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bumblesimagines · 3 years

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Part 9

Request: Yes or No

Almost at double digits y'all. Can someone be an angel and send me the ages of every one between civil war and endgame? Ik Wanda was 18-19 in Age of Ultron and Civil war and Sam was probs in his mid to late twenties in Civil War.

You frowned, touching the collar around your neck. It made you feel like an animal. It was to prevent you from using your powers. Rhodes had mentioned it would shock you if you attempted to use your powers. You weren't sure if it was instantaneous or if someone controlled it but you didn't feel like finding out.

"You like cats?" Sam asked T'Challa, prince of Wakanda.

"Sam." Steve called, glancing over his shoulder like a disapproving parent. You snorted softly, biting your bottom lip.

"What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don't want to know more?" Sam asked, looking at Steve.

"I like cats." You mumbled, looking at Sam with a small smile. Sam turned towards you with a small grin.

"Of course you do, Animal Planet." You rolled your eyes at the new nickname, shifting slightly. You really didn't want to trigger the collar.

"I'm a dog person."

"You look like a dog person."

"And what do dog people look like?"

"Morons." You answered, giving a slight shrug as Steve cracked a smile, trying to bite back a chuckle. Sam huffed lightly, looking away from you. A moment of silence passed before Steve spoke.

"Your suit.. Vibranium?" Steve asked T'Challa. The prince turned his head slightly.

"The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. It's meant to pass from warrior to warrior. Now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king. So I ask you.. How long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?" T'Challa asked, finally looking at Steve. Steve stayed silent, looking forward. You sighed through your nose, feeling the tension return. You wondered if Clint had been notified of your arrest yet. The van pulled into a parking garage, officers opening the door once it came to a stop. You got out, following Steve to the man and blonde.

"What's gonna happen to him?" Steve asked. You turned your head, looking over at him. You made eye contact with him again, holding it for a minute before looking away.

"What was that?" Sam asked quietly. You frowned, brows furrowing.

"That- That little staring contest."

"Oh, shut up." You huffed, looking away from him.

"Same thing that's gonna happen to you. Psychological evaluation." The man replied.

"This is Everett Ross, CIA operative and Task Force Commander." The woman, Sharon Carter, introduced him. Her gaze flickered to you.

"The shock collar will be taken off after the evaluation." She said, voice stotic but gaze pitiful.

"What about a lawyer?"

"Lawyer, that's funny. See their weapons are placed in lock up." Ross instructed the officers. Sam scoffed, following the officers. Steve spared one last glance to Bucky before following Ross and the officers. You walked besides Sam, being escorted through the building.

"You'll be placed in offices instead of cells. Do me a favor and stay in them." Ross stared straight forward as he spoke. T'Challa moved to walk beside him.

"I don't intend on going anywhere." T'Challa said. You spotted Natasha, feeling some sense of relief.

"Clint was informed and I assured him I'd keep an eye on you." Natasha told you, giving a small reassuring smile. She looked at Steve, addressing him. The relief went away upon hearing Tonys' voice. He finished his phone call, approaching you and the guys.

"Consequences?" Steve questioned, staring at him. You looked around the large room, noticing the screens and everything going on.

"Secretary Ross wants you three prosecuted." Tony said, motioning to them and you. Your brows furrowed slightly. There were two guys with the last name Ross who looked vaguely alike. That definitely wouldn't be hard to remember.

"I'm not getting that shield back, am I?" Steve asked as Tony and Natasha walked away.

"Technically, it belongs to the government. Wings too." Natasha said, shrugging.

"That's cold." Sam muttered.

"Warmer than jail." Tony called back. You looked at the security cameras, noticing the room Bucky had been moved to.

"You got the hots for him or something?" Sam asked. Steve turned to look at you, blinking a few times. You shot Sam a look, raising your brows.

"No, Samuel. I do not and if I did, why would you ask infront of his longtime bestie?" You asked, almost gritting your teeth. Sam raised his hands in surrender as Tony pulled Steve into a meeting room to talk.

"Why have a meeting in a glass box?" You asked quietly. Sam shrugged, looking it over.

"To prevent fighting." Sam answered. You watched at Steve and Tony seemed to argue. You looked at Sam with an amused smile.

"Physical fights." Sam clarified as Tony stepped out and Sharon had you and Sam enter. You took a seat across from Sam, looking at the security camera footage. Sharon entered, placing a paper infront of Sam.

"I'm sorry about the collar." Sharon apologized softly. You leaned back in the seat, shrugging lightly. She pressed a button, allowing Steve to listen to the footage. Sharon slid over some photos over to Steve.

"Why would the Task Force release this?" Steve asked. Sharon gave a shrug.

"To alert the public, I guess."

"Right.. A good way to force a guy into hiding. Got seven billion people looking for The Winter Solider."

"You're saying someone framed the guy to find him." Sharon mused quietly. Sam seemed confused, looking at Steve. You looked back at the footage on screen.

"Steve, you looked for the guy for two years and found nothing." Sam reminded him.

"We didn't bomb the UN."

"That doesn't guarantee that the person who framed him knew that we'd get him." Sharon looked at Steve. She suddenly frowned, brows furrowing as Steve turned towards the footage. You looked up as the power went out, seeing the staff begin to freak out and try to locate the source. You looked at Sam, slowly standing up. Sharon took out a key, sliding it over to you.

"Level 5 east wing." She said as you unlocked the collar, tossing it to the side as running out of the room with Sam and Steve. Whoever had framed Bucky had found him. You followed the two down the hall and down some stairs. You reached the area, finding guards on the ground. The interviewer lied on the ground, calling for help. Steve approached him with you hesitantly following. You noticed movement out of the corner of your eye, dodging Sam when he was thrown towards you.

"Hey, dude." You breathed out, swallowing. Bucky had a deep frown on his face, blue eyes holding nothing but bloodlust. He looked downright terrifying. You thrusted both hands forward, shooting a fireball that sent him flying back against the wall. Steve quickly stepped between you and him as you turned and rushed to Sam.

"Sam? Sam!" You shook his shoulders, shakey fingers pressing against his neck. You felt his pulse, relieved to feel his heartbeat. You slapped his cheek, waking him up.

"I've always wanted to do that." You muttered, watching him wince. He groaned, turning his head. You followed his gaze, seeing the guy from before looking down where Steve had been thrown. You stood, helping Sam up and following him up a set of stairs. With Steve out of commission temporarily and Bucky in a frenzy, the guy was the only hope of stopping everything.

"Can you try to stop him or trip him up?" Sam asked, rushing up the stairs.

"I can't see him and I'd rather not make this whole building collapse on accident." You replied, almost tripping over your own feet. Sam found an exit, following the crowd of people running.

"He looked like any other guy." You said, taking in deep breaths. Sam shot you a weird look.

"We just ran up like five flights of stairs." You breathed out, hands resting on your knees. At least the chilly weather provided some help. Sam noticed a jacket, jogging over and picking it up. You stumbled after him, looking it over.

"I really need some water." You whispered, lightly fanning yourself. Sam rolled his eyes, following the crowd of people. You sluggishly followed, giving him a small smile when he stopped by a shop to get you a bottle. He took out his phone as you drank half of it.

"Come on." Sam pulled you along, following direction and entering warehouse. Steve had Bucky laying against some machinery, unconscious and metal arm trapped in a wedge.

"You two okay?" Steve asked, looking you and Sam over with a concerned frown.

"Yeah.. Someone over here needs some more training." Sam glanced at you with a teasing smile. You rolled your eyes, licking your lips as you heard the sound of a helicopter.

"Could you ice over his arm?" Steve asked.

"He broke a stone wall. Ice won't hold him but sure, I'll do it." You shrugged, approaching the unconscious man. You licked your lips, splashing the rest of the water on the machinery and touching it after. The ice creeped down, covering over the metal arm. You looked at him, finally getting a proper look. He was handsome. Brown hair that barely reached his shoulders, facial hair just growing in, those icy blue eyes that either swirled with sadness or anger.

"You're giving him bedroom eyes again." Sam called, his voice echoing slightly. You clenched your jaw, looking at him.

"What? I can't admire something that looks nice?" You asked, watching his demeanor change. He looked alert yet amused. You frowned, looking back at Bucky and finding him staring right at you. You rolled your lips into your mouth, clearing your throat.

"God, that's so embarrassing." You whispered, speedwalking towards Sam as he cracked up. You ignored your burning face, arms crossing. Sam calmed down, wiping away a tear. Steve walked over, watching Bucky grunt and sit up. He looked at Steve, calling out his name in a hoarse voice.

"Which Bucky am I talking to?" Steve asked, staring at him intently. Bucky stayed silent for a moment before speaking.

"Your moms' name was Sarah... And you used to wear newspapers in your shoes." Bucky said, smiling softly. Steve relaxed, gaze softening.

"You don't read that in a magazine."

"Just like that we're supposed to be cool?" Sam asked, giving Steve a slightly wide eyed look.

"What did I do?" Bucky asked, looking between you, Steve, and Sam.

"Enough." Steve answered. Bucky shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head as he hung his head.

"I knew this would happen.." He whispered. "Everything HYDRA put inside of me is still there. All he had to do was say the god damn words."

"Who was he?"

"I don't know." Bucky answered, though you weren't sure if it was truthful or not. He didn't seem like the type to lie, at least not to Steve.

"People are dead. The guy did all that just to get ten minutes with you." Steve pointed out, watching his old best friend. Bucky looked defeated and confused. "I need you to do better than 'I don't know'."

"He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was captain." Bucky said quietly, gaze flickering around as he tried to remember.

"He wanted to know exactly where."

"Why would he need to know that?" Bucky stayed silent, licking his lips as he stared at the ground. He looked at Steve.

"Cause I'm not the only Winter Solider." He revealed. You looked at Sam in confusion and surprise. Bucky was strong and deadly on his own but a whole army could overthrow governments all over the world.

"That's terrifying." You whispered, leaning against the wall and sliding down so you were sitting down. Steve chose to lean against the wall after letting Bucky's arm free.

"Who are they?" Steve asked as Bucky brushed some hair out of his face.

"Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history and that was before the serum." Bucky responded.

"They all turn out like you?" Sam asked. Bucky looked at him, swallowing.

"Worse."

"The doctor... Did he control them?" Steve tilted his head. Bucky looked down at his lap.

"Enough."

"Said he wanted to see an empire fall." Steve told you and Sam. Bucky looked up at his words.

"These guys could do it. They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate. They could take a whole country down over night and you'd never see them coming."

"Color me impressed." You whispered, playing with the strings of the jacket you were given after getting to Berlin. Sam slowly walked towards Steve.

"This would've been a lot easier a week ago." Sam said quietly, arms crossing. You stood up, dusting off your pants and approaching them.

"If we told Tony-"

"He'd have him locked up." You cut off Steve, glancing back at him.

"Plus, he'd never believe us." Sam added.

"But if he did-"

"It wouldn't matter and who knows if the Accords would let us help him." Sam stared at him. Steve let out a defeated sigh, looking away from you and Sam.

"We're on our own."

"Not completely. Dad would help." You pointed out. Sam nodded, glancing at you.

"And, I know a guy." Sam said with a light shrug. You looked at him with a raised brow.

"You have friends?"

"I said I know him, not that we're friends but to answer your question, yes. I have friends that aren't you. Jealous?"

"Imaginary friends don't count."

~~~~~~~~~~

The drive was silent, Steve and Bucky occasionally reminiscing about the old days.

"On a scale of one to ten, how impressed is Clint gonna be when he sees you?" Sam asked. You smiled, letting out a chuckle as you watched the snowflake float inches above your hand.

"Probably an eleven, but he'll give me the typical dad speech infront of mom." You answered, lightly blowing on the snowflake and watching it disappear. Bucky turned his head to look at you. His muscular figure was semi cramped in the backseat. Steve picked the worst possible car to hijack.

"Hawkeye's your father?"

"Adoptive. He has a tendency of taking care of strays who once tried to take down the team." You told him, giving a small smile. Bucky hummed, nodding.

"Speaking of strays, how are you and Wanda?" Sam asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Uhm, good? We're still good friends, even after the kiss." You shrugged lightly.

"Woah, kiss?" Steve repeated, brows raising.

"Yeah, we kissed but it felt.. Weird. There was no spark or overwhelming emotions. The love I have for her is the same love I have for Lila and the boys. She'll always be like a sister to me." You told them, glancing at Bucky. Bucky was still a bit on edge but you could tell he was trying to get adjusted.

"What are your powers?" Bucky asked, attempting to get comfortable in the car.

"I'm like the avatar, I guess."

"Who?" Bucky furrowed his brows. You blinked, lips parting as you stared at him. He was from the 1900s and worked for a criminal organization, obviously he wouldn't know a kids show from the 2000s.

"It's- It's from a show. An avatar is someone who controls all four elements and they basically save the world, I guess." You explained, growing a bit embarrassed at how silly it sounded. Bucky didn't seem to judge, giving a small smile.

"We could watch it together, if you want. It's a nice show." You offered, smiling. Sam raised his brows.

"Wonder what Clint will think about that." He muttered as Steve glanced at you and Bucky through the rearview mirror. You shot Sam a small glare, reaching out and touching the back of his neck with cold fingers. He hissed and leaned forward, pouting as he rubbed his neck.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Bucky said softly, nodding. You looked back at him, a smile appearing on your face. Bucky was incredibly attractive and you couldn't deny having a small growing crush on him but you didn't want to cross a boundary. He was from the 1900s afterall.

"How'd you end up fighting the Avengers?" Bucky asked, focusing all his attention onto you.

"The orphanage I grew up in threatened to kick me out since I had turned 18. I freaked and caused an accidental forest in the orphanage so the team was called." You told him, chuckling softly. Buckys' gaze softened, a hum leaving him.

"You've got some pretty cool powers, doll."

"Doll?" Steve and Sam repeated. A flustered smile appeared on your face, giggling softly. Bucky glanced at the two, wondering if he had crossed a line or said something wrong.

"Thanks." You looked forward, biting back an even bigger smile. You weren't completely sure if he was flirting or not but it was nice to get a compliment from an attractive guy, even if he had almost broken your friends' back an hour before. Steve slowly parked the car, getting out to greet Sharon.

"Could you move the seat up?" Bucky asked Sam, arm moving so it resting ontop of the carseats. His metal fingers lightly brushed against your hair but you weren't bothered by it.

"No." Sam replied. Bucky let out a deep sigh. You bit your bottom lip, looking at him.

"We can switch." You shrugged lightly.

"It's fine-"

"No, you shouldn't be squished back here." You faced him, feeling him gently grab your waist. He was incredibly gentle and cautious, moving you onto his lap briefly before he scooted to the side. You sat behind Sam, lightly kicking the seat. Sam moved it forward ever so slightly. You looked over at Steve and Sharon, blinking when they kissed.

"Oh? When did that happen?" You asked, brows furrowed. You knew there was some attraction between them but you didn't expect them to already be at the kissing stage.

"A while back, I think."

"Huh.." You whispered. Steve returned to the car with Sam's wings and his shield, putting them in the trunk. He drove to an airport parking lot, pulling up beside a van. You smiled widely, quickly getting out when Sam pulled the seat forward.

"Thanks for keeping my kid safe, Cap." Clint said, opening his arms as soon as he spotted you. You happily hugged him, feeling a sense of relief and safety wash over you.

"About time you started causing me trouble." Clint grinned as he pulled back. You noticed Wanda, pulling her into a hug as well.

"Saw it on the news. You okay?" She asked softly. You nodded, pulling back and brushing some of her red hair out of her face.

"Vision let you go easy?" You asked. Wanda shook her head, chuckling softly. Sam approached you, glancing back at Bucky.

"Might want to keep an eye on these two." Sam said, motioning to you and Bucky. Clint stared at him before looking turning to look at you. Wanda tilted her head, looking at you as well.

"You're such a dick." You muttered. You knew Sam was just being protective. He had always seen and treated you like a brother.

"Bad boy and older, huh? God, I hoping you had skipped those phases." Clint sighed heavily. You were partially suprised he hadn't mentioned or pointed out that Bucky was a guy. You hadn't really spoken about sexuality and attraction with him but knowing Clint, he'd be supportive about it.

"Not bad." Wanda said quietly, giggling softly as she smiled. You gave her a playful smile.

"I've got good taste."

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years

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Jimin is a pretty bOY

This is a continuation of our discussion on my last post. Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me, I think I agree with all of it.

Not sure how I feel about the calling eachother out bit or near scolding of others in the comments. Please let's be welcoming and respectful of others's thoughts regardless of whether or not we agree with it. It's ok to hold diverse views. We do after all come from different backgrounds and have accumulated different experiences and I think it plays out in how we see things. Everyone's opinion is valid. Plus, I purple yall.

Now, do I think he is trying to pack on muscles........? Yes. He said so himself in Festa when he said he would rush to the mirror when he thought he had gained some muscle only to find out his biceps looks like a muscled kindergartner.

He also said lately he's into exercising and staying in shape which is true because for quite sometime now since early this year he has been talking about how "weak" he is in their Vlives and have even given instances of him not being able to do certain things- certian simple and easy tasks- which is typical of him I'd say. He's always talking about how "weak" he is especially around JK and juxtaposing that with "but JK is so strong" which I'm sorry but I have to smirk at right now cos it's such a typical gay pick me simp thing to do. We've all been there.

Do I think he's trying to be a muscle bunny or revert back to his body shape around debut? Absolutely not. But I do think he is straddling the line of toxic masculinity which is what the conversation is about.

I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to stay in shape or even enjoying work outs. Last night I ran downstairs because I had left my stew on the stove and now this morning I called renew my gym membership because I discovered running can be actually fun to do... No. No it's not. The gym instructor would have to come for me kicking and screaming.

RM have said even though JM looks skinny and fragile he is one of the strongest within the group. Besides, this is not the first time he's expressed interest in working out and building his body- hello, on Era?

I remember people complaining he looked too buffed up in that period on SNS and PJMs quickly jumping in to clear the searches for it. The choreo for On required agility and endurance and required the members- not just JM build up some definition in their muscles.

We've seen them go through all that. So it's not simply a matter of black and white staying in shape or doing it because he feels pressured to do so. Especially, when you consider that he's undertaken some pretty unhealthy measures in the past in attempts to lose weight or soften out his body post these muscle building, weight gaining periods and we've always chalked it up to his dance and how as a contemporary dancer he has to look a certain way or this or that to try to justify and make sense of it. Next you, know there are six chapters of break the silence of him talking about all the dark places he's been, the pressures to look his best for his fans or for his job and all these other painful stories he's shared with us over the years. And it's like, but why? Why do this to yourself?

I'll never forget the look he gave JK when JK was talking about wanting to build muscles in one of the interviews for the promotion of Be- I think I made a post on it. When JK noticed JMs disapproving glare he backtracked saying he would want to stay skinny after gaining all that muscles.

I mean if I'm to be honest, he was bound to crack at one point. The signs were there being surrounded by all these men who adhere to the traditional aesthetics of a masculine body- from Namjoon to Taehyung.

I wish y'all will steer the conversation in this direction and make it more about gender norms and expressions and breaking stereotypes and diversity in the body aesthetics of men.

Jimin is a man too. He just isn't what people traditionally will label masculine. Androgynous is more an apt word in my opinion. How many times have I said, I think Jungkook hetero passes because his body aesthetics is quintessentially what most associates with a masculine man?

Breaking gender barriers is not just about embracing feminine apparels- that teeters on cross dressing quite frankly and can be a bit performative and baity. Then you have to consider their culture in itself has an inherent pro gender diversity feel to it.

Now, let me explain my problem with the Klout ad campaign a little bit.

Do you see how Tae stands out? And I'm not saying this to fuel the "Tae was their fav" debacle. It's the 007 feel... I'll explain in a bit.

Most often, alcohol advertisers as well as most advertisements intended to sell to men often try to appeal to men's internalized ideals of masculinity or try to shape and define what a man or masculinity should look like. These ideals are so often toxic and detrimental to men and mostly women too.

Take a look at these ads for example. All I had to do was google search ads for men.

Real men drink milk and look at the image they present as real men. This blatantly implies if you don't look like this, if you are not a strong cliff climbing man with abs you are not a real man.

The second image is subtle. I call it the 007 slash Kingsmen-esque ideals of masculinity. It portrays men as sexy cool badass- works out but isn't too buff, filthy rich or middle class, wears Rolex, designer clothes, is kind but has a mean exterior and is every 13 year old wattpad girls's dream of a man. In fiction, you see this kind of masculinity in characters such as Edward cullens to Christian Grey. And a lot of ads for men alternate between these two ideals of masculinity.

Do you see how they modeled Taehyung in these ads after this kind of masctheme? Tae looks the same in almost all the ads. 007 sexy cool badass.

Now, I may not be a makeup beauty guru or MUA or whatever, but one thing I've picked up on especially when it comes to makeup for men- BTS and Kpop idols mostly is that, they soften out the harsh features on their faces and make them appear more androgynous or effeminate to suit the Kpop look and they ditch it entirely in different settings.

So for instance, Tae and Kookie's natural hawkish eyebrows tend to get softened around the arch and edges- don't know how the fuck they do that- but it appears less in your face intense most times when they wear make up in kpop related contents.

However, in certain other contents that lean towards a certain gender theme those features are emphasized. Not to say hawkish features are masculine features. Just saying in men, Kpop idols, my observation is they soften those features out with makeup or surgery.

Now, take a look at JM in these ads and look at everything from his posture, make up, hairstyle and brows. It's as if someone took an eraser to his androgynousity and erased his feminine side. Take a look at his photo above and compare it to the ads.

I am not a man. But I feel the gender look they went for, intended to appeal to men, tapped into a rather outdated stereotype of what man and masculinity should look like.

What is a man?

What should a man look like?

What aesthetics of masculinity is Jimin gravitating towards now? And I'm not talking clothes, I'm talking the expression of his gender. Time and again, he's talked about how looking a certain way made him uncomfortable in the past because he was constantly fighting his feminine side. He is androgynous. Sometimes he leans more into his feminine side. Other times he leans more into his masculine side but this is the only time he's leaning into his masculinity that makes me uncomfortable to watch because like I said it bothers on toxic masculinity.

He's said whoever he was, the version fighting to look masculine, that wasn't him. So forgive me if I worry whenever i see him suppressing his feminine side and acting like 'one of the boys.' Him staying in shape is not synonymous with him erasing a valid part of himself or suppressing it. He can stay in shape, celebrate his masculinity and still be FILTER.

What I'm saying is, this not a conversation about him exercising. This is a conversation about an ad erasing his feminine side and boxing him into a narrow expression of his gender and how that might be affecting his view of himself especially in the way he's been gravitating towards a certain masculine aesthetics and how that could be toxic.

Tae has said the same thing and BTS have agreed the JM as of 2019 was the real JM according to them.They said he was that way- suppressing his feminine side, because there weren't much songs and choreos that suited him and so he had had to bend himself to fit with the others.

And so when I see him leaning a certain way I tend to wonder if his exterior environment is playing a role in that. I hope you can understand that.

He is a contemporary dancer and strength and flexibility are prerequisites for his craft. The company go out of their way to incorporate contemporary dance in their choreos for JM's sake which helps solve that problem of him trying too hard to look a certain way.

May be I'm projecting. May be my little brother is effeminate and I've always recommended Jimin as a role for him to tell him not to try to look different just because other boys look different. May be I've seen him try one too many times to kill himself in the gym trying to build on muscles and getting frustrated with himself because he ends up looking like someone else. You can't gym the queerness away. Society will never let you be who you want to be so you might as well flip it the middle finger.

These boys are being shaped by their environment. I hate to say this but the environment they are in isn't exactly progressive and the longer they stay in there cut off from the outside world...

Flying out helps. Meeting different people and being exposed to different cultures and conversations on gender expression helps.

Anywho, these are just concerns I have. Will have them till I see that's not where he is headed towards. But let's not act like these ad campaigns do not and can not psychologically impact these boys especially as these advertisers are not looking to tap into their own definition of gender and masculinity but shape it and redefine it to appeal to the demographic they intend to market to.

I think this is just a grey area for me. Rather than try to change JM to look a certain way in order to sell alcohol. I think the ground breaking thing would be to have a man who looks like JM show us how someone like him would sell a can of drink. I think that would be revolutionary.

Signed,

GOLDY

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fanimesenseiwrites · 3 years

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So I had piece commissioned of my MC, Hoshiko Higure, presenting as both female and male.

The artist is karoshin_arts on Instagram.

And to go along with the art is a little fic I wrote, mostly, about Hoshiko coming out to the boys.

This fic takes place after Belphie gets out of the attic and before the MC goes home for the first time.

Hoshiko's Coming Out

Hoshiko stood in front of their full length mirror in their bedroom, staring at their reflection.

They were dressed for school but instead of wearing the skirt, they had decided to wear uniform pants today. They were also wearing a binder underneath their dress shirt, effectively hiding their breasts. They tied the top half of their hair back before putting on their circle rim glasses.

They stared at themselves in the mirror once they were totally ready.

"Okay... you look good. You can do this. Everything is gonna be fine," they told themself, trying to psych themself up.

They nodded at themself in the mirror before walking out into the hallway.

Mammon was headed to Hoshiko's room as they were walking out.

"Hey Ho... shi..." Mammon stopped mid step and mid sentence and just stared at Hoshiko. He narrowed his eyes at them, seeming suspicious.

Hoshiko turned a bright red. "It's me! I swear! I'm just... wearing pants..."

"You're doing more than that..." Mammon told them as he finished walking over to them.

"Yeah, I just... sometimes I..." They couldn't look at Mammon. "I don't feel like a girl all the time... sometimes I feel like a boy..." They wrapped their arms around themselves.

"So what, you just wanna wear pants and not have boobs sometimes?"

They looked up at Mammon. "I mean, in not so many words, yeah."

Mammon pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Hoshiko sighed and looked down at the ground. "You don't wanna be my friend anymore, do you?"

"What? Quit your mopin'! I didn't say that!"

Hoshiko looked back up at him.

"I'm your first! You're s'posed to tell me everything, no secrets between us, remember?!" Mammon perched his hands on his hips.

Hoshiko teared up. "Oh, Mammon!" They threw their arms around him and cried into his chest.

"Hey! Don't do that..." he blushed and pushed them away gently. "You'll break your glasses." He offered them a handkerchief from his breast pocket.

Hoshiko nodded and took the handkerchief with a soft sniffle. They took off their glasses and wiped their eyes.

"C'mon, you gotta eat some breakfast before school."

They nodded and headed to the dining room with Mammon. "... Will you stay with me all day?"

Mammon looked at them. "Huh?"

"I... I'm actually afraid of being by myself, looking like this..."

"Oh... yeah, of course. You gotta know the Great Mammon will always protect ya!" He flashed them a brilliant smile.

Hoshiko smiled at him. "Thank you." They grabbed Mammon's hand.

Mammon blushed but squeezed their hand in return.

Everyone looked at them when they entered the dining hall.

"Hey! So today Hoshiko feels like a guy and we're gonna make her feel- well, him-"

Hoshiko nudged him.

He stopped talking and looked at Hoshiko.

"You can just use they/them," Hoshiko told him.

"Right!" He looked back at his brothers. "So we're gonna make them feel comfortable and if ya don't, I'll kill ya," he was actually the most serious Hoshiko had ever seen him.

Hoshiko squeezed his hand. "Calm down, it's not that serious."

He looked back at Hoshiko. "Yes it is. Your feelings are important."

Hoshiko smiled at him. "I appreciate you saying that."

"Mammon is right," Lucifer spoke before dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

Hoshiko and Mammon looked at him.

"Your feelings are important, Hoshiko. If there's anything you need or if anyone gives you any flak, you let me know," only Lucifer could say something so sweet, yet so venom filled.

Hoshiko nodded. "I will, thank you."

Lucifer nodded. "Of course."

"Have you always felt this way?" Satan asked Hoshiko.

Hoshiko looked at him. "Uh... it's hard to say. It's only been in the last like... 3 years that I had the terminology to describe how I feel."

"And what is the correct terminology?" Satan asked as he pulled out his DDD and opened up a note taking app.

"I'm genderfluid. Which means I don't fit into the typical binary model of gender. Even though I am biologically female, I don't always want to present myself as traditionally female."

"Conforming to gender norms when it comes to clothing is so boring," Asmo commented. "You should just do what makes you happy."

Hoshiko smiled at him. "I like that. Thank you."

Asmo smiled brightly at them. "Of course, love!"

"So wait..." Belphie started.

Everyone looked at him.

"This is new to everyone, not just me?"

Beel nodded. "This is the first I've heard of it."

"So, you've felt like this for at least 3 years?" Belphie asked Hoshiko.

Hoshiko blushed and nodded, understanding what Belphie was getting at.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Levi asked.

"I didn't feel comfortable showing y'all until now. Even getting ready this morning I was nervous as hell."

Levi only nodded.

"Okay, I think that's enough questions for now," Lucifer interjected. "It's time to get to school."

Hoshiko was actually grateful that Lucifer had stopped them from asking them questions, they could feel themself getting overwhelmed.

Hoshiko smiled slightly at Lucifer before getting up and clearing their plate from the table.

The brothers followed suit, then everyone left for RAD together.

True to his word, Mammon stayed next to Hoshiko all day, though they didn't really need any protecting as they had originally thought.

After school, at the student council meeting, Diavolo asked Hoshiko how their first day presenting as a male was.

"It went well! Most folks were more curious anything. Azazel asked if I actually did have magical abilities because of how I changed my appearance. I thought that was funny. And Solomon offered to teach me how to make potions to deepen my voice for when I want to present as a guy. And Mephistopheles said I was stunning no matter how I presented..."

Most of the brothers rolled their eyes, but Mammon let out a little growl.

Hoshiko smacked his arm. "He was just bein' nice."

"Uh huh..." he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Diavolo chuckled at their interaction. "Well I'm glad today went so well for you, Hoshiko."

Hoshiko grinned. "I was really surprised, I thought that maybe at least a couple folks would give me hard time, but no one did."

"Demons are not usually so concerned with presentations of gender like that," Barbatos informed them.

"Oh... well I wish I had known that sooner, I wouldn't have been freaking out as much about today."

"That's not true," Barbatos corrected them.

Hoshiko pouted. "I don't like it when you call me out like that."

Barbatos chuckled softly.

Diavolo grinned. "Well I'm glad that our residents didn't take advantage of Hoshiko being a human when they changed their appearance. This is good for the exchange program!"

"I concur," Lucifer interjected.

"Well that concludes today's meeting," Diavolo announced before standing up.

Everyone else stood up with him.

Diavolo left the table before anyone else moved.

Asmo ran over to Hoshiko. "Hoshiko! Do you want to go shopping? We can pick you out some more masculine looking clothes if you want."

Hoshiko grinned. "I'd like that."

"I'm goin' too," Mammon declared.

Asmo pouted. "Why do you have to go?"

"Hoshiko asked me to stay by their side all day, so that's what I'm gonna do!"

Hoshiko chuckled. "That was when I thought I was gonna get made fun of or even beat up. I know I'll be okay now, so you don't have to stay with me."

"Nope. You asked so I'm gonna stay with you all day. The Great Mammon doesn't break a promise."

"What?! Since when?!" Levi interjected. "You still haven't paid me back!"

"Yeah, you obviously just want to be next to Hoshiko," Asmo pointed out.

"What?! That ain't so!" Mammon protested as a blush appeared on his cheeks.

Hoshiko chuckled at them. "Come on, we can all go shopping. It's not that big of a deal."

Asmo sighed. "Alright, as long as you're happy." He smiled slightly.

"We'll all be happy, I'll treat you two to dinner afterwards," Hoshiko promised.

Asmo beamed. "Okay!"

The trio went out to go shopping and went out to dinner before returning home to the House of Lamentation.

Hoshiko walked in sporting a new lavender suit and purple dress shirt.

Asmo insisted on showing them off to everyone in the house.

Hoshiko got a little embarrassed when Asmo dragged them to Lucifer's study. "Asmo, he doesn't care..."

"That's not true! Lucifer!" Asmo called as they walked into the study.

Lucifer looked up at them from where he sat at his desk.

"Look at our handsome little exchange student!" He exclaimed as he spun them around, giving Lucifer the full view.

Hoshiko was blushing.

Lucifer chuckled. "You look nice, Hoshiko. Though it is apparent that Asmo picked out that suit."

"That doesn't sound like a compliment," Asmo said with a pout.

"I just think Hoshiko would look better in something darker."

"There's more colors besides black and red, Lucifer," Asmo informed him.

Hoshiko chuckled at their interaction.

Lucifer glanced at Hoshiko briefly. "Asmo, would you leave us? I'd like to speak to Hoshiko alone for a moment."

"Ooh, okay!" Asmo sang just before leaving the room.

Hoshiko felt their ears get hot. "Uh, am I in trouble?"

"No, not at all. Please, take a seat." He motioned to a chair right in front of his desk.

Hoshiko nodded and sat down, crossing their legs as they did so.

"I just wanted to ask how your day went."

"It went well, you were there in the meeting when I told Lord Diavolo how it went."

"I just wanted to verify that nothing has changed since then. Make sure my brothers haven't harassed you about it."

Hoshiko laughed. "No, it's been fine. I appreciate your concern though."

Lucifer smirked. "How has your stay in Devildom been, thus far?"

"Aside from nearly dying like four times, it's been great!" Hoshiko teased.

Lucifer pursed his lips. "Right..."

"I'm only kidding with you. I've actually had a good time and I've learned a lot... it's kinda sad to think about how I'll be leaving in just a couple months."

Lucifer smiled slightly. "I'm glad you think of it that way."

"It certainly helped that all my housemates were hot too," Hoshiko told him with a wink.

Lucifer couldn't help the blush that rose to his cheeks. "Hoshiko," he chided.

Hoshiko snickered. "I'm just teasing you. That's a good thing. It means I'm comfortable with you now."

Lucifer hummed. "Should you be?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?" Hoshiko asked with a sly smile.

Lucifer stared them down, frustrated at his inability to give them an answer. "... Regardless, we've been happy to host you. I'm glad you were chosen for the program."

Hoshiko rolled their eyes. "Are you going to continue to be this formal until I leave?"

"Perhaps," Lucifer replied simply.

"Uh huh." Hoshiko stood up and straightened their suit jacket. "Well I will be upfront with my feelings and tell you that I like you and all your brothers and I'm really enjoying my time here... I hope we can all still be good friends after I leave."

Lucifer watched them and smiled slightly. "I think my brothers will be lost without you here."

"I think I'll be lost without all their crazy antics keeping me busy," Hoshiko laughed.

Lucifer chuckled.

"Hoshiko!" Asmo squealed as they ran into the room and went to hide behind Hoshiko.

"Speaking of crazy antics," Hoshiko said to Lucifer before looking at Asmo. "What is-?"

Hoshiko jumped at being suddenly sprayed in the back of the head with water. They whipped around to see Mammon standing in the doorway with a water gun.

"Oh you're gonna get it now!" Hoshiko told him with a grin.

"Good luck catching me!" Mammon told them before running away.

Hoshiko quickly ran after him.

Asmo ran after the two, not wanting to miss out on the fun.

Lucifer shook his head with a soft smile on his face. He knew the "crazy antics" would never stop, but he was grateful for a particular human that had caused them to become less deadly.

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ku-ro-kai · 3 years

Text

Lust at first bite

This was inspired by Trevor and sypha from the series Castlevania- personality wise so on

This is a one-shot★

Warning;fluff and angst,sexual tension, blood drinking, heat mentioned,missionary, squirting, praise kink, manipulation,aphrodisiacs, blood, multiple orgasm

He's been sneaking and stealing looks for too long, he's grown tired of it despite his small attempts at gifts he's been getting the nyphms to deliver or trying dispatch a plan in starting a conversation with you without being killed.

To his castle before the huntresses and witches hunt him down, touya was from a Royal bloodline of vampires. He's been going out every sunset in looks for his favorite huntress

She wasn’t like the other huntress’s in his eyes.

He had come to her in the middle of the night,he was looking for fresh virgin blood,he found you out on a night stroll.

He recognized you from flyers that he would come across when wondering in abandoned villages. He came to the conclusion you weren’t no ordinary boring huntress.

You were different,unique is what he would say, your family tree was dangerous to other creatures,coming from witches and huntsman.

(A month ago)

His father warned him about your family,beware of them, don’t never go by the (L/N) markings in the woods,every creature thought your family tree was killed off.

You were out getting fresh air,you couldn’t stand being in rooms with other huntresses and huntsmen, they envied your family,despite their hate for you,there was no escaping the headmasters.your family payed their debt years ago,why were they still inviting you to these silly meetings.

You heard a low groan from behind you,a annoyed sigh left your lips”At this time,show your face”.

Dabi thought you were some stuck up whore at first, “what if I don’t want too?”Gonna skin me and turn me into boots”

You turned around to face the unknown man ,he looked like a victim of fire,ebony hair that was spiked from front to back, blue eyes that sparkled like the ocean on a full moon,he was dressed down to toe in leather ,only a upside cross hanging from his neck,fingers covered in all different metallic silver rings, ones with diamonds,rubies and sapphires.

“Who exactly are you and how’d you get passed the barrier ?”

“You’re barrier is a piece of shit ,sorry darling I just don’t state my name to any stranger."

"It's like that with you vampires? Stuck up"

"Feisty, you huntsman look down on the rest of the world and expect everyone to get on their knees and praise you"

"You monsters have curses put on y'all,so you take your anger out on the huntresses and huntsman,since we hunt you down"

Dabi rubbed his chin, you weren't wrong,if anything he would do anything to take this curse off and have a normal body.

"You're a very stubborn human"

"You're one to talk"

A small chuckle came out, dabi was a man of many lies but he couldn't lie that you weren't an interesting huntress, maybe his favorite out of the ones he met in his life.

"I'll spare your life this time darling but if we come across again, there will be no mercy"

You never met a vampire like him before, he's cocky and comes with too much pride, A total prick.

"Same to you, just keep in mind that sneaking up to your prey comes with being completely silent"

You two parted ways that night and now he hasn't been able to get you off his mind

(Present)

He took you're words to heart, the sunset were his time to go see you.

Quietly hiding in the shadows, you were always out taking a stroll, did you not receive a good capture?

The headmasters have been keeping you stored away from missions,you were completely drowned out from all the drinks you spent at the tavern,only thing in that god forsaken castle was old people and moldy fruits.

You could proceed with skinning this annoyance of a vampire and receiving money

“Do you have nothing to do besides stalk me “

Dabi never understood how you could figure out how he was there,he was the best when it came to sneaking in the shadows,or so he thought.

“Your always walking around this area,I figured I’ll stop by”.

“You’ll be foolish to think I’ll believe that lie”

“Look my name is touya todoroki,first son to the King vampire Enji todoroki but refer to me as dabi for now “

That name was catching like wildfire when you were younger,it was a story of a little vampire boy playing by himself in the mountains near a peasant village ,his father made him go up there if he couldn’t make a flame change it’s color to blue.The boy was too careless with the way he would shoot his fires into trees ,as in result,he struck a branch, that caught half the village on fire ending with getting stuck under a large burning oak tree.Some say he hunted the woods looking in revenge for his father,others say he was in search of better body.

“I’m (name),how long have you’ve been living on your own since the forest fire “

“ for 210 years, it took months for my body to get used to staples"

You had guilt in your eyes,he always saw this in his victim's face when he would suck them dry,the stares he got from their cold,decaying corpse. He loved that look

"Does it hurt?"

"What do you think" he snapped.

"Hey no need to get rude" you looked at the full moon, maybe this prick of a vampire could help you with a drink "dabi wanna go out for a drink"

He looked you dead in the eye "with you? No thanks, trying to finesse me out of my money, I knew you huntresses weren't always good out if the bunch"

"I guess we are both liars than, well I'll just take my leave, if you wanna suck my blood I'll be at the blue soul lake"

You walked away into the forest

"Why that specific area- it's hunted by witches"

"Not the big bad vampire being scared of witches"

"Who the hell said I was scared, if anything I'm just concerned why that cursed part of the forest"

"That cursed place is my home"

Blue soul lake was wretched area, swarming with witches and witchcraft. The only thing is that place is good for is the glowing lake that only shines on a full moon.

"My father told about that place, used to be ritual when witches would bring kids, kill them, sacrifice them to whatever God you nut jobs believed in and kept the skulls and eyes for gross potions. What do y'all do now, pretend to be gypsies"

You chuckled at him "no we don't do anything out of that kind, I just live there because I love the way the lake shines at night and because I grew up there"

Dabi didn't understand why you would just invite a vampire to your house as if it's the normal, he could care less,long as he can be near you, you made him feel whole again, maybe because he hasn't gotten a load off in awhile, where you good at massages?, he could make you queen, give you children and regain his body back with your weird passed down powers

He wasn't thinking right, make you queen? Breed you? Spend the rest of eternity with you? He surely wasn't in love with some thorn in the side huntress,that's below him.

"Dabi why do wear the rings and what's with the silly name"

He got embarrassed, hiding his face “it’s not silly “

"It’s a little silly"

He turned back facing you,you’re warm smile brought him comfort

“The rings are from my mother, she gave all my siblings rings”

“Ah you royals always have the easy life ahead”

“You could say that , I’ll probably still have my body back if it weren’t for my father”

“I guess the stories were right”

“I hate him , I can’t stand to even look myself in the mirror when I remember I used to look like him”

Awkward silence was there for a while

“I could've easily snapped your neck when we first met"

"Why didn't you do it"

"You intrigued me"

"Not me catching your interest -what now you want me to be your queen"

"If if weren't for your cocky mouth,you could be heir to the throne of my queen"

"you like me?!"

"I'll kill where you stand"

You covered your smile with your cape.

"you didn't say no"

Dabi turned away to hide his blushing, you were a silly little thing with the ability to have him head over heels in love with you. You were just food to him now he has to deal with red swallowing his face and this shaking feelings in his chest.

You two reached your home-it wasn't too bad, A little snags and there, he could probably fix it with a little magic, too his disappointment you didn't have nothing crazy going on- it's cozy and warm

He picks up a picture "nice place you got here darling-a little sad there isn't hearts in jars and a shit load of strange plants"

"Are all vampires like this? Assuming all witch descent are into witchcraft"

"Must be the huntsman genes"

Dabi put the picture in his suit pocket, he continued walking around your house coming across from a family tree of pictures

"Dabi what's it like living like a vampire?”

“It’s quite fun,scaring frisky young ones comes with the job,sucking blood all night long is the dream,don’t have to worry about dying since I can live for centuries also the garlic shit is a myth"

You carry a bottle of holy water out "how mad would you be if I sprayed this on you"

"Try me"

After running, what seemed about an hour, you came to a stop leaving you panting on top of the stairs"you sly bastard" your clothes were tattered and scattered all around your house

Dabi covered a burned mark of you splashing him in holy water " just wanted to mark you as mine and only mine, what do you say doll? Wanna come back and live with me"

Dabi show case devilish smile was vacant , now a show of hostile in his face

“What if I come across that corner and bite that neck of yours (name)”

His voice was calm but his demeanor was sinister.you could see red gleaming in his eyes

You saw a flash of black,now you ended up upstairs in the middle of the hallway on your back with vampire in the crook of your neck ,his keen fangs edging on your vital

"...your the devil touya"

He licked a long stripe on your neck, now placing kisses on your jaw "if I'm the devil you must be the devil's woman huh" he let out a raspy chuckle, he lifted your thighs up" your something else you know that (name),Do you get off to me to trying to kill you " he moved to the side staring at the wet mark on your neck.

"Dabi why is it so hot" you tried to push him off you but he wouldn't budge

"Don't worry doll, the aphrodisiacs are doing that" dabi ran his hands around your waist"those huntsman have treated you so badly, don't you wanna get revenge"

"Yes... But"

Your body was burning in the inside, how did he get his hands on aphrodisiacs? Did he sneak something on his tongue

"Dabi-please" at this point you were begging to have some sort intimacy

He took your face in his hand "but what? Together we can be unstoppable, a powerful couple, rule over kingdoms although You would look better holding my children in that stomach of yours " he ripped your tattered clothes off with ease" all you gotta say is yes darling "

"Yes, fuck yes -please dabi"

His clothes were vacant, you felt something hard press against your outer lips, you begin grinding on to his cock

Your being such a needy bitch in heat" his length closing around your walls like a fitted glove,in such a slow manner ,now accompanied by him placing a hand on the bulge poking in your stomach”your such a good huntress doll, now your becoming my prize possession, mind to ravish every night and every day" he was half way in your pussy,groaning at how tight you are "for a pesky girl, your cunt is perfect".

Dabi got closer to the stained mark on your neck, placing hickes all over it. His thoughts were clouded with marking you as his,nobody can touch you with their filthy hands again .

He pressed his fingers against your throbbing clit, soft rubbing making you walls clench around his shaft.

He pulled out, letting out a deep grunt only to plunge himself with a hard thrust, his tip pushing against your womb.

You let out a groan feeling a sharp pain,his keen nails clawing at your waist, watching your blood pouring out on to floor. The pleasure mixed with the pain sending over the edge,he went a couple thrust before cumming releases a raspy moan,dabi took his fingers licking off your blood.

"You taste just as good too" you heard coming down from your high, dabi pulled out uncovering his seed soaking out, he put your legs over his shoulders "wait dabi" you felt his fangs graze your pearl "don't order me around (name)" you jolted when his two fingers went inside your sopping pussy

He pressed the flat of his tongue on your clit with his fingers working on sending you into another orgasm. The Flicking of his tongue and the curling on that gummy spot, sucking on your inner lips with a small pop.

You couldn't hold it, your juices spraying you and dabi face. "What a slut you are doll" he licked his lips watching you pass out from exhaustion

You woke up in room that didn't belong to you, dressed in a beautiful chemist,with a robe hanging off your shoulders .there was pain in the side of your neck, two swollen puncture holes. you had a aquamarine necklace and blood red ring in your hands,the sounds of the fire popping and cracking on the side of your chair. "dabi?" you called out,hearing steps coming into the room behind you.

"Yes doll" "where are we and what did you do to me" he went over to the fire place to throw in some more wood, a navy blue half buttoned down shirt with black tuxedo pants,he was holding a glass in his hand,the liquid in the cup was too murky to be wine "If I can recall you said yes to staying with me or were the drugs that powerful to have you say anything" you remember saying agreeing to staying with but that doesn't excuse the pain in your neck

"My neck?"

"I had to for the sake of you staying with me,if you continued remaining a human I would've"accidentally" took your blood"

"What about the huntress and huntsman looking for you!"

"I killed them, you were sleep for about a month, for the remaining time I put up warnings to stay away from the castle, would hate to have humans killing our children"

Thank you for reading💖, I will be taking a small break for a while after I post my headcannons

#dabi #dabi x you #stalker dabi #dabi x reader

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lifeisadoozy · 3 years

Text

sharing a short dousy video edit i made.

i don't know why but i really like this and thought i'd share it on here too.

should i rant about what goes in my head while making this video? no. will i? yes.

basically the song is beginning middle end by leah nobel from to all the boys i've loved before part 3. this song is basically about two people falling in love from the early years of their lives. since lara jean and peter met when they were kids. but then started (fake) dating in high school and their adventure together started right then and there. anyway, watch the movies if you haven't already. this song fits lara jean and peter so well (i don't know if it was written specifically for them or not).

but daisy and sousa didnt meet when they were kids because of one obvious reason: when daisy was a kid, sousa's dead; and when sousa was a kid, daisy hadn't been born yet. they weren't supposed to meet. so their journey started off separately.

daisy's beginning in shield was rocky, to say the least. but she found a home there with coulson, fitzsimmons and may (i'll get to ward) in season 1. they bonded quite quickly, mainly daisy skye and coulson. i think it shifts when she got shot by ian quinn. everyone in the team, especially ward was terrified and angry at the situation. now. she had a relationship with miles early on in the season, which was broken off. but within the context of the song, her beginning was ward. he was her s.o. she was falling for him when she uncovered that he's hydra. add that trauma to the ones she already had prior to shield. no wonder she has trust issues.

her middle was her powers. even though the story started early in the series, it's still the middle. because she struggled with her powers throughout seasons 2 - 5. the middle would always be the bulk of it all. it's where everything happens. it's the crux of a character, of a person. it's where daisy became daisy. now, in the middle of her middle (pun very much intended), was lincoln. the first inhuman who helped her and understood her. i'm sure they've got their own problems and everything, but it doesn't change the fact that he was someone who knew what she's going through. none of her found family could help her the way he could. this is where i think it gets interesting. seasons 2 - 5, where i said was her middle, and basically the peak/climax of daisy as a character, she was falling for and fell for lincoln. it was known that daisy was still in love with lincoln in season 5. possibly around 2 years after he died. but then we found out that she had moved on from lincoln in the beginning of season 6.

season 6 and 7 is the end of her journey with the team. they're still a family. just a family who occassionally see each other. now in season 6, like i mentioned previously, it was acknowledged that daisy had moved on. the past will always be with her, no doubt. the trauma would stick. hopefully just bits and pieces. but it would still be there until she either had alzheimer's, dementia, any other retrograde amnesia injuries or diseases, or the day she died. she would never forget lincoln or ward, heck even miles. she won't forget her past. unless it was taken away from her. so, back to the topic at hand, she wanted her own fitz. she had grown from the woman she was in the beginning, she had grown from the woman and superhero that she was in the middle. she knows who she is now. with the people she worked with. and the people she calls her family. and also with anyone. daisy's ending was perfect (to me at least). she wasn't looking for love right then and there. she was burnt one too many times. but she wanted that kind of love and support. the love and support that fitz and simmons have for each other. something that daisy lacked all her life. she ended up with someone who gave her what she wanted. and what she needed.

with sousa, it's a little different. because we didn't get to see much of his background and family life. we didn't get to know what his life was like during the war and before the war. we begin to see him in the ssr. we all knew, literally everyone knew, even the characters knew that sousa's practically in love with peggy. except for maybe peggy herself. but i'm sure she had an inkling. she definitely had an inkling. but then things go on and he became chief of the west coast office and he was in los angeles while peggy was in new york. he moved on (or so we thought). he started dating violet and was ready to marry her. he told her he loved her. and he did. it's just that he was also in love with peggy. still. and violet saw that. it's as clear as day. and they broke it off.

we didn't get to see much of sousa's middle. mainly because ac wasn't renewed for a third season. which was such a waste because it ended with so many things left unanswered. but we know that between 1947 - 1955, peggy and sousa broke up. we have no idea why. we don't know if steve was back. nada. all we know is that they broke up. when did they break up? again. no idea. but we know that peggy means a lot to sousa. she's like (sorta; i don't like making comparisons but anyway) sousa's lincoln in a way (i'm not saying that they're the exact replica. daisy/lincoln and peggy/sousa are quite different. but they do have similarities. those pairings are the kind where they want to be together forever but knew that it wouldn't work; my interpretation). she didn't die, we know that. but she's sort of the one that got away. my guess is that it's because shield and the world was more important than each other. which wasn't dissimilar to daisy and lincoln's situation. so, yes. peggy's sousa's middle. she influenced him a lot. and he found himself amidst ssr and shield (just like daisy did).

sousa's end was again, perfect. he went to the future. got to see what the organisation he helped build came to be. he went on an adventure to explore space. which he would geek out over. instead of dying, he got to live. with the love of his (new) life. he may be a man out of time, but with daisy and their ragtag family, he is right where he belongs.

daisy and sousa began with "who the hell are you" and ended with "it's beautiful" (just putting this here because i love that fact).

so. they started pretty quickly, didn't they? 4 episodes in and sousa fell in love with daisy. 7 episodes in and daisy fell in love with sousa. though i doubt that they thought they're in love. but they're falling. or walking towards it. 7x03 was when they met. it's where it all began. in area 51 of all places (foreshadow much?). but what's even more interesting is that technically, they began twice. from daisy's perspective, they met in 6x13 (which plenty of people had pointed out; but @agents-of-fangirling was the most recent). even though they didn't actually meet because sousa was wearing that blue (seriously his colour really is blue) hazmat suit and daisy was disoriented (may dying and all that jazz). but from sousa's perspective, they met in 7x03. where they actually made eye contact and conversed. how many couples can say that the when of their first encounter was debatable?

now. their middle, in the video edit, i used the scene from 7x10. because i think that's a pretty good middle. they had their first first kiss. sousa had no idea that happened. yet, there he was, wanting to help. just like his time-loop self. he extended a hand and she accepted. she accepted help. do you know how much of a development that was??? because i think that it's a huge character development (i still haven't rewatched so don't take my word for it). i think that's a good depiction of their middle. oh yeah. before i forgot. they also had two first kisses. and again, i say, how many couples can say that they had two first kiss? figured i'd choose the scene in the middle of those first kisses (pun intended lmao).

sidenote: did y'all see the devastation in her eyes when sousa volunteered to stay in the 80s? or how her eyes went wide and she started to panic when he was injected in the time loops? sousa's a man of action. and when he says something, he means it. so, his constant concern over daisy and him wanting to help in any way he can, it's his love language.

and then we have their ending. the perfect end to an imperfect couple (because nobody's perfect *cue hannah montana*). daisy got sousa a typewriter. because he's from the 50s. since when did daisy buy gifts for her boyfriends/partners/lovers? and they watched e.t. together? that's normal couple things. even though they are far from normal. but they get to experience it all together. daisy didn't get to in the past. none that we know of anyway. and now she does. also, that smile when she talks about him. that fond smile that grazed her lips at the thought of him. i've never seen her smile like that before (none that i remember; and if she did, well then i'm so so happy for her). she looks happy. serene. and her saying "he's a dork" twice in the season just makes my heart burst with happiness for them.

sidenote: my headcannon is that "he's a dork" is code for "i love him too much to explain it in words."

i'd like to believe that even though it has ended, their story has just begun. they're going through their middle right now. and i hope that they won't end. in other words, their end was not an ending. it was a beginning of a new life.

as daisy said, "we're loving the journey together." keyword: journey. it's a long road up ahead. with countless of challenges and obstacles in the way. but in the end, all that matters is that they face it together.

that's it. thanks for coming to my ted talk (for those who actually read it all the way through, i love you).

#watch the video til the very end😉#dousy #i know nobody's gonna read this #but i needed to hash it out #😬😬#character analysis #sort of #relationship analysis #🥺👉👈#sorry for the long ass post #like seriously long #i set out to write a quick lil paragraph and ended up writing an essay

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kylorengarbagedump · 4 years

Text

Little Bird: Chapter 31

Read on AO3. Part 30 here. Part 32 here.

Summary: The time has come to do what you promised for the Resistance. If only it hadn't taken you so long to get here.

Words: 3700

Warnings: feelings kinda

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: I know it's not Friday, but I've been so full of anxiety about this chapter that I just had to get it out!! I'm sorry. I can promise you that next week will absolutely be up on Friday, because I have a feeling it's going to take me all week and maybe more.

I want to say--I really loved the debates/discussion in the comments? I feel so fucking flattered and excited people are having differing opinions on the characters? I love that there's so much conflict evident from the responses? That makes me feel so happy!

I am so truly lucky to have folks like you in my life, I can't say enough how grateful I am how I don't ever take any of it for granted, even if I can't respond to every comment. I love y'all so much, and thank you, please stay safe and healthy. <3

Across the hall, the Knight Templar stood at attention, blank visor of his mask trained on you, as it had been for the past forty-seven and a half minutes. The wooden walls to the Council Chambers loomed to the sky, oak canopies split with skylights, the morning sun cutting stark prisms into the hardwood floors. The only break in the dust-mote silence was the rumble of privileged discussion vibrating through your back.

Given the presence of Kylo Ren, you’d somehow expected to avoid the sting of exclusion. But even the influence of the Lead Commander was not enough to justify the attendance of a woman--and especially a Handmaid--during a Council meeting. Yet, you supposed you were thankful. The near two-week’s worth of blizzard-conditions between you and your Commander had frozen any willingness to play advisor to an arctic relic. Part of you felt confident that if you’d refused, he would’ve let you off the hook, but another part wasn’t willing to see how far you could push your absence of legal rights.

Shuffling, muffled voices rising--and the doors to the Chambers opened, a menagerie of black suits filtering into the hall. You studied your shoes, the arrival of so many power-wielding men binding your ribcage, curling your toes. Even with the Templar on guard, in the swarm of Commanders, your safety dangled by unraveling thread; you could feel their eyes wandering over you like steer wandered the plains--lazy and lingering and gluttonous.

Reluctant relief trickled through you when you caught Kylo’s boots in your periphery, his footsteps scattering their stares, scaring their own feet into the halls. Another person crossed around him.

“It was a little tense in there, wouldn’t you say?”

You recognized this man’s voice--he was the silver-haired one from the party.

“I anticipated discomfort.”

The man laughed. “Oh, well, of course you did, Ren! You’ve always been very ahead of the game, that way.” He stepped closer, inviting confidence--now his voice was a murmur. “Now, I’m not saying this, as you know. But I’ve heard others… express their concerns.”

“Concerns.”

“That Gilead’s roles were created for a reason.”

Kylo spoke flatly--he didn’t care if you heard him. “Roles exist to serve specific purposes, Enric. Should a purpose arise, then it follows that a role is created to serve it.”

“The only problem is…” Enric’s voice was mollifying, as if he were telling Kylo something he didn’t already know. “We don’t create roles. God creates them. He decided your purpose just as He decided hers.” There was a pause. You saw your Commander’s foot shift. “Other Council members--not me, of course--aren’t taking as kindly to your philosophy as I am.”

“My philosophy.”

“What you’ve done with your Handmaid. And continue to do, too. Some of them are… not very happy. They consider it…” He cleared his throat, a patronizing acknowledgement of your presence. “Inappropriate.”

Your face burned. Perhaps two weeks ago, you might have agreed. But since you’d kicked Kylo out of your room, he hadn’t so much as laid a finger on you or shared a word greater than a single syllable. His presence was now accompanied by a heavy vow of paralyzing silence--a recognition that the other existed, but only as living memory. This should have brought relief, should have forced your attachment to him to wilt like an unwatered fern, decaying in the graveyard of one thousand other hopes you’d tied to the space he occupied in your mind.

Instead, it had festered, a viney weed, writhing through your veins, its roots puncturing your heart when it dared to beat in his shadow. It was only in his deliberate absence that you could feel the pain of your reality, like he’d been opium, numbing you to the knowledge of anything but him. You ached for him more now than you ever had--you’d tried to sleep, chest cracked open, a torrent of loneliness emptying into the night--and knew that it was for this very reason that you needed to deny him.

After all, when you returned home, you’d be meeting with Rey on your walk. And you’d be handing over the switchblade to the Resistance.

“The Eyes are welcome to an investigation,” Kylo replied. “There are no reading materials or writing implements available. Her suggestions will be provided during a once-weekly meeting which my Wife will attend.”

You swallowed. You hoped you’d be free before that happened.

Enric sighed. “But the dress. Dragging her along with your soldiers.” He paused, humming in thought. “To be honest, even I think she gets special attention.”

Kylo’s tone betrayed an inch of irritation. “And even a dog is provided with a reward for its obedience,” he said. “She is in uniform today and before the Council now to provide proof of my intention.”

“Well, I’m sure the Council will begin to understand. You know how difficult it is for these types to tolerate change. The Cambridge Press decided to capitalize a single letter in First John earlier this year and they lost it.” Enric stepped away, and then doubled back with a pause. “As long as you’re not forgetting her true purpose.”

“No,” Kylo replied. “A Ceremony is scheduled for two days from now.”

Your breath shorted. If the Resistance was wrong about the value of your knife, in two nights you’d lie in Johana’s lap, and Kylo Ren would fuck you as if you didn’t exist. The thought made you dizzy, made your stomach churn.

“There you go,” he said. “As long as you’re doing everything you’re supposed to, you’ll be fine. The Eyes might be snooping around your house, but all you need to do is be prudent.” A laugh. “That shouldn’t be a problem for you, though.”

“No.” Kylo couldn’t have sounded more unimpressed if he had tried.

An expectant silence fell between the two men, and Enric coughed to clear the awkwardness. “In a couple weeks, then.”

“Yes.”

With that, he walked off, footsteps echoing from the wooden halls as he left you, your Commander, and the Knight as the only souls outside of the Council Chambers. A soft exhale escaped Kylo’s nose, and he stepped forward--the weight of his gaze was on you, but you refused to meet it.

“Go,” he said. You assumed he was speaking to the Knight, who moved without another word--what was it like being a warrior turned glorified babysitter? “Come.”

You stood, keeping your eyes to the ground while you followed his lead through the vacant, sunlit corridors of City Hall. This end of the building was decidedly older than the front--it creaked with exhaustion as you navigated its floors, as if it, too, had grown tired of the constant political discourse within its walls. Kylo Ren turned into a staircase, descending with the same pace as his stride--you struggled to keep up with him at this rate, unable to stop yourself from admiring when he reached the bottom and turned the corner into the basement hall.

Since the night at the hotel, he’d abandoned his previous attire of suits, ties and white shirts--he now wore black almost entirely, from his dress shirt to his trousers, which more often than not ended up stuffed into knee-high leather boots. He’d also taken to wearing the coat you’d seen during the Salvaging, its tapered cut somehow making his frame even larger, more imposing than it had been before. The coat in particular was a strange choice during the summer--but you knew why he wore it, keeping others uncertain about what it might or might not conceal.

In the basement, the air grew thin and cold, the halls illuminated now only by dim fluorescent lamps. Kylo stopped at a large wooden door, fishing a key from his pocket and popping the lock. He pushed inside, holding it open for you as you followed him in--he released it, and with a pneumatic whine, it slammed behind you. You squeaked, leaping back, swallowed now in darkness.

You heard the click of the lock--then Kylo’s footsteps on concrete as he crossed the room. A ceiling lamp flickered on, revealing what you could only describe as a records room. Shelves lined the walls, floor to ceiling, manila folder files stuffed into them like recycled news. Your lungs stilled looking at them--there were hundreds, thousands of these folders, all labeled with four-digit numbers. Swallowing, you thought of the tattoo at your ankle--1104--and heat rushed your skin.

These were files on Handmaids.

Dread dug into you, head on a swivel as you soaked in the enormity of the identities contained within these piles of paper. Uncountable bodies of women reduced to nothing but a combination of integers in a locked room in the basement of City Hall. Your heart thumped against your sternum. This was not something you were supposed to see.

Kylo meandered along the shelves, searching the tabs, his brow furrowed in focus. You crossed your arms, ignoring the quickening leap of your pulse, thoughts racing. Why had he brought you here? He was supposed to be proving to the Council that your relationship wasn’t inappropriate--and here you were, alone with your Commander in a room almost certainly forbidden to the large majority of Gilead.

“Five-seven-two-four.”

His long fingers plucked the folder from where it was wedged at the bottom shelf and he rose to his full height--the sight still stole your air. Stone-faced, Kylo flopped open the file, cradling it in the crook of his elbow as he flipped to the first page.

“Five-seven-two-four.” He stepped toward you--an involuntary shiver raced up your spine--and tilted it into your line of sight. “Tera Jackson.”

You blinked, looking between him and the text, inching closer to read. It was the facesheet of a dossier on Tera Jackson: birthdate, hometown, education level, allergies, Biblical violation (affair with a married man). You skimmed the document, confused as to why he’d risked both of your skins just to show you a piece of paper. Then you spotted the bottom of the page, three spaces designated to list Commander assignments. The first and only name: Armitage Hux.

“Ofarmitage,” you breathed, and gaped at Kylo. “Her name was Tera Jackson.”

He said nothing, but pushed the front page from its packet, holding it out to you. Hesitating to grab it, you gazed into his eyes. They were tired and sincere.

This was his way of apologizing. Your heart stuttered, skipped, a suffocated warmth welling in your belly. That he’d thought to do it at all was enough to fracture your resistance, but the fact that he’d done something so forbidden to demonstrate concrete proof of her identity, that he wasn’t fabricating a document to placate you, that it was his own admission that she had been a person, and she had been real--you choked on it, cheeks smothered in flames.

“Commander…” The urge to say his name lingered on your tongue; you reached for the paper--and paused. You couldn’t continue to detour down a pointless road. It would only make the inevitable more painful. You dropped your hand. “I can’t have something like this.”

“Then I’ll keep it.”

“Well.” You bit your lip, averting your gaze. “I… I don’t want it.”

“You do.” His voice was soft. “Her file will be cycled through at the end of the month. Take it.”

Frowning, you glanced between him and the paper. To deny it out of pride would be to deny Tera the chance to be remembered in tangibility--something every Handmaid, every person deserved, regardless of what they’d done to survive. You admitted that part of it was proving to yourself that you deserved it, too.

But you couldn’t take the whole page. Jaw tight, you took it from his hand, creased a line around the section with her name and birthdate and tore it free. You stuffed it into your sleeve, avoiding his eyes as you returned the rest.

Silence hung, cave crystals dripping remnants of stifled need onto your skin, small glittering droplets of iridescent understanding that stained you with shimmering agony. You ached to thank him, to tumble, broken, into his arms, to gaze intohis eyes and see yourself there, found and whole. But under Gilead, you could never have him in the ways he’d had you. And you could never be grateful to the devil for his grace.

Kylo Ren returned the folder to its shelf and stood, snuffing a sigh. “Store it in your room before your walk.”

All you did was nod.

The walk to the building and drive home was spent without words. Only twice did you sneak a glance at Kylo during the ride--the first was when he rolled the edge of the wheel against his large palm, face drawn in focus as he downshifted into a tight turn. The second was when he pulled into the driveway, the muscle under his eye fluttering and brow falling for split seconds, an acknowledgement that here was where you parted ways.

You swallowed, peeking at his hand still rested on the gearshift, then stared at your own, imagining the strength of his grip enveloping you, grounding you to something other than misery. The gentle grumble of the cooling engine died in the air.

Would a true devil place his own power at risk for the benefit of another? Perhaps it just seemed unfair that the only man who had ever made you feel sacred was the same man who’d desecrated you, too.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, and before he could think to respond, you opened the door and escaped into the house.

As you returned to your room, your hands trembled with the impending reality of your decision. A few days after Tera’s death, you’d received a message in the market from Rey and arranged for this meeting. There’d been no earlier time available--which was fine, you imagined that as one of the main women in the movement, her undercover operations were in high demand--and now that the day had arrived, you were floundering with anxiety. Certainly, some of it was the fear that you’d be implicated, too, though the Resistance seemed confident they could protect you from that.

Most of it was that despite your resolution, guilt sat like mercury in your belly, heavy and viscous. Kylo Ren deserved this--he deserved retribution, deserved whatever condemnation his future might hold.

But still you craved, as you might forever, a reality where the only condemnation he would receive was to your bed, where the rays of his future would merge with yours, coalesce in a brilliant spectrum of light, ultraviolet and perpetual. In true reality, those rays crashed ephemeral for jagged, resplendent moments--only to streak alone through the sky, parallel for eternity.

In your room, you stowed the slip of paper with Tera’s name and birthdate between the tiny crevice in your dresser where wood joined wood. In that same drawer under your spare undergarments was the switchblade, in the space you’d placed it over three weeks ago. Kylo had never come for it or sought its return. You supposed he considered it yours. Swallowing the wad of betrayal in your throat, you grabbed the knife and stuffed it up your sleeve.

After adjusting your boots and wings, you skipped down the steps and headed toward the kitchen to grab your shopping bag. When you crossed the threshold, you were met with Johana, tending to the little garden she kept above the sink. She spun at the sound of your feet, her blue eyes glowing against the stark cobalt of her dress, and she regarded you in silence, as she had for the past two weeks. You knew she was no idiot--she must have known you and the Commander were no longer speaking, but it had done nothing to thaw the frost between you this time.

“Just coming to get my bag, ” you muttered, stepping past her and toward the pantry.

“Did you--” She paused, lips tight over her teeth. “There’s an addition. To what we need today.”

You cleared your throat, forcing a smile in an attempt to be congenial. “Oh. Um. Well… I sure hope it’s not butter.”

She raised a brow. “Butter?”

“Yeah...” Your cheeks blazed with embarrassment. Why had you expected her to remember that? “I just. Forgot it. One time…”

“Ah.” Johana scanned you, releasing a sigh through her nose. “I’m sure whatever I said at that time was only half-warranted.” Her cheeks went pink, and she glanced at the wall. “Not that it matters.”

Her awkwardness was making your heart race. “Um. Yeah.” You chewed your lip. “So… the addition…”

She blinked. “Oh. Right.” Shaking her head, she stood on the tips of her toes, opening the cabinet above the stove. “I noticed we’re out of vegetable oil. Emma forgot to dictate it. So. Vegetable oil.”

“Right.” You nodded. “I’ll get it.”

“Good.” Johana considered you again, gaze traveling from your feet to your eyes, then breaking away. “Anyway.” She shifted, returning to the sink. “I suppose I’ll see you for the Ceremony in a couple nights.”

Another wave of nausea washed over you. You hoped she wouldn’t. “Yep. I… I guess so.”

“I know you might not...” She paused, and shrugged a shoulder, pruning a leaf from one of her herbs. “It’s what God wants. It’s nothing personal.”

You swallowed. “I know, Ms. Johana.”

If you remained on this subject any longer, you absolutely would throw up. Johana glanced over her shoulder, meeting your eyes--almost pitying. You bowed your head, ears hot, striding toward the front door.

“Wait--”

Johana grabbed your arm--her eyes widened, and she froze, face screwed in confusion as she squeezed you. Terror crashed through your spine. You both stood there, paralyzed, each now keenly aware of her accidental discovery of the blade inside of your sleeve. Throat closing, you didn’t dare to breathe, instead forcing your gaze from where her hand clutched you to meet her eyes.

“What is that.” Her nails pinched your forearm as she jerked you forward, surprising strength in her little body. “What is that--”

You wrenched back as she tried to dig into your dress, flailing as you tossed her off. Exhaling, you stepped away, holding your hands up in submission as she gazed at you in horror.

“Hold on!” you said. “Hold on. I’ll…” You had no other option. “I’ll show you.”

With two fingers, you slipped into your sleeve and revealed the knife, rotating it like a showpiece in a museum. Her jaw tightened, brow drawn low.

“Why do you have a switchblade?”

Your chin trembled. “For protection.”

“Protection. Sure.” She snorted, holding out her palm. “You’re not killing anyone in this house. Hand it over.”

Shaking your head, you took a step back. “No.”

Her face scrunched in anger, and she swatted for it. “Give it--”

“No!” You shielded it with your palms, raising it above your head. “I--I can’t!”

She huffed in dismissal, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean you can’t?”

Your fingers quaked, the weapon wobbling in your grip. “It’s…” You weren’t sure of what you were about to say. But you couldn��t think of a single lie that she would believe. “We staged the coup. The Commander and I. This is the one of the only things that… that proves it.”

Johana blinked, drew her hand back as she gazed at you, thoughts loud behind her eyes. Her lips parted in disbelief. “You’re working with the Resistance.”

“Yes.” You swallowed your fear. “I am.”

Breath rattled in her chest, and she stared. “You’re turning him in.”

“I am.”

Her face fell into a scowl. “Well. How--how could you?” She fumbled for the words, like they stung her tongue. “He’s… He isn’t... the most kind man, perhaps, or the most Godly--”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s not Godly at all.”

“But he still deserves respect.”

“Respect? For what?”

“For being your Commander.”

You threw your hands into the air, exasperated. “Why are you defending him?” you exclaimed, stepping closer. “You deserve more than this! More than how he treats you!” As you spoke, you weren’t sure who in the room those words were actually meant for. “Help me bring him down. Work with me. We don’t have to live like this.” A pause, voice falling to a murmur, and your hand fell to your side. “We can be free.”

Johana paused, as if she had never considered the possibility, and stepped back, gaze falling. For long, motionless moments, she stared at the blade gripped in your loose fist, the fire in her pupils guttering to cold, empty desperation. A slow breath escaped her nose, her throat knocking as she swallowed. Another breath, and tears glossed her eyes--she blinked them away, pinning her lips together.

“I…”

She shivered, looking at you. For a flicker, you saw her--the woman who existed, wholived before you, before Kylo Ren, before Gilead--treading deadly water, gasping for respite. Johana’s focus drifted over your dress, then wandered to hers. Like a match, fury flashed her face, and in a swift snake movement, she snatched the blade from your hand.

“--will never betray Gilead.”

You squealed, grabbing for it, but she darted underneath you, skittering toward the hall, popping the blade free and thrusting it toward you. Her face was tight with bitter rage.

“I don’t care what happened with him. You’ve only known him for a few months,” she hissed. “I’ve been married to him for three years.” Her hand was shaking, her voice cracking like plaster. “You have no idea what I’ve endured. And I’ll be damned if you screw it up for me.”

“Johana,” you pleaded, “wait--”

“Don’t force my hand,” she said, jabbing the air. “If you even breathe another word about some Resistance nonsense, I’ll have you taken by the Eyes. I don’t care what the Commander says.” She glanced over you one final time and pushed the blade back, shoving it in her pocket before turning to leave. “And remember the vegetable oil.”

You stood, empty-handed, listening to her footsteps disappear down the hall, mind a miasma. There’d be no escape from this, now, not from this house, not from that man, not from the hovering humiliation of the Ceremony in two nights. She’d taken your only lifeline to freedom. And you somehow doubted that another one might appear.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #little bird #handmaid au #fanfiction problems #wew lads I'm just exhausted

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scribbling-stiks · 3 years

Text

AAR - XXXIV - Hypocrite

Russia is just about to fall asleep when a phone rings. He jolts a little and hears America laughing at him for doing so. Someone answers, and the phone is handed to Russia. He yawns before putting it to his face.

"*Hello?*"

"*Hi,*" Belarus says, "*I want to know if you will be attending the UN meeting today.*"

"*There is a meeting today?*"

"*Yes. Did you not know?*"

"*When does it start?*"

"*In a few minutes. You might want to have the others with you as well.*"

"*Okay. Thank you.*"

Belarus hums before hanging up. Russia stares at the phone for a moment before America snaps in front of his face, catching his attention.

"What was that about?"

"There is a meeting being called by the UN. It starts in a few minutes and I agreed to attend."

"Aw man. Why'd you agree?"

Russia scowls and waves off the question. America pouts and crosses his arms.

"Now I have to go too," America grumbles.

Russia chuckles before pulling himself out of the chair.

"Hey, you can use my laptop to attend. Everything is well enough encrypted," New York volunteers.

Russia agrees and America takes the laptop from the teen.

"Thanks, Yankee."

New York rolls his eyes and walks off with New Jersey.

"Feel free to use the study," Dixie calls from the kitchen, "and y'all just holler if you need anything."

"Okay. Thanks Dixie!"

"No problem. Also, I'll send in Mrs. Finland and Maple Syrup when I see 'em."

America laughs.

"Okay!" America exclaims, waving dramatically to the kitchen. Dixie pokes his head out and waves with the spatula and a loud laugh.

They walk into the study, and Russia smiles at the pounding steps on the stairs. He sits back in one of the office chairs and glares at the screen.

'I should've disagreed.'

America gets the meeting set up quickly and joins. He pushes the computer to the back of the desk and leans on the desk's edge.

"*Hello?*"

"*Hi,*" Belarus says, "*I want to know if you will be attending the UN meeting today.*"

"*There is a meeting today?*"

"*Yes. Did you not know?*"

"*When does it start?*"

"*In a few minutes. You might want to have the others with you as well.*"

"*Okay. Thank you.*"

Belarus hums before hanging up. Russia stares at the phone for a moment before America snaps in front of his face, catching his attention.

"What was that about?"

"There is a meeting being called by the UN. It starts in a few minutes and I agreed to attend."

"Aw man. Why'd you agree?"

Russia scowls and waves off the question. America pouts and crosses his arms.

"Now I have to go too," America grumbles.

Russia chuckles before pulling himself out of the chair.

"Hey, you can use my laptop to attend. Everything is well enough encrypted," New York volunteers.

Russia agrees and America takes the laptop from the teen.

"Thanks, Yankee."

New York rolls his eyes and walks off with New Jersey.

"Feel free to use the study," Dixie calls from the kitchen, "and y'all just holler if you need anything."

"Okay. Thanks Dixie!"

"No problem. Also, I'll send in Mrs. Finland and Maple Syrup when I see 'em."

America laughs.

"Okay!" America exclaims, waving dramatically to the kitchen. Dixie pokes his head out and waves with the spatula and a loud laugh.

They walk into the study, and Russia smiles at the pounding steps on the stairs. He sits back in one of the office chairs and glares at the screen.

'I should've disagreed.'

America gets the meeting set up quickly and joins. He pushes the computer to the back of the desk and leans on the desk's edge.

"Well, look who took his bloody time coming back," UK sneers.

"America, what happened to your eye?" Ireland asks, curious and not letting UK start his tirade.

America grins. "Got hit. What's it look like?"

Ireland gives a hardy laugh.

"Only you Ame," Ireland says, shaking his head.

"Wait, is Finland with you?" Norway asks.

"Yeah," America replies with a nod, "she'll be here in a minute to say hi."

Norway's eyes light up and Sweden pops into frame, bouncing around like an excited puppy. Russia stands up from his seat.

"*I will go get them,*" he grumbles to America, who nods.

Russia walks out to the hallway and shuts the door behind him. He turns and calls for them as loud as he can bring his voice. There is a moment of silence before Finland appears from the first and Canada bounds down from the third.

"What's going on?" Finland asks curiously.

"Meri and I are in a UN meeting. They are asking for you."

"I still love that you call him that," Canada says with a laugh.

Russia rolls his eyes and allows them into the study.

"And when we're on the run from the feds, it's kinda hard to keep track of a pair of sunglasses," America says with the wave of his hand, "Oh! Hey Russ."

Russia grins and walks up beside America. Finland enters quickly and takes Russia's seat and Russia sees the others flinch on the screen. Russia could've laughed. He leans on the back of America's chair and Canada walks around him to stand in between the two chairs.

Then Russia sees someone log in a little late. It takes a moment to load and when it does, Russia can see his family behind it. His father looks worse for wear, almost completely exhausted.

Then he could hear some of the audio.

"*Grandpa?*" a small voice asks.

Soviet turns for a moment and a fond smile grows on his face.

"*Would you like to sit with me?*" Soviet asks someone off-screen, his voice is kind and soft.

"*Yes please,*" Alaska replies quietly.

Alaska wanders into the frame, only her hair and hat visible.

'The wolf ears are cute.'

"Soviet," UN says, looking a little stunned, "would you like to introduce your little guest?"

Soviet doesn't respond, instead just taking Alaska into his lap. He situates the bundle of blankets under an arm before returning his attention to the meeting.

"She will not be a problem," Soviet says, a hardened look in his eye.

"But who is that?" UN pushes.

"It is none of your concern," Soviet answers bluntly.

Alaska curls up under the light pink blanket and Soviet leans back a little to accommodate. Russia feels his heart melt a little.

'She looks so small,' he coos mentally.

"Is it another satellite state?" UN questions, suspicious.

"She is nothing of the sort and I suggest you not question me," Soviet says, giving a harsh glare in the direction of the camera that made even Russia shrink back a little.

UN sends one last suspicious look before turning to the others.

"As mentioned earlier, welcome back to Finland, Canada, America, and Russia," UN says loudly, "Is there any news we should know about here?"

America raises his arm and begins waving it as UN seems to ignore him. Russia puts a hand on America's shoulder to keep him in his seat.

"*Calm down,*" Russia says.

"*But it's important! You know that!*" America hisses back.

"*He can't ignore you forever,*" Russia says, and America sits back with a pout, his hand still in the air.

Finland stands while UN rambles on about some economic trade deal that Russia knew wouldn't pass from the start and she quietly excuses herself. Canada does the same a few moments later and Russia falls back into the vacant chair.

'I want to leave like that,' he mentally scoffs, 'but I'm required.'

"Okay. I'm done waiting because this is important and I want to get the word out before all the peripheral viewers leave," America says, leaning against the table, "First, Philippines is with us, safe and just upstairs. Second, this isn't just one monster. This isn't and will not ever be a few random attacks."

"What are you talking about?" UN questions, his eyes flashing with a sort of recognition that Russia's hair bristles at.

"It's a huge, organized operation. We aren't sure yet on their main base of operation, but they have several separate bases and, from what we could gather, they seem to be set on 'unlocking' the gift of immortality and they plan to use personifications to do it," America explains.

UN hums with a nervous look.

"What do you know?" Russia questions.

"What?" UN stammers.

"What. Do. You. Know?" Russia demands, staring at the camera.

"We know you know more than you're telling us," America accuses.

"I can't-"

"You will tell us," America says, standing up and slamming his palms against the desk, "and you will tell us right f***ing now. My kids are in danger and we're trying to figure out what's going on. I know my government is involved."

"Are you involved?!" UK yells, pointing to the screen

"No, he is not," Russia defends, standing up and moving to stand behind America, crossing his arms, "he is trying to find why his children are targets."

"Tell us what you know," Soviet orders, cradling the bundle of blankets on his chest protectively.

"We will not ask again," America threatens, his eyes glowing a light blue and his hands start sparking.

Russia puts a hand on his shoulder. America looks up at him with a bloodthirsty gaze and Russia shakes his head.

'It's not worth it.'

America turns back with a snarl but subdues his magic. For now.

"They were organized attacks from the beginning," UN mumbles.

"And?" America asks, his tone oddly calm as he sits back in his seat. Russia follows suit.

"We didn't know how they were being planned, but the abductions were targeting countries or personifications that were by themselves. We know that their main headquarters is in North America, though we don't know where."

"How do you know this?" America asks, glaring, "Are you involved with this bulls***?"

"No!" UN exclaims, waving his hands frantically, "I am not involved. We do have agents in the system, but none of them are high enough to confirm anything."

America hums disbelievingly but doesn't push it.

"How many attacks have happened?" Russia asks, forcing his attention back to the problem at hand.

"Dozens," UN admits, "at least dozens of speculated attacks. We know that 20, give or take a few, are definitively tied to the Revolution."

"So York was right with that name," America mutters.

"You knew?"

"We were guessing," America replies, "I was stabbed in the back. Nearly died of blood poisoning, but that's another story. Anyway, the knife and the random cameras-"

"Cameras?" Ireland interrupts

"While we were held, we were watched," Russia explains, "Dixie noticed that some of them had a strange symbol on the back."

"Who's Dixie?"

"Not important! So, we traced the symbol back to the Revolution. We don't know much, but we did see them recruiting. Also, Their bases are labeled with the Greek alphabet," America says, "I have another question. If you knew more than you let on, why didn't you tell anyone? Because let me tell you if I had known half that, I wouldn't have gotten myself captured to figure it out."

UN sighs as expectant gazes reach him. He is quiet for a moment.

'Answer him,' Russia thinks with a scowl.

"I was told not to by my superiors," UN finally mutters.

"That's f***ing stupid," America bites, "Do you know how much we lost trying to get information that you already had?!"

UN flinches.

"We were f***ing kidnapped and held there until, by a miracle, we were able to get out of there alive. We're lucky we made it out of that hijacked hospital at all!" America shouts, "then I lose an eye for maps and paperwork that you had access to?!"

"You have maps?!" UN exclaims.

"You will let me finish, you f***ing b*****d. Do you know how hard it is to admit to my f***ing children that I don't know when anything will go back to normal?! I can barely tell distance anymore, and for what?! For you to tell us that you knew?!"

America huffs, scowling into the camera. As much as Russia wanted to take his hand and comfort him, he resists. Russia chooses instead to give UN a vicious and cold look.

'I don't want the other countries to know anything about us.'

America slams a fist onto the desk with a vicious snarl.

"You know what?! F*** THIS! F*** YOU! What's the F***ING POINT if you're not going to tell us ANYTHING?!" America shouts, throwing his hands to his sides and tears prick in the corners of his eyes.

"America, please calm down," UN pleads.

"Why should he calm down?" Russia growls, standing up and ignoring the lightheaded feeling that hits him when he does, "This is information we need to solve this issue and you don't tell us until we demand it. *Many of us almost die trying to stop an unknown enemy that you had eyes on. We are cursed, captured, chased, and nearly eaten, and only after we are almost taken for medical experimentation and tracked down by soldiers do you tell us anything.*"

The outer edges of Russia's vision go red and he bares his teeth. He pushes back the urge to punch the wall and scream.

"*My brother was taken because you couldn't tell us that you have people involved here that could have given a warning,*" Russia spits.

"You did not tell me you had maps or that you have access to one of the bases," UN snaps, crossing his arms.

Russia slams his fists down on the desk, causing the desk to splinter on the edge. He ignores the wood digging into his hand and glares at UN with resentment.

"*You expect us to tell you anything when you keep information to yourself?!*" Russia wails, his mind searching for something to destroy, "*You get angry at us for having information when we must fight for it from you!*"

"Rue," America says quietly.

Russia spins around and sees America looking up at him with a pleading look masking the anger and sadness Russia can see just beneath it. Russia takes a deep breath before turning back, giving a nasty glare. A stream of expletives flows through his mind as he tries to calm himself down.

Russia forces himself to sit back down, and he sneers at the laptop. UN makes a feeble attempt to change the subject, and the other countries present take it to avoid any more conflict. Russia begins dozing off in the chair, barely able to keep his eyes open long enough to listen to the full speech.

Suddenly, someone is gently shaking his shoulder. Russia blinks for a moment and seems America standing above him.

"Come on, sleepy-head. Let's go to bed. My room is down the hall," America says with a tired smile.

Russia forces himself to his feet and stumbles behind America with a yawn. They walk in and Russia zeros in on the fluffy pillows and fuzzy-looking blankets. He stumbles into the edge of the bed and falls into it. America giggles from behind him.

"Hey! You know I have to sleep there too," America teases, poking Russia in the side.

Russia grumbles and moves to put his head into the pillows. America laughs quietly before sitting on the edge of the bed. Russia reaches up and grabs America by his midsection and tugs him down. America topples ontop of him with a squeak.

"Sleep," Russia grumbles, hugging America like a child with their favorite doll.

America giggles, squirming a little to get comfortable.

"Can we have the blankets?" America asks playfully.

Russia grunts and sits up a little, using one hand to tug at the covers until they come loose enough to toss over them. Russia clings to America, relaxing with the heat America seemed to radiate. Russia kisses America's forehead before drifting off, bathed in a faint, light blue glow.

Table of Contents

#rusame #ch russia #ch america #statehumans #countryhumans

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jayxscripta · 3 years

Text

The Mahaigner - Chapter Nine

I'M BACK Y'ALL

I swear I'm trying to update regularly. There's a lot going on.

Someone had a lot to say this morning.

She blinked, lifting her head out of the pillow, and groaned. The headache, which she now knew was the flagship of her powers, had returned with a vengeance. And with it had come a voice echoing around in her head.

The feeling was similar to what she had heard and felt right before the incident at the compound, right before she had blacked out. But the voice was so muffled she couldn’t make out what it was saying.

She sat up, ran her hands down her face, and hugged her middle. It was too early for this. Her rest—in a downy bed, in a room bigger than some apartments she had lived in—had been blissful. She hadn’t slept that well in a long time. But now the only thing she could feel was panic. And frustration about being panicked. She didn’t want to lose control of her powers—she couldn’t go through that again. Not just the pain, or the fear, but the guilt.

She stumbled out of her room and down the hallway. This was the suite side of the palace, where guests stayed, so her chances of finding someone to help her depended entirely upon what time of the day it was.

Eventually, she passed Rogers, who was not who she had been hoping to find. But he directed her towards the training center, where he said both Ivanoff and Maximoff usually were this time of the day. So it worked out in the end.

As the training center’s elevator doors slid open noiselessly, Madeline debated her decision to come down here. She had no choice, really—but she also knew it would be awkward, and maybe even downright embarrassing if Ivanoff was still irritated.

The woman in question was, at that moment, beating at some sort of punching bag. It must have been a special, reinforced bag, because it was stretched and secured from the ceiling to the floor. Ivanoff looked like she was trying to destroy it, her wrapped hands aglow with some sort of energy charge.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Her voice startled Madeline back into some semblance of reality. “They’re flame retardant. They have been ever since my first incident here.”

“Makes sense,” she agreed, stepping closer slowly. She didn’t imagine T’Challa would be too thrilled with his training center being burned down.

Ivanoff stopped her barrage of punching to look at her expectantly. “Did you need something?”

“I’m having problems controlling my powers, I figured you and Maximoff could help.” It felt a little odd to address the Sokovian by her last name, as if they were teammates, but it would be stranger to call her “Wanda”.

Ivanoff eyed her uncertainly, before shrugging and nodding. “I can try. Do you want to try the new bracelets? Shuri brought them over this morning.”

After Madeline nodded, Ivanoff dug the bracelets out of her bag and handed them over. To her surprise, they were light—unlike Stark’s pair—and looked more like actual bracelets than handcuffs or a piece of technology. Silver, cool metal pressed gently against her skin as she slipped them on her wrist. But it wasn’t uncomfortable—she might even be able to forget she was wearing them, in time. “They’re not bad at all,” Madeline said honestly, unable to hide her surprise.

“You’ll find that Shuri’s tech almost always works well,” Ivanoff said, a little amused. “And often better than well. Do you want to try using them?”

“I am?” Madeline returned, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Your powers, not the bracelets.”

Her eyes widened, and she nearly threw her neck out of place in her hurry to shake her head. “No.”

“Why not?” Madeline nearly jumped at Maximoff’s voice—she hadn’t even noticed her walking into the room.

She recovered after a few seconds. “Nothing good ever comes from using my powers.”

“Trust me,” Maximoff said, lips caught between a grimace and a smile. “We know all about that.”

“The cuffs aren’t meant to stop you from using them,” Ivanoff added. “They’re to help you manage them—channel and eventually learn to use them.”

“I—” her sentence never saw the light of day. Madeline’s shoulders dropped. “How do you do it?”

The look on the two ex-Avengers’ faces showed that they knew she was talking about more than just using her powers. “Having powers is hard,” Maximoff began. “Not only are you an anomaly in every sense of the word, but people always fear you for being stronger than them.”

“You have to prove yourself over and over again, and you’re still never good enough,” Ivanoff added. “It’s frustrating as hell.”

“Don’t they have a reason to fear us?” Madeline questioned, but it wasn’t one to be answered. Maximoff hesitated. Ivanoff’s lips tightened, looking as if she wanted to say something. But instead, she just nodded defeatedly. Which, unfortunately, is exactly how Madeline knew her own thought was right. “Does it ever… make you feel guilty?”

Maximoff turned away, hiding a flinch, and Madeline immediately regretted asking. She had no idea what Maximoff had been through, or what had really happened, but if she were going off what Wilson had said, it had hardly been fair or right.

“Of course, I’m not a stranger to having guilt,” Ivanoff answered, casting a concerned glance at her teammate. “Especially when it comes to my powers. But why should I feel guilty? Because I exist? Nobody deserves to be treated the way they treated us.” Her eyes met Madeline’s steadily. “The way they treated you.”

“Then how can you just sit back and watch them do the same thing to Banner and the Asgardians? When there’s a chance we could change it?”

Ivanoff leveled Madeline a pointed stare. She looked as if she had been expecting this topic to come up at some point. “I would love to help them. But I don’t know if anything I say will make a difference. It didn’t last time.”

Madeline could tell she didn’t just mean with the Accords. A lot of terrible things had happened between Ivanoff and her cousin, and there was a chance that the split was permanent. That their fighting had forever destroyed the Avengers—their family—and that there would be no real resolution to the division.

“From what I’ve heard, for what it’s worth, I can tell he misses you. He just looks like he has this burden that he can’t rid of.”

“I’m sure me dying is not the only contributing factor.”

“Probably not,” Madeline agreed. “But it’s also probably pretty high on the list.”

“I’d rather avoid that reckoning altogether, if I can.”

“So, you wouldn’t change your vote?” Maximoff asked, arms folded across her chest. She may have rejoined the conversation, but she was guarded now.

Ivanoff hesitated. “I don’t know. This isn’t just about me. I don’t know what they’ll do when we turn ourselves in. But I will not let the team split again.”

Madeline nodded her head slowly. Things like this were never easy, never just black or white. Rather, they were usually nestled comfortably in that wide, gray area nobody could ever navigate.

“I think we should start with power channeling,” Maximoff said. It came out rushed, as if she was eager to change the subject. Madeline couldn’t blame her.

And with that, her first lesson began.

Both Ivanoff and Maximoff were full of advice. Their desultory instructions ranged anywhere from meditation to which hand motions were best for drawing power. Somehow, Madeline didn’t think she was quite there yet, but their “cart-before-the-horse”enthusiasm was endearing in its own way.

She worked with the two Secret Avengers for close to an hour—at times observing how they channeled and honed their powers, and at other times trying to emulate what they were doing. It was draining, exhausting work, and worst of all, even with the bracelets she couldn’t produce so much as a whisper of magic. She tried animating several different barbell weights, but to no avail. When every attempt to move them failed, she even tried to use her other abilities on Ivanoff.

The Russian had insisted Madeline’s powers wouldn’t affect her as badly, even if the experiment did work. Madeline didn’t know how she could be so sure—they had no way of knowing how her powers had affected Dr. Strange. But she had no reason to worry, because her powers didn’t work that time, either.

No matter how hard she tried, how deeply she dug, she couldn’t force her powers to the surface. Something was there. She could feel it, but there was something covering it up. As if her mind was an abandoned house, and her powers the old grand piano shrouded with a yellowed sheet—except the sheet was tacked down with cinderblocks.

Ivanoff and Maximoff were just as mystified. They had helped to train other enhanced people, but Madeline’s powers were like nothing they had seen before. Or rather, her abilities were “stubborn”, as Ivanoff had put it.

She left the training room dissatisfied, and unsettled. Not necessarily just because she couldn’t use her powers, but because she didn’t feel any relief. She had thought that her powers not working would be like a weight lifted off her shoulders, that she should be happy to not have to worry about using them or causing a disaster. But now that she found she couldn’t use them, it felt like some part of her was incomplete.

Madeline got déjà vu as the Secret Avengers once again settled around the table in the meeting room. With any luck, they would come to a more favorable conclusion than they had the day before.

“So,” T’Challa began, folding his arms behind his back, “what have you decided?”

“I’m staying with my original vote,” Romanoff said firmly, and Maximoff nodded, raising a finger in agreement. Now Madeline knew what courage it took for the younger girl to make that decision.

Rogers stole a look at Ivanoff, who was on the opposite side of the room. “I’m sticking with my vote too,” he said.

“I think we all are,” Wilson said quietly. There was no objection from Barnes, either. Why should they want to leave? Wakanda was safe, especially for someone like the Winter Soldier. And Madeline and Loki.

Everyone turned to look at Ivanoff. “Victoria?” Barnes asked.

Ivanoff chewed her lip, her eyes sweeping the room. She must have looked at every person in the room, perhaps gauging their reaction. Her eyes lingered on Barnes for a bit, and when she looked at Madeline, her lips twitched into a sad smile. “I’ll change my vote. I vote that we go back.”

Wilson’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I know, Sam. Trust me, I thought about—”

“You were in here all fired up yesterday because of what Stark did—what they’re going to do to us again—and now you want to go back?”

“Guys, come on, let’s not lose our heads—” Rogers’ attempt at peacemaking was bulldozed by his teammates.

“You don’t think this doesn’t bother me? You think I want to face him?” Ivanoff shot back. Her face betrayed every bit of the confliction Madeline knew she felt. After talking with her earlier that morning, it was impossible to not see. “Nobody wins here. What else could I have done? Tied the vote? Where would that have gotten us?”

Barnes shifted away from her, almost imperceptibly. It was clear he was uncomfortable—maybe even feeling a bit betrayed. “What changed your mind?”

“I may have… pressed her on the topic,” Madeline confessed, in turn earning each of the ex-Avengers’ hard and incredulous stares. Except for Maximoff, naturally. She already knew. Rogers, however, looked particularly enlightened. She didn’t know what possessed her to say so, but it felt wrong to sit back and watch her be berated for her decision. “I mean, we talked. Then I understood why she didn’t want to go back. I guess she understood why I did.”

“And why, pray tell, would you do that?” Loki rebutted. “This isn’t our decision to make.”

Ivanoff snorted. “So now you’re an advocate for people having free will?”

Madeline turned to Loki. If he wanted an argument, he had picked a good day and a good opponent. “Don’t we owe it to the people who have helped us to help them?”

Loki shook his head. “You should have stayed out of it.”

“Why? Because you don’t want to go back?” Madeline snapped. “Because you’re too afraid to face the people you’ve wronged?”

His face fell a little, but he recovered immediately. As if she hadn’t said anything. “If that were the case then I’d never face anybody.”

“Well, you’re doing it right now.” Madeline glared, hoping he would remember her mother. Even just for a second. A mere spec on his rap sheet, a casualty in his war. “I’m going to go pack.”

“Boudreaux—” As she spun around, she didn’t see him reach out. But she did feel his hand as it wrapped around her wrist like an icy vine, tugging her backward into a black abyss. Are all Asgardians that cold? She wondered, and then slumped backwards unconscious, a roar in her ears and a bright, golden wave surging outward in her wake.

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hoseokslefteyebrow · 4 years

Text

The Baby Project || M.YG || 20

Pairing : Min Yoongi X Reader

Genre : Fluff

Summary : What happens when you and Yoongi are supposed to take care of a baby for a month?

Wordcount: 1.2k

The Baby Project Masterlist | Next

Taglist :

@joyful-jimin @kisskissshutmydoor @nanie5 @jayhope88 @peachymochimochi

You put in your earrings before staring at your reflection. Remember when you told yourself you looked like a shiny potato in the dress? Now, with your mother's jewelry which you had picked up allong the way earlier, and the dress, you looked like a potato twister with paprika seasoning, you were hot.

You winked at your reflection before stepping into your dress and putting it on. Your arms were quite flexible, so you didn't need any help in getting it on.

" Hey." You cheekily greeted your boyfriend as you stepped out of the bathroom attached to his room.

He turned around to greet you, looking up for a moment from buttoning his shirt to greet you, but taking a double take when he realized just how fine you looked.

" Damn, you look beautiful love." Yoongi smiled as he licked his lips.

" You look quite handsome yourself." You smiled back at him, helping him button up his last few buttons, leaving the last one open.

Yoongi was wearing an all black suit with a navy blue blouse which he had randomly found in his closet earlier allong with a black vest for underneath the black blazer.

" Thanks. By the way, there's something I need to warn you about for the party." Yoongi said, his smile slowly falling from his lips.

" What is it?" You asked.

" There's going to be press outside of the building. I'm going to need you to not leave my side while we're out and to not let the press get to you, okay?"

" Mr Min, is this your girlfriend?-"

" Wow, mr Min, you got a good catch.-"

" This is really the best you managed to find, mr Min?"

" Ceo Min, is this your son's first official lover?"

Yoongi glared at all the press, disliking how they were trying to bring you down. Yet he stood tall and held you close to him as you were walking on the red carpet into the hotel where party was held at. You looked absolutely beautiful tonight, and he just hoped that he looked worthy in beauty standards for standing by your side.

The two of you stopped to pose for a moment, and Yoongi felt proud at how you were handeling the situation. You didn't give a damn about them, and the only attention the press has recieved was you running your eyes over all of them coldly, as if you owned them. Yoongi was pretty sure you did.

Unknowing to him, Jimin was only a few steps behind the two of you. Him and his 'girlfriend of the week' were having a tough time. His girlfriend, Sega, was trying to deny being Jimin's plaything, yet Jimin was ignoring both her and the press, once in a while sneaking a curious look at you. Who were you and why did you seem to own everyone around you with that sharp gaze of yours?

Yoongi's father didn't know what to do. He didn't like his son's girlfriend, yet you seemed more suitable for his boy than the girl he had planned to introduce Yoongi to in this party. The girl who was supposed to marry him had been a few steps in front of Yoongi's father, who had tried not to cringe at how she was behaving. That girl might've been from one of his business partners, but she was certainly a shame for the family. She had not been handeling the press well, and she was practically raised to. Yoongi's father wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but he was proud of his son for choosing someone who handled everything this effortlessly.

" Would you like a drink miss?" A random waiter with champagbe stopped by you and Yoongi's table.

" No thank you." You smiled gently at him.

The waiter nodded in respect and turned to Yoongi, who did take him up on his offer.

" Yoongi hyung, Y/N! nice to see you two again." Jimin smiled as he joined you and Yoongi's table. ( Yoongi's father was already out of Yoongi's eyesight as you two had entered, and Yoongi decided that his father will go look for the two of you himself if he decided to be seen with you.)

" Park." You nodded at him, Yoongi raising his glass as greeting.

" You know you don't have to keep calling me by my last name right? " Jimin pouted as he looked at you.

" Where's your girl of the week?" Yoongi asked casually as he gulped down the first sip of his drink.

Jimin shrugged.

" Went to redo her make up I think."

" Poor girl." You mumbled, not realizing you said that out loud.

" Hey! She's blessed by dating me." Jimin scoffed offended.

You raised a brow at him.

" Can I take a sip?" You asked your boyfriend, who grinned and handed you his glass.

Jimin huffed.

" Damn this stuff is strong." You scrunched your face up in disgust as the burning liquid flowed down your throat, Yoongi smiling fondly as he took his glass from you.

" Hey Jiminie! Who are you?" Sega joined you, Jimin and Yoongi at your table, throwing you a disgusting look.

" Baby~ Relax, this is his girlfriend." Jimin purred to her.

" Ew. You could've done a little more about your appearance you know." Sega looked at you with a disgusted look.

Well, that certainly hurt your feelings, you really felt pretty for tonight.

Yoongi opened his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

" Thank you for sharing your unasked opinion, but I'd rather hear it from someone who actually looks pretty." You smiled fakely at her.

Yoongi smirked in satisfaction before turning to glare coldly at the girl.

" She's right, you know? Also, don't talk trash about my woman, girl. She's more beautiful than you'll ever be." Yoongi said sharply.

Sega turned to look at Jimin for help.

" Sorry, but hyung's right." Jimin smiled a little too sweetly.

The girl glared at Jimin before storming off, throwing an 'you're an ass Jimin' behind her back.

" She'll get over it." Jimin sighed.

You blinked at him.

At least the girl was right about one thing, the male in front of you was certainly an ass indeed.

" Care to join me for a dance?" Yoongi asked, suprising you.

As far as you were concerned, Yoongi did not dance.

" Hyung's going to dance-"

" Shut it Park." Yoongi cut Jimin off with a glare.

" I'd love that." You smiled and took his hand.

Yoongi's father was watching you two gently swining to the soft music from afar, having made a decision. He's been a bad dad for long enough now.

[ A/N: I'd like to tell y'all that both Yoongi & the Teader are over whatever age (depends on country) to drink legally. Else this story would've been real crazy. ( Honestly fellas whi trusts 16 year olds in one apartment room with a child?)]

* Also, this is the dress I had in mind :)

#bts #bts x reader #idkeitherman #min yoongi #bts housemates au #min yoongi x reader #bts fluff #bts ceo au #bts baby

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nurseofren · 4 years

Text

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 15 (NSFW)

Read on AO3

Read chapter fourteen (NSFW)

Title: Come to Me

Words: 8300 (I... apologize greatly)

Summary: Yeah, maybe that wasn't the best decision after all...

Warnings: Bloodplay-ish, verbal abuse, humiliation, violence, light bondage.

ST Rambles: Well, well, well. With twelve minutes to midnight, I did get it up. I've been writing this thing all day (given I'd been avoiding writing it all week, buuut), and I think it works. I apologize for the length omg. Literally the longest thing I've ever written.

I didn't expect last week's response to be so... grand? I loved last week's chapter and I'm so happy y'all did too. Now, to work on next week's!

[Masterlist]

The bruising was nearly imperceptible after a week, even so you concentrated on your reflection, trying to rest Mason’s shirt over the ghosted mark splayed over your larynx. Mason’s apartment was never well lit anyway, acting as an additional cover for what had once required a skilled hand at concealer and powder. Pulling back on the shoulders of the borrowed shirt, you mussed with it until an exasperated sigh dropped your hands to your sides, a flat face staring back at you as you reluctantly surrendered after five wasted minutes of meticulous staging. Mason was always over-observant, a skill necessary for every physician, but only currently serving as a foundation to your overthinking.

“Hey, I threw your uniform in the washer while you were showering,” Mason called beyond the bathroom door. “It just finished drying. I’m gonna put it on the coffee table. Is that okay?”

Mason had always been a genuine person, always showing his affection in addition to saying it. After months of chaos, his little act of kindness warmed through your heart, a sense of home you had only ever felt when he was around. It had been so long since you’d got to spend quality time with him – gosh, it had to have been before graduation, before careers and superiors came into your lives – and it was nice having him near, feeling safe for the first time since returning to Starkiller.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” you called back. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. How’re those clothes working for you?” His voice carried closer to the door. “I made sure they were from my pre-jacked years.”

A laugh snuck something that resembled a smile into the mirror. “Yeah, okay, Mr. Tough Guy. I’m sure your gigantic arms would shred this shirt to pieces by now.”

“Oh, so you think I have gigantic arms, huh? Why don’t you come out here and I’ll give you a ticket to the gun show?”

You shook your head in the mirror, rolling your eyes and smiling. “You are ridiculous, Mason McCarty. Sometimes I can’t remember why I’m friends with you.”

“Oh, yeah right. You know you love me.”

With one last primp at your collar, and a tug at the tied drawstrings hanging at your hips, you pulled the door open and leaned onto the threshold. Mason was doing the same, only mirrored, looking down to you, crossing his arms across his chest. He was wearing a rendition of what he’d given you, only less worn. He wasn’t wrong, though, his arms were impressive. He’d gotten bigger since you’d met with him before the Finalizer.

“I tolerate you,” you teased. “Don’t get it twisted.”

He tilted his head, his face falling into an exaggerated pout. “Is that how you speak to someone who got your favorite for dinner?”

The question made you aware of the familiar aroma that filled the room. You looked behind him, spotting the take-out bag atop the coffee table, your uniform neatly folded next to it. This was all so nice, like a sleepover, though you suspected this arrangement would last at least a week, long enough to scout out your apartment and get the locks changed.

“Fine,” you shrugged, “maybe I do love you. But only for your food.”

The two of you bumped each other’s sides and laughed your way to the couch. Mason unpacked the bag, handing you a utensil and a handful of napkins before opening the take-out containers. You curled up into the corner of the couch, resting your food between your chest and legs, facing him as he dug in with you.

“So, now that I’ve provided you with food, water, and shelter, are you ready to tell me what the hell is going on?” He took a bite, looking over at you beyond your knees.

Life had looked so different since you’d last seen him; between Kylo Ren and your career, you were nearly an entirely new person. Though, instead of wisdom you had obtained an overwhelming amount of complications in your time away from Mason. Service between Starkiller and the Finalizer was only approved on official First Order equipment; your cell reception disallowing communication through space, keeping you from seeking Mason for gossip or encouragement when you needed it most.

Chewing the last of your bite, you quickly swallowed and rested your arms. “How long have you got?”

“All night, if that’s what you need. I’m worried about you,” your name was genuine on his tongue, true concern edging his tone.

“Jeez,” you sighed. “Where do I even start?”

The confessional acted as a refresher, a reminder of just how bizarre life had gotten while away. Mason had slowed his bites after you told him about your living situation, stopping completely after you walked him through the patient seizing and bleeding out. As you described the egregious scene, you subconsciously traced your hand over your throat, as if mentioning the events that had led to your bruising would make it obvious to him. When you told him about Talia, he seemed to have a peace come over him, like knowing you had a friend away from him had been a concern in your absence. He shared in your disgust over Hux, obviously angered at how much of a show he’d made of parading you through the communal area to his office.

“You called him Armitage? To his face?” He was stunned, at this point his food was getting colder, his hunger sated by your words instead of his meal.

“I will admit that it wasn’t the best choice. But, Mason, let me tell you… it felt so good.”

His brow creased. “And he just let you off the hook? No suspension?”

Your stomach curdled, the sight of food making you sick. Setting your meal back on the counter, you took a breath. “Well, not for now, but… at some point.”

He followed suit, putting his food down and leaning in. He sat crisscross before you, his elbows resting on his knees as he listened to your explanation of the circumstances surrounding your career. His face fell as yours had when you brought up the Board of Physicians, realizing just how deep the hole you had dug yourself had become. He said nothing, only listening as you recounted last night in more detail, still shivering at the memory of the damaged door, the faded pain at your back reappearing when you mentioned the winter that was the assessment room.

“And right after you hung up, he appeared out of nowhere, like some ghost.” Robbie’s voice vividly replayed as your recounted your run-in from earlier.

“But… I thought you said he’d been demoted. Why – how was he there?” He was expressive now, angry with Robbie as you were scared.

“He wasn’t supposed to be there. He left his station because he knew the Command Shuttle had returned.” Absentmindedly, you rang your hand around your wrist, the shadow of his clutch reappearing, the violation he’d wrought overwhelming even in the dim light of Mason’s apartment.

“And where is your – what was it – your master in all of this? You’d think he’d care more about the wellbeing of the care provider he picked himself.”

Though Kylo Ren was the root cause of everything you’d just shared with Mason, you had purposely left out any detail that mentioned him; you knew it was necessary to stay with Mason, understanding that any video evidence of you coming or going to your superior’s quarters at this hour would only expedite the Board’s judgement, but you still felt unease over disregarding the commands of your master. In an effort to put him off your trail, you’d left your watch in the assessment room, hiding it in his spare uniforms and hoping he hadn’t also pulled Mason’s file. Here was where you were safe from everything – Robbie, the Board of Physicians, and the manipulation of Kylo Ren – and you kept repeating that thought, trying to drown out the blaring reminders of just how unsafe you truly were.

Mason’s inquisitions had successfully torn down your efforts not to breakdown. His face twisted into shock before yours fell into your hands, tears that had been welling up since this morning falling without will, spilling over your cupped fingers and down your wrists. Mason scooted over to you, pulling you from the couch and into his arms, your wet eyes pressed against his warm shoulder. He ran his hands up and down your heaving back, your breath shattered as sobs hiccupped through you. It was a release that your body hadn’t felt safe enough to let out, only breaking when it knew someone would be around to hold you together as the torrent decimated your outward façade of apathy.

He shushed you, one of his hands smoothing strands of hair behind your ear. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“Mason, it’s not. It’s never going to be okay again.” The words left in broken spurts of muffled sobs. “I can’t fix this. I – I did this. All of this is my fault.”

He lulled your name, pulling you closer into him, seemingly keeping your chest from shattering. “You saved him, shh. If you believe that in your heart, you have to know that you did the right thing. And the Board will see that. I promise.”

He held you, his arms an anchor, keeping you from drowning in sorrow. Time was foreign, never considering its presence as your heaving lungs fell into gasps, and then into stillness. Eventually the only sound that you were aware of was how his heart thumped in his chest, strong and even – seventy-eight beats per minute, you regarded, mindlessly counting them out of habit. When you grew tired of his pulse, you focused in on his breathing, the clear sounds of his lungs matching the tide of his chest, leading your head with him. He’d rested his chin atop the crown of your head, his index finger continuing its tracing over your ear’s helix, the gentle touch the basis for your return from crisis.

Letting the security of his touch sink in for one last moment, you sighed and pulled back, his arms permitting your journey back to self-support. He kept a hand on your hair, his thumb tracing over your temple, his fingers splaying towards the base of your skull, an additional support as your puffy eyes sought his through hazed vision. Before recently, Mason had been the only person to see you cry; he never made you feel wrong about it, always riding out the storm and sticking around to help you rebuild. And nothing had changed, his presence right now only proving just how permanent a fixture he was in your life.

“How can you promise something you have no say in?” Your words were quiet, cracking at the ends.

“We were taught to never make promises we can’t keep,” he said, the dim light casting a heavenly contour over his cheekbones. “I know that you’re going to come out of this stronger than before. You know why?”

You sniffled and swallowed, looking between his eyes. “Why, Mason?”

“You won’t have to convince the Board of your character. They’ll know. Just like I do.”

“You know me.” The words were so simple, yet they swelled in your chest as you stared back at him, your eyes falling down to his lips for the smallest fragment of a second.

“I know you.” He followed in your glance, nearly imperceptible in its speed.

In the warm light, your heart seemed to glow at this exchange. Mason did know you. And you knew him just the same. He had been your safety for so long, a physical embodiment of protection whenever you needed or wanted it. Here he was before you, an incandescent reminder of the boy you’d yearned for, but knew was too unavailable to build anything with. Now, though, there was nothing stopping you from reaching out and taking hold of the energy surging between you; there was nothing to stop you from manifesting all that you’d pined after for all those years before settling on companionship.

You brought your hand up to his, matching your fingers over his and wrapping them across his palm. There was an influx of fluttering between both of your glances, a silent inquiry of are you sure shared in the proximity. Another hand came up to grasp the other side of your face, landing with the intent of stability; his lips parted, yours following suit, and he brought your lips towards his. It felt foreign as you followed into his hands’ slow path, chin quivering as your felt the warmth of his breath brush over your mouth. With a final glance of consent, he closed his eyes.

With a swallow, you steeled yourself and let your lids fall, breath stalling as you waited for the feel of his undiscovered lips; when his forehead met yours, you searched for the intensity you’d once known for him so long ago, regarding the salient lack of want even in his nearness. This was the farthest thing from how you’d always imagined this moment before; in school, you had dreamt so often of being with Mason McCarty, imagining how it would feel to be chosen by him, to be the golden girl he’d end up with among all the others you’d witnessed leaving his dorm at all hours of the night. Something felt empty in his hold, though, like you’d grown to want more than the boy next door.

His nose pressed into your face, his lips only millimeters from yours, completely unaware of the inward turmoil consuming you as he drew ever closer. Before you could shove it all down and give in to what you had sworn you’d always wanted, the door to Mason’s residence hissed open, the sound ricocheting through the silence. For a fragment of a second, you were relieved, accepting the interruption as a way to delay confronting the lackluster of Mason’s touch. That was it, though, the fragmented moment of peace shattering when Mason’s hands tore away from your face, the rest of his body following as he flew away from you, crashing against the back wall, the collision’s volume suggesting his frame was now permanently indented behind him.

Kylo Ren stood at the threshold, masked, gloved, and fuming. One hand was held out, compressing Mason’s body and keeping him suspended; the other hand was balled at his side, gloved fingers coiled around a band of loose-hanging metal. In the fractioned second you spent analyzing him, you looked closer, noticing a red glow emanating between his fingers. It was your watch; you could hardly believe how small his hand made it appear, nearly imperceptible in the distance. It was a doomed and pointless effort to begin with, purposely leaving the tracker behind, though you’d hoped – however fruitlessly – that maybe it would have deterred him from hunting you down.

Mason struggled against the wall as you stumbled from the couch and onto the floor, your elbow slamming against the coffee table on your way down. Kylo marched forward, hand still extended, grip twisting into a fist. You heard the struggles of your friend, eyes squidged shut in pain while you rubbed your arm, listening as he fell victim to a suffocation you knew all too well. It was unclear in the chaos if the trembling you felt was your own or if Kylo Ren’s modulated growls were reverberating through the room. The footsteps drew nearer, opening your eyes and finding two black boots pointed parallel to your knees.

“It’s up to you how much he suffers.” Behind you, Mason stopped fighting for air, his lungs sucking in just enough to fuel the thrashing cries of pain that followed.

Jumpstarted by the blood-curdling shrieking, you bolted up, hopping over the couch like it was the natural thing to do, wanting to reach him as quickly as possible. His cries faltered, dying into quick pants as his body fought to find equilibrium. Unfathomable rage enraptured you, twisting your face into a snarl when you met the chrome visor behind you.

“Let him down! Stop this!” The words shredded against your throat, your face burning with new vehemence.

There was no response, at least not from your Commander; the next sound to escape Mason was inhuman, like glass getting compacted and magma getting cooled. You turned again to him, looking up to his face, finding it twisted to match the noise which shuddered your spine; his arms and legs were splayed out, sweat collecting at his collar as he suffered through a torture you were sure you’d never known.

“Why – stop! I can- please! He can’t take this! He doesn’t deserve this!”

“No, he doesn’t. I agree,” he barked, the words drowned in feigned sympathy. “This should be you.” His hand turned over, Mason screaming out with new volume behind you.

“Then stop! Please, just leave him be, whatever you want, just stop!” The only reaction your body had left was to spark seething tears, one falling over your cheek as you begged for mercy.

“Your word means nothing. This”—he waved your watch into sight— “solidified that fact.”

The endless cries ripping through the room were fraying your nerves, evaporating your wrath and replacing it with a deep, burning sense of desperation. A choked whine left you, air leaving in staccato and urgent gasps. “God,” you screamed, “please just stop. I promise! Just please, please stop this!”

“Promise,” he spit the word, it’s existence a mangled sound of putridity. “Your virtue has even less value than your word.”

The howls of pain rang on, your patience for Kylo Ren’s torment wearing thinner with every new octave of his cries. Your back was cresting with each full breath, your head spinning in mayhem as you tromped over to him and gripped onto the arm twisting into Mason. Kylo’s visor bent down to you, the reflection of your heated expression a hyphenated portrayal as you caught view of your wet cheeks, the tears frenzied instead of solemn.

“Kylo,” you whispered, “just tell me what you want and you can have it. Just, please, let him go.” The words were buried, barely audible over the injury leaving Mason’s lungs.

He considered you, staring down at your pleading expression. You squeezed his arm, your face breaking into a desperate grimace beneath his stare. He’d taken your absence as a personal attack, completely disregarding the target on your back, like you hadn’t learned not to defy him at this point. And in groveling for Mason’s relief, you accepted that no matter if you deserved to be punished for disregarding his instruction or not, this was the only way you could ensure that Mason wouldn’t end up as collateral damage.

“Please.” Your lip quivered, a tear streaking to the corner of your mouth as you shook beneath his glare.

His arm flexed beneath your fingers, a final surge of terror ripping through Mason before he collapsed to the floor. Without thinking, you clambered down towards him, brushing his hair from his face, your fingers slipping over the sweat that had amounted. “Mason, Mason?” His name escaped in breathy gulps, your heart racing harder when his eyes weren’t opening. “What did you do to him?” you roared, fingers pressing into his carotids.

“Collect your things. We’re leaving.” Kylo’s voice was apathetic, unbothered by Mason’s limp body in your hold.

His pulse was there but weak, nowhere near the high seventies like earlier. His breathing was even and equal, coming slowly. The sweat that had gathered on his back acted to shift his posture, his weight taking you with him as you rushed to protect his head from the floor on his way down. His arm fell to the side, his lips parting and his jaw falling limp with exhaustion. Your fingers were smeared in his sweat, twisted into his nape as you smoothed over his features, hoping your touch would act as a salve while he laid beneath you.

“I can’t just leave him like this,” you sniffled, a tear landing on his chin.

“You will, or he won’t leave here again.” There was no hint of threat in the statement, only truth; a promise in the harsh modulation.

You blinked, two tears falling with the movement. “I’m sorry.” His brow was sweat-laden, too, your thumb gently brushing the moisture away as your eyes blurred, so ashamed of roping him into this. With a sweep of his hair from his forehead, you pulled his arm across his chest and stood at his side to face your master.

“After you, officer,” he said, the hand holding onto your watch motioning towards the door.

Sucking your teeth, you slipped your shoes on without breaking contact with his masked glare. Even as you meandered towards the coffee table to collect your uniform, you stayed locked into him, quaking with anger with each charged step. The animosity which laid within both of you was suffocating, only breeding more hostility as you walked past him with anger-twitching eyes. Kylo placed a hand on your shoulder, his grasp eliciting a short wince as it bit a bruise beneath Mason’s charity of clothing. Before the door hissed shut, one last shriek came from the room as Kylo popped the indented metal into its original unmarked condition, your shoulders shuddering at the echoed cries of the durasteel.

“How can you treat people like they’re expendable? Like they don’t matter?” He began leading you down the hall, his boot cutting into the back of your ankle when you weren’t keeping up with his stride.

Kylo didn’t respond, only digging into your shoulder to indicate a turn. With the length of his legs, you were half-jogging to keep him from running into your feet. You didn’t know whether to keep your head down or to keep a lookout for any cameras, feeling an unease being seen like this – baggy pajamas, work shoes, damp hair – with the Commander of the First Order attached at your back.

“I didn’t disregard your request to spite you, okay? If I came to you and I got caught and it was even suggested to the Board that I was sleeping with my boss? With my Commander? That would be it. That would kill me,” you explained, cataloguing the halls he led you through.

Still no reply, only an increased pace with every new sentence, more pressure dipping into your clavicle. His grip was nearing a fracture, sweat collecting at your nape as you fought to silence the pain. In your periphery you spied the red indicator of a camera, flying out of sight as he propelled you down new halls, wider and taller as his quarters grew closer.

After one final turn, a door appeared at the end of an expansive corridor, completely alone in its existence. His fingers bit down further, the doors sliding apart at the gesture while you winced inwardly. Before you could step past the threshold, his hand unhinged and you flew past the door frame, landing with your hands braced and your knees skidding across the glossed floor.

“It seems you’ve forgotten who you work for, officer,” he said, the doors latching shut behind him. “I can have whatever I want without your offering. The only reason your friend is still breathing is so I can use him as leverage, as it appears the only way to get you to listen is to threaten what you value most.”

In your crash, your chin had collided with the floor, your teeth gnashing into the back of your tongue. As you gathered yourself off of your hands, a drop of the iron that flooded your mouth fell between your bent knees. The colloid pooled under your tongue, slithering down your throat as you sat back on your heels.

“What is so hard to understand about me not coming here?” He stepped closer as you continued to regather yourself, steps calculated and quiet.

“I understand you’re being watched. I know that your life is on the line, and for half a second I believed that you valued it”—he tore your chin up to his visor— “but that can’t be true.”

His grip led you to your feet as he stared down at you. “If you truly held any stock in your life, you would do as you’re told without question. Without doubt.”

Blood dripped over your lip and onto your chin as he anchored your jaw open, his thumb bending over your bottom teeth, depressing the tip of your tongue. “Tonight’s lesson was centered around this incorrigible mouth, but I think you need to learn the true consequences of your actions. Nothing less.”

Below, he kicked your fallen uniform to the side, walking you back so your knees gave way to the arm of the couch, your hands reaching back to support you along the black leather. A low hum left his helmet, his visor tracking over your laid-out body. “Now, to turn these into what they really are”— both of his hands took hold of your shirt collar— “rags.”

The thin fabric of Mason’s old shirt gave way to Kylo’s will like the threads had never been bound together, splitting apart down the center of your chest, past your naval, and through the bottom hem. The shredded article hung open over your abdomen, your chest tiding quickly as you watched his shoulders drag along as coarse breaths left his helmet. His knee anchored itself between your legs, his visor pointed at your face. He kept your eyes in his while his thumbs tore the tattered garment down your arms, leaving raised red trails in their forceful paths; with the fabric bunched over your wrists, the only covering left over your torso being your bra, he yanked it past your hands.

At the motion, your support gave out and your head fell against the stiff cushions. In his hectic maneuvering, once the shirt moved past your waist, his fingers gripped into the waistband of Mason’s sweatpants, their warmth leaving you with begrudging ease even as the drawstring was double knotted above your hips. The thick fabric skated past your toes, every hair on your body stick-straight as the frozen air punctuated your skin’s search for warmth. Staring down at you, the leather sticking to your shoulders, he let the shirt fall, keeping hold of your pants, turning them over as his visor pinned you in place.

“These, though, seem to possess an asset of my benefit.” Out of your view, you heard more ripping, only much shorter of a sound. Before you had time to question what his intentions were, he began wrapping the drawstring from the elastic around his gloved hand, pulling it until the opposite aglet met his palm. “Sit up.”

There was no life in his command, frozen as the atmosphere. With a swallow, noting the blood didn’t replenish itself when you did, you sat up straight, looking up to him with seething defiance. His boots echoed as he paced towards you, stopping before he passed behind. The string-wrapped hand dragged two fingers along your sternum, stopping as they tugged down on the bridge of your bra. “Take this off.”

“And if I don’t?” Your brow raised in challenge.

The hand over your chest quickly shifted its attention to your tongue, pinching it between two tight fingers, a pitiful whine leaving when it did. “This has never been a negotiation. Do as I say and maybe you’ll have use of this—” he pulled your tongue forward, scraping the undersurface with his gloved nail “—after tonight. Do we have an understanding?”

Denying your want to roll your eyes, you nodded. Though, he wasn’t pleased with this response, pinching down harder. “Use your words.”

Flames bit under your cheeks, furious with his intent to embarrass you. A heated breath fled from your nostrils. “Yeth, Commanther.”

“Hm, now do as you’re told.”

You reached behind your back, never leaving his stare as he kept hold of your tongue. The hooks popped behind you, the flat sound too loud in the silent room; the straps hung loose over your shoulders before you hunched forward to remove the rest of the garment, letting it fall between your parted knees. The leather left your tongue as he knelt down, his hands ripping your arms behind you and gathering your wrists at the base of your spine.

“Not that I can’t do this myself,” he said, voice tinged with sly, “but it’s more poetic if you’re bound by your own defiance.”

“For the hundredth time, I didn’t do it to defy you.”

He worked masterfully behind you, the string unwinding from his palm and wrapping around and between your wrists in that same pattern. “Keep talking, it’s making me eager to shut you up; making me hard with anticipation.”

The thin string grew tighter as he wound it to its end, finishing the restraint with a tight pull and a final knot. He stood again once he’d completed the task, taking grasp of your binding and pulling you up to your knees. His hand came to the back of your neck and pushed you forward, your face falling into the firm cushion as your hands struggled to protect you from the collision, finding no give in the ties. The position – face to the side, hips high, shoulders bearing your weight – offered no view of your master, only allowing you to hear his intentions.

The couch shifted behind you, your body swaying to the side as his weight shifted the cushions beneath your knees. The texture of his gloves came between the bend of your hips, your skin emblazoning at the contact. He hummed, following the low sound with a breathy, barely vocal laugh. “I could light you on fire and you’d still be dripping wet for me, wouldn’t you?”

It was a rhetorical question, one you didn’t want to answer even if it hadn’t been. A pressure came over your entrance, the friction of taut leather revealing the erection residing behind it. The sensation caught your breath, your resolve stifling a moan before he could revel in your pleasure. “Really? Nothing to say?” His hips left you, followed by the removal of one of his hands.

“Maybe this’ll make you speak up.” A cold, unyielding object stung at your entrance, your hips bucking away from it only after your core throbbed in remembrance of the weapon.

A pathetic whimper came unbidden from your throat, your face burning in embarrassment that every part of him, even those not physically attached, could draw a reaction from your body. “Did this make an impact?” The metal pushed against you, your walls simultaneously screaming for more yet clenching away from it. “Mm, it did.”

The unforgiving solidity of the weapon made you wail as Kylo pushed it into you, using his hips to nudge it forward while gripping your thigh and pulling you back along its unbroken width. Your core fluttered around the injurious girth, every muscle below your abdomen flexing in response, your breath nonexistent as your body internalized the pleasure-pain its presence incited. While he pushed it further into your center, he twisted the hilt, your walls buzzing around the scraping ridges which resided along the handle. Though you could barely register it, when his flexed knuckles met the skin of your ass, you finally breathed, taking a moment of peace before he pulled it from you.

But he didn’t, standing from behind you as your walls achingly thrummed along the stagnant object. He walked out of view, passing your head and walking further into the room. “Come to me,” he said, modulation cold once more.

A laugh of disbelief left you. “Yeah, okay. Just let me situate myself.” He was insane to think you could move like this.

“My patience is wearing thin, officer. I suggest you don’t test it more than you already have.”

This was his way at asserting his power over you, making you complete various tasks of humiliation. He knew just as well as you did that you were in no shape to move, let alone cross over to him. It was dehumanizing, and all you wanted to do was scream, to throw a Kylo Ren-sized tantrum. But by the new shadows in his voice, and how he was obvious in proving his point, you knew to release the retched sound burning over your axons would never work to your advantage.

Thinking it over for a minute, you decided to try and slide your leg down, thinking you could easily lift yourself from the sofa. As you attempted to execute the maneuver, though, you grimaced, the weapon biting into your cunt with new pain as it indented into the tissue it bludgeoned. Containing a whine, you bit your lip, face growing slick with sweat against the leather. Away from you, you heard the familiar sound of his strokes, ensuing more rage as he drew pleasure from this sight of you.

In a second attempt, you used your shoulders, rocking into the back of the couch for leverage and support. With one too-ambitious shove, you catapulted onto the floor, landing on your back, your hands aching below your weight in their awkward placement, the crossbars of the lightsaber biting into the backs of your thighs. The fall knocked the wind out of you, the frozen floor stealing your breath for ten seconds before the facilities for oxygen returned.

Behind you Kylo grunted, the sound of his gloved hand sliding over his shaft quickening. “I never knew my whore could be so graceful.”

A week ago he’d stained your body with blood, but the wrath you’d felt then couldn’t be compared to the ardent resentment he was eliciting with his blatant enjoyment of your suffering. Using them to your benefit, you pushed off of your bound hands and sat up, your back to him, taking a moment of rest before shoving against the couch and getting to your feet. The weapon shuttered your breath, your legs barely permitting movement in the presence of the intruding object. A sharp set of yelps came as you took your first step towards him, your face twisting in pain as the stride caused friction against your walls.

He'd positioned himself against the wall opposite of you, making the journey to him long and strewn out, allowing him to watch your hobbled venture as long as he wanted. You’d matched the sound correctly, watching him drag his thumb from his head and down his shaft, his back resting against the wall with infuriating nonchalance, like this was any other day for him.

“That’s it,” he said, modulation thick with need, “one step at a time, officer.”

To keep from tripping forward, you stayed close to the furniture as long as you could, legs flexing when your balance faltered. Eventually, though, there was nothing to steady yourself with, your strides shrinking in their reach as you walked in the vacant distance.

“Is this what you enjoy, huh?” you gasped, his lightsaber cutting into you as you stumbled forward. “The Commander of the First Order, so big and strong as he fucks his hand to the sight of his own nurse? Seems a bit fucked up to me.”

“Fuck, I’m going to enjoy this.” He thrust into his hand as you tripped forward once more.

“I didn’t defy you, Kylo. I was safe with Mason,” you said, closing all but a pace of distance between him and you, your legs trembling with exhaustion.

He slowed his strokes, staring into you past his visor, his breath audible through the helmet. After a long pause, his chest came down in a heavy sigh. “Kneel.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

His hand came up and twisted, the weapon shifting between your legs and causing the crossbars to shred over the sensitive tissue. Your weakened stance couldn’t tolerate the electric pain, your knees buckling beneath you, cracking against the glass-plated floor. Before any pain could leave your lungs, he rammed every thickened, throbbing inch of his cock past your teeth and down your throat; you gagged against him, a mechanical seethe leaving his mask at the hiccupped pressure.

“Finally, some peace and fucking quiet.” His hands framed the crown of your head, fingers stretching to the base of your skull and guiding you into his thrusts.

Tears sprung at your eyes, the sudden pressure shocking your sinus tracts into defense. “I get to decide when you’re defying me,” he tilted your head further back. “I decide what you deserve. And yes,” he growled, “seeing you like this, broken for me, by me, pathetic and pitiful as you obey my every command – not because you want to, but because you have to – I obsess over it, your resentful compliance to everything I say; it’s what makes your defiance so maddening.”

Your arms began to strain, the pain trickling from your shoulders down to your tailbone, his weapon shifting with every thrust, making you wince onto his cock. “Shit. This is exactly what sluts like you deserve,” he roared, voice frenzying. “Leaving me to go fuck some physician who can offer you nothing, let alone safety? Yes, you deserve this completely.” He was yelling now, the modulation garbling his words.

A hand left your head, the other gripping into your hair as drool poured down your chin and collected in the earlier dried blood. A loud crash came from behind you, the noise forcing a flinch, your core clenching around the metal, another whine leaving you, your hands throbbing as your blood attempted to bypass the cutting ties which constricted its flow. He thought you’d been with Mason. In the chaos that had entailed since, you forgot how he’d first seen you at the residence, face pressed against Mason’s, your lips so close they may as well have been touching. This was barely about your compliance and wholly about what he’d perceived as your infidelity. And even then, was it even cheating if there had been no set rules? Not that he’d ever seemed to be conscious of his double standards, but it was ridiculous for him to assume you knew this was a monogamous arrangement. The only thing he’d ever ensured you were aware of was the fact that he could have you whenever and however he wanted, never that there was any agreement of mutual exclusivity to be respected.

“And to have you – a nurse, a nobody – continually disregard everything I ask,” his voice was natural now, raw and aching without the heavy modulation , “it drives me insane; the knowledge that you truly believed he could protect you is infuriating.”

His breath was heightening, your jaw straining as he kept fast, unrelenting thrusts into your throat. The strokes were erratic, losing pattern as he began to lose himself. “Even when it’s for your benefit you still choose to defy me, fucking – fuck – fucking whore.”

He pulled out from your throat, forcing you back on your heels, the weapon tearing deeper into you at the pressure. “Never tell me you what you think you deserve,” his hand was chaotic over his shaft, nearly colliding with your face in its ferocity. His breath stalled, and he growled, teeth clenched as a spray of spit veiled over your face, hot ropes of cum to join it, collecting onto your eyelashes and debilitating your sense of sight. “This is what you fucking deserve.”

He stroked himself through his release, breath coming in fast pants, dying into slow and separated sighs. A gust of air blew your hair over your ears, and the sudden feel of gloved thumbs swiping over your face permitted your sight once more, meeting the red face of your master, but also introducing you to the shocking sight of light, glinting over the rivulets of tears which streaked over his cheeks. It was disturbing at first, processing that his red eyes were for you, realizing that your decision had actually affected him and enraged him to this extent.

He shoved his thumbs into your mouth, not registering the taste as the expression which resided over his face haunted you with its familiarity. Once more he thought you’d abandoned him. Like those months ago when you’d come home late on the Finalizer, his eyes were ignited with that same sense of desertion. He was not justified in his actions, not that he ever needed to be, but you could acknowledge that this reaction wasn’t one foreign in its nature, but the only way he knew to reassert himself.

His hands left your mouth and reached behind your back, his eyes never leaving yours as he blindly unbound you. When you fell forward, your face pressed into his chest, his hands lifted you below your thighs, your breath seething as the movements caused the jagged weapon to shift within you; he placed you on your knees, one hand unmoving to stabilize you, the other clasping over the crossbars, gearing up to rip his weapon from your core.

The hand at your thigh gripped into you as he dragged the hilt out, your breath wheezing into his chest as it left, every inch leaving an immediate emptiness in its wake. A pain-sodden tear fell from your face to his skin, a gasp leaving as he pulled out the last of it.

“Kylo,” you said into his chest.

“That’s not how you should address me,” his voice wasn’t empty, instead guarded and rasped with the ghosts of his earlier rage.

You licked your lips and placed your hands on either of his shoulders, pulling away from him as his other hand came back to support you. “Kylo,” you repeated, watching his face, aching as he looked at you with so much betrayal.

It was an impossible thing to choose how to express your sorrow while also preserving your earlier explanation of why you didn’t come to him. Though it felt unfair, you couldn’t help but feel a piece of your heart break as you looked into the shattered face of the person who had given you a purpose. Words continued to evade you, the only thoughts processing being this is your fault, this could’ve been helped, what kind of nurse abandons her patient? They burgeoned in your head, capitalizing your indecision in how to say the right words without betraying your own beliefs.

“I didn’t – I’m… I can’t,” you grunted, your thoughts clamoring your words into stuttered nonsense. “I will never abandon you.”

It seemed like the best way to get to your point, maybe not encompassing everything you needed to say, but emphasizing on the highlights. His lips parted, breath falling out before you. His eyes twitched, no response coming to him as you analyzed every tiny change, watching as the wetness which plagued his cheeks dried as time passed.

“I didn’t kiss him,” you said, realizing what else may be haunting him. Every feature on his face stopped. Bingo. “I was going to… I thought I’d want to, but…”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze drifting between your eyes and down over your lips. “But what?” It was a whispered, raspy sound, so new and surprising.

“Something’s changed. Different.” Your looked between his eyes, over his freckles, and down to his lips.

“Something’s changed.” He repeated.

And as your energy charged into his, you found yourself completely yearning for his lips to be on yours, for his hands to be in your hair, or on your face, or his touch anywhere on your body at all. That was it. It wasn’t something that had changed. It was someone. And though you knew you had felt something for him before, accepting that you’d lost the last piece of whatever it was when you left the stars that night, you never knew how focused that feeling had become until you were forced to recognize that you no longer felt that way for anyone else other than the man before you.

His hands ghosted over your curves, trickling electricity in their trails until they buzzed in place over your cheeks. He brought your face to his, his lips enrapturing yours in the kiss you didn’t know you’d been seeking. It was powerful, how his mouth moved in rhythm with yours like he knew your every thought. He began to stand; as his legs straightened, he kept his spine bent, his hands unmoving from your face. You threw your hands up to his neck, teasing the coil of hair at his nape as your thumbs traced along his jawline.

He moaned into your mouth, his tongue gliding over yours as his hands moved down your curves before he bent down and took you from the floor, prompting your legs to wrap around his waist while he walked you through his quarters. You collected the remaining tears from his cheeks, either with your thumbs or dragging them along your own face as you kissed down to him, your hands brushing through his thick hair, reveling in the closeness which flourished between you both.

Distantly, a door hissed open and shut, and before you had opened your eyes, your back was against an expansive mattress. Kylo pulled away, your neck following him as long as it could before he was too far. He kept his honey eyes focused on yours, his hands working hard to remove his outer robes and padding. Even in this small distance, your body ached for his, the seconds burning beneath your skin as your core pleaded to be filled by him. Only him.

He threw his shirt off and loosened the fasteners of his pants, letting them fall and kicking them off before he climbed back on top of you, trailing kisses up your sternum, into your breasts, and up your artery as he made his way back to your face. He whispered your name into your mouth, legs positioning himself so the head of his erection slid between your folds, a moan leaving you as the sensation sung through every vein in your body.

“Kylo,” you whispered back, legs locking over his back, fingers treading through his locks, binding him to you in their hunger.

He took your hands from his hair, pinning them above your head beneath his own. He gazed down to you, his fingers winding between yours, his eyebrows raising as a means of readying you. In response, clasping your fingers into his, lifting your face and pulling his lips down to yours. He thrust into you, sating the void his weapon had incited. A cry left your mouth, the first one that wasn’t inspired by pain, but instead by need. By want. By completeness.

The grip on your hands tightened as he pulled his hips back, a groan leaving him, the vibration of his chest buzzing through your own. The friction of his body over yours was other-worldly, feeling simultaneously familiar and new. He rocked into you, his lips falling down to your jawline, sucking new bruises in their path, feeling heavenly when his teeth would scrape against your skin with urgent want. Without saying anything, as he knew everything you felt, the Force engulfed your aching clit, never having felt as powerful as it did now, your back arching into his chest as you cried out against his hair.

Everything combined to create a sense of celestial wholeness – the smell of his sweat-damp hair, the taste of your dried blood washing from his tongue to yours, his skin igniting atop your own, the way his cock made your walls chorus with sublimity. His thrusts came faster, the Force quickening and increasing in its pressure, his hands tightening further; he had constructed your release in minutes, sending you soaring into a limitless reality only he knew how to create.

“Oh, Kylo. Kylo. Kylo, Ky…” His lips pressed against yours just as he fell in line with his own release, moans ricocheting through his mouth and yours.

The hands which strangled yours loosened, staying in place as his pulse jostled into yours, his head falling just below your chin. He stayed there, his weight bearing over you, his breath brushing over your forearm as his bare chest tided with yours. Though it seemed misplaced as only minutes ago he’d tormented you, with him now, here in his sated state, you felt a protection you’d never expected. None of this was ever planned, and even if he didn’t feel a fraction of what you felt right now, you knew you’d never willingly trade it for anything, basking in every part of himself that he offered.

Kylo took a final breath before rolling off of you, keeping one of his hands with yours momentarily as the other peeled the blankets from above his head. His arms gripped over your shoulder and pulled you against him, the sheets gliding beneath and eventually encapsulating your body to his. The breaths that fell from his parted lips blew over your hair, tickling the stray pieces which framed your face before you nuzzled into him and placed your hand on top of his chest.

“The Board doesn’t have any say over what happens to you,” he said, voice tired and absent. “I do.”

Not quite believing he even thought that was true, considering he might be using your technique of saying something in order to make it true, you didn’t feel like ruining this quintessential moment. “Okay.”

And as you lied with him, listening to his heart – sixty-one beats per minute, strong and steady – you felt your own working to heal itself, coming back together as you promised yourself – inwardly, and however hopelessly – that this wouldn’t be temporary; that this had even the slightest chance at surviving the incoming monsoon life promised. And as you kept repeating that thought, you realized that your earlier dream – the one of falling asleep in Kylo Ren’s arms – was no longer a dream at all, the reality of his strength coiled around you being what lulled you into unconsciousness.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren imagine #st kyp #smut #ao3

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fallout4holmes · 3 years

Text

Nuka-World 6

We had a visitor the next morning. Mags Black left her two cronies at the base of the artificial mountain as she took the lift up herself. I don't know what she said to Gage to get him to stay put on the ground, but he wasn't happy about it.

Holmes had just finished his morning cigarette and a minimal breakfast. He stood as she stepped off the lift, "Ah. Ms. Black."

The raider boss raised an eyebrow, "Miz? It's like you're trying to stand out. You're the Overboss now, Mister Holmes, you get to be on a first name basis with everyone."

Holmes lit another cigarette and said with exaggerated politeness, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Mags smirked, "You can blame it on giving the Disciples The Galactic Zone. I don't know what you're planning, but I want my people to come out on top at the end."

"At the moment, avoiding the animosity of an amusement park full of raiders is my primary concern."

"Bullshit," she said pleasantly. "You're the General of the Minutemen, the frozen vault-dweller that destroyed the Institute. I heard about your almost-war with the Brotherhood too, how you kicked them out of the Commonwealth after destroying their toys." She gestured to me, “Most of the raiders in Nuka-World are from west of here, where the Institute never had a presence. They think your friend is just a nifty robot bodyguard. Creepy, but nothing more. Those of us from the Commonwealth though?” She smiled, sinister, “We know exactly what he is. William and I know better than most. You never did find that janitor that went missing, did you Nick? What was her name, Amelia?”

“Annette,” I corrected, tried not to rise to the bait. “Not usually a fan of kicking folks out beyond the Wall, but in the case of you and your brother I’m glad Diamond City did.”

“Funnily enough, so are we. This suits us much better.” She said it smoothly, nothing but charm, but you don’t last long in my line of work if you can’t tell a bluff when you see one. She turned her attention back to Holmes, “Either your rumored nobility is all an act to get you into a place of power, or you’re going to throw a wrench into the fragile gears of this place. If it turns out to be the first one, you may want to consider showing my people a bit of favor before ugly rumors of synths and interfering Minutemen start circulating the park. If it’s the second one, well. Just know that every Operator in this park is watching.”

Holmes glowered, “I don’t respond well to threats.”

“As long as you respond,” Mags said, and took the lift back down.

As soon as she was down, Gage came up. "Mags pissed?"

"A touch upset," Holmes offered me a cigarette, which I took. "I was a little surprised she remembered you, Valentine."

"Guess it's hard to forget a face like this," I said dryly.

"What the hell are you two goin' on about?" Gage sighed.

"Nothing important," Holmes said, "just the Operators being unhappy with me. They can have the next park, it doesn't matter."

"Giving 'em the next park might look like you were intimidated," Gage said.

"What is the next park?" Holmes asked.

"Figured we'd hit Dry Rock Gulch."

"Hm, the American 'Old West' theme. A fake gold mining operation should suit the Operators, don't you think, Valentine?"

I chuckled, "I think the implication is gonna go over their heads, but we might as well check it out and get it over with."

Holmes agreed and we headed off. We made it to the park’s gate when I heard something moving through the earth, sort of like the sound a mole rat makes just before it leaps out and bites you. Only these weren’t mole rats.

A handful of big red worms with mouths that took up the whole head attacked, surprising the hell out of me and Holmes and earning an annoyed growl from Gage. They weren’t much of a fight, but, “Well that was unpleasant,” I said.

“You never seen bloodworms before?” Gage asked, skeptical.

I shook my head, “We don't get these things back east.”

“Better get used to ‘em, they’re a fucking menace around here.”

Hopefully we wouldn’t be staying long enough for me to get used to them, but I kept that to myself. I glanced around as we entered the park, the Old West frontier outpost aesthetic turned kitsch.

“How’s it go,” Gage sarcastically drawled, “This town ain’t big enough for you and me… ah, never mind.”

Holmes chuckled. “Let’s ask the local law enforcement for information,” he pointed to a protectron wearing a sheriff’s hat.

“Hope y'all are having a good day here at Nuka-World. Ready to saddle up and ride into the old wild west?” the protectron said.

“Great,” Gage grumbled, “More dumb robots.”

The protectron was unperturbed, “I'm the sheriff of these parts, and I need your help getting rid of those no good outlaws holed up in Mad Mulligan's Mine!”

“This is why I hate robots,” Gage huffed. “They don’t even know the world ended, this playtime shit is annoying.”

The protectron’s park personality programming stopped, “Processing: Hostile visitor. Ignore and continue explanation for the sake of the other guests.”

I laughed.

The sheriff continued his job, “The door to Mad Mulligan's Mine is locked up. I got a spare key in a safe by the theater, but wouldn't you know, I plum forgot what the combination to the safe was! You'll need to talk to my three amigos: Doc Phosphate, One-Eyed Ike, and the Giddyup Kid. Prove to them you're tough enough to take on the outlaws, and they'll give you their part of the combination. Good luck, little doggie! And don't forget your complimentary deputy uniform, courtesy of Nuka-Cola!”

The sheriff handed Holmes a costume, who promptly handed it to Gage, who scowled before realizing, “You got a weird ass sense of humor, boss,” and tossed it away. As we walked he asked, “We really gotta do all that, talk to three other robots just to get a key?”

“I suppose we could simply hang a banner and be done with the place,” Holmes said.

Gage shook his head, “Not with the bloodworms. Gotta torch the nest first, otherwise whoever moves in is gonna be pissed to hell you gave ‘em an infested base.”

Holmes made casual eye contact with me. He’d been hoping for a raider-bloodworm showdown.

“I mean,” Gage was still talking, “why do we need this fucking key in the first place? Can’t we just blast the door open?”

“I try not to do anything rash if I can avoid it,” Holmes said, “and surely you don’t think we’ll be bested by a few challenges designed for children?”

“I’m starting to second-guess making you Overboss,” Gage grumbled.

“Perhaps you should have considered that possibility before enthroning a stranger you know precious little about, against his will,” Holmes steely replied.

“I can deal with an ass of a boss,” Gage played it cool, “as long as he gets done what needs to get done.”

We did the tasks for the park protectrons, fighting bloodworms, overgrown crickets, and giant ants along the way. Once we had the key, we headed for Mad Mulligan's Mine… a roller-coaster.

Gage had kept pretty quiet til then, "People actually stood in line and waited for this crap?" He scoffed, "Bunch of suckers."

"Roller-coasters were a popular attraction,” I commented flatly, “though I can’t say I ever saw the appeal.”

Holmes gestured for quiet as we headed into the ride. The lobby held a souvenir shop and the entrance to the tunnels that would lead folks to the boarding area, decorated to look like you’re walking through a mine out of a Saturday morning western. Back then it probably lacked the dead bodies, of course. Holmes and I had heard rumors of traders who hid from Colter’s raiders in Dry Rock Gulch. We found ‘em. Bloodworms saw to it they didn’t have long to enjoy their freedom.

The boarding area was a massive pit littered with brahmin corpses, bulging with bloodworm larvae. In the middle of the pit was the massive queen herself.

“I believe we’ve found the nest,” Holmes said.

“No shit, boss,” Gage scoffed.

“Valentine and I will take care of the queen, you exterminate everything hiding in those brahmin.”

Gage nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

I might be getting too old for fighting overgrown monsters in caves… but every time I think that, I know it’s not really true. Or it is, and I’m too stubborn to admit it. Anyway, we got the job done but the queen did a number on my leg. At least we know that Nuka-Town’s got a competent mechanic. I could walk, which is saying something, just going to have a limp until whatever got whacked out of place could get realigned. Gage was going to make a remark, but wisely shut up when Holmes glared at him.

We let the Sheriff know the job was done, got paid, which was a nice surprise, and Holmes climbed up to the top of the theater to hoist a flag with a black heart in a bullseye, bleeding gold.

“Gave in to the Operators after all, huh?” Gage said once Holmes was back on the ground. He didn’t sound accusatory, which was kind of weird, just like he was making conversation. Which was also kind of weird.

“If I have to secure Mags Black’s silence with a token gesture,” Holmes said, “then so be it.”

Gage shrugged, “Just let ‘em know you’re the Overboss, not some do-good General.”

“Gage, you conned me into this mess for the purpose of bringing the gangs together, yes? How does strutting around threatening violence serve that purpose?”

“Because we’re raiders?? That’s the language these idiots speak. You gotta treat ‘em right, but make sure they know you can end them at any time.”

Holmes made a considering sound and headed out of the park, “I often thought that if raiders could ever organize, they would be a force to be reckoned with. It seems I was right.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Gage exclaimed, relieved as if Holmes had finally come around. He didn’t know that every time the topic came up, it was followed with a list of possible ways the Minutemen would eliminate that threat.

Unfortunately, none of the hypothetical scenarios ever involved the General and his partner effectively being held hostage, with no way to call for help.

#fallout4holmes #fallout 4 #nuka world #nick valentine #sherlock holmes #fan fiction #catching up on past posts

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fanimesenseiwrites · 3 years

Text

Kidnapped to Hell (pt. 11)

CW: nudity

Hoshiko seemed to sleep for longer than they had been, but it still wasn't long before they woke up screaming.

Asmo was so startled that he nearly fell out of bed. He turned back to look at Hoshiko.

Hoshiko was curled up and holding themself.

"Hoshiko?" Asmo asked gently.

Then Mammon burst into the room with Satan following close behind him.

"Hey! What happened?" Mammon exclaimed.

Asmo snapped his head towards the door when he heard an undeniable crack. "Did you just break my door?!"

"Why did ya have it locked?!"

"Because it's my room!"

"But why are you naked?" Satan asked.

"Again, it's my room," Asmo snarked.

"... You had sex with Hoshiko, didn't you?" Satan deduced.

"What?!" Mammon yelled. "Right now?! Are you crazy?!"

"Oh please, they seduced me," Asmo explained.

"Why do I doubt that?" Satan asked with a grimace.

While they fought and argued, Beel walked in quietly, picked up Hoshiko, and walked out without even being noticed.

Belphie was waiting in the hallway for them.

He looked at Hoshiko and frowned. "Let's take Hoshiko to their room. Let them be obnoxious up here." He gestured vaguely to Asmo, Mammon, and Satan.

Beel nodded and headed downstairs and into Hoshiko's room with Belphie following close behind.

"I'm gonna put Hoshiko in the shower." Beel told Belphie as he walked into the bathroom.

"Yeah, they stink of sex," Belphie complained.

"... I'm right here," Hoshiko told them, sounding a little hoarse.

Beel and Belphie both looked down at Hoshiko.

"Ah, you're back," Belphie stated.

Hoshiko sighed. "Just set me in the tub please."

Beel set Hoshiko down in the tub then took off his jacket.

Hoshiko looked up at him. "What're you doing?"

"Bathing you," he told them plainly as he grabbed the removable shower head and turned on the water.

"You don't have to," Hoshiko told him.

"I want to," he replied with a soft smile.

Hoshiko smiled back. "Okay."

Belphie sat criss-cross on the toilet while Beel bathed Hoshiko.

Hoshiko hummed happily while Beel washed their hair.

"So... why'd you have sex with Asmo?" Belphie asked.

Beel looked at him. "Belphie," his tone was scolding.

"My bad, let me rephrase: Why did you have so much sex with Asmo?"

"Belphie," Beel's tone was even harsher than before.

"What?"

Hoshiko sighed. "It's okay, Beel."

Beel looked back at Hoshiko.

"I just thought that maybe having sex with Asmo would wear me out to the point that I could sleep without dreaming... then I wouldn't have to see... what I saw."

Beel frowned and looked back at Belphie.

"Oh..." He felt a little bad about asking, but only a little. "Well obviously, you should've just asked to sleep with me instead, I could do a little dream weaving to keep the nightmares away."

"That'd be nice," Hoshiko mused. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Belphie grinned. "Yeah."

"Thank you."

"I think it'd also help if you ate something substantial," Beel suggested. "I don't think I've seen you eat a full meal since you've been here."

Hoshiko glanced away as they thought about how little they had eaten recently.

"Beel, buddy, not everything can be solved with food," Belphie told him.

"... I am hungry now though," Hoshiko told them.

Beel grinned at Belphie almost as if he were gloating.

Belphie stuck out his tongue at Beel, unable to think of a better retort to his twin's actions.

Hoshiko laughed at them.

"Don't laugh," Belphie told them as he got up and snatched the shower head from Beel and sprayed Hoshiko in the face with the water.

Hoshiko laughed and tried to shield themself from the water with their hands. "Belphie!"

Belphie grinned, glad to see them smiling and laughing. "Come on..." he reached to turn off the water. "You should dry off and get dressed."

Hoshiko nodded and wiped the water from their face with their hands.

Beel grabbed a towel and used it to dry off Hoshiko.

Hoshiko smiled at him. "You're so sweet."

Beel grinned and wrapped Hoshiko in the towel.

Hoshiko held the towel around themself as they got out of the tub and went to go get dressed.

Beel followed and watched them to make sure they could take care of themself.

Hoshiko got dressed in some leggings and a hoodie, then slipped on their cute sheep house slippers.

Hoshiko looked at the twins. "Come on, let's go find something to eat."

Beel perked up. "Okay!" He led the way to the kitchen.

Hoshiko held Belphie's hand and walked with him to the kitchen.

Belphie smiled slightly and laced their fingers together.

When they got into the kitchen, Levi was already in there cooking dinner.

He had his headphones on and was dancing and singing while he cooked.

Hoshiko smiled and sat down on a bar stool to watch him.

Levi didn't notice the trio enter until he turned around to get more ingredients. He screamed, startled by their seemingly sudden appearance.

The three of them laughed at his reaction.

Levi blushed and pouted. "That's not funny..." he told them as he pulled his headphones off his head and let them rest around his neck.

"I'm sorry honey, we didn't mean to scare you," Hoshiko apologized, but they couldn't seem to get rid of their grin.

Levi huffed and went back to cooking.

Then Mammon and Satan entered the kitchen.

"Hoshiko? Are you okay?" Mammon asked as he walked over and hugged them.

Hoshiko hugged back but was confused. "I'm fine, why do you ask?"

Mammon pulled back to look at them. "Did you not scream just now?"

Belphie started cackling as Levi fumed in front of the stove.

Beel and Hoshiko bit their lips to keep from laughing.

"What? What's funny?" Mammon looked at everyone.

Hoshiko pat Mammon's chest. "It's nothing, baby."

"Okay... But are ya okay?" He asked, still concerned.

Hoshiko nodded. "I had a shower, Levi's cooking dinner, everything's good."

Mammon nodded and grinned. "Good."

Hoshiko grabbed one of Mammon's hands then held out a hand to Satan.

Satan grabbed their hand. "Yes?"

Hoshiko shrugged and smiled. "I just wanted to hold your hand."

Satan blushed. "Oh." He couldn't help but grin.

Hoshiko kissed Satan's hand then Mammon's.

They both blushed.

Satan just looked away in embarrassment.

"Hoshiko..." Mammon half-heartedly scolded.

"Are you all done being sappy?" Levi snapped.

Everyone looked at him.

"Why? Are you jealous?" Hoshiko asked teasingly.

Levi looked at them with a look that was somewhere between frustrated and embarrassed.

"I can be sappy with you too if you want," Hoshiko offered.

Levi blushed. "No! Just help me put dinner on the table."

Hoshiko chuckled. "I can do that," they told him just before walking over to him and kissing his cheek anyway.

Levi blushed furiously and turned away. "Don't surprise me like that!"

Hoshiko laughed and grabbed some food and took it to the table.

Satan grabbed plates and took them to dining room.

Everyone in the kitchen helped to set the table.

Hoshiko looked around at everyone once the table was set. "We're missing Solomon, Asmo, and Lucifer."

Then Asmo walked in, freshly bathed and wearing clean lounge wear. "Solomon was summoned to the Demon Lord's Palace."

"Oh. Okay. Then we're just missing Lucifer."

Levi slowly moved his hand to his face and placed a single finger on his nose.

Belphie noticed Levi touch his nose and followed suit.

Beel was in sync with his twin as he touched his nose.

"Hey!" Mammon exclaimed when he noticed what everyone was doing.

Asmo and Satan looked at them and quickly touched their noses as well.

Mammon quickly touched his nose, then everyone looked at Hoshiko.

Hoshiko zoned back in when they felt everyone's eyes on them. "Huh? What...? Why are y'all touching your noses?"

"Nose goes to fetch Lucifer for dinner," Levi informed them.

Hoshiko grimaced. "I hate all of you."

"Good luck!" Mammon grinned.

Hoshiko held up just their middle finger to all of them as they walked off to Lucifer's study.

The "secret" door to Lucifer's study was cracked open when Hoshiko walked into the library.

Hoshiko could hear music coming from inside the study and chuckled when they identified it as Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade suite.

Hoshiko knocked on the door before walking in. "Lucifer?"

"What can I do for you, Hoshiko?" Lucifer asked without looking at them, his words were just slurred enough to make him not sound like an uptight prick.

Lucifer was sitting in one of the wingback chairs with a glass of demonius in his hand. At some point he had shed his jacket, tie, and gloves.

"I just came to tell you that dinner is ready."

Lucifer looked at Hoshiko, his expression despondent. "Thank you."

Hoshiko could tell Lucifer felt bad by the look on his face and couldn't help but to feel bad in turn. "Do you want to eat with everyone or do you want me to bring you a plate?"

"I'm not particularly hungry."

Hoshiko sighed. "You should eat something if you're going to keep drinking."

"Hoshiko..." Lucifer held out a hand to them.

Hoshiko walked closer and took his hand gingerly.

Lucifer pulled their hand to their lips and kissed it.

Hoshiko smiled slightly.

"I'll come to dinner-" Lucifer started to say before he was interrupted by his DDD ringing.

Lucifer sighed before he stood up and walked over to his desk where he had left his DDD. He looked at the screen before picking it up and answering it. "Good evening, Diavolo."

Hoshiko sighed. "I'll have someone bring you a plate," they told him quietly before leaving the study and going back to the dining room.

"Where's Lucifer?" Mammon asked when they came back.

"He's on the phone with Diavolo. Will someone take him a plate please?" Hoshiko asked as they sat down.

"I'll do it," Asmo volunteered.

"Thank you," Hoshiko told him as they made their own plate.

Asmo made a plate and took it and some silverware to Lucifer.

Hoshiko was quiet for the rest of dinner, now feeling as despondent as Lucifer had looked earlier.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

#nudity no sex #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me levi #obey me mammon #obey me Beel #obey me Belphie #obey me mc #my obey me mc #hoshiko higure #obey me fanfic #cw: nudity #my work #my writing

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