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tfa_kink2016-01-13 02:14 pm
themodawakens) wrote in tfa_kink2016-01-13 02:14 pm
Entry tags:
PROMPT POST #2 - CLOSED
This post is closed to new prompts!
prompt post one
+ All comments except fills should be posted anonymously.
+ All prompts should focus on TFA characters. You can't post OT or PT-only prompts.
+ One prompt per comment please.
+ You can request both kink and non-kink content
+ Crossovers, characters from the other media are allowed, but must relate to the 2015 movie in some way.
+ All prompt comments should begin with a pairing tag (eg Rey/Finn) or Gen for no pairing.
+ Use 'Any' when prompting for any pairing at all (eg Kylo/Any or Any/Any)
+ Anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other." (e.g. Poe/Other)
+ Warn for common triggers, please
+ NO PROMPTS FEATURING CHARACTERS UNDER 18 IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS.
+ don't hijack other people's prompts.
+ prompts should not exceed ~250 words.
+ also, while this is not really a rule I can enforce, please try to limit yourselves to fewer than 5 prompts per page.
+ reposting prompts is currently not allowed.
+ no prompts based on real life tragic events. e.g: 9/11 au, concentration camp au, etc
+ PLAY NICE
Re: Hux/Kylo [FILL] [3/3] - Captured Hux | Tortured? Kylo
(Anonymous) 2016-01-20 08:30 pm (UTC)(link)this is the end! the whole fill is five words until 5,000 words in total.
Kylo Ren's POV: 2,062 words. Warnings for blood, treatment of wounds, broken bones, self harm, abuse, torture, and specifically self-flagellation.
+++
Kylo knows that his parents are seeing the worst of it. He’s facing away from them, all of his attention paid unto Hux. The man is only two or three inches shorter than him, but the difference seems all the more with Kylo’s boots heel and Brendol’s injured leg. The rush of adrenaline, of amazement he felt upon hearing that Brendol was alive (or rather, “okay”) hasn’t left his system, powering him to make more steps after others. He’d felt him die, he was sure of it. He felt the power slip away from the Force, felt Brendol’s existence slip from his fingers as the Resistance wrenched him back into their own claws of light. And yet, here the man was, in front of him, his hands back on Kylo’s chest, where they were meant to be.
Then, he feels those hands on his shoulders, stroking down his sides and against the ripped flesh of his back. It’s Brendol checking, feeling the worn and bloody strips of flesh against his back, the way the meat bubbled and welted at the places on his sides where the tails of the whip only just touched.
He hears the woman behind him gasp something to her husband, though he can’t tell if it’s a reaction to the wounds on his back, or the way Brendol touched him so familiarly.
Brendol is getting a different perspective of it all, though. He sees his front, skin and muscles his eyes and hands know all too well. Wounds he’s seen before. They’ve been through this before. Brendol has wrenched the whip from his hands before, told Kylo he must stop injuring himself, nearly screaming at him about how damaging it would all turn out to be. Brendol knows the wounds that Kylo gives himself, he knows the taste of Kylo’s whip and he knows what the man looks like when he kneels over in front of his grandfather’s helmet and slaps the whip over his shoulder until his skin oozes and bleeds.
The wounds on his front are different. These, Kylo receives, and his own hand has no part in. And he knows Brendol knows that. These wounds Brendol has never tried once to stop, if he even can. Brendol is weak. Emotionally, he may be strong, but his power is all in his words and orders. He can’t use the air around him to stop the bolt of a blaster, he can’t choke someone from the opposite end of the room, he can’t feel darkness pouring through his bloodstream. It fascinates Kylo that there are people out there, so many life beings, so many, that can’t feel the Force around them. It’s been a constant in Kylo’s life, something he’s always known, something he’s always felt, a hot anger he can relax into, power that he can embrace into his soul and pour out.
Brendol couldn’t hold back the bite of the Force if he wanted. He can’t fight off invisible feet that leave bruises on his chest and invisible hands that leave handprints on his neck, always covered by his cape. He can’t fend off the way Kylo’s bones break from the inside, the way his ribs are split in half inside his chest, nothing physical leaving the wound.
“Bring me a medical kit.” Brendol spits out to the man and woman who remain behind Kylo in the doorway. “If you do not care enough to fix your sons wounds, I will.”
Then, Kylo feels footsteps behind him through the ground, but no lessening in the Force of the room. The man has left, but the woman remains.
The man he killed. That man he impaled, that it took him all the power and soul in the world to dispel of, but still walks this galaxy. He doesn’t want to see him again, Kylo decides. Looking into his face hurts, remind him of his own failure. Kylo Ren has forgotten how to feel pain, but he feels all of his failures, deep inside his soul. Pain breeds anger, and he can use it for power, but his failures only create...something that hurts much deeper, something that eats him from his interior, thoroughly and completely. Failure tears him apart more than Brendol’s fingers can ever affect him.
Han Solo is a horrible reminder of his failure. He never wants to see him again, he wants to avoid him until the man is really dead, either imploded in space, or deep in the ground of some planet. He wants to see Han Solo as part of the air, he wants to feel his existence completely disappear from the Force. He wants to blow up his planet, blow up his ship. He simply wishes that the man would cease existing. It was simple.
And still, Solo returns, with another person. They both carry big briefcase-like medical boxes, and hand then over to Brendol. Kylo has still not turned around, but he feels Leia Organa’s force, pulsing and hissing behind him. Finally, one of Brendol’s hands push him, farther and back to the cot, willing him to sit down. There, he further removes the robes, so he can hand them to the person accompanying Solo, and they no longer only gather at his hips and hang there. As Kylo is moved, he faces Leia Organa perpendicularly, so he can see her face from the corner of his eye, though he closes his eyes, focusing on the force and Brendol’s hands, trying to meditate.
Brendol fusses over him, massages some sort of balm over his bruises, and then a device that makes them fade. He presses his fingers against Kylo’s torso and chest, and he can feel the general’s attraction to him, minor adoration even, when he finds he broken rib he knows to be there. It’s in a good location for patching up, though wrapping it will be difficult with the wounds on his back.
Speaking of those, then, Brendol turns him around so he can work on the torn skin of his back, and then he faces Leia Organa head on.
He finds that he cannot keep his eyes closed. He can barely breathe, he can’t feel anything but the stuffiness of her Force making the air in the room heavy. It suffocates him, stales him, makes his limbs feel heavy and deep like weights were tied down to his every muscle. He doesn’t know what it is, he has never experienced someone using the Force like this, but somehow he suspects she’s not even doing anything with it, that this is just how her Force is, sick in the air like the fogs of Umbara.
The most worrisome thing is that he can detect no hatred in her Force, no anger. There is some, centered toward Brendol and the way his hands touch her perceived son’s back, but that is it. The lack of anger scares him, the last force user he’s ever seen with so little anger was a child he had slashed to the ground with his saber. Even the girl scavenger with FN-2187, she had contained more anger in her Force than Leia does now.
But it’s still there. He cannot decode her emotions, only knows that they are there. It’s the unfamiliar feeling of calm, of love that deters him, makes him reconsider his own force and the pain he drives his own anger from.
Then, her voice, soft, from the other end of the room. “Ben.” With the single syllable, he’s reminded of why the dark side is so seducing, how useless she is as a person unless if a tool in his race of power.
“You will never call me by that name again.” He states, simply.
She looks at him harder. “Luke had trained me a little, at least. Those mind-tricks do not work on me.”
“I wasn’t using a trick. I was just ordering you never to let that word pass through your lips again in your life.” He says, and he feels some of the skin on his back burn, his lips curling at the feeling. Brendol’s fingers grown more gentle, like as if he touches him too hard, he’ll break. Both of them knows he won’t. He’s sustained more injury in his life than Brendol can count, and Brendol has repaired him just as many times.
“You can’t order me. I’m your mother.” She whines. If there isn’t one thing Kylo hates more than a whiney woman. He wants to slice something apart, wants to rip her limb from limb. It’s not her time, though, Snoke has said.
“Are you really under that silly mode of thought? And I thought the leader of the Resistance would be smarter than that. Your son is dead, you are never getting him back.” He tries to focus on the feeling of Brendol rubbing things on his back, of the wounds sealing themselves and trying to heal, Brendol having to apply it a few times on particularly stubborn gashes. It was not the time for anger yet, not for Leia. He needed to keep her, for some reason, some reason Kylo didn’t know yet.
“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” She says, staring him down, and she leans against the doorframe of the room. She wait for him to reply.
He has no idea.
He is here.
But not as their son. There must be some different, something else. He hasn’t come back to them. That’s not what’s going on here. It’s something else, something different. It has to be, that’s not what he meant.
But he’s here.
The realization shocks him. He came willingly, here, to the place where his parents abide, he came to them when requested, he came back. They didn’t bring him back, he came of his own accord. He was there, sitting in a Resistance base, with his wounds getting tended to. He needed to see Brendol alive, that was his whole purpose of coming there. But what he had expect him to do after? That they would just let him leave? He knew he would run into his parents, but he’d been able to block that thought out with focus of getting Brendol back in his arms. And yet. He came back.
He’s deeply troubled by it. The pause that goes on through the room is deep and long, tension slipping.
Finally, Solo speaks out, his voice shocking both Force users from their own meditative thoughts.
“Leia. He’s going to be here for a while. Let’s leave him alone a while.” It’s kind, too kind for this scruff man, the one he stabbed through the middle and still stands.
She, miraculously relents to him, and pushes herself up from the doorframe and makes to leave. “We’ll bring meals and clothes to you two tonight, and speak again tomorrow. Goodnight, Ben.”
Before he can object, the door closes behind her and locks, and those words seem to hang in the air of the small cell. Slowly, the presence of her Force seeps away as she moves away from her room.
He doesn’t know how long it is until Brendol speaks.
“I’m going to need to wrap your rib. Lift your arms up, will you?”
He lifts them, and Brendol begins to wrap it with a sheet of something made specifically for the reason.
“They didn’t kill you.” Kylo finally says.
Brendol makes a sound under his breath, sharp and short, but it sounds almost like a laugh. “I’m as surprised as you are, Ren.”
He turns around, shifting his legs so he can face Brendol. His hair, the color of the red sands of of the Valley of the Dark Lords on Moraband, is messy, as messy as it might be after a passionate session with him under black sheets. He has a bruise on his cheekbone, though, a cheekbone Kylo vividly recalls tracing his fingers over. A split in his lip only recently healed, the type that makes him not want to kiss Brendol or he may break it again.
“It takes immense weakness, really. To look in the face of a General of an opposing army at your mercy and not cut them to the ground. She is a fool.” Brendol says.
Kylo’s eyes shut while he nods before opening up again, one long blink. “She is.”
Re: Hux/Kylo [FILL] [3/3] - Captured Hux | Tortured? Kylo
(Anonymous) 2016-01-20 11:08 pm (UTC)(link)You managed to beat Kylo up without whumping him and I feel so so so bad for Han and Leia. :((
Also your Hux voice is amazing.
Re: Hux/Kylo [FILL] [3/3] - Captured Hux | Tortured? Kylo
(Anonymous) 2016-01-21 11:31 am (UTC)(link)I just love this so much. The little intimacy, like touches and names just kills me with whatever form of fond they have towards each other.
Re: Hux/Kylo [FILL] [3/3] - Captured Hux | Tortured? Kylo
(Anonymous) 2016-02-20 08:00 am (UTC)(link)Re: Hux/Kylo [FILL] [3/3] - Captured Hux | Tortured? Kylo
(Anonymous) 2016-02-21 01:15 am (UTC)(link)Re: Hux/Kylo [FILL] [3/3] - Captured Hux | Tortured? Kylo
(Anonymous) 2016-04-06 06:25 pm (UTC)(link)