#For it isn't the skin of a man which makes him a beast...but the absence of morality.

[amethystpath-writes]

You’re Not A Villain

“I didn’t expect to ever see you again,” Villain’s voice bounced off every wall, making it impossible to know where exactly he was.

Hero swallowed, daring a step further into what she often referred to in her own mind as ‘my lure to Hell.’ “You say that every time.”

The voice seemed to dash to the right, even as Villain emerged from a hole in the cave straight across from Hero. “Because it’s true every time.” This wasn’t the first week the hero had been making these little visits.

Why would Hero return to such a dingy place? One where a man appeared as a beast- a heathen sent from only the universe knew where- to her. Villain was burdened with cruel appearances, being seen- always- as the worst possible image the viewer could imagine. Hero always saw a demon-ish looking creature in Villain; it made him want to ask her what the story behind such hideous monsters was. Him asking her would probably only freak her out more, though.

“So, why are you here again? This is the second time just this week. And I won’t even mention how many times last week.” Villain lifted his hand, attempting to rake it through his hair. He met a pair of horns half-way through the task. Grunting, and dropping his hands uselessly to his sides, he continued. “You should be running for your life at a random sighting of me. Instead, you deliberately walk yourself into my dome of isolation. It’s hard to run away in a cave, you know?”

“I know,” Hero squeaked, “but I- I…”

She did this every time- strutted in like she was made purely of confidence. Hero posed with it as she entered the largest ‘room’ of the cave, but her posture always fell when Villain’s voice echoed around her, when she realized she would be trapped with her greatest nightmares.

Why, Villain had to question again. Why does she keep coming back? He was a horror, a creature which caused the most deeply rooted trembles and speediest beating hearts. There were enough times that he made his visitors pass out from fear. It took some getting used to- frightening people to their near deaths.

Villain was a man once- and he was one now…just not to everyone else.

When Villain was alone in his cave, he was the greatest version of himself- gloriously human. One with curly locks and straight teeth from those braces he wore back in junior high. One with the heaviest pocketed dimples and freckles on his nose. One who was average in height, but strong from all the lonely workouts. He was regular, normal, average…but it was better than anything he could ever wish for when his reality now was so…so cursed.

Hero flinched, undoubtedly seeing something new sprout from Villain as her nightmarish imagination ran untamed. The last time she visited the cave, Villain felt a heavy weight on his shoulders.

Wings. It had been leathery bat wings- like something from Hell. Villain would have liked to fly with those wings had they not disappeared as soon as Hero turned her back on him.

Now, however, Villain was presented with something different. “My horns are on fire?” he guessed, as his head had become warm, to which Hero confirmed with a fast nod. “Lovely. You might like to make me fire-proof in that mind of yours, then, yeah?”

“I don’t- I don’t know if I can.”

Heaving a sigh, Villain took a seat on a large rock on the ground- could it be considered a boulder if he were tall enough to sit on it without having to climb? “You’re afraid it would make me invincible? Afraid I’d attack you without pause?”

“No.”

But she was. Villain knew Hero was or else she would have cooperated the moment he asked.

“Give me lead feet if you’re that afraid. My scalp is burning.”

“You’re hard- hard to talk to,” Hero said. At least she was able to get a grip on herself enough that Villain’s head slowly began to cool off.

“And yet you keep returning.”

“Because I’m a hero.”

“I suppose that makes me a villain.”

Her response was to take the teeniest step forward. Villain could see her foot shaking even as it just barely left the ground.

He was the cause of that tremble, and many others.

He couldn’t help it, though, and that’s what killed him. Villain didn’t want to be like this. If he had any choice in the matter, he’d be as average as anyone- below average even- if only it meant being loved, cherished, and- and cared for. This…this demonic presence that he lived as around others…it was painful- not just physically, but mentally as well.

“You’re not a villain,” Hero said, inching forward another frightened step.

Villain sat nearly perched on his rock-boulder, watching with an inclined chin and squinted eyes. What was Hero doing? “If I weren’t, you wouldn’t be so scared, nor would anyone else be. I’m a monster.” His voice wasn’t broken- as much as he felt that trait on the inside. Villain trained himself long ago to remain numb on the outside, to encase himself in a shell that screamed ‘self-preserved.’

Hero said, “I’m showing you that you’re not a villain.”

She was getting closer. Oh. Oh, Villain didn’t like this. No one ever got this close to him- even if it were in as slow steps as Hero was taking now. This wasn’t- this- “What are you doing?” The numb Villain worked so hard to achieve was crumbling to pieces the closer Hero got. Was he…was he shaking? “Step back, Hero. This isn’t a game. I could- I could hurt you. You should run and you know it. You want to run. I’m- I’m scary and I’m a monster.”

“Who told you that?” Why was Hero’s voice gaining more courage whereas Villain’s might as well have been a holey rag in the rain above someone’s head?

This isn’t right. This isn’t right.

“Who told you that you were a monster, Villain?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. No. No, she shouldn’t be this close. I’m a monster. I’m a monster.

“Who?” Hero pressed again, and this time…she laid a hand on Villain’s shoulder- on Villain’s bare shoulder. Taking a deep breath, Hero told the man beneath her hand, “You’re no monster to me, Villain. You don’t have to be a monster to anyone.”

Ever-so-slowly, Villain’s eyes blinked open. The first thing he saw was the veiny arm extending out from Hero. She was still nervous, but…but- “You’re touching me.” His voice was an exasperated and disbelieving whisper. “You’re touching me,” Villain said again- this time with an astonished chuckle. “They said this would never happen. Said I’d be alone and starving- craving what I can never have.” His eyes met Hero’s. “Do I…do I still have horns?”

The question of ‘Who-dunnit’ no longer mattered. “No, Villain. The horns are gone.”

What happened in the next moment likely shocked them both, though Hero’s might have been in more fright than surprise…Villain pulled his saviour close, nose tucked into her neck, tears flowing freely down his cheek and onto Hero’s back.

See, Hero was still afraid- and she always would be. But the fear was worth it to make Villain human, to make him see that he wasn’t a monster, for it isn’t the skin of the man which makes him a beast, but the absence of morality. It is only when moral judgement is vacant that Man can be considered Animal.

******

Part two here

[caiminnent]

my demise, my downfall [kylux, rated M]

Summary: Hux had no idea that Ren, his bedmate and partner in crime, was actually Ben Organa-Solo, the sole heir of First Order's biggest rival in the industry.

He didn't know Ben had a girlfriend, either.

Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

Tags: Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Use Your Words, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Armitage Hux is Not Nice, Kylo Ren isn't Much Better, Canon-Typical Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships

Notes: Photo by Mitchell Griest on Unsplash, cropped.

2.9K || Also on AO3

Hux wakes up to gentle caresses, a feather-light finger drawing unrecognisable shapes over his shoulders, down his back.

His eyes ache behind his eyelids, that didn’t-sleep-enough taste in his mouth. Torn between giving in to his body’s demands for rest and enjoying the soft touch while it lasts, he drifts on the edge of sleep and wakefulness, basking in the pleasant warmth.

Something rattles far behind him, jerking him fully awake. The touch withdraws.

Pushing his disappointment down, Hux takes a deep breath and rolls onto his back. Ren is sitting up in the middle of the bed with his legs stretched out, tapping away at his phone.

“Go back to sleep,” Ren says without looking, his tone sleep-gruff. “’s not morning yet.”

“Why are you awake, then?” Hux mumbles, though he doesn’t particularly care about the answer. A short night wasn’t enough to make up for six weeks of absence; Hux won’t be settled without at least a few more hours of sleep, another round and brunch.

Thank fuck it’s Sunday.

Ren doesn’t respond, focused on whatever he’s doing on his phone. Stretching languidly on the bed, “Come back here, Ren,” Hux purrs, kicking the covers away in the process. Ren’s eyes latch onto the bared skin.

“Can’t,” Ren says, shaking his head. The phone buzzes again, as if reminding them of itself—as if it gave Ren a chance to forget it. “Got plans.”

Hux’s mood sours. Plans. Ren has barely returned to the Core Worlds and he’s already making plans with others.

“What plans?” Hux asks, keeping his tone mild. It can’t be work; they don’t hide Snoke’s various demands from each other, if only so Snoke won’t be able to blindside them later. Ren doesn’t have any friends in this sector, either—none that Hux knows of, at least. Is it that girl? Is Ren running out of Hux’s bed straight into her arms?

Hux has never woken up in Ren’s bed, but he now knows how it would feel to be kicked out of it.

Ren is still typing, not even acknowledging the question. What the hell is he writing, a novel?

“Let me guess, then,” Hux says, poison-sweet. “Early breakfast with your sunshine?”

Ren freezes.

A vicious delight fills Hux. “Unless you two had urgent business to take care of at the Resistance HQ,” he continues evenly, ignoring the tension that thickens in the air between them. “First Order’s latest requisitions have put them in quite the bind; your mother is right to want you on-site, now that you’re—”

—pinned on the bed with Ren’s overly warm body covering his, Ren’s forearm across his throat and knees on Hux’s shins. Ren’s other hand presses Hux’s wrists into the mattress; so close to the knife Hux keeps between the mattress and the headboard, but at the entirely wrong angle to grab it.

“Bastard,” Hux hisses in Ren’s face, the bed groaning as he feebly tries to shake Ren off. Ren presses his knobbly knees harder into Hux’s legs in answer, as if trying to dig grooves into Hux’s bones. The pressure on his neck remains steady, only hard enough to make it uncomfortable to swallow. A half-hearted threat at best.

What a bloody embarrassment.

“You’re not supposed to know any of that,” Ren snarls, his nostrils flaring as he glares down at Hux. Hux stares back, keeping his gaze steady and his breathing even. He’s never been afraid of Snoke’s hound; that won’t change now. “I know Snoke forbid you from investigating me. Have you been fucking—fucking digging anyway?”

Hux scoffs. As if he’s got the time to dig into Ren’s life. “I was having a business dinner at the Starkiller last month, when you walked in with your lovely girlfriend.” It’s quite telling that Ren didn’t even notice Hux there, so captivated by her. “Have you ever noticed how her voice carries, Ben?”

Ren growls low in his throat like the beast he is, his shoulders and neck tensing. Inhaling deeply, Hux waits for the moment Ren will put his crushing weight on Hux’s windpipe, visualising his hands clenching and unclenching as his body struggles to draw air into his burning lungs, unable to even scrabble at Ren’s forearm. The spots in his darkening vision until he can’t see Ren’s face anymore. Waking up with bruises on his tender neck—or not waking up at all.

Ren can’t kill him, though. He isn’t allowed to, not until Hux outlives his usefulness for Snoke. Killing Hux now would mean Ren signing his own death warrant.

“That name,” Ren says lowly, his breath warm on Hux’s face, “isn’t for you to use. Nobody—nobody—can find out that you know it, or there will be consequences.” He gives Hux a long look, anxiety shining through the ebbing fury in his eyes. What happens if word of Ren’s real name gets out? What’s so important about it? “Hux. Do you understand?”

Hux scoffs. “Yes, damn you. I won’t tell anyone.” He wasn’t planning to anyway; this sort of personal information is more valuable as a bargaining chip. When the time comes, he’ll benefit from having leverage over Snoke’s protégé. It just might turn the tide in Hux’s favour.

Satisfied, Ren rolls off and away from Hux. For a moment, Hux can only breathe as his blood rushes back into his feet and hands with that pins-and-needles sensation. Something dark and ugly gathers in the pit of his stomach, a need to sink his teeth into Ren’s throat until he tastes blood rising in him.

Later. His chance will come later.

Ren’s found his trousers on the floor, putting them on. Hux feels oddly naked, vulnerable in only soft trousers while Ren dons his armour again.

Well, Hux is clearly not going back to sleep. Might as well start his day.

“I hope you realise that this cannot continue,” he says conversationally, stepping into his slippers. No point of pulling the sheets up; he’s going to throw them all in the wash as soon as Ren leaves anyway. “This double life of yours, I mean—it’s too much of a risk to allow.”

“It’s not a double life,” Ren grumbles, trying to shake the wrinkles out of his shirt. The spiteful part of Hux hopes that Ren won’t have time to change out of the mussed state Hux put him in before his plans.

“Well, what would you call it?” Hux asks, raising a brow. “Polished, charming Organa-Solo heir on one side, Snoke’s brooding enforcer on the other? Unless I’m wrong and you’re mixing business and pleasure, in which case Ben’s dry cleaner had better be very discreet.”

“I’m not—” Ren cuts himself off with a huff, his unbuttoned shirt hanging off his shoulders. His glare isn’t quite effective with the entire bed between them. “Look, Snoke knows. Okay? He encourages me to keep Ben Organa-Solo alive—to have past connections we can use. I’m doing his bidding.”

“Sunshine—or whatever her name is—she’s one of your honeypot assignments, then?”

Ren runs his teeth over his bottom lip. “I didn’t say that.”

The space behind Hux’s eyes is throbbing, the beginnings of a headache making itself known. Kriffing Ren and his kriffing inability to say one thing straight.

His robe hangs off the hook behind the door—a strategic mistake. “What, then?” Hux asks as he strides over to it, the luxurious fabric his lifeline to feeling a little more put-together. A little more like himself. “Care to explain how she fits into the picture?”

“None of your fucking business,” Ren mutters—suspiciously like around something. Hux is unsurprised to turn and find one of those death-sticks between Ren’s lips and a lighter in his hand, though annoyance is another matter entirely. “I’m doing my damn job; what more do you care?”

Hux fishes out an ashtray from his vanity with a pointed sigh, throwing it vaguely Ren’s way on the bed. Ren picks it up before dropping himself on the edge of the mattress, balancing the ashtray on a thick thigh.

“You wouldn’t be so cagey if you were only following orders,” Hux points out, ignoring the light tickle at the back of his throat. If Ren drops a smatter of ash on his carpets, there will be hell to pay. “What is it? Does she know something she shouldn’t?” Hux can make it go away, if she does.

“No, of course not. She knows nothing.”

Right. Very convincing.

Crossing his arms over his chest, “Is that so?” Hux asks, leaning a hip against the vanity. Ren barely glances at him before turning to the closed window, blowing the smoke out of a corner of his mouth. “Say, Ren, what does she think that you’re doing for a living? Snoke’s bodyguard works only so well when the man is bedbound. How do you explain your long trips abroad? Or the nights you return smelling of sex?”

Ren releases a long breath, loud in the otherwise quiet room. He ashes his cigarra and takes another drag, cool as you please, while irritation crawls underneath Hux’s skin.

It’s like Hux isn’t even kriffing there.

An odd desperation tugging at his chest, “Or maybe she already knows that you’re fucking someone on the side,” Hux throws, spitefully hoping for it to land.

Ren’s jaw works, his lips pressing into a line.

There.

It’s all of ten steps from his spot to Ren’s. “You’re loyal as a dog; I don’t imagine I’m your dirty secret,” Hux adds as he takes them slowly, satisfaction buzzing through him. Ren’s shoulders grow more rigid with each word, the ashtray moving as his legs tense. “Maybe it’s a thingbetween you two. Is that why you never shower here—because she likes smelling another man on you, feeling how open you still are from—”

“Rey’s my cousin, you jackass,” Ren snarls, a vein pulsing on his forehead. A knot unravels in Hux’s stomach. “What the fuck is it to you anyway? I know you don’t get lonely without me.”

The anger Hux was aiming for—the unmissable undercurrent of hurtin Ren’s tone gives him a pause. Hux hasn’t taken a lover since he and Ren started their… arrangement. He could have—and perhaps should have, instead of relying on his hand alone to get him through Ren’s weeks-long disappearances—but he didn’t even want to.

It worries him, sometimes.

“It’s a matter of security,” Hux says, waving it off. “Secrets have a way of leaking during pillow talk, you know that better than anyone.”

Ren laughs, bitter and hollow. Something in Hux twists at the sound. “Security,” Ren spits out, putting out the cigarra like it offended him personally. “Do you wanna do background checks on everybody I slept with while I was gone, then?”

Sharp hurt jolts through Hux.

Ren is staring at him with an intensity that borders on uncomfortable, waiting. Hux unclenches his jaw, breathing through his nose. “You’re an old hand at this; I’ll trust your judgment,” he responds, turning away. What is he doing, reacting to Ren? What the hell is wrong with him?

Ren grabs him by the wrist, jerking him to a stop.

Irritation rises in Hux again. “Ren,” he bites out in warning.

“No really, I think you should,” Ren says, a dark look shining in his eyes. “I don’t remember every name, but I can give you some other details. I’m sure your network of stalkers—sorry, slicers can find out enough.”

“My slicers have more important intel to chase after,” Hux bites out, looking pointedly at Ren’s hand around his wrist. The grip is loose enough that he might break himself free, but suffering the indignity of struggling doesn’t quite appeal to him. Once was enough. “Will you let me go?”

“Only if you admit it.”

Hux scoffs. “Admit what, exactly?”

“Admit that you’re jealous.” Hux goes ice-cold all over. “You hated thinking about me with Rey, didn’t you?”

Of course not. What a ridiculous claim. Hux holds a certain dislike for missing out on critical intel—understandable given his line of work—and finding out that he’s been left entirely in the dark about Ren, Snoke’s other right-hand man and the only person Hux remotely trusts in the First Order, was a bit of a hit. That’s all there is to it. He’s got no reason to be jealous of some girl who calls Ren by his given name, who can laugh and joke with Ren, be seen in public with Ren, who can loop an arm around Ren as they leave—

The dismissal gets stuck in his throat.

“Because I hated it,” Ren murmurs, looking into his eyes. Hux wants with his whole being to escape the depth of feeling in Ren’s earnest gaze—can’t look away. “Thinking about others warming your bed while I was fucked off on some bullshit mission that barely needed me—it killed me, Hux. Tell me you hated it, too. Tell me you want me to be only yours.”

Only Hux’s. As if Ren, with his constant need for attention and validation, wouldn’t chafe under Hux’s negligence.

Hux shakes his head, wishing he could shake off this spell just as easily. Ren must be similarly addled if he’s talking of fancies of flight like exclusivity. “You don’t know what you’re saying. This isn’t what we agreed on, Ren.”

The light in Ren’s eyes dims. Hux hates himself.

“You’re right,” Ren says, his tone just above a whisper. A glance downwards—he starts buttoning up his shirt like he’s being timed on it, only barely getting the order right. “Sorry I ruined it, I thought—never mind what I thought, I’ll just see myself out. You won’t see me again unless Snoke summons both of us, promise.”

Ren rushes past Hux and out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind himself. It hits Hux in the next moment that perhaps he should’ve stopped Ren.

Stars, what a kriffing mess. Hux intended only to stop Ren from jumping off a cliff in the hopes that Hux would follow, not to end what they had. Leave it to Ren to take it as an absolute rejection.

He takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. All right. All right. First step: He can’t let Ren storm off. Ren will be damn near impossible to get a hold of if he leaves like this; Hux’s network truly has more important matters to take care of. Hux needs to make him stay long enough to listen.

As for what Hux will say to fix this, well. He supposes he can tell Ren what Ren wants to hear. He can set his pride aside for a moment. It should be good, shouldn’t it? It should be enough.

It had better be enough.

Inside, Ren is nowhere to be found, his jacket and trainers gone. Hux hasn’t heard the Silencer’s roar, though. Hoping he’s not too late, he grabs his keys off the hook and dashes down the front stairs, catching up with Ren just as Ren reaches his bike.

“Ren,” he says, embarrassingly breathless.

Ren turns to him with wariness etched on his guarded face. He’s waiting for beratement, Hux suspects, or the tongue-lashing that Hux is famous for.

“I was lonely without you,” Hux confesses in a rush, words tumbling out of his mouth in his haste to get them out before they clog up his throat. “When you were away, I—I missed you. I did.” Do whatever you want with it.

A series of emotions cross Ren’s face, too fast to parse. A part of Hux—a part that will always remain Armitage no matter how hard Hux tries to purge it—wants to curl into a ball and hide from the moment Ren will laugh in his face for falling for such a blatant prank.

“Hux,” Ren breathes, breaking into a wide grin. It’s the goofiest, stupidest expression Hux has ever seen on his face—and entirely devoid of any mockery. “You missed me?”

“I won’t repeat it,” Hux says, ignoring the growing heat of his cheeks. Least of all in the middle of the street, where all his neighbours would overhear them if it weren’t shit-early on a Sunday—wearing nothing but his robe and slippers.

Stars. What a disgrace.

Ren’s phone buzzes loudly in his pocket. He fishes it out only far enough to silence it, letting it go to voicemail. “I really have to go,” he says with a touch of regret in his tone, running the backs of his fingers down Hux’s cheek. “But I’ll come back right after, okay? I’ll come back to you.”

Such coddling. Hux wants to roll his eyes, but the look on Ren’s face, the same one as when he said tell me you want me to be only yours, stops him.

“You had better,” he mutters instead. It’s a new sort of thrill, getting a genuine grin out of Ren.

Cupping Hux’s face, Ren presses a hard kiss on his lips before getting on his bike. Hux watches him leave with an inexplicably heavy heart.

He misses Ren already.