on his desk, he didn't say anything. She took every liberty, and Thrawn gave them without any question.

But at the very end of it all, the order he gave her wasn't what surprised her. It was her own reaction to how he spoke. Heat shot up her spine and she stood at complete attention. What shocked her was that she honestly didn't expect to be given an order, despite everything Ceka had drilled into her head from day one at the academy. Somehow, she felt comfortable enough around Thrawn that it was a surprise when he did normal, imperial, things.

Though, even then Ceka knew this could only be the beginning of something terrible.

-X-

Somehow she managed to pass out after an hour. When she awoke again, everything appeared to be working smoothly. No trooper was out of place, no officer looked worried, and all was as though Ceka never fell asleep in the first place. Though, a quick look at her wrist chrono told her it had been nearly six hours.

Walking through corridors to Thrawn's office, she found something must be working well. There were two troopers standing guard instead of just one. "I take it Cykla is in there?"

"Yes sir." The command trooper confirmed. The other flinched when he spoke. Suddenly the other trooper was very interesting.

"Is something bothering you, trooper?" Ceka asked with a warm smile. She wasn't ignorant of her appearance. She was rather soft looking, and it was easy for people to underestimate her or trust her. Most people she interrogated were more likely to trust a non-human because of how rare they were in the Empire.

The trooper stood firmly at attention. "No sir." There was something off about his voice. Though, with two words, it was difficult to place.

"It's ok to be anxious. I'm sure anyone would be worried once they wondered why the grand admiral doubled the security in his office." She suggested. The trooper must have been eyeing her cautiously behind his helmet.

"I assure you, I'm fine sir." He said. Now Ceka could place it.

"You won't be." Before he could even flinch, she knocked the blaster out of his hand and rammed his head into the wall. The command trooper aimed his gun at the two of them, unsure as to what was going on. "At ease, soldier." She said, taking the helmet off the unconscious criminal, revealing dark green skin, and very small horns for one of his kind. "He was probably back up."

"How did you know?"

"His Tellouan accent." She said, restraining the prisoner. "Now I just need to see what his plan was. Take him to containment. I'll stand guard here."

"Yes, sir." He replied faithfully, throwing the infiltrator over his shoulder and carrying him away. Ceka pulled her blaster out, and set it to stun, now waiting for Cykla to make a break for it.

A loud crash came from inside the office, and the door hissed open. She stunned Cykla as soon as she laid eyes on him. Thrawn looked between Ceka and the man on the floor with mild amusement. "May I set up interrogations now, sir?"

Thrawn calmly caught his breath, wiping some of the blood off his cheek. "Yes, Agent Lo, that would be the wisest course of action."

...

Thrawn and Ceka stood together, watching the live feed from the two interrogation rooms, waiting for Cykla to regain consciousness. The Tellouan infiltrator nervously fiddled with the cuffs on his wrists, probably trying to find a way to break them off.

"Commander Bengts tested positive for the Osella toxin." Thrawn said, "She has been placed under arrest, but is still recovering."

"We'll need more evidence if we want to convict her. Getting one of these two to admit she's an accomplice should be enough, but I am not confident they'll talk for anything short of their freedom." She noted, looking at the two of them. Cykla was now gaining consciousness, frantically looking around the room and struggling against the restraints.

"Perhaps striking a deal with them is necessary."

Something was finding Ceka rather uncomfortably, and she wanted nothing more than to tear it apart to find out what exactly made it that way. It was Officer Cykla. He's panicking and struggling far too much for someone that had a decent plan until now.

"Perhaps not." She said, exiting the observation room and entering the interrogation.

-Thrawn-

Cykla was quick to stop moving as soon as Ceka entered the room. She didn't say anything as she sat down on the table to his left.

Thrawn couldn't see much from here, yet at the very least he could tell she wasn't trying to be imposing. She reached across the table and released his restraints, sitting back on the table comfortably and without any sign of defensiveness.

She was waiting for something. Pushing this man to the edge of something, but waiting for him to jump off on his own. Ceka remained silent. From the angle of the holorecorder, Thrawn couldn't see her face, but he almost intrinsically knew she was giving her subject a kind smile.

The silence must have become unbearable to the human. "What do you want, Lo?"

"I thought you'd never ask." She said, "You see, a witness at the scene of the attack yesterday saw you aiding the terrorists in their escape, but there's something that's gone completely unanswered, and I want you to give it to me."

"I'm not about to turn on my allies." He hissed back at her.

"Oh- no you aren't. Certainly not yet." She said, "At least not without a reason to. I happen to be in a position to get you just a year of community service, and a dishonorable discharge from the Imperial Navy. Where you can live out the rest of your life doing whatever you want."

"And what in the hells makes you think I value myself over my cause?"

"Why shouldn't you?" She asked as though she were genuinely concerned. "I've seen how much value your life has. And I believe it's worth more than being executed on a treason charge." Cykla broke eye contact and stared at the floor. "I'm not a fool enough to believe you don't have people you're doing this for. Wouldn't it be better to go home and see them again?"

Cykla came to his conclusion quickly. "I want to negotiate those terms." He said.

"Then negotiate."

"I tell you who my associate is, and I take the blame for everything." He said, "Everything was my idea, and she was forced to take orders from me. She gets to live."

"Cykla, you will be executed for this."

"But she won't." He stated. "I want this agreement in writing. So you can't back out after I'm gone."

"Your accomplice must mean quite a lot to you." Ceka noted.

"She is everything and more to me." He said.

Ceka stood from the table and exited the interrogation chamber. Making her way back to the observation room where Thrawn was waiting for her.

She was clearly torn by the situation. She began tapping through her datapad.

"What are you looking for?" Thrawn asked.

"Commander Bengts' medical record." She said, "I have a strong suspicion about why Cykla is so desperate to protect her."

"And why would that be?" Thrawn asked, curious about what Ceka saw that he missed.

Suddenly she stopped scrolling, her shoulders deflating in defeat. Handing the datapad to him, she pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned against the wall, perhaps in regret.

Thrawn looked at the data on the medical file. It was a few pages after the tox screen results, so it wasn't important at the time they were initially investigating. However, it was possibly the most important piece of information in the whole investigation. "She's pregnant."

Ceka nodded. Now it made more sense why she was so torn on this decision. "Tell me I'm being too soft." Her voice held strong, but the tensity in her muscles said otherwise about her emotions. "Tell me we should just execute them both, and move on with our lives. That it's better to just manipulate his confession and charge them both with treason like every other officer would."

"Do you truly believe that to be the wisest course of action in this case?" Thrawn asked.

"I want to believe it is in my best interest."

"Yet you are still questioning it."

"By Imperial Law, I need a confession from him to charge her. But if he doesn't confess to her being an accomplice, then there's nothing I can do, and at most she'll be medically discharged." Ceka went through her thought process. "Either way, Cykla is going to be charged with treason. There's no way I can get around that."

"Then perhaps you don't want him to give up Bengts." Thrawn suggested. "She will be medically discharged, and you don't live with that on your conscience."

"I can't allow Imperial Law to be determined by the weight on my conscience." She argued.

"Then don't allow it." He stated.

"It'll be a failed interrogation on my near flawless record."

"Attempting to rationalize the less favorable option will not help you make the decision you have already made."

Ceka bit her lip and closed her eyes. She took a moment to take a deep breath before neutralizing her expression and leaving to speak to Cykla again.

On the holoscreen, Ceka stood to her full height. "We will not abide by such an agreement for your accomplice."

"You what!?" Cykla burst. "You can't! She has to live!"

"It will take more investigation, but I am confident that I can find a name without your help." She calmly exited the room as Cykla struggled against the handcuffs.

Ceka didn't return to the observation room.

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x oc #thrawn #original chatacter #original story #star wars #ceka lo

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ahsoka-lives · 4 years

Text

Apprentice Part Two InquisitorCalxReader Soulmate AU

A/N :This plot is a ton of fun to write and a real stress reliever. I hope you all enjoy very much and I always enjoy feedback, I’ve especially loved reading the tags!! gif by @witch

Warnings: Swear word(s), angst?

Word Count:2k

The transport ship was frigid and humming with electricity. You sat in silence next to a couple of troopers while Kestis was in the cockpit co-piloting. Your hands were still trembling from the adrenaline and every subtle whisper made you flinch.

“We have to stop for fuel sometime, do you think they’ll let us get something to eat?” A trooper asked his partner beside you.

“Our only stop is the hangar, try to find an MRE in there.” His partner grunted without turning to face him.

There was only four of them, you could probably slip past them when the ship landed. You quickly shook that idea out of your head when you remembered that you probably couldn’t outrun Kestis. You had no idea why you were even trying to plot an escape, this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, was it? There was no way for you to know what lies ahead of you with Kestis or with your newly discovered ability and it made you feel restless.

Kestis barely spoke to you before boarding the transport and that didn’t help. You wanted so badly to make him explain what his plans were or what their plans were. From your knowledge, the Empire isn’t exactly friendly to Force-sensitives.

The ship jerked forward as it landed in the massive Imperial hangar. Troopers were at attention surrounding the ship as they awaited the arrival of the Inquisitor on board. Kestis was standing in the doorway of the bay with his helmet secured onto his head. The troopers next to you sprung to their feet and raised their hands to salute him while you watched from your place on the bench.

No way you were saluting anyone.

He strode over to you and gestured for you to stand. His helmet may have shielded his eyes but you could feel his eyes burning into you. Not wanting to show any amount of intimidation, you stared back into the mask with a blank expression.

“Hold out your wrists.” He said plainly through his modulator. You hesitantly raised your wrists up together for only a moment before you saw what was in his hands.

“Why do I need those?” You jerked your hands away from the metal cuffs in his grasp.

“Security has to determine you as non-threatening before you’re permitted to walk around without them. Wrists. Out.” He opened to cuffs expectantly.

“Fine.” You grumbled and allowed him to handcuff your wrists in front of you. The troopers formed a line in front of the main door with space in the back for you and Kestis to stand. One hand gently grabbed your forearm and the other rested on the small of your back. His head lowered slightly to sit near your ear.

“For the record, I don’t think you're threatening to a fly.” He chuckled quietly before straightening out his posture to lead you down the ramp. You had yet to see his face but you were sure there was a smirk on it.

You stood in awe at how many troopers were ahead of you. They lined up on either side of the ship, perfectly still as you passed. At the end of the line was a man who was dressed in all black. He was dressed in fine clothing that you’d rarely seen on Bracca. He must’ve been a man of power.

“General.” Kestis nodded to the man.

“Master Kestis, well done once again. Take the girl to interrogation, they’re expecting her.” He instructed without even offering you a glance. The grip on your forearm tightened as he led you away from the General and toward the elevators. “And Master Kestis?”

Kestis stopped abruptly and turned his head to meet the General’s eyes. “Yes, General?”

“Congratulations.”

The Inquisitor stood on the other side of the two way glass as you laid strapped in the cold metal chair. You were tugging on the restraints and huffing in frustration, your eyes scanned the room for any details that would clue you in on what was to come. He was looking forward to hearing the information they got out of you, there was so much to learn about his newly acquired apprentice.

“State your name for the record.” The man started while glancing at you.

“Y/n.” You didn’t meet his eyes instead, you were staring straight ahead with that same blank expression.

“Y/n what? I need your full name.”

“It’s just Y/n. I could give you the name of my adoptive mother but I doubt that would be of use to you.” Your expression faltered and a hint of something came over your face, the Inquisitor took note of this.

“And why is that?” He continued with an eyebrow raised.

“Because she’s dead.” You revealed, your eyes flickered to his quickly before returning straight ahead of you.

The man only nodded in response and typed on his datapad.

“How long have you been aware of your Force-sensitivity?”

“6 hours maybe, give or take a few.” You sighed and let your head fall back onto the thin cushion. These questions continued on for another 30 minutes, each one more tedious than the last.

“What do you know of the Jedi?” This question left the interrogator with an urgency you didn’t quite understand. It left a thick fog of tension in the room and those behind the glass were feeling it too.

“I- I only know the Empire outlawed them but I don’t even know what for. Why does any of that matter?” Your eyebrows furrowed and you leaned forward in the chair.

“We have what we need.” He all but ignored your question before leaving you alone again. You let your body fall back into the chair, you wanted answers too. You screwed your eyes shut and took in a shaky breath, what the fuck were they planning? This is not how you wanted any of this to go. Meeting your soulmate was supposed to be the best moment of your life. It wasn’t supposed to involve government interrogation and helping your soulmate murder someone. Tears started to form at your waterline and you choked back a sob.

The sound of the door opening again made your eyes fly open, you blink away the tears and look at the Inquisitor standing in front of you.

“What’s the point of all of this?” You asked in a tired voice.

He stood there motionless for far longer than you would have liked. You opened your mouth to ask him to say anything, to do anything but stopped short when his hands hesitantly lifted the armor from his head and finally revealed his face to you.

He had a small smile on his pink lips. Red hair flopped back with a few loose strands falling over his pale face. There were a few scars that had completely healed on his face but he looked far too young to have as many as he did. ‘Good looking’ was an understatement and you took a mental note to thank the maker that he didn’t look like a monster under that helmet.

“You did well, Y/n.” His now unfiltered voice praised. “You won’t need the cuffs on our way out.”

“You mind taking these ones off?” You asked and tugged lightly on the restraints.

He only nodded before kneeling down on one knee in front of you. He removed the ankle restraints first before making quick work of the ones on your wrists, it was obviously not his first time. Once freed, your wrist was quickly taken in his hand, his eyes taking in the words on your skin, his words. His thumb rubbed over it gently and the smirk on his lips persisted. Your chemical compatibility made this comforting but the reality of the situation put you on edge.

“Kestis?” You broke the silence first.

“Cal, you call me Cal.” He cleared his throat and took a step back to give you room to stand.

“Why did he ask those things, Cal?” You were almost afraid to ask and your fear was reflected in your eyes. Cal recognized that fear, he’d seen it a thousand times in other eyes.

“To find out who’s side you’re on, which I told them was unnecessary because of our relation.” He explained simply. “It was also to determine if you’re in need of conditioning.”

His blatant arrogance and confidence in your loyalty while impressive was not unfounded. Every minute spent next to your soulmate strengthened the bond between one another. Soon being separated would have negative effects on them in many ways and there was nothing either of them could do to prevent it. Your upbringing didn’t allow such insight but Cal was more than aware of this, he was even looking forward to it.

“Conditioning? For what?” Your voice was panicked and you took a step away from him.

“It’s common practice for when we get any new recruits but you’re not just a recruit. You’ll be my apprentice, y/n.” His words were sinking deep into your skin and your brain felt like it was taking in too much at once. “I’m going to teach you how to properly wield the Force. You showed real promise with the strength you exhibited on that boy. In fact, if you hadn’t scared yourself off I’m sure you could’ve brought him to the ground.”

“I could have saved him?” You murmured with disbelief washing over you.

“Save him? Gods no, he was dead the second he decided to play savior.” He assured and secured the helmet in his hands.

“What did he do to get a death sentence?” You weren’t sure why you were pushing the subject but Cal seemed to find it funny. He chuckled lightly and ran his fingers through his hair, the helmet was put back onto the table. His eyes scanned your face with an unclear intent and his legs moved to close the distance between you.

Your breath caught in your throat as he towered over you with a suspiciously gentle smile. His hands cupped either side of your face tenderly and your hands reflexively gripped his forearms, the contact brought a strange sense of relief to your tense body.

“All of this will make sense soon, I’ll show you, I’ll teach you.” His thumb gently swiped over your cheekbone as you fought the desire to close your eyes and melt into his warmth. “But if you keep talking like that, I’ll put you through conditioning myself, sweetheart.”

“Transport is here to take us up to the ship, Sir” The trooper reported to Cal who nodded in response. His helmet had returned to his head as did his intimidating demeanor.

“Come on, the sooner we get up there, the sooner you can get some rest.” His distorted voice instructed and an arm extended to lead the way. You walked side by side, your poncho enveloped you making you feel shielded from the onlookers.

They probably wanted to know why someone in Cal’s position was hanging around some scapper from the yards of Bracca. You felt the distaste for their eyes on you growing the more bold their chatter got and Cal could feel it. Part of him wanted to tell you to cool off, some of these people were your superior officers now but, the other part of him knew that if he was right about you, they wouldn’t be your superiors for long. He knew that the Force gave you to him for a reason.

“That anger you feel, I felt it when I first came into the ranks, too.” He said in a hushed tone. “If you play your cards right, they’ll be bowing to you in no time.”

The hair on the back of your neck stood up at his words. You weren’t sure if it was excitement or fear of the idea. How could you know? After spending your entire life in one spot, you didn’t know what you wanted besides the obvious.

“I’m not sure I want them to bow, just have some respect for me.” You sigh and step onto the wide platform of the transport ship.

“You might not think that now, y/n...” His masked face was mere inches from yours as he spoke. “...once you get a taste for this life and the power that come with it, you’ll never have enough.”

You wanted to deny it and tell him that power wasn’t something you wanted. And this was partially true, power isn’t something you craved but a small part of you recognized that you couldn’t dismiss the notion entirely. Was he pushing you down a path you didn’t want for yourself? You’ve spent your life waiting for your prince charming to come and sweep you off your feet and take you away from Bracca. It was going to take a lot more for you to run away from him now.

#inquisitor!cal #calquisitor #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #jfo #star wars #soulmate au

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Riverside Stroll

On his mission to Schuykill river Alexander gets injured and barely makes it back to camp, where everyone thought he had died. Luckily they are there to catch him.

On AO3.

Ships: none

warnings: medical proceedures and wounds not graphically described. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!

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

Alexander watched the mills burn. They’d just started to catch and he wanted to ensure they wouldn’t blow out after they left.

On their way to their target on the other side of the Schuykill he had spotted British troops moving and he was mulling over what their plan would be. Mentally he pulled up a map before his eyes as he attempted to estimate their enemy’s movements.

One possible target became clear: Philadelphia.

He turned to two of the cavalrymen with him and called them over as he quickly penned down a message for John Hancock of Congress. As he pressed the message into their hands, he said: “You need to get this to Congress, tell them it is urgent and that I send you under orders of the General. There is a bridge further up, use that to cross.”

The two saluted and sped off.

“What was that about, sir?” Captain Lee asked.

“The British are moving towards Philadelphia, they’re planning to march into the city,” he explained, “No matter useless they can be, it’ll be bad if Congress gets taken.”

Captain Lee nodded grimly, turning back to the flames. He commented: “It seems to be burning well, sir, but it’s a bit of a beacon.”

Alexander was about to agree when the first bullets sped over their heads. He cursed, turned to Captain Lee and ordered: “Take two man, go over the bridge,” that way if one of them became a target, the others had a better chance to get back and report to the General.

“Yes, sir,” the other saluted, ordering two men with him while Alexander ordered the twoback to their boat, hoping they would get away in time.

Luck was not on their side and they weren’t even halfway across when the British ceased their chase of Captain Lee to focus all their fire to the little boat with three men in it, managing to take out Hamilton’s horse and wounding a one soldier with him.

If they were to survive, they would have to jump.

He looked at the water with disdain. He hated the water with all his might. With the cold rain he had made his peace – it seemed it was unavoidable in this country – but he did not fancy taking a swim in the turmoiling water.

One of his men made a gurgling sound that cut off his scream as he died. With the other man already wounded, it was the last push Alexander needed to make his decision, he could not let his own hatred for the water get his last mankilled.

“Into the water, swim to the other shore,” he ordered, watching as it was folllowed.

He hesitated himself. He’d done everything to keep the people under his command safe, but he really didn’t wish to follow his own orders and jump into the cold swirling mass before him that looked so unappealing.

The moment of hesitation proved to his detriment, because a bullet hit his left arm and he let out a scream as he fell into the water.

It took a while before he had a grip on himself again. During that time the water had swept him away, tossing him around as he gained more bruises. The only luck was that he had resurfaced while our of sight of the redcoats, meaning no more bullets were whizzing around his head.

His arm hurt and the shore seemed so far away. However, he couldn't stay in the cold water either, he had to let Washington know what had happened and he couldn't do that if he was frozen at the bottom of a river.

He started to swim to the shore. It was a painful and tedious process, but he managed to drag himself onto the riverbank.

For a moment he just laid there to catch his breath as he thought of what to do now. He had drifteddownstream, which meant a longer walk, but the General did need to know about his message to Congress.

With his mind made up, he groaned as he got up from the ground. He was lucky his legs were still in working order as he started his track.

His arm was slowly oozing blood and he had wrapped his cravat around it as a makeshift bandage. His ribs felt bruised as well, but there was nothing he could do about that now, except hoping the shivering would stop as to not agitate them further.

God, he was cold.

It had seeped into his bones and he wanted it to stop. He was aware that he should probable take off his heavy, sodden coat, but the army was already low on supplies and the weight was a comfort, so he kept it on.

He was barely seeing anymore, his jaw was sore from his teeth clattering together, but he couldn't focus on anything but getting his one foot in front of the other.

Alexander hoped Captain Lee had made it out with the other two men and that they would make it back safely to camp. He prayed the same for the young man who had been in the boat with him, not wanting to have been the one to send him to an early grave.

Somewhere he thought he should take a detour to avoid any redcoats following him to keep his trail, but he was too slow and weak to actually do it.

A few miles had passed under his feet already the first time he fell. He scraped his hands and knees and just sat there for a moment. God, he wanted today to be over. He wished for a fire and warm clothes, but he couldn't have that until he was at camp.

With a groan he pushed himself off the ground and continued his journey.

The next time it had happened, he’d managed to catch himself on a tree, leaving a bloody hand printin his wake from the blood that had seeped down his arm from the wound.

Alexander was so numb, he could barely feel the bullet wound. He would have been more concerned about thatfact if he could still feel his fingers and toes or his lips.

When it happened a third time, he almost gave up. He had stumbled over a root and hit his face on the way down, breaking his nose and shaking up his head.

As he lay on the ground, watching the sky get darker, he thought about closing his eyes and taking a break. The shivers had almost stopped and his eyelids felt so so heavy. Just a break, he thought, a small break couldn't hurt.

A nap would do him good.

It would only be a moment.

Just for a little while.

He coughed, hurt shooting through his already hurting ribs and nose as he startled upwards. Though it probably saved his life, Alexander wasn’t mentally aware for that now and just cursed, before getting back up onto shaking legs.

His vision swam, but with a few blinks it became clear again. He was still in a forest, but it was familiar. He was near the camp!

Why was that a good thing again?

Oh, yes. He had to report his success at Schuykill, Lee’s probable death and his letter to Congress to the General. He kept repeating it in his mind.

Schuykill.

Step.

Success.

Step.

Lee.

Step.

Dead.

Step.

Congress.

Step.

Letter.

Step.

After about fifteen minuteshe saw the camp. He stumbled with relief, but managed not to fall as he walked the last leg of his journey back to camp.

The sentries stationed at the gate looked at him like they’d seen a ghost, which wouldn’t be so far off with how he was looking. Pale from the cold and blood loss, with it streaming down his arm and coating his face.

They did let him pass when he uttered the password and he nodded gratefully to them as he staggered over to the General’s headquarters.

It seemed there was a fire going inside, though it was strangely quiet as Alexander disregarded all protocol and just slammed open the door as he called out: “I need to talk to the General. Where is Washington?”

He immediately found the man he was looking for, because he was sat with the other aids and Lafayette with a drink in their hand, all looking quite somber instead of everyone being productive as usual.

Alexander wondered what could have gotten them into that state, before blinking heavily and focusing on the General and rattling off: “Schuykill success, Lee dead, Congress letter.”

The words he had used to keep himself walking, spilled out, before he realized who he was talking to andsheepishly added: “Sir.”

Beneath him the floor swayed and he waited for a reaction, though it seemed they were all in shock about something. He wanted to set a step forwards, maybe come shake them up, but he stumbled, causing Lafayette and Laurens to jump up and catch him.

Later, he would swear he wanted to fight them off and he could stand on his own easily and just did it to please them, but in reality, he just grunted as he slumped forwards and lost consciousness.

“Medic!” he heard the General’s distraught voice call and wondered what had gotten him so upset when there was nothing of import happening.

When he came to a bit later, he was sitting near the fire, jerking awake as someone rudely punched his nose. He protested: “Wha-”

“Oh thank God, Hammie.” Hmm, that was Laurens. What was Laurens doing here? He was- where was he?

A familiar French voice answered his unasked questions: “You made it back to camp, mon ami, but you are hurt. Laurens set your nose. It was broken. The doctor patched up your arm and ribs, but you are still so cold.”

With Lafayette’s reminder, he did feel more cold. He wanted to curl into his coat, but found his was in nothing but his, no, newer and not soaked breeches. No wonder he was cold. Though his back did feel warm.

He leaned back against the warmth and two hands came around his waist. He tried to turn his neck to see who it was when the General’s voice stopped him: “Stay calm, Alexander.”

A flush overtook Alexander’s features when he realized he was sitting on the lap of a shirtless Washington like he was a schoolboy cuddling up to his father in the middle of the night after a nightmare.

He started to struggle to get away, but was stopped by Harrison, who draped a blanket over the pair and said: “We need to get you warm, Hammie, or you won’t make it. Stop struggling.”

That stilled him in his tracks: “Not make it?” his voice sounded small and scared despite himself.

Harrison got a slap from Tillghman as he scolded him for scaring Alexander. Under normal circumstances he would protest the childish treatment, but now he just welcomed Laurens at his side who assured him: “He’s being dramatic, you just scared us all. Now stay still and it’s all going to be okay.”

Alexander sniffled and nodded. His head hurt, his arm hurt, his ribs hurt, actually his entire body just hurt and he was cold.

The General was warm behind him and there was a big hand stroking through his hair as a deep rumbling voice kept up comforts. Later Alexander would be highly embarrassed at being treated like this, but he was so exhausted and it was nice to be safe for a moment.

Everyone was safe.

Then it hit him again: Congress. Congress wasn’t safe. He’d send word to them to move, because the British were advancing and Washington needed to know that.

“Congress!” he gasped, trying to get up, “They’re under attack, probably. The red- the redcoats were coming.”

“Mon petit lion, stay still!” Lafayette exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders to keep him down,“We know, your message got through, we know. Stop struggling.”

“You know?” he checked again.

“Yes, Alexander, you can rest. We know, you did your work well, son,” Washington told him.

And with those words he relaxed again. He’d had to get the message to the General and the General had got it. He had said it was okay for Alexander to relax, he’d done well. With those reassurances he fell back asleep.

They’d been toasting to Hamilton’s memory, his memory because he was dead and he was not coming back, when the door had slammed open to reveal a ghost. All had sat in shock as the ghost yelled: “I need to talk to the General. Where is Washington?”

His eyes zeroed in on the General as he blinked heavily, his eyes were hazy and he sounded congested, probably due to the state of his nose as he slurred: “Schuykill success, Lee dead, Congress letter.”

He was quiet for a beat then he sheepishly added: “Sir,” as if that was the reason everyone was staring instead of his sudden resurrection.

Then he started to sway as he stumbled, lips starting to move, but no sounds came out as he started to pitch forwards.

Lafayette and Laurens were the first to react, jumping up to catch the young aide, who grunted when they made contact with him, their hands being coated in his blood. With their movement the rest started to come to and Washington yelled: “Medic!”

Hamilton was lowered to the ground, he was cold to the touch but no longer shivering. He was closer to a corpse if not for the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

His face was smeared with blood and his nose was crooked at an unnatural angle, but Washington was more concerned with the blood on his left arm and the noise he’d made when he’d been caught by Laurens and Lafayette.

He inspected the arm and found a bloody cravat tied around it. He swallowed heavily as he got the arm out of the sleeve and inspected the wound. It looked like a gash, but upon closer inspection it had both an entrance and exit wound with just a sliver of meat keeping the arm together.

That would need stitches.

Washington moved on to Hamilton’s ribs and found them battered, heavy bruising forming and a sickening slump at his lowest rib that was clearly visible on the malnourished body.

A doctor had entered and ushered Washington away from the boy as he started with stitching up the arm, ordering the fire to be stoked higher, a task Lafayette and Tilghman jumped on.

Once the arm was taken care off the doctor turned to the ribs, ordering Washington to help prop him up to wrap the bandages. While he did, the doctor said: “He needs to get warm and fast. He stopped shivering and while that is good for his ribs, it might take him down if we don’t get his temperature up. Skin on skin contact is best.”

Washington nodded and ordered Harrison to set a chair close to the fire and get new breeches for Hamilton, while he divested himself of his coat and shirt. He would save the boy the embarrassment of stripping theirbreeches, but Hamilton needed dry ones.

He let Laurens change Hamilton’s breeches, before the young aide was set on his lap. He felt warmer to the touch, though still freezing, and he had began to shiver, which was good.

The doctor dismissed himself after telling the others Hamilton needed as much bed rest as possible and double checking if Laurens was capable to straightening Hamilton’s nose.

Laurens apologized softly to his companion, before snapping the nose back in place with a wet pop. In Washington’s lap, the boy stirred as he exclaimed: “Wha-”

“Oh thank God, Hammie.” Laurens sighed in relief when Hamilton opened his eyes, looking very confused.

The boy mumbled: “Hmm, that’s Laurens. What’s Laurens doing here? Here in- Where am I?”

“You made it back to camp, mon ami, but you are hurt,” Lafayette informed his friend, “Laurens set your nose. It was broken. The doctor patched up your arm and ribs, but you are still so cold.”

It seemed that reminded the boy of where he was and he frowned, before leaning back against Washington and the warmth provided. Washington steadied him with two hands and he tried to turn his head to see. Soothingly the General said: “Stay calm, Alexander.”

Hamilton blushed and started to struggle, but was stopped by Harrison, who dropped a blanket over him, tucking them both in together as he said: “We need to get you warm, Hammie, or you won’t make it. Stop struggling.”

Immediately Hamilton stilled and his voice was so fragile when he asked: “Not make it?”

At the scared tone that they didn’t recognize on their small fierce lion, their hearts broke. Tilghman gave Harrison a harsh slap as he scolded: “Don’t scare the boy, he just woke up, you idiot.”

Laurens was at their side in no time and softly assured his friend: “He’s being dramatic, you just scared us all. Now stay still and it’s all going to be okay.”

The boy in his lap seemed even younger as he sniffled and nodded his head. He seemed to sag completely into the General’s comforting touches and whispers, with which he hoped to keep the boy still.

Suddenly Hamilton gasped and shot up. “Congress!” he exclaimed, “They’re under attack, probably. The red- the redcoats were coming.”

The struggling was hurting his ribs, he needed to be still dammit.

Lafayette jumped in: “Mon petit lion, stay still! We know, your message got through, we know. Stop struggling.”

“You know?” it seemed Hamilton had to be sure.

“Yes, Alexander, you can rest,” Washington assured him, “We know, you did well, son.”

It spoke loudly that there was a silence from Hamilton at the moniker he despised so much as he merely relaxed and slipped under again, his teeth only faintly clattering.

They sat there in silence for a long moment.

Laurens broke it: “At least it’s in line with him,” when no one responded he elaborated, “Over the top and too dramatic. He’s going to love that he crashed his own funeral when he wakes up.”

It startled a laugh out of Harrison and soon the others followed. Washington tried to keep himself from shaking too hard with laughter, afraid the fragile kid in his lap would wake up from it. He felt warmer already and his breathing shallow but even.

Some laughs turned into tears as they sat there until Hamilton was completely still and warm.

Gently Washington moved the blanket until it tucked in just Hamilton, before he moved the boy in his arms so that he could carry him comfortably.

He’d send Laurens to ahead to Washington’s own quarters to light the fire a while ago and he had come to report that the room was now warm. So now he took the injured aide there to rest until he was healed.

The General’s room was the only room with a hearth and it was closest to the offices in the building, meaning everyone could easily check up on him and everyone was close by in case something happened.

He looked small, lying in the big bed. He was pale and he’d never seemed more fragile without the fire in his eyes to give him presence.

Of course, he looked so much better that when he’d arrived. Washington didn’t think he would ever be able to shake the image of him dripping blood before pitching forwards. And, judging by the way everyone stood in the doorway unwilling to leave, he didn’t think the others would either.

That night they all slept on the floor surrounding Hamilton’s bed, taking comfort in each other and the soft breaths from their companion.

Alexander woke slowly, grunting against the light trying to stab into his eyeballs. He attempted to move away from the light, but that hurt even more and he grunted again.

Groggily, he took stock of his body. His ribs were throbbing and his left arm hurt like hell, his nose also felt tender at every breath and it seemed he had a muscle ache everywhere.

How had that all even happened?

Slowly then all at once the memories of the daybefore came back. The mission at the river, the bullets, the water, the walking, how he’d collapsed, the General- oh my god, he had sat in Washington’s lap, barely clothed.

He whined loudly and opened his eyes to check if he was clothed now. He was, just an undershirt and breeches, but better than nothing. He didn’t recognize the room he was in, butthe bed was warm and piled with blankets.

Before he could think about it, the door was slammed open by Laurens, who took in his open eyes with glee as he called out: “He’s awake!”

More footsteps hurried towards them and soon the whole Family was piling into the room as they talked over themselves in an effort to inquire about his health.

They fell silent when Washington walked in and asked: “How are you doing, son?”

“Not your son, sir,” came the standard reply and everyone smiled with relief to see their Hamilton back.

He asked: “Where am I, sir? How did I get here?”

“In Washington’s room,” Laurens told him with a shit-eating grin that promised no good, “He carried you here like a maiden.”

Alexander felt a blush take over his features, but one look at everyone told him his friend hadn’t been lying. He groaned and hid his face: “You’re the worst.”

“Ahw, you love me, Hammie.” Laurens teased.

“Sadly,” he commented, before asking, “How long have I been out?”

“Just a day and a half, little lion,” Harrison informed him, “You clearly needed the rest.”

Lafayette pushed through to the front and jumped onto the bed, being careful of Alexander’s ribs as he pulled him into a hug and cried: “Don’t ever scare me like that, mon ami.”

Startled Alexander hugged back, gently patting the Frenchman’s back as he placated him: “I’m fine, Laf. It’s all good, just a few bumps and scrapes, I made it.”

“You almost ne l’a pas fait, Alexander,” Lafayette cried, “We were all so worried sur toi.”

Alexander paled slightly, he had already gathered it had been worrisome, but hearing how they all thought he would die really hit it home. He was suddenly reminded of the men, who had been with him and he asked: “Captain Lee? Did he make it? He had two others with him.”

“Yeah, he made it,” somehow Laurens sounded mad about that.

“That’s a relief,” Alexander smiled, then he asked, “And Philadelphia? Do the British have the city? Is Congress safe?”

“Congress has fled the city, but the British haven’t taken it yet,” Washington told him, “We’re hoping to get as many supplies out of the city as we can, but you know how delicate that situation is. I would send you, but I don’t think you’ve recovered enough.”

Alexander wanted to protest that, but he was stopped by the pain in his ribs, so he just sighed and said: “I would recommend taking careful inventory, make sure the people know we’re keeping track of what they lost. Take all the horses that are non-vital to jobs, show them we care about their livelihood.”

He hesitated: “Sir, I know you have a distaste for the man, but Burr would probably be the best to do this. We can’t risk sending anyone foreign or brash.”

Washington sighed and rubbed his brow: “You’re probably right, Hamilton.”

“When am I not?” Alexander grinned cheekily.

“Well, I faintly remember you telling me that you we’re going to be back before dinner, but that didn’t exactly pan out either,” Laurens groused.

“Oh come on, that was hardly my fault,” Alexander whined, then he realized, “I was hardly much later, either. It was barely dark when I came back. Why were you so worried anyway?”

“Because we thought you were dead!” finally the quiet anger brewing in Laurens exploded, “We were fucking drinking to your memory, because fucking Lee said you were dead. He said you got shot and disappeared into the water. What the hell were we supposed to think?”

Alexander’s eyes widened at the revelation.

They had thought he was dead. They’d gotten word that he died. And then he’d showed up on deaths doorstep, collapsing like a damsel.

‘Or you won’t make it’

Harrison’s words from before floated through his head and he tried to imagine how he would feel if this had happened to Laurens. God, he probably would scream and want to fight everyone, anyone to get him back.

Everyone must’ve been so worried.

Guilt bubbled up in his stomach and he didn’t dare to meet anyone’s eyes. Laurens started to say something, but he cut him off: “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Like you said, it was hardly your fault,” Washington told him gently.

“But still,” tears of frustration were building up in his eyes and he hated that he couldn’t gesture wildly with his hands, “I messed up. I lost at least two of my men and worried everyone, incapacitated myself enough that I’m bound to a bed, not even my own and- and I just messed up. I want field command so bad, but I completely ruin it, the moment I get it.”

The tears were now falling and Alexander scrubbed them away with his right hand, hating that he was crying over this.

He looked up when the bed dipped and saw the General sitting on the edge. The man smiled gently and said: “You didn’t mess up, Alexander. You ran into some obstacles and acted in the way you saw fit, saving almost everyone in your party. You even managed to report back to headquarters despite being injured. You did well.”

Alexander sniffed again, but he did feel better: “Thank you, sir.”

“No problem, son,” Washington assured him, before patting his head and standing up again, “Now, I think Lafayette and Laurens won’t mind taking a break to get you settled with everything you need. For now rest, you’ll get to work from bed in two days.”

“Really sir?” Alexander’s eyes shone with excitement, he hadn’t thought the General would let him work so fast.

Washington sighed fondly and explained: “We both know that if I said you couldn't, you would do it anyway. I’d rather you do it safely and where I can keep an eye on you.”

It made him blush as he ducked his head, grin pulling on his lips despite the small scolding. But then Laurens jumped onto the bed next to Lafayette and pulled him into a conversation.

He smiled at them both as the others filed out of the room to let him be. It was good to be home again.

#RR writing #Hamilton #Alexander Hamilton #George Washington #John Laurens #Marquis de Lafayette #Lafayette #Robert Harrison #Tench Tilghman #Schuykill River #tw: medical proceedures #tw: injury #tw: injuries

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krispydefendorpolice · 4 years

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The Demon’s Bride (7)

So Here’s the next chapter of Demon’s Bride. I’m gonna try to finish my ficlet the Miraculous Awakens and add an update to Miraculous Future before doing another Demon’s Bride update.

I’m also trying a new method of taglist. I love that people enjoy my story and want to be tagged but the list got really long really fast. (I think by the time I had the third chapter/first ficlet out it was a full list). Unfortunately this meant a lot of the readers who had longer comments about things they enjoyed or questions in the story (things that keep me motivated to write!) wouldn’t get a tag. So I’m redoing the taglist. Some will keep changing because except for a select few that got me started in the cursed Daminette ship (god I love you people) everyone is gonna be kind of flexible. Meaning your name might get bumped in the next update.

I do try to tag these stories with (The Demon’s Bride) and (The Betrothed AU) let me know if there’s another tag I can add to make finding them easier. Believe me I know the struggle of trying to find out if a writer has updated.

One person suggested I cross post on AO3 and since I finally got an account let me know what you think. Not just would you read it but would this story be something you would download to save a copy? I do that with all my favorite works on that site and would consider it to be the biggest of compliments.

Okay, thank you all for enjoying this story. Thank you for being patient while I work out my own tag list system. Enjoy the next chapter

Beginning Previous Next Masterpost

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The next morning the class ate breakfast in the hotel breakfast lounge. It was large enough that they could break into their two groups but not so large that Marinette’s group could ‘accidentally’ get left behind.

Marinette rolled her eyes as she listened to Lila continuing her stories from the day before about meeting the youngest Wayne and how ‘It was love at first sight’.

“Damian is just such a sweetheart. It nearly broke my heart to have to put our relationship on hold when mama got her assignment in Paris. But I am happy she did as I got to meet all of you. And now I have a chance to see my Damian again.”

Lila smiled slyly as she leaned closer to her slaves, “In fact, we have plans to see each other tonight. He’s going to take me on a romantic dinner date. If you can keep it a secret from Ms Bustier I’d be ever so grateful. I don’t think she’d like it if I did something by myself but I’ll just never have a chance like this again.”

Marinette had a feeling she’d strain a muscle at some point before the end of the trip, either from rolling her eyes too hard or from fighting back the urge to roll her eyes. She’d have to somehow arrange for Lila to be supervised if she actually made it out of the hotel and more than likely that duty would fall on her as her usual alternatives were in Paris.

A glance at Juleka showed that the girl was already anticipating Marinette’s thoughts and would be taking on the supervising (stalking, call it what it is) duty for Marinette. Fortunately, continued training and practice during Akuma attacks had refreshed skills instilled by the league to readiness in both girls.

“No worries girl. We got your back, unlike some people,” Alya said with a pointed glance at Marinette. Alya had blamed Marinette when her relationship with Nino fell apart and once Marinette had stopped responding to her phone messages Alya had made it her personal mission to blame the worlds evils upon Marinette.

Marinette ignored them and kept typing on her phone.

“You guys are so trustworthy. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys,” Lila smiled at them.

“Class finish up your meals we need to meet the bus outside in five minutes for us to head to the mall,” Ms Bustier called.

“Hey Nino, I forgot a jacket up in my room. I’ll catch you at the bus,” Marinette said nonchalantly as they cleaned up their dishes.

“You’re planning something,” he stated. A raised brow dared her to deny it.

“Not at all. Just have Markov do a recording would you?”

“Sure, sure. But you’re reporting this, not me.”

“Done,” Marinette agreed as she headed back to the elevators. On the ride up she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text.

M: Meet me outside the hotel? I might need a ride.

D: Why? Are you safe?

M: I’m fine right now. But if things play out like they usually do I’m gonna need a ride

D: got it

Grabbing the bike jacket she’d left on her bed Marinette hurried outside the hotel. The bus’s engine was just starting to rev when she called out.

“Wait. I’m here,” she called and ran towards the bus.

It slowed for a moment before picking up speed and taking off. Marinette watched as it drove off and shook her head. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number.

“Bonjour Commandant,” she said cheerily before he did more than greet her.

He sighed, “What happened?”

“I might of made a stop in my hotel room this morning to get my jacket before meeting the rest of the class at the bus.”

“And you were left behind again?”

“I was left behind again,” she confirmed. “I was nearly at the bus and called out for them to wait. It started to slow but then took off again. There were open windows and Nino should have Max and Markov making another recording.”

“I’ll wait for the files. You know we’re going to have to report this when you return to Paris.”

“Absolutely. This is getting ridiculous and entirely too unprofessional of Ms. Boustier. If it were any other person getting left behind they could end up killed here in Gotham.”

“Do you need us to arrange transportation?”

“No thank you, I already did,” Marinette turned to look at the motorcycles that stopped next to her at the curb.

Damian lifted the visor on his helmet and looked at her. She smiled at him and finished her call.

She looked at the second bike and rider and back at Damian.

Damian held out a second helmet to her and explained. “My father and brother’s aren’t entirely comfortable with me being alone and unsupervised with someone from the League. Todd volunteered to chaperone today.”

Marinette took the helmet and sat on the back of his bike. “Had many run-ins with Leaguer’s?”

“Too many,” Damian admitted. As soon as Marinette wrapped her arms around his waist and told him the class’s destination he took off.

Marinette smiled as she sat behind him on the bike and let herself fall into old patterns of trusting him to get them where they needed to go. Within minutes they pulled up alongside the bus. Marinette grinned as she asked him to rev the engine and get the class’s attention.

When several faces turned to the window Marinette lifted her visor and waved at the class. Just as she was laughing at their shocked faces the lights changed and Damian took off again with her laughter trailing behind them.

************************

Jason followed behind Damian and watched as Demon Spawn pulled up next to the bus before the girl waved at the class whose attention they had gotten. When Damian took off again he had to watch as the two moved together as they wove through traffic. What surprised Jason more was Damian never turned to check the cars behind him. Instead he watched as the girl would do checks and then Damian would move. Damian trusted her to watch their backs.

They seemed to have a system down and had seemlessly fallen back into it. Like they had ridden together before? But they couldn’t have. Damian came to Bruce at 10 years old. The girl had to be about the same age so how...?

Jason let the thought go as they pulled up to Gotham Mall. Damian parked near the main entrance the class would have to go through after parking the bike and let Marinette off first. He and Jason followed suit before locking their bikes and the helmets up and waited for the class to catch up.

“So Pixie-pop, you know Demon Spawn from the League?”

Most people would say Jason didn’t know how to use tact but most people were also idiots. Sometimes when you did things blatantly and unexpectedly you would get more honest answers from others.

Marinette glanced at Damian and then turned to Jason when he nodded. “I’ve known Damian most of my life in the League.”

Jason looked at her. The answer was factual but there was undertone of meanings behind it that he was missing.

“He mentioned the League was divided into factions? Divisions?” He fumbled his question and waited to see how she would respond.

Marinette turned to Damian and spoke in a language he didn’t know. It wasn’t English, French, Japanese or Chinese which he’d learned from Bruce and Alfred before his death. Nor was it Arabic, Russian, or German, which Talia had forced him to learn after his resurrection. The closest he could compare it to was Chinese but it had a different cadence, intonations, sounds, everything really so it was completely not understandable to him.

When Damian responded in the same language Jason was less shocked. He just waited for the two of them to finish.

Marinette nodded before turning back to Jason, “The word you were looking for was designations and yes Damian and I both had one. Most trainees are given one by the end of the first year of training though it can be changed if a particular aptitude is discovered. Or if they lose enough standing with the League.”

Her eyes were a little darker, a little sadder at the mention of losing rank within the League.

“Ah,” Jason nodded and looked at Damian, “you didn’t mention you had a designation last night.”

“TT, I didn’t think to mention it last night. My designation was the Demon’s Right Hand. The heir of the Demon.”

“Makes sense since you were Ras grandson,” Jason admitted.

Marinette snorted, “the old Demon had at least five grandchildren, though no one’s sure if his son had any children so there could be more out there. And Damian was the third born. Nothing the Demon ever did made sense.”

Jason was startled. No one knew that Damian had other siblings, blood-siblings, since he’d made it sound like his trainee group were like his only brothers and sisters.

“Grandfather insisted that only the best could succeed him. Even from my early trainee days my brother’s knew I could take their inheritance from them if I was better than they were. Our rivalry,” and boy was that a loaded idea, “was actively encouraged and the only way it could end was with the deaths of our competition.” Damian grimaced at that.

“Hey, Ali wasn’t so bad. He loved his big brother.” Marinette bumped Damian’s shoulder, trying to distract him.

“Ali loved his big sister,” Damian tapped a finger on Marinette’s nose, “who got her mother to take in the kid when he began his training and gave him family. Just like his big brother.”

Marinette smiled fondly. “He’s a good kid. Did you know Talia has him doing some PR as they’re ‘rebranding’ the League? I think the American, Luthor, has done that a few times.”

Damian quirked a brow.

“He’s shown up in Paris a time or two. Mostly as PR attempts to promote ‘acts of charity’ or such. My class actually ran into him a few years ago. He made a friend with one of the girls in my class. We pass messages through her when we can,” Marinette nodded to herself, “but it’s been harder to do with the tension between my classmates.”

Before Jason could ask anymore questions the bus with her classmates in it pulled into the Mall parking lot. Strangely another car seemed to be following behind it.

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Cliffhanger!!!!

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Can’t find a blog: @fusser90

Okay, tag list capped out as I was scrolling back through comments on ch. 5 but the taglist is flexible anyways at this point. I have plans to update the Miraculous Awakens prologue and the Miraculous Future chapters this week. Please vote which you would like to see first. I’m hoping to get the first update posted either Wednesday or Thursday nights. (Though sadly I am suuuuuper flexible with my posting schedule. Basically I post whenever I have a chapter ready). Also i plan to wind up the Once Upon A Miraculous epilogue next weekend so that’s three chapters I’ll need to be toying with this week.

#The Demon’s Bride #Betrothed AU #daminette #maribat #marinette x damian #DLDR #dead dove don’t eat

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damn-stark · 4 years

Text

Child of Ren Ch.13

A/N- I loved writing this chapter, for more multiple reasons! I hope you all enjoy it too, let me know what you thought!!

Warning- light swearing, some fluff, angst, violence, slow-burn? Looong chapter

Pairing- Poe Dameron x Reader x Rey, Kylo Ren x Reader (platonic)

Takes place during- TROS

(Let me know if wanna be tagged)

———

There’s a cold breeze that enters the small briefing room as Kylo storms in, throwing his cracked helmet on the table before he begins to pace around the room, his face twisted into a scowl, or one of confliction, like he was trying to battle something in his mind.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as your eyes follow him pace across from you.

Kylo stays silent for a moment before completely stopping in his steps and snapping his head to you. “Interrogate the Wookiee.”

That’s what was....Chewbacca.

Kylo couldn’t even let the name come out of his mouth, that’s how much you knew Chewbacca had affected him, how it left him conflicted. But even if he was conflicted or however Chewbacca made him feel, you had other plans in mind that didn’t include “interrogating” someone.

“No, I’m going to join the Knights.” Ever since getting back from Pasaana, you’ve been stuck in one room, with Kylo stuck to your side (more than usual.) he’s been watching you like if you were a prisoner. It was odd to have such special treatment, you weren’t treated like this when he brought you back four months ago, not until now, after Pasaana....

“No.” He answers sternly, before sitting down and beginning to bounce his leg up and down, his attention going somewhere that wasn’t in this room.

“Why? I went with them to Pasaana, why is joining them now any different?” You argue, but he doesn’t answer right away.

“It’s too dangerous, y/n, stay here and interrogate...” he hesitates for a long moment before continuing, “...the Wookiee.”

“Too dangerous?” You answer sharply, “you took me to Mustafar! And Exegol! I bet wherever they are now is far from dangerous.”

He suddenly stands up, the chair falling back before he slams his hands on the table and points his finger at you, “I said no! You’re going to stay here! For once in your damn life listen!”

You gasp and blink repeatedly, your lips partly parted as you’re completely taken back by the raise in his voice, and left with no words to argue back. Kylo seems to notice the way he had reacted and straightened his posture, his scowl dropping and his lips parting to say something, but before he could, you stand up from your chair and storm out of the room.

General Pryde and General Hux, pass by and seem to want to say something, but as they see you practically fuming they just let you leave without a word.

“Who does think I am? I’m not just a stormtrooper for him to boss around.” You grumble to yourself as you storm into the hanger. Quickly striding to the nearest stormtrooper, ignoring the way it completely froze in place as it saw you approaching. “Where are the Knights of Ren?” You question it.

The stormtrooper stammers before clearing its throat and responding, “I cannot say.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, before deciding to look for them yourself, “Prepare my ship—”

“The Supreme Leader, made it clear that we are not to let you leave the Capital ship under any circumstance.” The stormtroopers interrupts nervously.

You grit your teeth and ball your hands into tight fists, taking a minute to debate if you should leave or not. The fact that he has commanded everyone in this ship to not let you leave, gets you angrier and tempts you to break the rules....

..but you don’t, instead you spin around and storm out of the hanger, making a direct beeline to the holding cells.

—

The cell door swooshes open, the prisoners kept inside instantly raising its head to see who had walked in. You only take once step forward, stopping and hesitating to stay or go, while Chewbacca only stays silent with his eyes heavily trained on you.

Slowly and unknowingly you move your hands to remove your helmet, revealing to Chewbacca the person hidden underneath. Once he notices it’s you he moves forward the best he could, tilting his head to the side and growling softly.

You offer him a half smile and a quiet response, “hi Chewie.” You rest your helmet underneath your arm and slowly approach the Wookiee.

He roars softly and unsure.

“Yes, I remember you. Who said I wouldn’t?”

He answers quickly, with a name you should’ve guessed, Poe.

“It’s me. No memory wipe.” You respond as you go to loosen his restraints. “I’m sorry I can’t let you go, I just don’t want to risk getting caught, Kylo has me on lock down.”

He nods in comprehension.

“Water? food? They can be a bit forgetting here.”

Chewbacca shakes his head and before roaring a question.

“I’m...fine,” you respond quietly moving to stand not far from where he is, “how are you?....how are the others?” You emphasize others clearly to clue him in that you were curious. He answers your first question before responding the second one, saying that they were all over the place recently but you shouldn’t worry. Chewbacca proceeds to let out a sad growl expressing that the crew wasn’t going to come for him. Quickly you assure his doubts with the truth. “Don’t be ridiculous, they’re going to rescue you, they’ll never forget you.”

Chewbacca remains unsure, but doesn’t comment further on it, instead he asks one question that makes you grow quiet. The question being “will you leave with us, if they do come?”. You gnaw on your bottom lip, leaving the question in the air before your attention is taken away with the sensation of Kylo leaving the ship. In a swift motion you put your helmet back on and say, “I’ll be back.” Before leaving the cell and directly heading towards Kylo’s hanger.

As you make it to his hanger you see his ship is gone, only making the anger from before reappear until then suddenly you feel....Rey. Not far from here at all. You smile to yourself, but the smile only lasts a couple seconds as you remember Kylo had left without you and without saying word and most likely towards Rey. Which wasn’t good. So immediately you reach to him through the force—What the hell? You left without me.

Kylo takes a while to answer, almost like he was ignoring you and until he ultimately answered bluntly—yeah I did. Watch the prisoner.

You let out a small growl, before force throwing the nearest object to the wall out of a fit of anger. You then proceed to race to your own hanger only to stop halfway there as you sense the feeling of Rey approaching. You stand frozen and clueless on what to do, you don’t know if you want to go to her, or get chewbacca, or if to distract the officers before anything could happen. All you do know is that you had to do something.

After a couple minutes to think, you finally decide to head back to Chewbacca, quickening your pace to avoid any interruptions or unnecessary conversations. Only feeling your heart madly beat in your chest at the thought and feeling of Rey nearby.

“Commander Ren.”

At the sound of your name you sigh deeply and continue walking slowly, pretending you didn’t hear who had called you until they called again. You stop and suddenly have the urge to punch the wall or slash it with your lightsaber, but you don’t, instead you remain calm and stop to turn and face General Pryde and General Hux.

“Theirs reports of an unknown ship that landed on hanger twelve, we need you to accompany us and investigate who it might be.” General Pryde informed you.

You answer him with a small nod, knowing that if you decided to continue on your path to Chewbacca, General Pyrde would force you to take a whole squadron of Stormtroopers, and that’s something you needed to avoid, so you didn’t and accompanied them to said hanger.

—

The feeling of Rey only got stronger the more you walked the halls of the ship, making you desperate to separate from the group you’re with to go find her. The feeling kept you distracted from the conversations held behind you, it made your head wander to scenarios of what it would be like seeing her again. You knew it wouldn’t be the best reunion considering where you were and the dangerous circumstance, but it was still a reunion you longed for.

It’s not until you certain information catches your attention that you focus back inside the room, “they’ve captured the infiltrators that were part of the unidentified ship. Rebels here for the Wookiee prisoner.”

You swallow thickly and give a quick nod as a response. Now you feel like your heart is just going to jump out at any second, your nerves are all balled together and get the feeling to puke, while your mind is all over the place, not knowing what to do or who to go to. But you also knew that Rey could take care of herself, she was great that way, while the others well if they’re captured than they needed your help more than Rey did.

However you felt though, you needed to focus on doing whatever you could from getting the crew killed. “Alright, bring them here, we’ll then decide what to do.” You respond to the officer behind you, which he follows by quickly informing the stormtrooper through the comm and letting you now wait.

Wait anxiously as you were closer than ever now. Closer to seeing Finn...and Poe. After four frustrating months you were finally going to see them and time couldn’t pass by any damn slower. It’s like it knew you wanted time to fly by, it felt like it was taunting you. And with the anxiety you didn’t know how it stand, you would clasp your hands behind you before quickly balling them at your side again, repeating the action multiple times. Only stopping as you heard multiple footsteps get louder behind the metal doors.

It was then that timed seemed to stop, as they walked through those doors, and for them it was like time had stopped too, like they were seeing a ghost. You were supposed to be dead, and now you were here, pretending that you didn’t know them. Finn and Poe—well especially Poe, kept staring you like if he blinked once you would disappear, almost scared that you were only a vision. He only happened to turn away as a stormtrooper spoke up.

“Commander Ren, the Scavenger is not with them.”

You look between Poe and Finn, before finally speaking, revealing the deep distorted voice created by your helmet. “General Hux and I will take them away for immediate termination.”

“As you should.” General Pryde added before turning to walk away. General Hux and you turn to each other, sharing a look before turning and walking by each other.

You could feel the stares on your back, but neither of them said anything to you, only whispering to each other, “do you think that’s her?” You hear Poe quietly ask Finn.

“Who else—” Finns response is quickly cut off as a stormtrooper shuts him up.

“Shut up, scum.”

You smirk under your helmet, and hold back a laugh as you make it inside the termination cells.

The stormtroopers followed by placing them a few feet in front of you, with their backs turned to you before they themselves positioned themselves in their positions to get ready and shoot. Before they could, Hux stops them.

“Actually...” Hux turns to you and you give him a approving nod, “I’d like to do this myself.” Hux walks in front of the stormtroopers getting the blaster from one them and pretending to aim at the prisoners in front of him.

Whilst Hux is doing that you notice Poe turn to Finn, asking him something you barely caught, “what were you going to tell Rey before?”

“You’re still on that?” Finn responds his head still looking ahead.

“Oh, I’m sorry is this a bad time?”

Finn and Poe begin to bicker, with Chewbacca joining in too. It’s not until, General Hux fires the blaster, only not at them but at the stormtroopers to his side. You look down at the dead troopers, before carefully stepping over them and standing by Hux, moving your hands to the bottom of your helmet and unlatching it, causing it make a silent hiss as you bowed your head to take it off, pulling your face up and resting the helmet at your side.

Poe, Finn and Chewbacca spin around to face Hux and you, their faces in shock as they saw the confusing aftermath. Poe then pulls his eyes to you and before you could give him any sort of reaction you turn to Hux.

“Should you tell them? Or should I? Or this like a joint thing? Like are we going to do it in sync?”

Hux shakes his head, “it doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, yeah true, but do you want to do it? Or should I?” You further question.

“We don’t have time for this.”

You nod your head and turn to face Poe, Finn and Chewbacca once more, a wide grin replacing the straight line from before; “we were the spies!” You turn to Hux joyfully and say, “that-that was exciting, you should’ve said it—”

“What?!” Poe queried.

“You?!” Finn directed to Hux.

Hux responds with uncertainty, “we don’t have much time.”

“I knew it!” Poe interjects as he points to Hux.

“No you did not.” Finn retorts.

Poe responds with his usual cockiness, “I knew she was the spy, he was my second guess.”

Hux and you share an unentertained look before you move to take Chewbacca’s cuffs off with a smile, “what did I tell you buddy. I told you they were going to come.”

Chewbacca nods and growls softly admitting his loss, saying that you were right.

“Yeah I know, I always am.” You respond cheekily, before going to remove Finns restraints.

At first he didn’t know how to react not until he smiled, “you’re alive.”

You chuckle, albeit you’re confused by his comment, “yeah.”

Finally and lastly you go to Poe, meeting his lingering stare on you. His lips part before he closes them again, almost like he was having a hard time believing you were there. It’s not until he blinked a couple more times that he commented something slowly, “Y/N....hi.”

You smile wider and let out an amused huff, “hi? Poe.” Your smile faltered as you remembered the news you were keeping from him, you knew you were going to need to say it, but you also knew that now wasn’t the time, not when you needed to get them all out. “The thing you call ship, is not far from here, let’s go.”

—

Halfway through your path to the ship you stop as you sense Kylo return. Your frown deepens and you turn to Hux with a grim expression, one he understood. “He’s back, we need to hurry.” Breaking into quicker jog you all finally turn to the right hall, spotting the hanger not far ahead, while also spotting familiar droids ahead, well two familiar droids and one you didn’t recognize.

“BB-8, come on!” Finn shouts to said droid, making him, C3P0 and the unknown one hurry down the hall and turn to the now opened hanger door.

You stand by the door and let them all pass before quickly informing them, “I’ll shut down the impeeders, you’ve got seconds.”

Poe stops to stare at the Millennium Falcon in admiration, “there she is. She’s a survivor.”

You scrunch your nose at his comment, and let it slide without a witty remark. He hurries down the stairs, leaving without saying a good-bye, the fact leaving you upset, but something you don’t show. Suddenly though he comes back, looking at you like expecting something or like if you should know something.

“Hurry let’s go.”

At his comment you look to the floor, “I-I can’t.”

Poe’s eyebrows knot together, “what? No, you’re coming.”

“Poe...I have to stay, I promised Kylo—”

“Go.” Hux interrupts. “But you need to hurry.”

You turn to Hux with a dumbfounded expression, “what? Why?”

“One Ren is bad enough on this ship we don’t need two. Go. I won’t say it again.”

“But if you get caught?”

“I’ve got it handled Ren, go, now.”

You smile and take Poe’s extended hand. Before you leave you turn to Hux one last time, “thank you, friend.”

Poe doesn’t waste a single minute and begins to pull you down the stairs and into the ship, only letting go until you’re both in the cockpit.

“You’ve been practicing how to fly, right?” He questions as he sits on the Pilots seat and starts the ship.

“Uhh, no.” You answer.

Poe sighs and shakes his head, “well as much as I’d love for you to be my co-pilot, you need to sit behind then.”

“I’ve been busy with...other stuff.” You scoff, ultimately listening and letting Chewie take your seat. Poe double checks everyone is inside before flying off the hanger. Letting you come to a realization that you’re missing one person, “Rey? Where’s Rey?”

“We’re going to her.” Finn responds, before turning and smiling at you, “good to have you back, Ren, I missed you.” His eyes then flicker to Poe, “someone has also been, what can I say...grumpy with your absence.”

Finn and you share a chuckle before you respond, “I missed you too, Finn. I missed all of you.” The smile you showed faltered as you get Rey’s and Kylo’s strong force presence radiating not far from you. Something that caused Finn and you to race towards the opening ramp, as Poe steadied the ship a few feet away from the busy hanger. You’re careful as you step onto the extended ramp, the loud and strong wind hitting your face as you did so.

It took a couple seconds to adjust your sight, but as you did you saw Kylo’s eyes instantly snap to you, his look narrowing and his jaw tightening—Get off that ship. Now.

You smirk and respond with a confident—No.

Holding onto Kylo’s fuming gaze you throw your helmet to him, making sure it landed by his feet and making sure he saw your growing smirk. You followed by extending your hand to help Rey. Something she didn’t hesitate to accept as she jumped from the hanger, using the force to jump further than she normally could to reach said hand.

Before the ramp closed, you kept your gaze on Kylo, giving him one last smile before disappearing inside and pushing away his annoying persistence to keep talking to you, or more like scold you. It was hard as he was stronger in the force, but you somehow managed to push him away as you turned to Rey with a happy smile.

Rey smiled, her just like Poe stared at you like if you were a ghost, not believing you were truly here, “you’re here. You’re okay.” Instantly she pulled you in for a tight hug, one that caught you by surprise, but one you didn’t hesitate to return, a hug that you easily eased into. After a couple of minutes, she broke away to cup your cheeks, studying every inch of your face before leaning in for a quick and surprising kiss. You smiled after you broke away, left speechless to her sudden action, your smile though didn’t last as she frowned, revealing something that made you frown too, “Kylo said you died.”

“He what?” That’s why after Pasaana he had been watching every step you took, he didn’t want you to reveal the truth, that also explained why Poe and Finn seemed to look at you in surprise. If Rey thought you had died than you knew the guys did too.

“He also said...” Rey pauses, fidgeting with her hands and struggling with something obviously on her mind, something she didn’t know how to say, which give away to you where was going to with the long unsure pause, “Kylo said that I had killed you’re...child, is that true?”

You look over your shoulder to make sure no one was listening in, also realizing that you hadn’t noticed Finn had walked away after helping Rey. So, before anyone could interrupt, you answer her question in a soft whisper, “no...not true, just like I’m not dead, obviously.” You chuckle nervously before once again turning serious, “but the thing about the child is true.”

“It’s Poe’s isn’t it?”

You look down to the ground and nod, “but this doesn’t change how I feel about you or him.” You meet her gaze and expect her to be mad by the news, or just simply walk away and say she didn’t feel anything, but she didn’t do any of those things, instead she stroked your cheek with her thumb.

“Good...I also didn’t tell him. I mean he didn’t know and we thought you had died, so I didn’t want to upset him more than he already was.”

“I’ll tell him, soon.” You nod.

“The good news might suit him...might suit everyone.” Again Rey frowned, seeming to want to say more, debating if to reveal whatever it was that had her troubled. But whatever she was going to say, Rey kept it to herself as Finn walked by to tell her that something needed immediate fixing. And while they were fixing what was wrong with the ship, you would have revealed to her that you no longer searched for the family name you longed to know, that Palpatine had revealed it before trying to kill you. But you didn’t say such a thing, not because you didn’t want to, but because the name Windu felt foreign to you, like it was untrue, it oddly just didn’t feel like...you.

After wanting to know for so long that was strangest thing.

—

“You know for such a good pilot you surely do crash a lot.” You groan, as Poe helps you to your feet after he had crashed the ship onto the ocean moon called Kef Bir.

Said man only shoots you a pointed look, before he quip’s, “Maybe you fly next time then, ace pilot.”

“Maybe she’ll be better.” Finn jokes. Finn and you then begin to laugh, receiving another pointed look and a disapproving nod from Poe, who doesn’t take long to guide you and everyone else off the ship and walk towards the ruins of a remaining Death Star. A Death Star that radiated nothing but darkness, it was old and told stories of a past war, and as you stood on top of a hill, finally seeing the full view, seeing as the waves crashed onto its cold remains you truly saw how intimidating it was.

“What-what is that?” The small coned faced droid asked.

Rey responded with a narrowed look, “It’s the Death Star. A bad place from an old war.”

Narrowing your gaze, you step forward, falling by Rey’s side as she kept her eyes focused on the view ahead.

“It’s going to take us years to find what we’re looking for.” Poe mused.

“Oh, dear.” C3P0 comments. Rey then quietly says something to herself, pulling out a knife from her bag and lining it with the outlines of the remains, giving away what they were looking for, the second Wayfinder. A wayfinder you had sensed when you first entered the planet, one as dark as the remains.

“The Wayfinder is there.” You point, receiving and ignoring the odd stares from the group. Before any of them could question you further, the sound of creatures braying and loud stomping began to approach you all.

“Heads up.” Poe warned as he and everyone else spun around to face the approaching threat, Poe and Finn pointing their weapons, while Rey and you stood behind watching carefully.

The women in the middle looked between all of you before commenting, “rough landing.”

“I’ve seen worse.” Poe answers.

“I’ve seen better. Are you Resistance?”

Poe hesitates, “that depends.”

“I’ve picked up a transmission from someone named Babu Frik.” The women continues before C3P0 oddly interjected.

“Babu Frik? Oh, he’s one of my oldest friends.”

You have no idea who they’re talking about and why the golden droid was acting so strangely, but you don’t question it, at least not at that second, letting the women continue and ignore the droid “he said you’d come.” She directs to Rey, “He said you were the last hope.”

“We have to get to that wreck.” Rey responds, the trouble you had felt from her, stronger than ever, “there is something inside that we need.”

“I can take you there by water.”

Finn interjects quickly, “have you seen the water?”

“Not now. Too dangerous.” She obviously points out. “We can go first light tomorrow.”

Rey nods, hints of anger sounding in her voice, “we can’t wait that long. We don’t have time.”

“She’s right.” You agree, “we need to go now.”

Poe turns back to Rey and you, “or the choice. Let’s get that ship fixed.” Poe was right, and so was Rey. They both were, but you knew that travelling was a risk one you couldn’t take the women you now knew as Jannah, so you followed after Poe, trusting Rey followed close behind.

—

“What’s with the ring?” Poe asks curiously, his eyes flickering back to what he was fixing.

“What?” At first you were lost to what he was referring too, your mind then remembering the black ring you had received from Palpatine, one he said would keep the child safe...

Shit. The child. You still needed to tell Poe. “Protection.”

Poe hums as a response, pulling away from what he was working on, and reaching into his pocket, letting out a soft groan before pulling something out. “It’s yours.” He reveals the violet kyber crystal you had purposely left to him before you were forced to leave him behind. “Always carried it with me. Weird, I know, but it was the only thing I had of you.”

You smile, tears pooling your eyes as you gently hold the kyber crystal in your own hand. “I think I just had a deja vu.”

Poe chuckles with a single nod, his eyes wandering your face before his face softens and a soft smile spread on his lips, “I understand you know. Why you left.”

The memory of seeing him hurt on the ground, of losing control returned to haunt your mind, making you turn away with a long face.

“Hey, don’t. Don’t feel bad.” Poe begins to assure you, “you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“But it still happened, Poe.” You sigh. “I lost control.”

“But you didn’t mean it, that’s what matters,” he cups your cheek and tilts your head to face him, “You’re back now, that’s all I care about. Okay? I love you.”

You place your hand on top of his, smiling softly and the news you still needed to tell him lingering on the tip of your tongue, “Poe...I need to tell you something...I’m...” BB8 rolls in, interrupting what you were going to say with more important news, “What do you mean you haven’t seen her?”

—

Rey left to search for the Wayfinder without you. Yes, perhaps you had left ahead of her and didn’t double check if she was following, but if she was planning to go right away she could’ve let you know. She just left without a word, without telling you.

“What the hell was she thinking.” Poe huffed as he stormed back to the ship.

“Poe, we have to go after her.” You say as you try and catch up to Poe’s fast pace.

“We’ll get the Falcon fixed, and get out there as fast as we can”

Finn shakes his head in disapproval, “no we’re going to lose her.”

Poe turns abruptly, making Finn and you come to a quick halt. “Look, she left us! What do you want us to do? Swim?”

Poe continues storming forward, and you make a comment under your breath, “If we have to.”

“She’s not herself.” Finn argued, “you have no idea what she’s fighting.”

“Yeah? And you do?” Poe snapped.

Finn stays quiet for a few seconds before answering, “yeah, I do. So does y/n, and so does Leia.”. You find his comment odd. What did he mean that he understood?

“Well I’m not Leia.” Poe seethed.

Finn snatch’s the binoculars from Poe’s hand and points to him, “that’s for damn for sure.” Finn then turns to leave and you quickly follow, until he suddenly stops and turns to you with an apologetic look, “you’re staying.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff. “What do you mean by that? Rey is—”

“She wouldn’t want you to follow after her. You’re staying....for your safety.” Finn doesn’t wait for an answer and continues to walk forward, leaving you speechless and confused on what he meant, on what he knew exactly.

Ignoring his concern you begin to debate if to follow or not, ultimately and several seconds later turning to follow after Poe, albeit you still had the strong urge to leave and find Rey yourself, damn the consequence.

Poe notices you fall to his side, scoffing as he walks faster. You only pick up your pace and catch up to him, causing him to roll his eyes, “what are you doing here? Thought you would have left to go after her, like Finn.”

“I was, but he stopped me.” You admit, causing Poe to sigh.

“And you listened? That’s surprising.”

“What’s with the attitude? I came back—”

“Not by choice.” Poe interrupted, “obviously.”

You inhale deeply and calm yourself before you begin to get angry, grabbing his arm and stopping him where you stood. “I care about Rey, just like I care about you. If you had gone, I would want to go after you too.”

Poe swallows thickly, blinking down to the ground not wanting to admit that you were right, that he had no right to be upset at you. “Let’s go fix that ship.”

“Okay.” You begin to walk again, a smirk growing on your lips as you wrap your arm around his shoulders, “I like the shirt by the way.”

Poe grins, “You do?”

“Yes. You should wear it like that more often.”

He licks his lips, his usual cocky demeanor returning at that moment, while he wrapped one hand around your waist, “maybe I will.” He continues talking, something you tune out as you sense someone else arrive in the planet...Kylo. Him being here wasn’t good. Not for you or Rey.

Poe notices your change, the way you had stopped walking and your smile was replaced with a deep frown, with a distant and narrowed gaze. “Go, I’ll get you guys once the ship is fixed.” He assures you.

You nod with a half smile on your lips, unaware this would be the last time you two would see each other.

—

Finn had been gone by the time you reached the water, already miles ahead while you managed to work a skimmer. It was partly easy to work with, not considering the violent waves that would slam down and knock you off coarse once in a while. Using the force though made it tolerable, it helped where you physically couldn’t.

But as violent, tall and wide the waves were, however the wind howled in your face, or the consistent looming fact that at any minute you could go underwater, wasn’t what scared you. What scared you, what really scared you was the thought, the possibility of Kylo hurting Rey, or Rey hurting...him. That’s what really scared you, the fact that you wouldn’t be able to reach them in time to stop them.

And you were close, just a little bit more and you would reach them.

—

The sight of the broken entrance was in view, just a few feet away that you easily jumped, landing on the cold wet surface with a loud thud causing the unstable ground to shake. Ignoring that fact, you followed by wiping the wet strands of hair stuck on your face, before solely focusing on the force presence of Rey and Kylo to guide you towards them. Their presence was strong and both gave off a lot of strong emotions, most of it being grief and conflict.

As much as those emotions they felt worried you, you couldn’t let it get to your head, you needed to stay focused and continue forward. You needed to ignore the way the surface underneath your feet shook as the waves crashed onto it, you needed to ignore the sudden feeling of menacing, cold and frightening darkness that began to flood your mind. A darkness that was sudden, one you never felt within you before, but one that was definitely familiar...one you have crossed paths with before.

A darkness that wasn’t Kylo’s, no his felt different, his felt troubled all the time. This darkness was different in every way, it didn’t let you move, as hard as you tried, it was forcing itself within you, growing and growing like a plaque wanting to take over. It caused a sharp pain that made you fall to your knees with a loud scream, whilst you held onto the sides of your head. You began to try and fight the lurking darkness, but the fight you put on was getting challenged more and more, being overcome by that same darkness. You wanted to reach for help, but as you tried it all failed, it felt like your mind was paralyzed, like little by little you were losing control over yourself.

You let out another pained scream, one that was tuned out by the sound of the waves. You kept trying to reach for help, but every attempt failed, the darkness kept trying to knock down the walls of your mind, it wanted to corrupt you, but you kept fighting to remain them up and protected. You didn’t know what was happening, it was all confusing and painful, it felt so unfamiliar....until their was voice, a new voice.

At last child, it is your time. Kylo Ren has failed me, but you will not.

It was...Palpatine. But how? You think to yourself for a second, panting heavily as you stood up to your feet, jumping slighting as a wave crashed, realization hitting at the same time...It was the ring—in hasty move you try and remove the black ring from your finger, your hand beginning to shake uncontrollably as you did. Your fingers only hovering above the small object, as much you tried, as much strength you put into your effort, you couldn’t it felt like you were being controlled.

Tears began to cloud your view as you tried to take the ring off, as you tried to fight off Palpatines presence, both attempts failing.

“NO!” You growl. “You will not control me!” Not after you were learning control yourself, after you were beginning to be proud of the control you had with your emotions and the force. Palpatine wasn’t going to ruin it, you weren’t going to let him control you.

Not to worry child, you are only a means to an end. After your child is born you will be let go and you can have your freedom and your own self control. But for now you are mine.

“NO!” Again you begin to fight his presence in your mine, his desire to want control. He was strong and he caused you blinding pain, but you needed to fight...you needed to make it to Kylo or Rey, you were close, they just needed to hear you or see a glimpse of you—Beginning to move towards your indicated the path, you felt every step that you took was difficult to take, your mind was beginning to crumble, the walls you tried to put up were being broke down and the darkness was beginning to corrupt you.

Once more you fell to your knees, letting your head drop. You were so close, Rey’s presence was gone, but Kylo’s was still here....or well....it felt different, but it was still him, he still was here. And yet you were unable to go to him, unable to reach him and let him know something was wrong.

A echoing chuckle was heard inside your mind just as a final blow hit your mind, one that made you lose your battle and control. But before Palpatine and his darkness could fully take control, their was a moment of hesistation within you, one last spark of control. Something you took advantage of before you could feel nothing but the darkness.

Quickly before that single moment vanished you called out to the one person you knew would help, the one person who regardless of what you said to him, or how you pretended to act and feel towards him was going to help...or at least that’s what you hoped Kylo would do. With one last and weak try you reached to him, saying words you knew he would hear—Kylo...Help me.

Just like that, after letting out those last words with the little control you had left, that last flicker of it left, being nothing but a memory. Now you were someone that wasn’t you, someone that was being manipulated.

The sound of a ship flying close by made you look up with a blank stare, noticing the familiar ramp of the Night Buzzard open before you, whilst hearing Palpatines dark voice once again—Come to me in Exegol child. I’ll be waiting.

You walked into the ship, standing stiffly at the entrance as the the ramp slowly closed just as the Millennium Falcon flew by, and just as you let out unwanted words—Yes...Master.

A/N- what’s a nickname y’all think Ben would give y/n??? This question is for research purposes only....👀

Tagged- @jennibradley , @xxrouge-lexxx , @daniellajocelyn , @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo , @star-marvel-fangirl , @leilei-draws , @briesangel @lanatheawesome , @madamepsicose, @constantdisgrace , @1-800-depressedlesbian, @commondazy , @logiclies , @robindoesntloveme , @we-all-are-strange , @fandom-addict-aesthetics , @seninjakitey , @sarablog10 , @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov , @yodaboo

Permanent taglist- @ms-dont-care

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waterfall-ambience · 4 years

Text

Void Fog (Cosmic Horror AU), Part 1

A summary of everything we have so far.

All the information here is already available, but I haven’t updated the AU storyline since April, so I’m making this post for completeness’ sake.

- The eldritch abomination is an entity that has existed for millennia. It resides in the space between worlds- the Infinite dimension.

- It's only true desire is to consume.

- It’ll consume anything, but it’s particularly drawn to worlds that have been, or are currently inhabited by players. Considering the practically infinite amount of worlds (seeds), these are difficult to come by.

- The Hermit’s pattern of moving between different worlds has allowed them to unintentionally evade the Entity.

- It’s able to enter minds and control people to some extent, usually with the goal of finding other worlds and entering them.

- EX was exiled to a blank void world within the infinite dimension. Though he couldn’t travel beyond the void world, he could sometimes access the rest of the infinite dimension through his dreams. The Entity established a psychic link between them by preying on his insecurities (which, all things considered, is a huge can of worms).

- When EX managed to escape using his unstable admin powers, the Entity was able to locate the Hermitcraft server and bring forth the apocalypse.

Meta plot stuff:

- From a meta standpoint, it’s kind of difficult to pinpoint when the story takes place, and write a lot of it beyond what’s happening to EX. He was banned from the server in March 2019, and stayed in the void world for an extended period of time. By the time EX manages to get back onto the server, it could be any time during S7, but likely in the future, when the world has been developed a bit more.

- Some elements of the story will change as the season goes on so that it can fit into the context of S7

- The story mostly focuses on EX, so unless a canon story arc has elements of alternate dimensions (eg Area 77) or the supernatural (eg Demise), then the ‘Hermit’ side of the story is unlikely to have a major impact on the story as a whole. If EX comes back in canon, then the circumstances of how he does so will be incorporated into the AU.

World notes:

- X and EX have admin powers. EX barely knows how to use his and as such, lacks control. For example, he might try to summon a few stacks of a particular block, and end up summoning too much or too little.  

- EX’s powers can be influenced by his emotions. When upset, he has a tendency to teleport all over the place and cause lighting glitches, lag, and other errors. His ability to teleport and travel between dimensions is also unstable.

- The Entity would’ve found the Hermitcraft server sooner or later. If the Hermits extended Season 6 into Sixfinity, they would’ve attracted its attention. If Doc had kept using the infinity portal to access other servers, then it’s likely that he would’ve run into the Entity at some point, and this whole apocalypse mess would’ve happened anyway.  

Exile: 

- When he was banned, EX was sent to a creative superflat dimension outside of normal worlds. No structures generated there, and the floor was made up entirely of blue glass. He spent most of his time trying not to think too hard about the isolation, and instead turned to building nonstop.  

- His main ‘base’ was an ever expanding rustic house. He spent some time with NPG before getting banned and was taught how to build in a rustic style, which is what he’s most comfortable with. The house has gotten exceptionally large, and is near impossible to navigate due to its erratic floor plan.  

- EX also spent a lot of time sleeping, because the less time he spent conscious and aware of the usual passage of time, the better. However due to the nature of the void world he was exiled to, he could enter other dimensions in the Infinite (infinite dimension) through his dreamscape, as could the Entity.

- Isolation did not help EX deal with his fears and insecurities in the slightest. Often he’d find himself thinking about the circumstances of his exile, no matter how hard he tried not to. The fear that everyone hated him, that he had pushed everyone away with his evil schemes and rash decisions, that even if the Hermits were nice to him, they would never truly consider him to be their friend- it consumed him.

It was only natural that they would never trust him- he lied and stole from them, after all. He deserved it, but realising that was a permanent blow to their faith in him stung far more than he anticipated.

Often he found himself questioning every relationship and interaction he’s had with other people. Was he too aggressive with the tag game? Did he forget to say goodbye to Pixl and Zloy that one time? Did he bore NPG with his rambling about Worm Man?

How long ago did X consider banishing him? Was it when he fell into old habits and reached out to press the button that would supposedly destroy the server? Was it then and there that X decided that he’d never be ‘good’, or was the decision the result of smaller mishaps? Was it when he over steeped their tea that one time? Was it when he caught himself slipping into a ranty, dramatic monologue? He recounted every stupid, impulsive decision he’d ever made, replayed it in his head hundreds of times, wracking his brain for answers he knew he’d never get.

- Over time, EX’s dreams became increasingly vivid. Most of them devolved into nightmares of phasing through fog, smoke, and crowds of vaguely recognisable people and ruined cities. Occasionally he dreamt of the dimensions in the Infinite- with its fleets of ships, endless libraries, and whispered orders.

- As he began to remember more of the dreams, EX noticed the near-constant shadowy presence that encompassed everything and nothing at the same time. He made a conscious effort to ignore it, but like all his other decisions to *not* think about something, it never truly worked. Most of the time, he was able to somewhat focus on his surroundings, but it’s when he dreamt of the Hermitcraft server that the presence was impossible to ignore.

- The presence never named itself, but disturbing as it was, EX felt compelled to trust it.

EX’s return to the Server

- EX was found at the base of an unfamiliar Nether portal. X and Joe theorised that he collapsed from the transition between game modes and exhaustion from forcing himself onto the Season 7 server.

- From the moment EX returned to the server, some of the Hermits reported incidences of objects disappearing and chunk errors. Some claimed that the layouts of their bases shifted as they walked through them.

- Joe asked around different villages to see if these incidents were constant across the server. Most of the reports tied back to folklore of an entity seen by those who travelled between dimensions.

More World Notes:

- Some of the Hermits have made contact or communicated with Higher Beings (e.g. Cub and Scar with the Vex, or EX with the ‘evil voice in his head’), but they are less powerful than the Entity.

- The Hermits are a group of interdimensional travellers. Each Season takes place on a different planet or in a similar alternate dimension

Infodump Continuation: Season Seven

Story note: Particular locations and events aren’t specific for the sake of flexibility, as the story takes place further into S7.

- Some of the Hermits reported incidents of chunk errors and missing entities. A few hours later, EX was found unconscious in front of an unfamiliar Nether portal.

- The portal was removed for the sake of clarity within the nether hub.

- EX was brought to Xisuma’s base and his reappearance was discussed during a server meeting.

- Xisuma and Joe began to investigate the cause of the reported errors. X spent hours poring over the server’s code, and Joe started asking around some villages to see if the errors were consistent across the server.

- EX didn’t wake up for a long time. Some theorised that he was exhausted from the transition between game modes and forcing himself back onto the server. Keralis and Stress mainly watched over him, and would occasionally pop in to see if he was okay. Sometimes they found him tossing and turning, but he only somewhat responded to outside stimulus.

- Joe returned, and EX woke up a few hours later. After a well needed shower and hot meal, Joe took him in and asked him to explain what happened. EX gave his ‘statement’, and began to help Joe with the investigation.

- EX talked a lot about consistent nightmares and how the dark presence didn’t go away, even if he was on the server. In fact, it seemed to whisper to him now.

- EX spent the next week or so trying to adjust to living in the Overworld. Everything was too bright and dark at the same time and called attention to itself. Sometimes he felt that the air was too full of particles. Sounds were louder than they had the right to be.

- While EX was recovering from his time in exile, the investigation was mostly reading written tomes of folklore and reports of errors in libraries.

- EX continued to suffer from frequent nightmares, and it got to the point where he was hesitant to sleep, and tried to stay awake for as long as possible. It didn’t help. Joe found him sleepwalking and muttering about searching for something, but couldn’t make out what he was searching for.

- EX grew increasingly worried about the dark presence and voices he heard in his dreams, and freaked out a bit when Joe told him about the sleepwalking. Joe offered to lock the door to EX’s room from the outside- it might not have directly helped with the problem, but it helped him feel more at ease.

#void fog #hc cosmic horror au #my writing #not maintagging bc all this information has been previously posted.#not sure how well tumblr's readmore system is gonna work with long posts #im gonna stagger the rest of the au info over multiple days.#i dont wanna flood the tags w this since it's not even a fully fledged fic and also bc that'd be rude #for anyone reading: there's 4 parts and an epilogue.

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latin-dr-robotnik · 4 years

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SonAmy end of the decade report

The 2010s are coming to a close and I thought it would be nice to report what happened between our two lovely hedgehogs during this decade.

The 2000s were the years this dynamic of "Amy says something silly - Sonic runs away" got established. This way of interacting, while not malicious in its japanese-rooted nature, got pretty much blasted negatively by quite a lot of the western fandom, mainly due to questionable localization efforts and cultural differences. Also, the prevalence of other forms of Sonic media with their own canons (mainly Archie Sonic) didn't help so much, especially in Amy’s case. So, by 2010 there was quite some work to do to "fix" the way Sonic and Amy interacted with each other, even if some today say there was nothing to be fixed to begin with.

Legendary Sonic Team writers such as Shiro Maekawa and Kiyoko Yoshimura (I always like to reference this post), both of which set the tone for some of the most famous "SonAmy moments" during the 2000s, were no longer at SEGA by 2010, so what happened after their departure?

Things started... rather rocky with some of this weird stuff right here. The fandom always considered this a little too rude, and its canonicity has been up for debate ever since. Some say it's been officially confirmed as out of character for Sonic to act like that. (Sonic Generations, 2011)

Amy almost died, and Sonic felt quite lonely for the half hour or so he thought this happened for real. After beating Eggman and the Deadly Six, Sonic was quite pleased to see her once again ("Hey, Amy. Looks like springtime’s come early!") (Sonic Lost World, 2013)

2014, the so-called “Year of Sonic” (editor’s note: that didn’t age well at all), kicked off in February with the announcement of Sonic Boom, a new spin-off series boasting both new videogames AND a TV show. Later that year, during the Sonic Boom 2014 event, the voice actors from the show did a table read featuring a couple of the heavy-hitting SonAmy moments from the show’s first season. As you can imagine (or remember), the audience went absolute nuts. (Meta, 2014)

Sonic Boom was officially unleashed to the world, and with it the fandom got quite the shakeup. A new Amy was born, which ended up shaping the way all of her continuities were going to be handled from that point on. This new, fully-Westernized Amy introduced a new dynamic with the also-kinda-new Boom!Sonic: now Amy would also try to keep her crush in secret, acting shy whenever the topic of her relation with Sonic was brought up. Sonic himself was seen acting quite strange during this time, making lots of fans speculate he might finally be falling for her. America once again took the core SonAmy dynamic and ran WILD with it, so wildly that it ended up spiralling out of control, causing the producer of the TV show to get real death threats from at least “one SonAmy fan”. A very, very shameful moment. That’s not good, at all. (Sonic Boom, 2014-2017)

Sonic’s 25th Anniversary party was held during SDCC 2016, the party was quite a meme-fest itself (and the livestream was a shitshow), but we got the Sonic Boom voice actors together again to do a fun skit, and yes, there was some SonAmy teasing at the end. (Meta, 2016)

The Sonic Social Media Team started doing more Twitter Takeovers since 2015, and you bet your rings they answered at least one SonAmy related question... on two occasions! They also started dissing Sonadow fans... which was... quite unfortunate to watch. (Meta, 2017 & 2019)

Sonic "died" (again), and it was implied that Amy could not get over it; yet when he came back six months later she didn't melt on his arms (only on radio and for like, 5 seconds total). Rather, she kept going strong with her new Resistance duties. For the first time in years, things changed between them canon-wise... or maybe it was a consequence of the weak writing. (Sonic Forces, 2017)

Amy finally told Sonic she loves him for the way he's always been, and that she wouldn't want him to change. Since that touching moment, both have been awfully close (Sonic even offered her to tag along in his adventure, but she declined, opting instead to keep leading the -back then- Resistance), with Sonic actually enjoying some adventure time with her. By 2019, things started getting dark and nasty, and Sonic and Amy’s relationship suffered a lot by the (still) current Metal Virus saga. A very tired Sonic tried to approach an equally exhausted Amy in some ocassions, only for her to be interrupted by urgent stuff, and him having to run off, feeling quite down. (IDW Sonic, 2018-present)

Sonic CD’s 25th anniversary happened, and so Amy’s anniversary. For once, SEGA dropped the act and simply called her “Sonic the Hedgehog’s girlfriend”, without any sign of them changing that description over at the official SEGA Shop. (Meta, 2018)

Classic Amy (Rosy) returned! She's still head over heels for Sonic, but acts rather like her Sonic Mega Drive (2013 I believe?) comic counterpart. (Sonic Mania Adventures, 2018)

Sonic and Amy can finally hang out like friends without having weird, uncomfortable moments! They throw some shade at Eggman, laugh together and possibly even go on a picnic without any problem. (Team Sonic Racing, 2019)

Amy also is quite determined to leave her crush behind when it comes to winning, blasting Sonic out her way if needed. (Team Sonic Racing Overdrive, 2019)

I believe there are more moments from this decade out there (Colors DS and particularly the Olympics games kind of threw some questions around, wondering what’s going on with them, if Sonic considers Amy his girlfriend and that stuff, right?), but this is most of what I could come up for the last few months of thinking I’ve been doing. So, if you have any more official stuff that happened during this decade involving our loving two hedgehogs, feel free to reply below!

Also, what was your favorite moment from this decade?

I remember being there, exploding of joy, as we learned Sonic Boom was going to lean heavily into ship teasing, and the whole show is one of my favorite highlights of the decade. I also loved IDW Sonic #2, when Amy finally expressed that she loves Sonic for what he is, and she doesn’t want to change him. That felt organic in such a level I haven’t seen in quite a while, it was a truly heartfelt moment. Such nice memories.

#sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #sonamy #i felt kinda weird posting this in a moment where things are hot between some ppl #but i had this post in the backburner since may #and i'm clearing all my posts before new year #anyways let's return to our discussion #when i jumped in the fandom back in 2010 i was kinda a sonamy shipper #at least since my sonic x days i've shipped them #but it was sonic lost world and then boom what caught me in the shipping side of the fandom #to be honest i'm quite pleased with the current status of the ship #it ain't canon but it's teased harder and harder #and in some cases there are actually good points raised in favor of their pairing #what else could i ask for?

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lesdemonium · 4 years

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I’d Be the Choiceless Hope Chapter 9

Ship: Geraskier Word count: 26376 (total) Chapter: 9/16 Summary:

“Such a nice, beautiful sound,” the fae crooned. “If only he were this way always.”

Julian’s mother stood up. She claimed she was prepared to stop the fae, to protect her baby, but in Julian’s darkest moments he doubted this part of the story. His mother loved him, of that he had no doubt, but she had been young and weary, and even years later, she couldn’t quite get the twinge of exhaustion out of her eyes when she recalled Julian’s infancy. Even if she had been keen on protecting him, the fae was too close, too fast, too set on his plan.

“A gift, for the new mother,” the fae continued. He leaned a hand in to stroke Julian’s cheek. “I give you the gift of obedience.”

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier’s mother with Jaskier’s obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the “gift” became more of a curse.

Additional tags: AngstAngst with a Happy EndingHeavy AngstUnrequited LoveNot Actually Unrequited LoveAlternate Universe - Canon DivergenceCanon EraNot Canon CompliantCursed Jaskier | DandelionAlternate Universe - Ella Enchanted FusionCurse of ObedienceRape/Non-con ElementsImplied/Referenced Rape/Non-conJaskier | Dandelion Whump

read on ao3 - read chapter 1 on ao3

read chapter 1 on tumblr

Jaskier was surviving. That was the most accurate word he could use for what he was currently doing, as he just barely managed to stay upright in his chair, sipping at his wine. It took every bit of self control he had not to throw the wine back into his mouth as if it were the cheapest, most disgusting ale and he was intent on getting drunk. It was fine wine, the sort of wine he missed on their travels, and to get drunk at this moment would not be advantageous.

Besides, his sister had already forbade him from getting drunk.

It was amazing, really. Jaskier had never been able to avoid the casual commands that people so often threw his way without realizing. However, the directives he received outside Lettenhove were nothing compared to the sheer volume of orders he was given within its walls. Every other word out of his sisters’ mouths--because they all were here, Essi, Meave, Ayla, and Adeline, along with their husbands--were commands.

“Julian, sit next to me ,” Ayla crooned, and Jaskier slipped into the seat.

“No, don’t eat that. You won’t like it. Have some of the roast potatoes, instead. The sauce Eda makes is just to die for,” Meave promised. She was right, it was very good, but Jaskier was certain he would have liked the herbs on the carrots she had forbidden him from.

“Tell us of your travels,” Essi begged. Though Jaskier was often a storyteller, he kept his stories short and to the point. No one seemed to care, for no sooner than he had finished one story, the four of them and their husbands had moved on to other topics.

Every so often, Jaskier shot Geralt an apologetic glance. It was a blessing in disguise, having so many visitors here. Jaskier’s sisters had always been a bit vain, and the need to compete with each other for attention was ingrained in them after all these years. The attention they paid to both Jaskier and Geralt was polite, at best, throughout the entirety of the meal. Dessert was served, and Jaskier was hesitantly thrilled; maybe they would make it through this visit without too much trouble after all.

“So, Witcher,” Adeline began, and everyone turned to look at him.

Oh no . Jaskier sat up, glaring at his eldest younger sister, who paid him no mind. Unsurprising; she never had before, unless he was in her way.

“His name is Geralt ,” Jaskier interrupted as soon as Adeline opened her mouth again. She turned to him for a moment, glaring, but turned her attention back to Geralt a moment later as if Jaskier hadn’t spoken at all.

“You clean up rather nicely. I thought a monster hunter like you wouldn’t know his way around a bar of soap,” she smiled, and Jaskier wanted to slap it off her face.

“You’re one to talk, Adeline. I remember you crying when Mother snipped off your hair after it grew too dirty and matted when you refused to wash it,” Jaskier bit at her.

“Stop talking, Julian,” Adeline snapped back. She smirked as Jaskier grew silent. Her rouged lips matched the embroidered roses on her gown. If he punched her, maybe the bloom of red across her cheek would match as well. “I know you do so love nostalgia, but I am trying to get to know our guest . Mother was so good at keeping you in line, but maybe it’s time for the rest of us to learn her gift . Don’t speak until you’ve been asked a direct question.”

Her smirk only grew, but Jaskier could feel himself pale. He glanced at each of his sisters in turn. They all avoided his eyes, a slight blush creeping up their cheeks. They knew. Their husbands seemed clueless, but they had all excused themselves from the table, and were talking of the Nilfgaard, and the odds of their reported siege having any success. Jaskier had been ordered to stay at the table for dessert and Geralt, bless him, stayed at Jaskier’s side. Geralt had no idea what he had walked into.

Satisfied, Adeline turned back to the witcher. “I’ve heard some interesting stories about witchers. Is it true you don’t feel anything? That your emotions were numbed by your mutations? How monstrous.” Her head tilted to the side.

Jaskier slammed a fist on the table, but Adeline ignored him.

“I don’t know why you would need stories from me. It seems you have your own sources of information,” Geralt answered. Jaskier looked at him from the corner of his eye. Geralt was tense, with his arms crossed before him, and Jaskier longed to reach out and take his hand. That would only bring further scrutiny, though, and Jaskier was hesitant to call any additional attention to Geralt’s obvious importance to him. He had a feeling Adeline was already weaponizing it against Jaskier.

“Oh, but I think your stories would be quite illuminating . All the ones I’ve heard have such flowery language. I have a feeling you would cut right to the quick of it all. No need to get poetic about animalistic instinct.” Adeline shrugged. “I am curious, after all, how my brother found himself in your company. You are such a quiet, impressive beast and he is… Julian. Wouldn’t the noise alone drive you to insanity?” She glanced at Jaskier, and there was that smirk again . “I do suppose he has his perks.”

Geralt tilted his head and offered only his characteristic hum in response. Adeline was not sated with that answer, and she leaned in. Jaskier felt as if he was dancing on a knife’s edge, and he had no idea how to make this conversation end. He hadn’t been asked a direct question.

“Don’t you find?” Adeline asked, a caricature of curiosity in her voice and innocence on her face. “He is quite obedient , is he not?”

“I have never found Jaskier to be obedient,” Geralt answered, before turning to Jaskier and catching his hand, which had been swatting insistently at Geralt’s arm. “ What , Jaskier?”

“No? Perhaps you don’t know the proper--”

“That is enough,” Jaskier declared as he stood, pushing his chair back and letting it scrape across the floor. “Thank you so much for your hospitality, my dear sisters, Father. Geralt and I have an early day tomorrow, though, and really must see ourselves to bed. This has been delightful, and I can barely stand to wait for the next time we--”

“Jaskier, stop.”

Jaskier froze on his way to the door. He had managed to tug Geralt up and out of his chair on his way to leave, but now he stopped so abruptly that Geralt nearly knocked into him.

“Turn around.”

Jaskier turned to face his father, trying to ignore the curious look Geralt gave him. His father had not spoken for the entirety of the meal, had even ignored every bid Adeline’s husband had made to capture him in conversation. Now was when he spoke up?

“Your witcher may retire. But you,” the elder Pankratz pointed at Jaskier, then to a doorway off the side of the dining hall. “I will speak to you. Alone.”

Jaskier nodded, then looked at Geralt. “I will be there soon. Martyn can guide you back.”

Geralt looked as if he wanted to argue, but he saw something in Jaskier’s face that gave him pause. Instead, he nodded once, then followed Martyn out the door. He didn’t even glance back once, which Jaskier was so thankful for, words couldn’t even describe it. Geralt was finally safe, far away from Jaskier’s sisters, and Jaskier could face whatever doom was waiting for him in his father’s office.

Jaskier took a deep breath and followed after his father. Once the door was closed behind him, it felt like Jaskier was in a whole different world. While the dining hall had been bright and airy, with large windows and big open spaces, Count Pankratz’s office was dim, closed in, and all dark woods and deep burgundys. The other corners of the estate held at least a few happy memories for Jaskier; while he had largely hated his upbringing, he had experienced joy from time to time in the Pankratz halls. In his father’s study, however, the only memories Jaskier could bring to mind were those of punishments.

Though he had finally surpassed his father in height and build, Jaskier still felt like a scared little boy, cowering before his father’s red, furious eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Jaskier’s father demanded, wheeling on Jaskier once he had stepped fully into the room.

“You invited me,” Jaskier answered, raising an eyebrow. Insolence, to hide his palpable fear.

“What are you doing here in Lettenhove ?”

There was something there, in his expression, and realization dawned on Jaskier. Count Pancraktz was afraid . He was afraid of Jaskier , and what Jaskier’s very presence threatened. Jaskier wanted to laugh, but suddenly all he felt was pity for his father. While Jaskier’s world had grown larger than he had ever imagined, Count Pankratz remained stuck, overgrown in his fishbowl. Something eased inside Jaskier.

“I had business. I didn’t intend to come to the estate, but Essi was very… persuasive.” He could be outright, they all seemed to know now about Jaskier’s gift , but there was something protective in leaving it unnamed. “We will be leaving tomorrow.”

“If you’ve returned to claim your inheritance I will not--”

“Do you honestly think I want anything to do with this place?” Jaskier cut him off, incredulous. “Do you really believe after all I went through here, that I would ever want to come back and be Count ? I don’t claim my titles as it is!”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you came back only to spite us all! Adeline and Iwon--”

“Oh, is that his name? I could have sworn it was Wendelin, but that must have been the pig-faced boy she was convinced she would marry--”

“I will not have you make a mockery of my family!” the elder Pankratz bellowed, and Jaskier’s mouth snapped shut.

For a long, tense moment, all they did was stare at each other. Jaskier drew himself to his full height. He wasn’t afraid of this man anymore, not now that he had seen just how scared he could make his father, simply by turning up again.

“I would never make a mockery of what used to be mine ,” Jaskier replied, trying to sound unaffected, though his heart twinged with hurt. “I am no danger to Iwon and Adeline’s claim. If it were to fall to me, I would burn this estate to the ground without shedding a tear. It’s a shame I won’t get to see that, but, really, the work that would entail just isn’t worth it.” He shook his head slowly, his bitter jest igniting the fire in his father’s eyes again.

“You insolent, willful, empty-headed boy. You would have made a mockery of our name and you bring shame upon all of us. God cursed us all the day you were born, and we were foolish enough to celebrate . I am only glad that you had sense enough to take yourself away from us!”

Jaskier’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “And you are a vile, weak-willed, wretch of a man. To think I was afraid of you!” Jaskier huffed out a laugh, incredulous. “If I could have told the little boy you beat into submission that one day you would cower at the sight of him, simply for darkening your doorstep, I wonder if you could have held the same power. Are you only imposing to those who are smaller than you? Is that how you found yourself in Lettenhove? A king amongst ants? No, Father, I do not dream of your riches , I will not stake any claim to my birthrights. Go on play acting as if Iwon has always been your son, and we can both forget that this regrettable relationship ever existed.”

Turning on his heel, Jaskier strode to the door. His hand was on the knob when the elder Pankratz spoke again.

“Why did you come to Lettenhove, Julian?” he repeated.

Jaskier took a deep breath. “You know why. To find Lazuli.”

“This is a fool’s errand. If you even find that fae, he won't revoke it. You never should have come here.”

“At least, on that, we agree,” Jaskier replied.

He opened the door and slammed it shut behind him. All eyes were already upon him, and Jaskier knew they had been listening closely to every word they could distinguish. Jaskier brushed off his doublet and trousers, then gave the room a charming smile.

“If that will be all, I will be retiring as well. Lovely, as always, to catch up.”

He glided across the room and into the hallway. He made it halfway to his room before he was stopped by a hand on his arm. Jaskier turned to find Essi staring up at him.

“Julian, I didn’t mean to--”

Jaskier took her hand in his own. “I know you didn’t, Essi. And, please. Jaskier. My name is Jaskier now.” He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “It has been a delight to see you, but if all goes well, I should not return here. I hope my songs make it back to you, in consolation.” He gave her a grand, sweeping bow, and then pulled away to his room.

Geralt was waiting for him, of course, and leapt to his feet as Jaskier entered. Jaskier barely had the door closed behind him before Geralt was upon him, stopping just short of touching Jaskier and running his gaze over Jaskier’s body.

“I’m fine, Geralt,” Jaskier insisted, leaning forward to take Geralt’s face in his hands instead. “I’m so sorry about Adeline. I didn’t think to warn you about--”

“It’s fine, Jask,” Geralt said, pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s. “I’ve had far worse questions at my expense.”

“Adeline is not exactly known for being the most… pleasant person to be around. I’m afraid overtaking her brother for heir has gone a bit to her head. As if it could get any bigger.” Jaskier snickered. One hand traveled to the back of Geralt’s neck, stroking his hair at the nape. “I hate this place. I wish we could leave. For once, I might be up before you are. Anything to get out of this nightmare.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, wrapping his arms around Jaskier. His grip was firm. Jaskier wasn’t going to be able to move. Anxiety prickled at the back of his neck. “I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

Jaskier sighed. Had Geralt’s arms not been around him, he likely would have bolted. Geralt knew to prepare for that. He was almost a bit ashamed at just how predictable he was.

“I’ve had a very trying night, darling. I do think it’s time we turn in, forget that this whole mess ever happened.” He pushed against Geralt’s chest, making a bid to get away. Geralt didn’t budge. Jaskier met his eye, and thumbed the furrow of Geralt’s brow. “It’s nothing. Nothing’s going on.”

“You’re lying to me,” Geralt answered. “Your sister was talking around something tonight. All of them were. Every time they told you to do something, you did it. Adeline told you not to speak until asked a direct question, and I’ve never known you to hold back. You didn’t say anything until I asked you a direct question. The moment your father told you to stop, you did. With the bandit, you did everything he told you to do, too. When you perform, when someone tells you to play something, you do. Immediately. You told me you didn’t like to be bossed, but the moment anyone tells you to do something, you do it. Without thought, even when you don’t want to.”

Jaskier’s breath was shaky. “Is there a question in there, Geralt?”

“You know there is, Jaskier. All I have asked of you is honesty, and you’ve denied me time and time again. You cannot keep asking me to walk into situations for you without any information. I don’t--I can’t protect you if I don’t know how .”

Jaskier watched as Geralt’s face scrunched up with this admission. Unfortunately, this was a look Jaskier knew well. He was in pain, but trying to hide his grimace. Jaskier thumbed along Geralt’s cheekbone, feeling wholly wrecked himself. How could he deny Geralt this? Who was he to keep requesting his witcher’s help, without trusting him in return?

“I do what they tell me because I have no choice.” Jaskier pressed a finger to Geralt’s lips to silence the argument that was already coming. “Not a play on words, not being dramatic or defeatist. When someone gives me a command, I have no choice but to obey it; my body won’t let me do otherwise. I’ll. I’ll explain more and answer your questions, I promise I will. But not tonight. I can’t tonight.” He sighed, and pressed his forehead into Geralt’s chest. “It’s a curse, given to me as an infant by a fae named Lazuli. I want to find him. That is my business. That’s where we’re going tomorrow. To find Lazuli, and get him to take it back.”

Geralt was silent for a long, long time. Jaskier did not dare raise his head to watch his expression. Now, Jaskier was sure, Geralt would leave. He would decide that going to a faery court was entirely too much, too dangerous, and he would try to convince Jaskier not to go. And when Jaskier would not budge, he would leave, and Jaskier would face this on his own.

“Fae are tricky, Jaskier. He won’t just… take it back,” Geralt finally said, his voice low.

“I have to try. I can’t live like this. I have to try.”

Geralt hummed. Then he backed them up, keeping his arms tightly wound around Jaskier, and took them both to the bed. Geralt pulled away to undress Jaskier and, though it killed him to do it, Jaskier did not make a single dirty joke about it. Something about Geralt’s somber expression implored Jaskier to keep this a quiet, intimate moment. And intimate it was. Jaskier found his breath catching in his throat as Geralt undressed him carefully, placing gentle caresses here and there until Jaskier was only in his smallclothes.

At Geralt’s nudging, Jaskier climbed onto the bed. He sat in the middle, drawing his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. His chin rested on his knees as he watched Geralt undress himself, then gather their clothes and put them away. There was something so careful about the way Geralt was moving. Jaskier’s heart felt warm and he so longed to touch this gentle, impressive man before him.

He could never have Geralt, not really. There would always be something wedged between them. But when Geralt came to him, pulling Jaskier to cuddle against him, as he pressed slow, soft kisses into Jaskier’s lips, Jaskier could pretend. He could pretend that he had Geralt’s love, and shared it with no other.

It was Jaskier’s favorite lie yet.

read chapter 10

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #gerlion #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fanfic #my writing #y'all benefited from the fact that my body decided 530 was a good wakeup time #gonna post this and then HOPEFULLY go back to sleep bc that is RIDICULOUS on my DAY OFF

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turtle-steverogers · 4 years

Text

Not Guilty

remember when I was gonna write a murder mystery? well, it kinda took a turn plotwise, but here it finally is

Being a homicide detective is all fun and games until you start to fall for the lead suspect in your most recent case.

warnings: description of a dead body, talk about death

ship: ralbert, platonic spalbert

word count: 2480

Chapter 1

Even before Albert walked in on the dead body, his day wasn’t going well.

His good uniform shirt hadn’t dried properly the night previous, so he had to go with his old one that was a little bit too small in all the wrong places. The department was out of his favorite green tea, which meant he had to settle for that fucking dirt coffee Kelly and Conlon kept around for “sanity”. And he’d been late on his lunch break, since Chief Roosevelt stuck Cortez’s paperwork on him last minute.

So, when he ventured into the bathroom of his favorite sandwich shop, only to find a fresh corpse and more blood than he ever really cared to see propped up neatly on the toilet, all he could find in himself to do was sigh. And gag a little, but that was a given.

The coppery smell of blood and freshly shut down internal organs cuts brutally through the air and Albert reaches under his button down to pull his undershirt over his nose as he dials Spot’s number.

As his phone’s ringing, Albert takes the time to steel himself and assess the body, first checking the pockets for any kind of identification. When all he comes up with are a couple candy wrappers and a condom, he sighs again. So, they’ll have to do this the hard way. Typical.

“Yo, Dasilva, how’s the meatball sub?”

Albert gags again. The last thing he wants to think about right now is his abandoned meat sandwich covered in red sauce. No, nope. Not right now.

“Yeah, uh, no,” Albert says, leaning back on his haunches, “We got a 10-54, possible homicide- multiple stab wounds to the chest and stomach. I’m gonna need backup down here.”

There’s a pause, then Albert hears Spot groan, “And you’re still at Gianno’s?”

“Unfortunately.”

There’s a pause and Albert can picture Spot rubbing his eyes, “Fuck, okay, me and some others’ll be there soon.”

The line goes dead with a click and Albert casts another cursory look over the body. Dilated eyes stare back at him, a slack jaw giving way to a bluish, swollen looking tongue. He scrunches his nose, feeling a little dizzy.

“Bruh, you’re lookin’ rough.”

The body does not answer.

The victim, Albert learns upon returning to the precinct, is some low level reporter for one of the smaller newspapers in New York: the Brooklyn Eagle.

“Frank Wiesel, but folks call him Weasel. Fitting, too. The guys a biased asshole, apparently. Republican, Conservative, the works. Probably would fit in better with Fox News instead of a city newspaper, but…”

Spot leans back in his seat, tossing down the manilla case file and taking a long drink from his “10-4 Coffee That” mug. It’s a stupid mug, but Spot has worshipped it since Jack had passed it over one Christmas Eve in the department, and honestly, Albert hasn’t seen him nearly as passionate over anything, so he bites his tongue.

“An asshole, huh?” Albert pulls the case file towards himself and flips it open, eyes scanning the scowling face of Wiesel, “Anyone in particular who would have it out for him? Or is he more of a generally known bastard type.”

“Hard to say,” Spot says, “He wrote some pretty nasty stuff about a few left leaning politicians in the area and got some pretty bad backlash because of that. Plus his general lack of a filter’s gotten him kicked out of bars here and there around Manhattan, so…”

Albert hums, scrunching his nose. Wiesel really is ugly. All 1940s mobster with a stupid bowler hat and beady eyes, mouth turned down under a ratty handlebar mustache, “Has the autopsy come back yet?”

“They’re finishing up the toxicology report,” Spot says, “S’taking a little longer than usual, ‘cause Mush suspects something mighta been up with the vic’s blood.”

“Poison?”

“Maybe,” Spot shrugs and pours himself more coffee. Albert eyes him, wondering how many cups he’s had today and vacantly wondering if Spot would be off put by him taking the pot and drinking directly from it.

“Has the wait staff at Gianno’s been questioned yet?”

“Mostly,” Spot answers. The look in his eye tells Albert that he’s about to drop something pivotal.

He cocks his head, “Mostly?”

“One waiter went home right before the murder occured. Claimed a migraine.”

Albert’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. Now that is interesting, “And nobody fucking thought to bring this guy in?”

XXX

The waiter- Antonio Higgins, according to the file Katherine handed off to Albert and Spot- lives in an older looking apartment complex a few blocks down from Gianno’s. Despite the slightly dilapidated exterior, the place has a pleasant enough, homey sort of vibe. The vague smell of pasta sauce wafts through the air, assaulting their nostrils the moment they step into the building. Distinct Italian villa music plays in soft undertones through the lobby and the walls are adorned with various renaissance-era paintings.

Albert and Spot exchange a short glance, raising their eyebrows slightly before approaching the front desk. The lady behind the counter is a stout, but demanding woman, her eyes lined with harsh black rouge and hand gesturing wildly as she speaks on the phone in rapid fire Italian. A quick glance towards her name tag tells Albert that her name is Maria, which fits her whole Italian mother look. Albert watches, bemused, as she looks at them inquisitively, then at the badges on their shirts and rolls her eyes, firing off a few more sentences into the receiver before hanging up the landline and placing it back on its phone stand.

“Yes, hello officers, how may I help you?” Her heavily accented voice is tinged with annoyance and Albert sees Spot shoot him another glance in his peripheral.

Inwardly, Albert sighs. He’s never understood why people can’t just be cooperative.

“Hi, ma’am, sorry for the inconvenience,” He trains his voice into something resembling empathy and plasters his most charming smile onto his face. She doesn’t look amused, “I’m Detective DaSilva and this is my partner, Detective Conlon. We’re here from the 17th precinct investigating a case regarding the tragedy that occurred over in Gianno’s earlier today and one of the waitstaff there, Antonio Higgins, lives here in your building. We’ve got a few questions for him, so if you could do us the courtesy of buzzing us up to his room, that would be greatly appreciated.”

Maria’s eyes widen and when she speaks, the previous irritation is absent, “Tonio? Is he in trouble? That boy is the sweetest thing, so helpful. There’s no way he could be who you are looking for.”

Albert tries to soften his expression, “He’s in no trouble yet, ma’am, I assure you. We’re just following protocol and questioning all employees at Gianno’s. He went home a little before the incident occurred, so we were not able to question him with the rest of the waitstaff.”

Maria looks a little relieved at this, but her sternness is back when she says, “Alright, I will buzz you up, but don’t do anything to hurt my dear Tonio. He’s had a tough year and I’d hate for some pish posh detectives to upset him further.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Spot says, amicably.

Maria picks up the phone again, presumably to call Higgins’ room and Spot looks at Albert, mouthing, ‘tough year?’ Albert shrugs and shakes his head, turning back to Maria as she hangs up the phone with a friendly, “Si, si, abbi cura, tesoro.”

“Okay,” She says dismissively, waving her hand as she picks up a pen and starts scribbling on some papers, “You can go up. Elevators are around the corner. Tonio lives on the 7th floor, room 712B.”

They thank her and head towards the elevators, relieved to find the one that picks them up to be empty.

“I wonder what this Higgins dude’s been through for the fuckin’ receptionist to be that protective,” Spot says, pressing the button for the seventh floor and wincing when the elevator groans as it begins to ascend.

“Yeah, me too,” Albert agrees, “Sounded kind of cryptic, too. Hope he’s in a good enough headspace to be helpful.”

And it’s true. The more fucked up the suspect, the less willing they are to talk. Vexation is one of the many banes of Albert’s existence. They arrive at the floor and find room 712B at the end of the hallway. Spot knocks and in less time than they anticipated, the door swings open to reveal a tired looking man. He’s a bit taller than either of them with curly blond hair that sits like a mop on top of his head. His blue eyes are accentuated by the bruise-like bags that sit underneath and the pallor of his skin makes it look like he’s sick; or was sick. With a wince, Albert remembers that this guy had supposedly gone home with a migraine earlier.

“Officers,” The man- Antonio- greets tiredly. He looks bored at their presence and leans his shoulder casually on the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His grey t-shirt stretches obscenely over well-muscled arms and Albert swallows. Spot snorts next to him.

Recovering, Albert flashes him a quick smile, “Antonio, right? I’m Detective Dasilva and this is my partner, Detective Conlon. I’m assuming you’re aware of the incident that occurred over at Gianno’s earlier today?”

Antonio’s bored expression doesn’t waver, but when he sighs, it sounds shaky, “‘Course I heard. Business is about to go to shit ‘cause of it, too. No one’s gonna wanna come to a murder scene to eat, so bye-bye good paychecks.”

“Right, I apologise for that,” Albert continues, “But we’ve gotta ask you a few questions regarding the case.”

Antonio’s eyebrows shoot up, “Am I a suspect?”

“Everyone’s a suspect until we find the culprit,” Spot says evenly.

“Right…” Antonio sighs again, “Okay, come in I guess.”

He opens the door wider to allow them to enter and turns to walk into the apartment, flicking on a few lights along the way. Albert follows him, noting how excessively clean the apartment is as he makes his way to the kitchen where Antonio is opening a pill bottle and throwing back a few pills, washing them down with what Albert assumes is coffee. Spot joins him in the mouth of the kitchen, looking as hesitant as Albert feels. Antonio looks at them, lips quirking upwards into something like a smirk.

“Want anything to drink?” He offers, “I’ve got water, coffee, milk...if you’re weird like that.”

“We’re good, thank you,” Spot declines, stepping further into the kitchen and leaning against one of the counters.

Albert follows suit, noting with a frown that everything here is impeccably organized as well. A neat row of cookbooks are pressed against the fridge, descending in order from thickest to thinnest. The counters are bare and shiny, boasting no crumbs or residue. Kitchen appliances line the walls neatly, also showing barely any sign of use. Albert suspects if they opened up the fridge and the cabinets, they’d find neatly stacked dishes and immaculately organized silverware.

Antonio shrugs, sipping again from his coffee mug, “Suit yourself.”

“Okay,” Spot pulls out his pocket notebook, flipping it open to a blank page and clicking his pen against his chest, “So you claimed to have gone home around 12:20 with a migraine. Did you take any detours on the way home?”

Antonio’s jaw clenches, “Well, seeing as my head was trying to kill me from the inside out, I wasn’t very keen on going window shopping, so…”

Albert hears Spot blow out a breath through his nose, “I need a direct answer here, sir, if you could please.”

Antonio rolls his eyes, “Yes, I came straight home.”

Undeterred, Spot plows on, “Did you have any connections to the victim, Frank Wiesel? Was he a regular customer that you knew of? Anything of that sort?”

“Fuckin’ Weasel was the one to get his ass smoked?” Antonio says, nostrils flaring.

“So you did know the victim,” Albert says.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ knew him. Worked with my Pa for a while, before leaving him in the dust to go work for some hotshot newspaper. Asshole if I ever knew him,” Antonio shakes his head, laughing dryly, “‘Bout time he met his maker.”

“Okay, don’t say that to any officer about a murder vic,” Albert admonishes, “And you said he worked with your dad? What did they do together?”

Antonio shifts, suddenly looking uncomfortable, “I don’t really know, but my Pa never liked him much. Always complained about how he was tryna ‘do him in for a big one’ whatever that means. I think it had something to do with accounting, but I’m not entirely certain.”

Spot’s nodding, scribbling rapidly in his notebook, “You met him, yes?”

“Few times,” Antonio says, “ornery fucker. Homophobic, too. That was the only front he and my Pa ever agreed on it seemed. Which worked wonderfully in my favor.” He says that last part sarcastically and Albert sends a brief look to Spot who grimaces.

“Where’s your dad now?” Albert asks. The situation Antonio’s painted for his involvement with Wiesel sounds like a breeding ground for motives- if not from him directly, then his father.

“Dead,” Antonio smiles bitterly, “Was fighting cancer for a while and finally kicked the can ‘bout three months ago.”

There’s a tense pause and Spot clears his throat, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Antonio snorts and Albert senses his frustration building.

“And you were here, in this apartment building, when the murder occurred say around...12:50?”

Antonio blinks, “I already told you I came straight home,” he pauses, “I didn’t fuckin’ kill Weasel.”

“We’re not saying-”

Antonio scoffs, “Kind of sounds like you are. We done here? ‘Cause as you seemed to know, I went home because of a migraine, which is still fucking me up. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Yes, my apologies,” Albert says, sensing that they weren’t going to get anything else out of this visit. He nudges Spot, beginning to back out of the kitchen. Antonio follows them to the door, watching warily as they step out, “Thank you for your time. I appreciate your cooperation. We’ll probably be back sometime this week for a few follow up questions.”

Antonio wrinkles his nose, “Wonderful.”

The door shuts with a resounding click and Albert and Spot stare at it for a long moment.

“Well…” Spot starts.

“Yeah,” Albert says, “There’s some digging to do here.”

“Sure is.”

They begin to retreat back towards the elevators.

“You gotta be careful, though.” Spot says, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.

“About what?”

“You were totally hot for him.”

Albert thunks his head against the elevator wall, groaning, “Man, shut up.”

Spot just laughs.

i actually know where this one is heading plot wise, so...,.,

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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#newsies #newsies fic #ralbert #albert dasilva #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #hehe

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starfleetdoesntfirefirst · 3 years

Text

(Discovery Season 3 Episode 4 “Forget Me Not” Spoilers)

Greetings disco friends, here is my attempt at a fix-it fic.

What I mind most of all was them showing his graphic death scene, whether it’s partially-temporary or completely-temporary, after doing the same with Hugh and Michael’s then-death scenes. As far as the future of Gray's plotline goes (this season and into the next, since we know the actor is filming Season 4), I think there's a chance (especially given that GLAAD was helping them write the storyline) that he'll be completely brought back from the dead like Hugh and a chance that he won't be brought back fully but rather will continue to hang around noncorporeally like he's doing now. But either way, as with Hugh and Michael's graphic then-death scenes, that doesn't change the fact that they showed that in this episode.

I think I've reached the point of hard 'no’ on continuing to watch the show myself. (Though of course I completely support y’all in watching or not watching the show, as works for you!) And I’ll still be around here, writing fic based on Season 1 through to this episode.

Also, I’m currently brainstorming ways to put something affirming into the fandom this season while not watching, since I won't be writing fix-it ficlets and…obviously I know no one ~depends~ on my fix-it ficlets, but this community means a lot to me and I guess I want to feel like I'm putting something into the fandom even as I'm (aside from continuing to make content for older season stuff) walking away, if that makes sense? (Maybe some book giveaways of sci-fi books with trans characters, tho that may or may not work logistically/financially, or something like that.) Please let me know if you have suggestions! <3

Dreampt Of More Things

Other, F/F, M/M | Teen And Up | Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 2,600 words

ao3 link in a reblog since Tumblr still seems unpredictable about when posts with links are allowed in the tags

and/or, full fic + tags here:

Tags – Jett Reno, Jett Reno’s Wife, Michael Burnham, Hugh Culber, Ellen Landry, Philippa Georgiou (original Captain version), Adira Tal, Paul Stamets, Gray Tal, Sylvia Tilly, Tracy Pollard Adira Tal/Gray Tal, Jett Reno/Jett Reno’s Wife, Ellen Landry/Amna Patel, Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets Grief (Ellen’s) and mentions of Lorca, no serious injury since again we are sidestepping that but very brief description of Adira’s joining surgery, Gray Tal Lives, Jett Reno’s Wife Lives, Philippa Georgiou Lives

Note: This is not an Amna Patel Lives universe (Ellen Landry’s fiancée from Star Trek Online), as I am Making A Point about how no, it’s not that queer stories about loss and grief are bad or that I personally don’t want to write/read them; it’s about context, and how many characters have died over the course of your franchise, and the nature of your franchise, and what to portray versus not portray onscreen (in the context of your show), and how you’ve advertised your characters, and reading the room.

***

“Burning the midnight oil, huh?”

Jett looks up as Michael steps closer to her workbench in the corner of Engineering, raising an eyebrow, as Michael had known she would.

“Here to check my work on your outfit, Commander?” she asks, laconically, before bending her safety-goggled face back to her work.

Michael grins despite herself as she pulls out a chair opposite Jett. “I’m entirely confident in your work, Commander.”

“So you’re here to pester me because…?”

“Because I’m curious to see the work-in-progress. And, more importantly, because I ran into your wife on her way to turn in for the night, and she told me to tell you that she’s taking you out on a fantastic date when all this is over.”

“Where’s she think she’s gonna scare up a place to go out on any kind of date in the ass-middle of the 32nd century?”

Michael grins again. “I think it was a ‘looking for a way to take my wife on a fantastic date and if I cannot find one I will create one’ kind of thing.”

“Yeah, that tracks.” Michael can hear the smirk in Jett’s voice as she fiddles with the wiring on the angel suit’s chestplate.

“Don’t stay up too late, Commander,” she says as she stands. “We’re still gonna need you on shift tomorrow.”

Jett grunts in acknowledgement, and Michael smiles as she walks past the spore cube and towards her quarters for the night.

***

“How are you doing with all this, Landry?” Hugh ventures, after a few days of deliberation, when he and Ellen have a quiet moment alone together at the end of a meeting.

Ellen takes a minute before answering, dropping a PADD into her bag. “One of my security lieutenants said it seemed implausible that we’d be able to find a way to send Burnham back in time, once again, especially with the way the Burn affected ability of the time crystals on Boreth to interface with the suit even if we are granted one.”

Hugh raises an eyebrow and waits, silent.

“I told her that if she thought implausible was going to stop this crew, she must've not been paying attention to half the weird shenanigans they’ve pulled off.”

Hugh smiles wryly. “‘More things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’” he quotes.

Ellen gives him a look, and he holds up his hands in surrender. “Maybe I’ve been spending too much time around this ship’s surprisingly high number of Shakespeare fans.”

“And we’ve already dreamt of more things, haven’t we?” Ellen asks simply, pausing and leaning a hip against the table. “At this point, it’s just a matter of choosing philosophies.”

High raises an eyebrow again. “That's an interesting way of looking at it, Commander.”

Ellen folds her arms. “Yes, thank you, I am a font of excellent observations, at least when I’m not busy misreading dipshit captains and making the worst choices in the universe. You can stop giving me the sympathy look, by the way.”

Hugh watches her, silent.

“Yes," she tells him in a sing-song voice, "I have in fact experienced one or two emotions while helping prepare for a mission to bring someone back from the dead and knowing I can never bring my own fiancée back.” Her tone drops back to a flat command. “The only person in my, this, situation who actually deserves your sympathy is Amna, and she’s not here to receive it. You’re a busy man; you’re needed all over the place. Go do something clever and medical somewhere.”

Hugh watches her for a moment longer before he says simply, “I’m so sorry. For your loss.”

“Don’t. No.” Ellen’s voice is firm, though without rancor. “Those words are not for me. I am not a good widow. Do you understand that? Instead of honoring my fiancée in any substantive way, I went off and got manipulated by some dipshit. And what’s worse, if it hadn’t been for the manipulation and the secretly evil part, I might not have ever figured out to regret it. Do you understand that? Can you understand that? You’re a good person. Your partner is a good person. Do you know what it is to not just not be able to save her but to get even grieving wrong?”

For a long moment, Hugh considers what to say.

“I think your actions in helping Lorca were wrong,” he says. “I don’t think it’s possible to grieve wrong.”

Ellen, eyes dubious, grunts in a way that could be dismissal, acknowledgement, or something in between.

“Take care, Commander,” Hugh says quietly, heading for the door.

He is nearly in the hallway when Ellen speaks.

“This is part of hers.”

Hugh pauses, turning to face her again. “Hers--?”

“Amna. This mission would have been part of her philosophy.” Ellen’s lip twitches in what could be the shadow of an exhausted smile, voice still blunt and the expression in her eyes still characteristically direct. “Without question.”

***

When Georgiou returns from Boreth, she discovers that Adira has slipped down to the shuttle bay to meet her.

“How did it go?” they ask, hesitantly, eyes wide with some unknown emotion.

“Successful,” she tells them, as the two of them make their way out of the bay together. She pats one strap of her pack. “We now have a time crystal.” Given that Gray’s life rests on having a crystal to power the suit, it’s unsurprising that Adira has been worried.

“No, I mean—I knew you’d be able to do it,” Adira tells her, as if this is obvious, a trust and confidence in their eyes that makes Georgiou’s heart ache. “But, I just, I do talk with the rest of the crew, and they talked about how Pike was so f—messed up by whatever he had to go through to get the crystal, like it was really really…bad. And I just—” They stare at their feet as they walk, sneaking a quick glance sideways at Georgiou. Georgiou knows she probably looks like shit. “If I’d never come to this ship, you wouldn’t have done that for Gray. For us.”

Georgiou stops walking, turning to face Adira, and Adira watches her, their face pinched and anxious.

“Listen to me, Adira.”

Adira nods.

“This might not be something you fully, truly understand until you’re an adult yourself, but when kids are hurt or in danger, it’s us adults' job to protect you. That’s one of the most important parts of being a caring adult Human. Caring adult person,” she corrects herself. “Maybe the most important thing.”

Adira nods uncertainly.

“Saving Gray is the most important thing right now,” Georgiou says gently, as the two of them resume walking. “To all of us. You arriving on this ship was a very, very good thing for so many reasons, Adira. Saving him is one of them.”

“And that’s a go, Burnham!” comes Paul’s voice in Michael’s ear, and she launches herself upwards from Discovery’s stationary hull, the soft interior padding of the red angel suit once again surrounding her as she hovers in space, programming her coordinates.

“Jump commencing in thirty seconds,” she reports.

“Take good care, Commander,” Paul says, his voice gentle in her ear against the silent cushion of the vacuum around her.

“I will.”

A pause of a few seconds. “Adira says ‘good luck.’”

Michael can picture the two of them as they were when she flew out of the shuttle bay, Paul standing at his portable console in the shuttle bay's cobbled-together mission control, one arm around Adira.

“Tell them—” Michael swallows. “Tell them thank you. Tell them that I’ll—tell them that we’ll be back soon.”

“I will.”

The countdown completes, and Michael falls forward into a bright shower of instants.

***

Outside the generation ship, Michael shifts reality out of the timeline with a wave of one Jett-Reno-enhanced suit hand, glancing at the two figures inside the viewport in front of her before tractoring the asteroid off its course. After confirming its trajectory away from the ship, she punches the personal transporter on her chest, materializing inside.

Gray and Adira startle, each making as though to stand protectively in front of the other.

“I mean you no harm,” Michael says quickly. “And you’re both going to be safe. I am going to make sure of that. My name is Michael Burnham, and the next year is going to be very difficult for you, Adira,” she continues, feeling the words tumble from her lips as quickly as she can say them, “but I want you to know that when that year is over, you’re going to see Gray again. Gray,” she says, holding out the unpowered exoskeleton of a second timesuit, “I need you to put this on and come with me.”

Gray steps closer to Adira. “What? No, I—”

“Your name is Gray Tal, and your last name was Senna Tal, and when he was a child his favorite thing to do was to read books to his collection of plush tribble toys,” Michael says.

Gray’s eyes widen. “That’s—“

Michael continues, rattling off former Tal host facts as quickly as she can, before explaining, also as quickly as she can, about the asteroid they’ve just seen her deflect, and the symbiont, and the Discovery.

“Adira needs to have the symbiont,” she explains, “in order not to cause a time paradox. But the modified time crystal in my suit will allow me to shift you—” she nods at Adira—“back into the real timeline in time for the medbots to give you the symbiont. I just need to do it at exactly the right time, so that Gray doesn’t actually die, and you snap back just as the medbots are holding the symbiont.” Do medbots hold things? Hover them? Whatever; she’s getting the point across. And Gray is putting the suit on.

“Luckily, my amazing crewmates have worked out all the timing,” she continues, “so I just need to transport us back outside and then snap the timeline back to the right instant. And, yes, there will be two Tals in the galaxy when you see each other again and I’m sure that will make things very interesting. Ready to go?”

She holds out a hand, and Gray takes it. “I love you, Adira,” he says, as Michael reaches for the transporter.

“I love you too—” Adira says, and Michael and Gray reappear meters away in space. Adira is standing watching them, and standing watching them, and then with a motion of her hand Michael slams them back into the timeline and Gray puts a hand to his mouth over his suit visor as he watches the medbots complete the surgery and place a blanket over Adira, flying the newly-joined Human slowly away down the hallways and out of sight.

“You’ll see them again,” Michael whispers, “in just a minute.”

“Them?” Gray sounds puzzled.

Oh, right. Well, in just moments, there will be ample time for explanations. “Adira. You’ll see Adira, who’s going to be so very, very happy to see you. It will have been a year,” Michael adds, as she pulls up the angel suit controls, “and Adira is going to be so glad to see you again.”

They fall forward into sparking and sparkling time together, and all at once they’re dropping back into the timeline, floating easily in the vacuum in front of Discovery’s shuttle bay.

“Ready?” Michael asks.

Gray nods. “Yeah. I mean—of course I’m ready. I’m ready.”

Michael smiles, floating them into the bay as the forcefield ripples obligingly to let them enter and landing them both on the smooth floor, steadying Gray as his feet make contact.

“Gray?”

Adira is pressing their own hand to their mouth as Michael and Gray release the visors on their suits, and then they take a step toward him, staring as though they don’t quite believe he’s real.

“It’s me,” Gray says quietly, smiling nervously at them. “I’m here.”

This appears to be all the encouragement Adira needs to dash forward, wrapping their arms around him. He hugs them back, eyes closed as he buries his head against their shoulder. Adira is smiling and crying at the same time.

“I’m here,” he whispers to them again.

Michael steps away from the two of them, leaving them to it, and Sylvia hurries forward to wrap her arms around her. “Welcome back, Michael,” she says.

Michael hugs her for several long seconds before releasing her to accept a hug from Philippa and then a pat on the back from Paul as Tracy steps forward to scan her with a medical tricorder. “No adverse effects of the jump,” she reports, smiling.

Hugh is stepping over to do the same for Gray as Gray and Adira finally—though, Michael suspects, temporarily—pull apart. Paul echoes his motion, heading for Adira and rubbing their back before wrapping a supportive arm around their shoulder as Hugh reports that Gray is fine as well and the two teenagers grin exhaustedly at each other.

Michael watches the four of them for another moment, smiling, before turning to glance at the place where Ellen stands at her own console, studiously powering it down. Her eyes flick up just briefly toward the reunion in front of her before she lowers her gaze again, turning and slipping out the doors of the shuttle bay. Michael catches Tracy’s eye, and the two of them walk after her as Sylvia steps over to power her and Paul’s consoles down in turn and Philippa begins the process of packing the rest of mission control up.

***

At 20:00 hours in an undisclosed location on the starship Discovery, Jett’s wife leads her, eyes closed and complaining happily, into a room that has been decorated to a degree that resembles an explosion in a paper snowflake factory, while a few decks up on the bridge, Philippa settles into the captain’s chair for the night shift. Tilly climbs into bed, pulling out her PADD with its book on 30th century Earth, and at the table next to the viewport in Discovery’s rec room, Michael and Tracy sit beside Ellen in silence, keeping her company in her complicated grief. Hugh hums to himself while he brushes his teeth, and Paul yawns as he finishes slipping on his pajamas, stepping forward as Hugh sets his toothbrush back in its holder and wrapping his arms around him, humming deliberately off-key. He garners an eye-roll for his trouble, and two decks down, Gray and Adira sit in Discovery’s mess hall, gazing into each others’ eyes as Adira lapses into silence after explaining how Paul found them in the Jefferies tubes in orbit over Earth.

“You’ve had so many adventures all this time,” Gray says, grinning. “Adira Tal.”

Adira half laughs, shrugging one shoulder. “I guess so.” They look up at him. “I think my adventures are about to get even weirder, Gray Tal.”

Gray grins again. “You know, I didn’t think I or anyone I know was ever going to have the chance to visit the pools. What was it like?”

“Yes, I suppose you would have to ask me what it’s like, since it’s one of the memories we don’t share,” Adira comments with a mischievous grin of their own.

Gray laughs, shaking his head, and they beam at each other in shared exhaustion and confusion and joy as Adira begins their story and the Discovery floats onward through the night.

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summahsunlight · 4 years

Text

This Way Became My Journey, CH. 16

It figured that they had to crash land on the most desolate, resourceless planet in the system. Chakotay had spent nearly an hour trying to find water and something to eat besides the emergency rations. At least he had been able to find the stones to help them keep warm by simply heating them with phaser fire. Of course keeping warm would be pointless if they did not find water because they wouldn't survive long without it.

So, he kept pressing onward, talking to Sarah via their personal communicators. He would have preferred to stay with her to monitor her condition, however their need for water took president. Keeping her talking gave him at least the peace of mind to know that she was a wake for the time being and had not fallen into a state of unconsciousness. Since he had started out on this trek he was certain he had heard her life story, but it was the only thing he could think of to get her talking and keep her talking.

Every time that she would nod off, he would press her, yelling until she responded, fearing each time that it was the final time she would respond. It was hard to keep track of what she was saying since he was climbing into higher, rocky terrain, but as long as he heard her voice, he knew she was still with him.

At first he had hoped to find a way off the mountain side they had crashed against but that soon went out the window when he realized that they were wedged onto a cliff and the only way down was to climb up.

The sun was getting low in the sky and Chakotay knew that he didn't have a lot of daylight left. Suddenly his foot sank into something wet and cold. Looking down he realized he had stepped into snow. Snow, he thought with excitement, could be melted down into water. He quickly gathered up what he could in the storage containers he had salvaged from their damaged shuttle. Now, if only there was food to go with the snow, but given the climate and conditions of this planet, he was pretty sure that there was nothing of nutritional value here. The ration bars were going to have to do until Voyager found them.

"Commander," Sarah's voice came over their open comline. "Are you ever going to tell me your life story?"

He had to chuckle at the sarcastic tone in her voice. "Alright, you have a point. I've been making you spill your guts here about your life, it seems only fair that I do the same." Anything to keep you awake, keep you talking so I know you're alright. "What do you want to know?"

"Why did you join the Maquis?"

Leave it to her to come up with the most difficult question. There was a time it seemed like the answer was simple, at least to him anyways, but the more he thought about it, and he had thought about it a lot the past three weeks, he found that the answer was indeed complex. There had been many factors leading up to his joining the Maquis; the Federation's cold shoulder when it came to their colonies they had sacrificed in the name of diplomacy; the death of countless innocent people, the death of his father. "Because Starfleet was more inclined to listen to the Cardassians then their own people," he finally answered her. "However, I think the real reason was I was grieving the loss of my father."

"Funny how the death of a loved one can push you to do things that…you aren't proud of," Barrett replied.

"I wouldn't say I was ashamed of joining the Maquis," Chakotay retorted. "I was angry at Starfleet, yes, and would I have resigned my commission if my father had not been killed, to tell you the truth, I'm not sure Lieutenant. But enough about my joining up with the Maquis. My turn to ask a difficult question: Why did you turn to drugs?"

"Simple, I was stupid."

"I'm not letting you off that easily."

"I didn't know what else to do, really. My brother had turned his back on me and I had no where else to go, nothing to fall back on. I guess I found it weak that a counselor would need counseling. The drugs helped me relax; help me forget for a while that my father had been killed in some terrible accident. But eventually I just had to take more and more until I missed an important debriefing about the mission to study the Borg and I was arrested for dereliction of duty when they found me passed out in my office."

Chakotay closed the last storage container he had filled with snow. "We're more a like then I thought, Lieutenant."

"How so, Commander?"

"We both tried to run from our grief and it only gave us problems in the end. You were yanked from a promising career at headquarters, and I was tagged a traitor of the Federation," he replied, standing up and starting to make his way back down the mountain side. It wouldn't take nearly as long to climb down as it would up and already he could see that it was going to be easy going.

"I think you took a more noble route then I did, going to fight for something you believed in," Barrett said. "Starfleet was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, I read it in your personnel report on my way to the Badlands. If you had helped them gather up more of the Maquis they were willing to give you your commission back. I'm not sure if they were willing to give me the same treatment."

"They allowed you on this mission," Chakotay replied.

"Captain Janeway had a lot to do with that," Barrett replied. "My area of study was terrorism, and no offense or anything, but many saw the Maquis as terrorists. She needed someone that…understood how they thought. But…I have to wonder how much Captain Dawson played a factor into my being assigned to Voyager."

"Captain Dawson?"

"My lawyer, Captain Janeway's brother-in-law," Barrett answered, softly.

Now there was a connection to Janeway that Chakotay didn't know the young woman had. He didn't believe that her relation to Barrett's lawyer had anything to do with the young counselor being assigned to Voyager, however. So far he had learned that Kathryn Janeway liked taking risks, she had taken one on him and his crew. Janeway had to have taken her service record prior to the court martial into consideration, just like she had taken his when choosing him for her new first officer. "I didn't even realize that the Captain was married."

"What, did you think the children came out of thin air?"

Good point, Chakotay thought, but she's never mentioned a husband, to me at least. "What about her husband? What does he do?"

There was a strange moment of silence that passed between them and for a brief second he worried that perhaps she had passed out from the blood loss. "He was a scientist," Barrett finally replied.

"Was?"

"I'm not sure if I have the…right to be speaking to you about this," Barrett finally said, ending the line of questioning. "Whatever happened to speaking to me about your life? Has that suddenly gone out the window? I'm interested to know about you Commander, and, well, the whole reason that we were put together on this mission was to get to know each other better, wasn't it?"

He should have known that she would have seen through Janeway's ploy. "Well…there's a lot to tell about me I suppose, it's just where do I begin?"

Thirty minutes later as he reached the shuttle, he had told her about his sister, his cousin in Ohio, a trip he had taken with his father when he was a teenager, how he had always felt trapped between two worlds. She had listened patiently, like a good little psychologist would, adding her two cents every now and then.

When he arrived back at the shuttle, the sun had already set and he could feel that the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees, and was only going to continue falling. He set up the stones he had gathered in an arc around the base of the hatch and pulled out his phaser. With it set on a low setting he fired it at the stones which absorbed the energy and began to glow orange and let off a nice heat. With their little make shift fire and the blankets they could survive here for a couple of days at least.

He hoped that Voyager found them before then however. Chakotay wasn't sure how long Sarah could hold out, needing the surgery to repair all the damage her body had taken in the crash. He himself was injured, with several cuts and one large contusion going up his right leg, however, he knew he wouldn't die from them.

"Here," he said, handing her a cup with newly melted snow in it. "Drink this."

"You found water on this hell hole?" she quipped, taking the cup from his hands.

He smiled, wearily. "I may have learned a few survival skills growing up." It was a good thing too, because quite frankly, he didn't know how long they were going to be trapped on this planet.

"Good morning, Captain."

Kathryn Janeway looked up at Lieutenant Commander Tuvok. If she didn't know him any better she would almost say that the remark had been sarcastic because she was thirty minutes late. She had Ava's separation anxiety to thank for that. Although, she had to admit, that it was getting better. Instead of clinging to Kathryn for over an hour today, the baby had only latched onto her for thirty minutes. Small steps, that's what Sarah Barrett had told when she had complained to the young counselor how frustrating it was. "Any report from Commander Chakotay this morning?"

"Negative, Captain," Tuvok reported.

Janeway didn't find it odd, but she had asked anyways hoping that there was something about how their first night on Karva had been. She was sure that she would hear something by the end of the day. "How are the repairs proceeding?" she asked, blue eyes settling on Tuvok's face. For the past two days they had been docked at one of Karva's space stations doing routine maintenance. They had been lucky that their new friends had allowed them access to the space station, or Kathryn wasn't sure how much longer her ship would be able to hold out on the power levels it had been working on.

"They should be completed by thirteen hundred hours," Tuvok answered.

She felt a frown form on her face. She had wanted the repairs to be done and over with so they could be on their way. "Any chance they could be completed before that?"

"I supposed it could be arranged," Tuvok replied, "however, if we are to be thorough, I would not recommend pushing up the completion time, Captain."

Of course you wouldn't, she thought, amused. "Well, as soon as they are done, set a course for Karva. By then we should have heard from Chakotay on how things are going." Tuvok gave her a small nod of his head and she turned about, moving down towards the command station. It seemed strangely empty without Chakotay and Sarah Barrett there and she prayed that their mission was going well. It could mean safe passage through a long stretch of space if it did.

"Captain," Harry Kim said from Ops. "The Karvaian Prime Minister is sending us a message. He wants to know when to expect our diplomatic party."

Janeway turned her head to look at the young ensign with a confused gaze. "Commander Chakotay and Counselor Barrett should have been there already."

"He claims that they didn't show up," Kim replied, anxiously.

She stood, moving towards his station. "What's their last known coordinates?"

"The last time they reported in, they were about an hour from Karva," Harry commented, raising his dark eyes to his captain. "That was almost twenty-four hours ago, ma'am."

Janeway lowered her head, gripping the railing tightly. Then, with a determined look she spun about on her heal and gazed at the back of Tom Paris. "Mister Paris," she said, firmly, "set a course according to Chakotay's last report, maximum warp. Harry, inform the Prime Minister that we will investigate what happened to our people and thank him for notifying us. Our meeting with him will just have to wait a few days, I suppose."

Both Paris and Kim responded with a "yes ma'am."

"Captain, I should not have to remind you, that repairs are not complete," Tuvok spoke up from tactical, like she knew he would.

"I understand that Tuvok, we're just going to have to continue them en route," Janeway replied. "Our people could be in trouble, and I'm not waiting around for routine maintenance to be completed. That could mean life or death for Commander Chakotay and Counselor Barrett."

Slumping down in her seat, she heaved a heavy sigh. This was not the way that Kathryn had wanted to start her shift. Having Ava throw, what was becoming a ritual fit, that morning had been a rocky enough start, but now two of her officers were missing. They just could not afford the loss of another two officers, and not this early in their journey home.

She rubbed her temples thoughtfully for a moment. Perhaps they had run into some maintenance trouble themselves and been forced to set down on a planetoid before they reached Karva. No, no, they would have contacted Voyager, she concluded. Maybe they had miscalculated the time it was going to take them to get there and were actually touching down now as she sat there worrying about them. The Prime Minister would be back on the comline telling her that they had arrived and to stand down their search. But even as that thought crossed her mind, she quickly dispelled it. The Prime Minister had waited twenty four hours to contact her, meaning he had waited to see if perhaps her officers were simply late.

Could they have deviated from their flight plan that much that they were this late? She thought it highly unlikely. Something was wrong and she was sure whatever they found was probably not going to be good news.

"Captain, I've analyzed Chakotay's last known cooridnates and I think I can project their flight path," Kim said, breaking her concentration. "If my calculations are right, they would have crossed out of Karvaian borders for approximately an hour."

"Tom, adjust our course to match," Janeway ordered, standing up. "I'll be in my ready room."

Getting up rather quickly, Janeway exited the bridge leaving Tuvok in charge and retreated into the privacy of her ready room. Here she could think, perhaps get a grasp on all the information that she had just been forced to process. Like why did Chakotay's flight path take them out of Karvaian space? She had looked over the purposed course before they had left; it had cut a path through the outer rim of Karvaian space, close along the borders, but not that close. Had they run into trouble along the border? Is that what had happened?

Was the shuttle now in a million pieces and she had to find yet again replacement officers?

Sighing angrily, she fell onto the sofa. When we arrive at their last known coordinates we'll follow their ion trail. They can't be too far from their last known position, she mused, crossing her arms over her chest and peering thoughtfully at the glass coffee table. Can they?

Leaning back so her head touched the top of the sofa she realized how tired she was. She had not gotten a good night's sleep since, well since they had first been flung out here in the vast reaches of the galaxy. She constantly was worried about something, whether it was her ship or her children, there was something on her mind, nagging at her when she laid her head down every night. Lately it had been Ava's inability to let her mother go in the mornings when Tal Celes came to watch them. But now, she knew she had something to add to the constant bombardment of worries; the whereabouts of her first officer and counselor.

Tom Paris pulled open a panel to access the navigational array and sprawled out onto his stomach to get a better look. One hour of flying at maximum warp had burnt out the power relays. Janeway hadn't been happy when he had to slow the ship to impulse. In fact, Tom was certain that he could see steam coming out of her ears when she had burst from her ready room demanding a report. Tom had instantly volunteered, much to the dismay of B'Elanna Torres, to repair the power couplings.

It wouldn't take long and it got him off the bridge. The main center of command wasn't the place to be at the present time. It was clear that the stress of their situation was wearing Janeway down but no one had the guts to tell her to take it easy.

"What are you doing?"

"Jesus!" Tom cursed, dropping his tool on top of his hand at the sudden appearance of Michael Janeway.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Tom shook his hand out, where the tool had dropped, and looked at the kid. "Next time, you might want to warn me. Why aren't you with your nanny anyways?"

Michael shrugged his shoulders. "Ava was crying. She's awfully loud and it hurts my ears. Tal's too busy trying to get Ava to stop crying to notice me gone."

Great, this kid needs a permanent security detail, Tom thought as he picked his tool back up and began to work. "You know kid, you ain't half bad. I used to sneak away from my baby-sitters all the time when I was your age. Used to drive my father crazy."

"Because you left your nanny?"

"Because I broke the rules. He loved rules."

"Mama likes rules," Michael said. "She gets mad when I break them. Why are rules so important, Lieutenant Paris?"

Of all the people to ask, the kid had chosen him. Tom stopped what he was doing and looked the boy in the eye. Dark brown hair was messy from probably climbing through the Jeffery's Tubes and his little rounded face reminded him of Janeway. "Well, if we all didn't follow rules...things would be a little crazy around here," Tom said, thinking, if they aren't already crazy around here. "Rules make sure we're safe."

"Is that why you were in jail? Because you broke the rules and weren't safe?"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking," Tom replied getting back to his work.

"Why didn't Mama put the Maquis in jail? They broke the rules," Michael said.

"Well, she had her reasons."

"They don't like it here," the boy said, plopping down onto the floor next to Tom.

Tom closed his eyes for a moment praying for a little bit of extra strength. The kid was making it hard for him to finishing the repairs that Janeway was ready to throttle someone if they weren't done. "We're in a... unique... situation. Your mother did what she thought was best for her crew and to make sure that we find a way home."

Michael looked at him pensively. "Are we really that far from home?"

"Afraid so."

"Mama feels bad," Michael said. "She doesn't tell me, but I know. She feels bad that we're far from home."

Tom finished what he was doing and went to close the panel. "Your mother didn't have an easy choice to make." He fastened the panel and turned to glance at the boy. "Everyone feels bad about what we had to do."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do they feel bad? We helped people."

Leave it to a child to simplify something so complicated. Tom smiled gently and reached out and ruffled his hair. "You know something kid, when you look at it that way, it's hard to feel bad about what we did." He gestured that it was time to go.

As they stood up and made their way back to the turbo lift Michael slipped his small hand into Tom's. "Are we friends now?" the boy asked, looking up at him in admiration. Tom had never seen anyone look at him that way, never in his life. It made his heart swell with emotions.

"Yeah," he rasped out finally. "We're friends now."

#star trek voyager #star wars fanfiction #kathryn janeway #chakotay #tom paris #sarah barrett (oc)#harry kim #b'elanna torres #tuvok #neelix #kes #the doctor (emh)#janeway x chakotay #tom paris x ofc #this way became my journey

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