empresskrennic

[empresskrennic]

♟️👑 Empress x Krennic Chapter 5

Imperial equipment can be so unpredictable. Especially when someone's not paying attention to the maintenance schedule...

🚫 18+, MINORS DNI

Chapter 5: Falling Suddenly 🔥🔥🔥🔥

EMPRESS POV

The maintenance report sat innocently in my datapad. Cargo Lift 2-A: scheduled for routine hover mechanism inspection. How fortunate that Director Krennic's quarters were on Level 2. And how convenient the lift had mistakenly been loaded with a sled full of heavy drive shielding.

I smiled at my reflection in the turbolift's polished walls, adjusting my uniform. After yesterday's... demonstration... on the bridge, I needed to regain control of this game.

The lift doors opened onto Level 2 just as Krennic rounded the corner. Perfect timing—as planned. His cream-white uniform was pristine as ever, but there were shadows under his eyes. Had he been up late working on the project?

What was he really doing with those hands?

"Your Majesty." He inclined his head, those ice-blue eyes watching me carefully. "This is an unexpected pleasure."

"Director." I gestured to the cargo lift. "Join me? I'm inspecting the lower levels."

His eyebrow ticked up slightly. "The cargo lift, Your Majesty?"

"Is there a problem, Director?"

"Not at all." His voice held that dangerous edge again. "After you."

The cargo lift was massive, designed for heavy equipment. And empty, just as I'd arranged. As the doors closed, I positioned myself carefully—close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, but not quite touching.

The lift hummed to life. Three... two... one...

The hover mechanism failed with a grinding shriek, as planned. I let myself stumble backward, knowing he would catch me—

His hands caught my hips, yanking me against him. But instead of steadying me, they slid up, cupping my breasts through my uniform. I sucked in a surprised breath.

"Careful, Your Majesty," he murmured, his fingers brushing over my nipples. "These old cargo lifts can be... unpredictable."

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to be in control, supposed to—

"Orson," I gasped under his touch, the name slipping out before I could stop it.

His hands stilled. "What was that, Your Majesty?"

I tried to focus, to use the Force to restart the lift, but his touch was scattering my thoughts like stars. "Director—"

"No." His voice was soft, dangerous. "Say it again."

"I don't take orders from—"

His teeth grazed my neck. "Say. It."

"Orson," I whispered, and felt him smile against my skin.

"Good girl."

The words sent a shock through me. I spun in his arms, ready to remind him exactly who he was dealing with. Suddenly, I found myself pinned against the wall, his hands grasping my hips like he owned them, his body pressing into me.

"You arranged this, didn't you?" His eyes burned like frostbite. "Thought you'd play another little game?"

I lifted my chin. "I don't know what you're—"

"Your move was obvious the moment I saw the maintenance schedule." His gloved hand cupped my face, thumb brushing my lower lip. "I am Imperial Weapons Director. An engineer. I read these things at breakfast for fun. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

Stars, I was wet. And he knew it. I could feel his satisfaction, dark and hungry.

"What are you going to do about it?" I challenged, my gaze roaming over his lips.

Not my finest line, I admitted. Zero finesse.

He smiled, and it was all teeth. "Nothing, Your Majesty. That's your punishment." He stepped back, releasing me completely, and straightened his uniform. "After all, we wouldn't want to be unprofessional."

The lift hummed back to life. It must not have been as damaged as the report mentioned. As the doors opened, he bowed slightly.

"Good day, Your Majesty. Do try to be more careful with Imperial equipment in the future."

He strode out, leaving me trembling against the wall. Blast.

Before the doors closed, he turned. “Though I do love to see you amongst all that greasy hardware there, my Empress. Somehow, it suits you.”

I blew out a breath and glared at him. As he turned away, I caught the hint of a grin creasing his face.

Nobody had been here to see what just transpired, so I hadn’t lost face. Or points.

But he did. He had. The only one who mattered.

Orson Krennic, I thought, watching his fluttering, creamy cape disappear down the corridor between the closing doors. You cunning bastard.

For the first time since becoming Empress, I wasn't just on the back foot.

I was falling.

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CHAPTER 6: Coming Soon 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 →

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[empresskrennic]

♟️👑 Empress x Krennic Chapter 4

On the bridge of a Star Destroyer, even professional briefings can get... heated.

🚫 18+, MINORS DNI

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Chapter 4: A Dangerous Demonstration🔥🔥🔥

EMPRESS POV

We reached the door to his quarters, and I paused. His breathing had quickened, and through the Force I could taste his anticipation—dark and rich, like the finest Corellian whiskey.

Too easy.

"Changed my mind," I said, turning on my heel. "Walk with me, Director."

His surprise flickered across our connection before his face could hide it. Good. Keep him off balance.

"Of course, Your Majesty." His voice was controlled, but held an edge—frustration? Intrigue? "Where shall we—"

"The bridge." I set a brisk pace, forcing him to catch up. "I want to see your creation through fresh eyes."

The crew snapped to attention as we entered. Through the broad viewports, Stardust 3 hung against the stars like an unfinished jewel. Beautiful. Deadly.

"Clear the command pit," I ordered brusquely. "But maintain your stations."

Krennic's eyebrows rose slightly as the officers shuffled to the sunken crew stations. No privacy, but no immediate audience either. A calculated middle ground.

"Now, Director." I moved to the viewport railing, lowering my voice to invite him to step closer. "Tell me about your weapon."

His breath ghosted across my ear. "It's not just a weapon, Your Majesty." His voice dropped to a whisper that sent shivers down my spine. "It's an embrace. A perfect circle around a star, drinking in its power, making it our own."

Force help me.

His passion was intoxicating. I could feel it radiating off him in waves, mingling with something darker, hungrier. He isn’t a nova, I decided. He’s a pulsar. A neutron star.

Intense, deadly. I was irresistibly drawn to him.

"Show me," I murmured.

His gloved hand appeared beside mine on the rail, not quite touching. He pointed. "There." He leaned closer, his mouth so close to my ear, his chest brushing my back. "See how the framework curves? That's where we'll harvest the solar energy. Pure power, drawn straight from the heart of a star."

Stars. The way his voice turned to coarse velvet and his consonants softened when he spoke low like this. It was the most incredible pillow voice I’d ever heard.

My own was uncontrolled, breathy. "And what will you do with all that power, Director?"

"Whatever you desire, my Empress."

The title, so intimate in his rough whisper, poured heat low in my belly. I shifted, pressing back against him ever so slightly. Through our layers of clothing, I felt his hardness. I tried to keep my face neutral—for the officers below, of course.

Two could play at this game. But I wasn’t sure what we were really playing at anymore. Games before had been sharp, well-defined things I could see, I could manipulate. Easy moves with obvious outcomes.

Like Krennic’s soft whiskey voice, the whole game was growing blurry.

I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw popped. You can’t give up so easily when you’ve only just started playing against the most worthy opponent yet.

I focused the Force, using it to stroke him through his uniform.

His hand clenched on the rail. "Your Majesty," he growled, warning or plea, I couldn't tell.

"Yes, Director?" Pure innocence. He couldn’t know. Wouldn’t know. None of them ever did.

His other hand found my hip, fingers digging in, pulling me closer against him. His breath found my neck. “I don’t want you to fall.”

"Oh, Director. I like danger." I turned my head, my lips nearly brushing his jaw. "Don't you?"

In the reflective surface of the viewport, I watched his eyes darken. "More than you know." His grip tightened possessively. "I have more details to share, but there are many ears here, many with far better hearing than ours. Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more... private?"

"Oh no, Director." I smiled and straightened from the railing, pressing more firmly against him while maintaining our professional stance. Anyone glancing up would see only their Empress receiving a project briefing from her subordinate standing behind her, in appropriate deference. Well, maybe a little too close, but who would say anything? "I want everyone to see how... passionate you are about your work."

His arousal spiked through our connection, along with something else—a flash of power. Invisible fingers trailed up my inner thigh.

I gasped. I couldn’t help it.

"As you wish, Your Majesty." His voice was silk over steel. "Shall I describe the penetrating capabilities of my weapon?"

Stars, he was using the Force. The realization hit me like a shot of pure adrenaline. All this time...

No, that was crazy. Wishful thinking.

"At ease, Director," I managed, my voice remarkably steady. I wondered if any of the few humanoid aliens below could smell my wetness right now. "You've made your point."

He chuckled darkly. "Have I?" His lips brushed my ear. "I'm just getting started. There’s so much more I have to show you.”

Through the viewport, I watched a test beam lance out from Stardust 3, illuminating the station in brilliant light. In the reflection, Krennic's smile was triumphant.

This round was definitely his.

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CHAPTER 5: Falling Suddenly →

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Taglist: @99tech99 😘

[empresskrennic]

♟️👑 Empress x Krennic Chapter 3

Some presentations are more private than others... or are they?

🚫 18+, MINORS DNI

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Chapter 3: Power and Presentation 🔥

EMPRESS POV

The conference room doors parted with a soft hiss. Strategic as always, I entered last.

A long table of polished black durasteel dominated the space, bracketed by high-backed chairs designed more for posture than comfort. Perfect for the stiff-necked officers occupying them.

My gaze swept the room, cataloging faces and feelings. Tarkin's presence near the head of the table was expected—his gaunt features carved from the same material as his ambitions. But it was the figure at the far end that drew my attention.

Krennic stood with his back to us, adjusting the holoprojector. His shoulders were tight beneath that rebellious cream-white uniform. I smiled, remembering how his rough hands had felt in mine. How his breath had quickened when I'd kissed them. The swirl of his hair soft between my fingers as he knelt before me.

No. Not now.

I took my seat, crossing my legs deliberately. The whisper of fabric drew his attention. His ice-blue eyes met mine for a fraction of a second before darting away.

Oh, this would be fun.

I made my opening move. "Director," I called out softly, cutting off Tarkin before he could speak. "I trust those hands of yours have been productive since our last encounter?"

The room stilled. Krennic turned slowly, his expression carefully neutral, but I caught the flash of something in his eyes—recognition of the game beginning anew.

"Your Majesty is too kind to notice such details," he replied, voice steady. His gaze met mine with calculated intensity. "The project demands a... personal touch."

I leaned back, crossing my legs deliberately. "Personal," I echoed, watching him closely. "An interesting choice of words, Director."

He smiled thinly and activated the holoprojector. "Stardust 3 represents the pinnacle of Imperial engineering," he said, his tone almost reverent. "Its capabilities surpass anything we've developed before."

I reached out with the Force, just enough to brush against his consciousness—and encountered that same fascinating resistance. My breath caught. Through our strange connection, I felt his passion for the project burning like a star about to go nova.

Time to press my advantage.

"Your dedication is admirable, Director," I purred, letting my voice carry. "I've seen firsthand how much you've... invested in this project."

His hands tightened on the controls. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said finally, voice tight. "It's a labor of love."

"Love," I repeated softly, savoring the word. "A dangerous word in the Empire, Director. But I do appreciate... passion."

Krennic POV

Her words punched me in the bloody face. She was trying to throw me off balance, to make me stumble. Gods, it was working.

I turned back to the holoprojector, forcing myself to focus. "Your Majesty, this project is not just about power," I said, my voice low and deliberate. "It's about control. About shaping the future of the Empire."

Her eyes met mine, and I saw the flicker of something there—admiration, perhaps, or something deeper. "Control," she echoed softly. "Another interesting choice of words, Director."

I allowed myself a faint smile. "I thought you'd appreciate it, Your Majesty."

The schematics shifted, revealing glimpses of my true vision. It was a Dyson sphere, capable of harnessing the power of an entire star, but I had obfuscated enough details to leave this out. I saw her surprise, felt it as a soft caress in my mind, and satisfaction bloomed in my chest.

"Impressive," Tarkin murmured. Any other day I’d be ecstatic at his direct praise. I’d already have the gloating message to Thrawn half-written in my mind.

But this day was not normal. My focus was entirely on her. The way her lips parted slightly as she studied the designs. The subtle shift in her posture, the tilt of her head. Curiosity? Yes, but also desire—both for the power the project represented and…and for….

I swallowed hard.

“Director,” Tarkin said, his voice a crisp whip across my thoughts. “This is impressive. But we have seen similar projects before. Here, you’ve promised us a weapon of unprecedented power. Can you deliver or not?”

I met his cold, calculating eyes, and I knew this was my moment. My moment to finally prove myself to Tarkin, or to her? “Yes. I can. And I will.”

I turned back to the holoprojector, my fingers flying over the controls as I brought up a new schematic—one I hadn’t intended to show. It was a gamble, a risk, but I needed to prove my point. The image flickered to life, revealing a partial blueprint of a Dyson sphere.

The room erupted into murmurs, the officials leaning forward in their seats, their eyes wide with awe and disbelief. I could feel the Empress’s surprise. The corner of my mouth quirked up as I watched her.

“Intriguing,” Tarkin said, his voice betraying nothing, but those beady eyes were laser-focused on the diagram. He waved a hand toward it. “Continue, Director.”

I did, my words flowing with a confidence I hadn’t felt in years. I spoke of energy collection, of power on a scale that dwarfed even the Death Star, of a weapon that could reshape entire systems. And as I spoke, I felt the Empress’s presence like a shadow at the edge of my mind. Did she have that much of an effect on me, or was there something else at play here? I made a mental note to check her biological file. She looked humanoid. Was she not human?

"The specifics remain classified," I continued, forcing my voice to remain steady. "But I assure you, Your Majesty, when completed, Stardust 3 will redefine what we believe possible."

"Bold claims require bold proof, Director." She rose suddenly, her movement drawing every eye. “But nothing is classified to me. Let’s meet privately after this.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. I met her gaze steadily, even as heat coursed through my veins and threatened to burn right through my skin. My fingers twitched.

"As you wish, Your Majesty." I inclined my head slightly. "My quarters, then. Though I should warn you—some of my methods might surprise you."

Her lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Oh, I'm counting on it, Director."

As the others filed out, I remained at my position, watching her leave. She'd played well, but she had no idea what she was walking into. I had no idea what she’d think—or what I’d end up disclosing to her.

Control. It’s all about control.

I rubbed a gloved hand against my jaw and knelt to shut off the projector, trying not to think about who’s room she was about to walk into.

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CHAPTER 4: A Dangerous Demonstration →

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[empresskrennic]

[empresskrennic]

Chapter 2 is up!!! It's linked below the text of chapter 1, or you can find it on the table of contents pinned on my page.

AND CHAPTER 3 IS NEARLY DONE (shriek)

THE SPICE IS FLOWING.

get ready, empressettes....

♟️👑 Empress x Krennic

The new Empress loves playing 'games,' but she's beat everyone in the galaxy. But when she steps onto the Stardust 3 station, she finally meets her match...

NOTES: Krennic did not die on Scarif. I take liberties with canon in support of a better story.

STAR WARS • Director Orson Krennic • Female Emperor THEMES: Power Imbalance, Playing Games, Exhibitionism SPICE LEVEL: Ramps up from 🔥 to 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 -Spice level is annotated per chapter-

🚫 18+, MINORS DNI

Chapter 1: Kiss the Gauntlet 🔥

When my boot crossed the edge of the Delta shuttle’s ramp and softly kissed the docking bay, a thousand stormtroopers in crisp lines of pure white snapped to attention.

Echoing in a singular clap, the sound was as clean and impressive as the station itself. Idly, I compared my glistening boot and the polished lines of the decking, wondering who had expended more effort in preparing for my arrival: Krennic, who had obviously thrown down all his chips in the hope of winning my favor…or me.

My pause was not unnoticed. I could feel the annoyance running hot in the veins of my assistants, who stood six respectful steps behind me, waiting warily for my next move and knowing they could not predict it.

I cracked an affectionate half-smile at my boot.

Their thoughts always betrayed them. I threw them off balance. Kept them wondering, never able to calibrate accurately to their Empress’s actions. I admit it, I deliberately deceived them; but in my defense, it was a great strategic game. Tons of fun.

And it was my hallmark, my callsign. Surprising, unnerving, seemingly unnecessary actions I threw my entire authority behind, threatening (and sometimes doling out) demotions or transfers to Hoth for the warm-blooded and Tatooine for those who preferred cold. I’m not mean or crazy. And I’m certainly not a psychopath, like that one-dimensional genius Palpatine.But seriously…if the Empress of the Galactic Empire wants to shine her own boots, she shouldn’t have to shoo her assistants away more than once.

But unfortunately…no, not unfortunately. It’s actually sweet. Just annoying…I had a kind of magnetism that attracted people who wanted to care for me, to protect me like some kind of incontinent grandma.

Or incontinent Grand Moff.

I chuckled to myself at the joke, eyes still studying the shiny boot tip touching the equally shiny docking bay, internally betting on who would try to get my attention first: would the stormtroopers shift uncomfortably, or would my assistants clear their throats?

They cared for me. Truly, I knew. Mentally, I forced myself to acknowledge it, to appreciate it, like a rich kid who really likes steak but is served world-class chicken instead. But I couldn’t shake the fact that I hated it. The gentle cronyism chafed like a left-handed blaster bolt in a plasma coupling.

I liked a good fight. But it felt like the galaxy had been drained of worthy opponents after the war. I hoped my successes on the Cat, the ISD Catastrophe, weren’t the cause. It very well could have been because I did so well that they made me Empress after Palpatine’s unfortunate accident that I definitely had nothing to do with.

Rustling brought my gaze up from my boot. Not my assistants; no, the sound came from straight ahead, down the middle of the stormtrooper gauntlet. All at once, my assistants’ annoyance suddenly ran ice cold.

A swath of fluttering cape in a creamy white just barely offset from the stormtroopers’ stark white—deliberately chosen to be maddening, I observed with cautiously sprouting glee—announced his arrival. The cape was so bloody interesting I stood inelegantly still with one foot forward, frozen as I drank in the fluid dynamics of his chosen game piece.

When he drew near, I tore my attention from his magnificently strategic fashion choice and stepped down, waiting for him to come to me. His body was hard and lean, his gait long and aggressive—no, get it together—and his uniform was the same rebellious cream white as his cape. His boots were as shiny as mine.

His tan face was stoic, with narrow, pouty lips and a heavy brow. The creases in his skin were created by deep concentration and study rather than humor, anger, or anxiety. His hair was a confusing tapestry of pale shades, from silver-gray to wheat blonde. Mesmerizing. Made for combing with fingers—

His eyes were the only part of him he could not strategically select for this game. They were authentic, ice blue, and bearing down on me with an equal level of assessment. But there was complexity there I couldn’t identify.

I tasted his feelings. Trepidation. Determination.

A glimmer of desire—quickly quashed.

He didn’t yet know it, but he’d just made the first move on my board.

Or did he?

“Finally,” I murmured quietly as he stepped into my personal space. He locked his lean body into a snappy, flawless salute.

But then his hand twitched.

Nearly flawless.

That was unexpected.

Our eyes locked.

It had been deliberate.

Something old and cold and cynical melted in me.

Delicious.

As he took me in for the first time in person, not in a holo, something changed in the subtle expression of his eyes, morphing into something hard and analytical. It looked good on him. I found myself ejected from my comfortable home arena and floating in his…lost, marveling, and waiting for his large, black-gloved hands to reach down from the heavens and save me from the stars.

Was I attracted to the man, or to his game?

I lost my own internal bet as I cleared my throat, regaining my attention and composure. “Director,” I said simply, offering him room for an opening gambit. Most couldn’t resist the opportunity to speak at length to the Empress. Paired with my Force sensitivity, it always telegraphed their intention and methods and made for easy conquest.

But this time, I couldn’t shake the feeling I had already lost the advantage.

I felt a flash of undefined heat…passion? What kind?... from him, then his mind closed. Either he is sensitive also, or he is in complete control of himself. Disciplined.

The latter thrilled me.

“My Empress,” Krennic said gravely, lowering his salute. His accent tasted like caramel, gritty with sea salt. A subtle emphasis on the first word shot me further out of my carefully cultivated, stable orbit and I lost control for the first time in a long time.

Electric warmth shot through my body from deep within as I gazed into the depths of his blue eyes. I sucked in a breath, my lips parting at the intensity of my sudden desire.

His focus flicked quickly to my mouth. Creases formed at the corners of his eyes. Relief? No. Satisfaction. The bastard was holding in a laugh of triumph.

That did it. Silently, I cursed and imagined slapping myself.

It was my move now. I lifted my chin.

Blowing out my breath, I paused, then held out my hand, wrist limp, palm down.

Kiss it.

It was an ancient custom that had never been observed in the Empire because who would want to kiss Palpatine’s wrinkly old fist? I’d never bothered to demand such indulgent genuflection. Until right now.

Between two master players, it was a hell of a gauntlet to throw.

Undecipherable thunder tore across his face. Then the mass of onlooking stormtroopers, the entire Stardust 3 project, and the galaxy itself faded to inconsequence as Director Krennic knelt in a grand billowing of cape, gently took my hand in his gloved hands, and pressed his soft, warm lips to my skin.

The texture of his carefully combed blonde-gray hair bent over my hand made the moment too intimate. He was too close, we were touching too much. I itched to run my fingers through it, to separate the layers, to understand him and the way he played the game.

Instead, my fingers closed around his, and I felt his clench in response. No emotions. Controlled.

But his breath betrayed…something. It was hot and quick, and I felt his lips move subtly. He stayed there far too long. Either he was taking his time, getting the measure of me to learn my weaknesses, or he had…other aspirations.

Maybe both.

His kiss felt like a promise, felt like a threat. It felt like a cheat code and a decisive defeat. It was beseeching and hungry. It was overwhelmingly everything, possibilities without probabilities.

Anticipation warmed my chest as his unreadable face lifted, his Hoth-ice eyes drilling into mine from beneath the shadow of his heavy brow. I blinked slowly, unable to tear my gaze away, unwilling to flinch first.

A promise, I decided.

But of what?

I could not wait to play Krennic’s game.

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CHAPTER 2: The Rough Hands of a Director 🔥 →

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[empresskrennic]

♟️👑 Empress x Krennic Chapter 2

A Director's hands tell stories his words won't. But why are they so rough?

🚫 18+, MINORS DNI

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Chapter 2: The Rough Hands of a Director 🔥

Do not fret, my empressettes. The spice will flow VERY SOON. 🤭

KRENNIC POV

The Empress’s hand was still warm in mine as I rose from my kneel, my cape settling back into place with a whisper of fabric against the polished floor. Her eyes—those unsettlingly sharp, calculating eyes—lingered on mine for a heartbeat longer than necessary, a silent challenge that I felt in my bones. I’d kissed her hand as if it were a sacred relic, a calculated counter-move to match her own presumption in offering it, but it had left me off-balance. Her touch, her scent, the way her breath hitched slightly when my lips met her skin—it was all too much, too fast. I needed to regain control.

“Director Krennic,” she said, her voice smooth and dangerous, like a vibroblade sliding from its sheath. “I trust you’ve prepared something impressive for me today.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” I replied, my tone clipped and professional. I gestured toward the corridor leading deeper into Stardust 3. “If you’ll follow me to our meeting, I’ll be pleased to show you the latest advancements in my project.”

She fell into step beside me, her boots clicking against the floor with a rhythm that matched the pounding of my heart. I could feel her studying me, her gaze like a scanner probing for weaknesses. I kept my expression neutral, my gloved hands clasped behind my back.

We walked in silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken tension. I could sense her amusement, her curiosity, like a predator circling its prey. It was maddening. She was maddening. I needed to shift the dynamic, to regain the upper hand.

“Your Majesty,” I began, my voice carefully measured, “Be advised. The demands of overseeing Stardust 3 have required…hands-on involvement. It is not simply another Death Star.”

Her lips curved into a sly smile, and I knew I’d made a mistake. “Hands-on, you say?” she purred, stopping abruptly in the corridor. “Let me see.”

Before I could protest, she reached for my hands, pulling them out from behind my back with a firm grip. She made quick work of my fine black leather gloves, tugging first the middle finger then the thumb. Gentle, she was not.

The gloves went to her jacket pocket. Her fingers were cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat that surged through me at her touch. She turned my palms upward, her gaze flicking over the calluses and scars, the evidence of my late-night labors.

“Rough hands for a Director,” she mused, her voice low. Teasing? Questioning? "You kiss the gauntlet, yet your hands speak of a different game.���

My stomach sank. I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to pull away, fighting to stay calm. I knew she’d notice the roughness of my skin. I’d spent too many hours in the labs, too many nights tinkering with circuits and soldering components, to hide the evidence of my dedication. My hands were a map of my obsession, and I hated that she might read them like a star chart.

“Merely the marks of dedication, Your Majesty,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. “The project is not yet ready for full disclosure.”

“Not ready?” She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Or not ready for me?”

The question hung in the air like a blaster bolt aimed right at my forehead. “The project is complex,” I said. “It requires precision. Care. I won’t rush it for the sake of a demonstration.”

Her smile widened, and I realized too late that I’d played into her hand. “Oh, Director,” she said, thumb rolling over the hardened skin on the inside of my index finger where I steadied the plasma welder. “You’re pouting.”

“I am not—” I started, but she cut me off by lifting one of my hands to her lips, mirroring the gesture I’d made earlier. Her kiss was light, but it sent a jolt through me that I couldn’t suppress. My breath caught, and I felt a flush creep up my neck. I hated her for it. Hated the way she could unravel me so effortlessly.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes locked on mine, and I saw the triumph there. “I thought it only fair to return such a chivalrous gesture,” she said softly.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. I should have been offended, should have pulled away and reasserted my authority. But instead, I found myself frozen, save for the spot where her lips touched my skin. It was a brand, a brand that might burn forever.

Her touch…her lips…powerful, the engineer in me observed cooly, unaffected. Limitless power.

“You’re enjoying this,” I said, my voice low and rough.

“Immensely,” she admitted, her smile sharpening. “But tell me, Director, what is it about your project that keeps you up at night? What drives you to the point your hands are in such harsh condition?”

I hesitated, my instincts screaming at me to keep my secrets close. But there was something about her—something in the way she looked at me, as if she could see through every layer of my carefully constructed facade—that made me want to answer.

“It’s…personal,” I said finally, my voice quieter than I intended.

Her eyes softened for a moment, a flicker of something I couldn’t identify. “Personal,” she echoed. “Interesting.”

She released my hand, and I felt the loss of her touch like a physical ache. I stepped back, forcing myself to regain my composure, and took my gloves from her outstretched hand. “Shall we continue the tour, Your Majesty?” I asked, my tone clipped.

I slipped my gloves back on. Hid the calluses. Hid my secrets.

“Of course,” she said, her voice light and teasing. “Lead the way, Director.”

"You play an interesting game, Director," she murmured as our boots clacked in rhythm. “Brave to play the Empress."

Pursing my lips, I dug for a counter. I thought about pointing out that she had literally thrown the gauntlet in my face and decided it was too close to pouting again.

"I’m not just any player, my Empress.” I lengthened my stride, forcing her to hurry. A small victory, but it felt cheap. I slowed my gait again. “I am the one who designs the games."

Did her head just snap toward me slightly?

"Then let us see whose design is more… effective."

“I warn you, I am not chivalrous. I’m not the type to let a woman win just because she is a woman. Or even an Empress.”

She scoffed. “It would insult me. It is a far grander gesture to compete as equals.”

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CHAPTER 3: Power and Presentation 🔥 →

← BACK TO TABLE OF CONTENTS

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Taglist: @99tech99 😘

[empresskrennic]

Fashion Show on the ISD Chimaera ✨

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I’ve discovered that by turning my studies into fanart they become instantly 100% more enjoyable and i’m able to learn a lot (very much would recommend). All of these are studies of old clothing advertisements

[empresskrennic]

LOYAL DADDY

Ben Mendelsohn reacted to Star Wars case lmaooo

[empresskrennic]

Una? More like Unf 🫦

Ben Mendelsohn in ‘Una’ (2017)

[empresskrennic]

Bottle these feels up and sell it, Pfizer

Art by Julia Zhuravleva

[empresskrennic]

Director daddy bbgirl doesn’t need a Death Star when he’s got weaponized pout

@99tech99

another and I’m not sorry

[empresskrennic]

Delicious

"Galen, you're an inspired scientist but you're a terrible liar."

ROGUE ONE: Star Wars Story

[empresskrennic]

Humanity is both a mistake and a blessing

[empresskrennic]

Our husbando is perfect. Full stop. No comments. 11th commandment. Law of physics. Bbygurl pout is life. Don’t @me unless it’s with complete agreement and adoration.

@99tech99

[empresskrennic]

you can be peeling a boiled egg and think to yourself wow. that was so simple. and then you peel another one and it’s like being in the throes of war. shell everywhere. egg mangled. tears in your eyes. that’s how god keeps you humble

[empresskrennic]

give him tO MEEEEEE 🫴

“What we need to understand about a character like Krennic is that, if he had had the chance, he would have tried to take over the entire game and it seems to me that this aspect has not yet been explored sufficiently.” [x]

Ben Mendelsohn as Director Orson Krennic in ANDOR Season 2

[empresskrennic]

s

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Ben Mendelsohn as Director Orson Krennic from the new issue of Empire magazine !