#in which hux is the image of disgust

[interdimensionalhellscapeportal]

Not a huge fan of the sequel trilogy but I would absolutely watch a version filmed like the office, complete with reactions shots like this

[noiriarti]

The Arrangement: Armitage Hux x Reader (College AU) Ch. 6

Summary: A cuddle-buddies-to-lovers college AU.

AN: NSFW!!!!!!! SO nsfw. Also, TW for a lot of discussions of parental abuse, so please read with care <3

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, [Ch. 6]

Chapter 6: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

Absolutely not. Absolutely fucking not. Armitage was certain he was damaging the carpet at this point, pulling out a fiber or two, but he didn't care. All he could see was Mitaka's smile when he was selected. That bastard. But what right do I have to interject? He thought bitterly. As he sat, silently glowering at the two of you, the room seemed to grow unbearably hot. The music that was loud and annoying when he entered was suddenly deafening, pounding nails into his head. He read your expression through the overstimulating environment, and he couldn't see disgust, like he'd hoped. Were you happy? The thought turned his stomach.

Mitaka stood and offered you a hand up, which you took. As you walked to the closet, the crowd started jeering, encouraging the chaos. It was almost too much for Armitage, who was distinctly not cheering, or even smiling. He wanted these people to shut the fuck up more than anything, but not more than he wanted to go home with you and put his arms around you. Spend another night deluding himself that you loved him. Just one more. Before you entered the closet, you turned back, finding Armitage's eyes, which were boring into you. He saw you throw him a little smile and walk in. I'm okay, he knew it meant. He knew you. Gods, he knew you inside and out and watching you leave was destroying him.

Those seven minutes were the hardest of his life. He tried to throw himself into the thrum of the music or the lilting of voices, laughter in the living room behind him. The beige walls, like in his own room. The tiny stream of air through the window. Anything to keep from imagining what you could be doing in that closet. He wasn't scared something bad would happen to you--he knew you could stand up for yourself, and the door wasn't locked. He was terrified that you would do something you enjoyed, something you wanted. Obviously, you had told him you'd had sex before, and he wasn't jealous. But it was the idea of you liking Mitaka back that really did it. He'd almost rather that you fucked Mitaka than that you whispered about your feelings, holding each other the way Armitage held you every night. The image of Mitaka's hands tracing up your legs made him realize that, no, actually, the idea of you two having sex was also killing him just as much.

Armitage tortured himself with the idea of your moans, your legs, your naked body, whispering to Mitaka that you liked him, too. That you wanted him, and no one else. But the worst image of them all was the idea of you telling Armitage that, actually, you never wanted to see him again. No more cuddling. No more telling each other everything. That his feelings for you were pathetic. The bile was rising in his stomach, turning over and over, heating his ruddy skin until he felt like he was boiling. The noise was pounding, but he could barely hear it. Guilt was burrowing in Gwen's mind. Maybe she had gone too far. Armitage looked like he was dying of the plague, and she really hadn't expected you and Mitaka to be chosen. She put a hand on Armitage's shoulder, and asked him if he was alright, which he answered with a clipped "fine," before continuing to stare at the spot in the carpet that he had been abusing.

When the timer went off, a rivulet of cold sweat poured down his back. Now, he would know if he was stressing himself out for nothing, or if his worst fear had come to pass. He almost wished he could go back to those seven minutes of waiting, because this would probably be worse. Poe bounded up to the door, knocking on it, and the crowd started hollering preemptively.

He took in the way that your braids and pins were messed up, askew in your hair, some having already fallen out. Your dress had ridden up, exposing more of your thighs than he thought possible, which he couldn't even enjoy in the circumstances, knowing that Mitaka probably had his hands all over them a second ago. You were fucking barefoot, and Mitaka emerged from the closet holding one of your shoes. Mitaka's crisp white shirt was untucked, spilling over his belt. The worst part, though, was your sheepish smile, and Mitaka's pleased grin.

The crowd erupted. The noise pounded his head, and he knew he had to get out of here. Now. He couldn't stand to be in the room for a second longer, but if he immediately left, he would give away his feelings. Maybe he could spare himself that. Keep at least a sliver of his dignity. 

So, he waited. Seven seconds. One. You and Mitaka sat back down, and you cast a worried glance at him. Two. He refused to meet your eyes. Three. Poe stepped back into the center of the circle and spun the bottle again. Four. The bottle glinted, spinning around and around. Five. You asked him if he was alright, and he said yes absently. Six. The bottle selected someone, one of the roommates, Rose. Seven. Finally. He was free. He slipped out of the circle, unnoticed by everyone except you and Gwen. When he was at the door, the crowd was cheering for Rose and some stranger to go into the closet, and the game kept going without him. Good riddance.

The heat of the living room was unbearable, and something was rising in his throat, but he could hardly feel it over the stabbing in his head. His eyes prickled and burned. He would not cry. He could not. As he pushed into the bathroom that was closest to him, weaving in between bodies, he could feel the telltale tightening in his chest. Armitage's eyes welled up, and he barely made it to the sink to splash water in his face to stop himself from crying. Weakness, his father always called it, when he smacked Armitage and saw him cry. Armitage became good at schooling his expression and keeping those tears at bay, but, tonight, with nothing but rage, pain, and, most of all, love, in his heart, he was slipping. The cold water calmed him, just for a second, cooling down his racing mind. He wouldn't be weak. He wouldn't. He looked at himself in the mirror, splotchy and red and panting, and decided it was time to make a swift exit from the party altogether.

He emerged back into the heat, searching the room for someone familiar, to tell them he was leaving. Kylo wasn't anywhere to be seen, nor was Gwen. Nothing but strangers stuffed into every corner of the room, making the floor sticky and grimy. He couldn't wait to leave. Fuck it, he wouldn't find anyone, just text them. He waded through the sea of people to the door, casting one final look at the room. There. In the corner. It was you and Mitaka. Your bodies were almost pressed together, just a hair's breath away, and he was whispering something into your ear, or kissing your neck, Armitage couldn't tell from this distance. You put your arm on Mitaka's shoulder, getting closer and closer to his face, and Armitage shattered.

Pathetic. Useless. Weak. Pathetic. Useless. Weak, his father chanted at him in his mind as he tore open the door and stormed down the hallway back to your apartment. Images flashed into his mind. You spooning Mitaka. Holding his hand. Resting his head in your lap. Telling all your friends about him. Him seeing your cute pajamas. You, knocking on his door at 1 in the morning. The nausea swept over him in waves. With shaking, sweaty hands, he unlocked the door to your apartment and threw his keys on the floor. They landed somewhere in the pile of shoes stacked near the door. Whatever. It didn't matter. He stumbled to his room on weak legs, the noise finally gone, leaving just the headache in its wake.

His eyes were prickling again, and he knew it was coming. He didn't have the will to stop it this time. Armitage slammed the door behind him just as the first tear rolled down his cheek. Weak. He slammed his fist into the table. Millie was hiding under the bed again, and he felt a stab of guilt. Scaring his cat was something he had vowed never to do, but here he was. The tears were pouring out now, salt drenching his face and mixing with the sweat that had beaded on his brow and run down his cheeks. A sob tore out of his throat as he collapsed onto his bed. 

He would never trace the thin white line of a scar on your palm from the cut all those months ago again. He would never touch your hair again. He would never trace the curve of your neck with his eyes as you lay asleep next to him again. It was over.

Armitage ripped off his shoes, throwing them across the room. It felt good to lob something with all his force, and to imagine that it was his feelings for you leaving his heart. Those stupid, stupid feelings. If only he hadn't loved you. Then it wouldn't hurt to hold you, knowing that the touch was supposed to mean nothing. He should have told you months ago that you should end things. It would have kept him safe. Given him time to recover, to harden his heart and move on. And he wouldn't be creepily cuddling with you every night while yearning for you like some pathetic child. And now? How could he watch from a middle distance as you dated Mitaka, or anyone for that matter? He wanted you to be happy, but he wouldn't make himself stay. He couldn't do that to himself. It would destroy him, more than he already was.

No matter what happened next, your friendship would change. You would become more distant, and he wouldn't have the courage to tell you about the hard parts of his life anymore. And, if he couldn't watch you love someone else in his own apartment, he'd have to move out, and probably lose his closeness to Gwen and Kylo in the process. How could he have fallen for an important part of his support system? Your friendship, something beautiful, something precious, was changed. Obliterated under his fumbling fingers and weakness, his inability to just end it when no one was hurt yet. He curled up, just like he did when he was a little boy, so powerless against his own feelings. Sobs wracked his body. He didn't even try to stop crying anymore, the tears came at such an overwhelming rate.

Tap tap tap tap. Your voice sounded, calling his name. He didn't have the strength or willpower to get up, so he just remained sobbing weakly on his bed. He heard your feet on the carpet, rushing to him on his bed. Immediately, you crawled into his bed and wrapped yourself around him. Your warmth against him was the most bittersweet sensation he could have hoped for, igniting an ember of hope. Maybe it would all be okay. At the same time, the guilt intensified. Would you be doing this if you knew the truth?

"Armitage, hey. Hey. What's going on?" You whispered against his neck, pulling him in even tighter with your arm.

"I--fuck. I need to, I'm going to. I. Move out," he spluttered. It was the best he could do. You instantly took his face in your hands, craning his neck toward you. His cheeks were wet, and your heart constricted. Who had done this to your Armitage? What was wrong? Was it his father, again?

"What? What are you talking about? Why?" The questions were too fast, overwhelming. He shook his head and choked out a request for a second to calm down, just to become a rational person again. 

The minutes passed as he took deep breaths, steadying himself with the lungfuls of air. Even if it hurt, your touch never failed to calm him, and he felt the peace of it washing over him and soothing his thoughts. His sobs subsided when you rested your head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent--warm and crisp, full of sandalwood and smoke. His usually precisely styled hair was a mess, and his beautiful cheeks were more wet than dry. He finally steadied himself enough to speak.

"I--" his voice broke, and he cleared his throat, "I was saying that I think I should move out." He knew that no matter what you did, he would have feelings for you. Every time you so much as kissed someone else, it would cut him to the bone. So he had to get out before he was hurt even further.

"What are you saying? Why would you leave?" There it was. His opportunity to say it. I love you. I caught feelings. I want to be your boyfriend.

"Personal reasons," he managed. Fuck. You shot him an angry look.

"Armitage, don't give me that shit. What 'personal reasons' could possibly make you think that?" Armitage sat up, pulling away from you and still facing the wall.

"I think it would be better for me," he said firmly.

"Is it something with Gwen?" You were begging him for something, for answers. Armitage shook his head "Kylo?" No. "Your dad?" No. You clenched your fists. "Why won't you just tell me?" You were raising your voice, almost yelling. Armitage's face was mask of pain, and you just wanted to see him smile again. If he just told you, you could deal with it together.

"I can't, I just," he choked out, voice heated, as tears returned to his eyes. You couldn't help your anger, your fists were gripped so tightly that your arms were shaking. What was so bad that he wouldn't tell you? 

"Armitage, tell me now!" Your voice was even louder, demanding. He groaned in frustration, an angry sound that tore out of his throat.

"Just leave it alone!" He commanded, his voice booming through the room, raising the temperature even more. You fumed. Leave it alone? As if. 

You were full-on yelling at this point. "Like hell I will! Tell me the truth or *so help me I will-" 

He interrupted you at the top of his voice, waving his hands around. "It's decided, just let it-"

"STOP IT! Just tell me!"

"FINE! You want the truth so bad? Fine. I'll tell you the truth. I didn't plan it but you are the best thing that's ever happened to me and I can't watch you fall in love with someone else the way I have with you. That's why." In his anger, he had snapped it at you, but the admission felt freeing, almost. He felt the knot in his chest release just the slightest bit, going slack at his relief. But now, he was searching your face for something, anything to tell him what you were thinking. All he saw was surprise, your lips parted just so.

The silence hung between you like a guillotine, ready to end him. Your eyebrows furrowed, and he lost the ability to breathe. That did not look good. You had drawn your legs up to your chest, not touching him at all, and dread sank into him. Double bad sign. He put his head back in his hands, not able to face what was coming next.

"Fuck, I shouldn't have said that," he groaned, "I felt so vile for cuddling with you while I was hoping for more, especially because you are, well... elsewhere." You still stayed silent, shell-shocked. Armitage shared your feelings? He loved you?

"What-" you whispered to the quiet room, "what do you mean I'm 'falling in love with' with someone else?" Armitage looked up in confusion.

"You and Mitaka? I saw you two at the party, coming out of the closet after obviously doing something and about to kiss after," he said, bitterness creeping into his words at the image. 

"What are you talking about? Dopheld and I--we're not like that. We didn't do anything in the closet and we certainly didn't kiss. Armitage," you said, laying your hand on his arm. The words came easily, now that you knew where he stood. "I'm not interested in Dopheld like that. At all. I'm interested in you. I love you, and I think I have for a while," you admitted, catching his stunned expression. If he thought that he had been as happy as he could be when he was cuddling with you right before he realized he loved you, he was sorely mistaken. This was a new record. And, even though he was elated to be able to finally have you the way he wanted, the biggest relief came from the knowledge that you wouldn't pull away from him. You were going to be his. He had a million questions: Really? Did you promise? Were you sure? When? Why? But actually, why? He found himself trying to say them all at once.

"Wait, but--You? His shirt? I-You love me? What?" A smile split his face, showing those smile lines and dimples that made your heart flutter. With your bangs disheveled, glowing under the moonlight, for a second you looked angelic. Regal. Suddenly, he didn't really care about Mitaka, or his father, or, really, anything else. He just had one pressing question on his mind, overriding everything else.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, as if you would ever say anything other than please. When you nodded, he lunged forward on the bed, cupping your face in his hand and pressing his lips tenderly to yours. It was everything he had imagined, and more. He pulled away and all he could see was your eyes. All he could smell was that shampoo he had used on you. He didn't even wait a second before coming back to your mouth. Gods, you were a good kisser. Your lips moved in perfect sync, exploring each other and pouring all your feelings into your movements. With others, he'd needed time to get used to how they wanted to be kissed, some too fast for him, others too slow, but you were somehow perfect, like you were the puzzle piece that made everything fit. You were starting to lay back on the bed, and he was more than happy to 

"I need to ask, will you go out with me? On a date that, preferably, isn't in my bedroom?" You burst out laughing against him.

"Yes, Armitage. Did you really need to ask?" He nodded, his nose almost touching yours. 

"Now, you're mine." The way he said it sent shivers down your body, right to your core. He dove back into your mouth, more heated this time. Even though he was right on top of you, so close to connecting your bodies, he kept his hips just distant enough not to press against you. He was being proper, again. His mouth was anything but, though, claiming yours with a hunger you didn't even know he had. The hand on your face trailed down your neck, past your chest, landing on your waist, tracing the body that he knew so well. Your legs were spread just a bit, which you realized hitched your skirt up dangerously high, but not high enough for what you really wanted. Fuck it, you thought as you brought your legs up around his hips and pulled him into you. He was hard, because of course he was. He was kissing the person he loved.

The pressure of him against you was unbearably amazing as he experimentally shifted his hips. Your hands were running up and down his back, leaving wrinkles in the perfectly ironed shirt, but you wanted something else. You toyed with the small of his back, gently pulling the shirt out of its tuck so that you could shove your hands up inside it, finally touching the expanse of skin. When you scratched down his back experimentally, he growled and suddenly thrust with his hips. He was devouring you, so commanding and all-encompassing that you found yourself wanting to please him however he wanted. He pulled away from you, just for a second, to unbutton it and toss it aside. His chest was just as you imagined it, all hard and lean lines, strong and precise. His hand went right back to your body, tracing from your ass back up until he was gently pulling down the top of your dress, giving you an opportunity to stop him if you wanted. You just wanted to get the damn thing off. You weren't wearing a bra, so he met your tits with hungry eyes, then immediately began marking one up while one hand grabbed the other brutally. You squealed in pleasure, and he swore against your skin. The marks came out a deep color, and some part of you lit up in pleasure at the idea of his marks showing the world whose you were. The idea went straight down to your painfully wet core, which you were wildly thrusting up to try, in vain, to grind against him again. He felt your attempts and chuckled.

"Do you want me to take care of this for you?” He put one hand exactly where you wanted it, pressed up against your underwear. You nodded at him fervently, and he ground his hand into you, the heel of his palm creating amazing friction. You started to make a noise, but then you muffled the groan with your hand. Armitage shared a wall with Kylo, and he had gone home with Rey before the both of you.

“Don’t hold it in, it’s okay,” Armitage said, reading your thoughts. He'd never heard anything from over there, unless it involved a tool of some sort. You moved your hand from your mouth and slid your thumbs under the waistband, pulling your underwear off, and exposing yourself to him. His jaw clenched as he took you in. He wasted no time in diving right in, playing with your clit in gentle circles with his fingers. Then, he started going lower, finally sliding a finger inside you and curling until you gasped. As he kept feeling your walls with his finger, his thumb found your clit and kept touching you perfectly. If he kept this up, you were going to cum, hard. And Armitage was nothing if not an overachiever. Faster than you expected, you found the tension growing until you let out a steam of curses and came on his hand, getting it sticky and wet. He didn't seem to mind, though, as he licked you off his fingers before climbing back up so that you were face to face.

"Can I fuck you, baby?" He was speaking under his breath, his voice so dark that you didn't even have the will to sass him. "Please," you said as you stared into his eyes. Armitage leaned over and dug around in his nightstand for a moment before producing a condom, the foil wrapper glinting in the moonlight as he opened it. He started undoing his belt, then finally unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear. His cock bobbed out, longer and thicker than you expected, trailing precum in his excitement. If your need for him were less urgent, you would have gotten on your knees and shoved him down your throat.

He rolled the condom on, positioning himself back between your legs. "I’ve wanted this for such a long time,” Armitage confessed, giving you a sweet kiss before finally pushing inside you. He had been ignoring his desire for you, just keeping his thoughts romantic, but you were in every one of his fantasies before he even admitted to himself that he loved you. His cock made you feel so full, deliciously wrapped around him as he stretched you out. You both moaned in unison as he took his first thrust, a sound so sweet from him that you wanted to bottle it up to remember this by. The slow, languid thrusts gave way to sharp, chaotic pounding into you. One of his hands was all over your body. One second, it was on your ass, lifting up your hips to make a better angle. The next, it was pinching your nipples and grabbing your tits. His sounds were getting louder, and you were practically certain Kylo could hear your near-constant moans at this point, but you couldn't care less. Then he froze within you.

"Get on your hands and knees. I'm going to cum on your back," he panted, giving you one quick kiss before you flipped over. Your pussy was absolutely soaked and so ready to swallow his cock that he barely had to adjust himself before he slipped in. His hips snapped into yours at a speed you could hardly believe. You weren't even sure what was coming out of your mouth, just a string of vague noises and moans, interrupted by shouts of his name when he hit a particularly good angle. Right as his thrusts became erratic, he suddenly pulled out of you and ripped off the condom, spurting ropes of cum on your ass and lower back while he chanted your name and squeezed his eyes shut from the pleasure. 

A second or two passed as he took a mental snapshot of your back covered in his cum before he jumped off the bed and got a tissue to clean you off. You chuckled at his chivalry, waiting as he got the final bit off you and collapsed onto the bed next to you. He pulled you in to his favorite position, with your head on his chest and his arms circling you, then kissed your forehead gently. His right thumb was rubbing a circle into your arm as he whispered about how good you were, how hot he found you, and how much he loved you. After a few minutes, you both visited the bathroom (separately), then returned to bed. It was late, after all. Only about ten minutes had passed when Armitage asked you something.

"So. Not to be weird and ruin the afterglow, but what exactly happened with Mitaka?" He asked. "Not that I don't trust you, or that I'm jealous, well maybe a little, I just don't understand how I totally misread that. I was so scared of seeing you want someone else..." he trailed off. Amused, you recounted the events of the party. 

When you and Dopheld got into the closet, right as the door closed, you immediately tripped in your massive heels. They were an attempt to look sexy for Armitage, but he stayed ever the gentleman, much to your frustration. As you fell, you grabbed onto the first thing you felt under fingers, which happened to be Dopheld's shirt. Now you were both sprawled on the floor, but you had managed to catch yourself on your hands and knees. 

"Shit, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" You asked him, not quite sure where to look in the dark. He told you he was, but you could have sworn you felt seams rip under your hand. You spent most of the seven minutes feeling around the floor in the dark, looking for the shoe that you had accidentally kicked off in the chaos, and occasionally apologizing when you bumped into each other. Once you had located it, you just sat in silence for a moment before Mitaka said your name.

"I need to get something off my chest. I like you, and I'd like to go get dinner some time if you're interested. But if don't want to, seriously, no worries. I'll still let you bum notes off me," he said playfully, and you could almost picture his smirk in the dark.

"I'm sorry, Dopheld. I'm currently kind of seeing someone--it's complicated. But I'd love to stay friends, if that's okay." Dopheld spent the rest of the time joking around with you, making you laugh, until the alarm went off. You were just excited to get back to Armitage, and you didn't even know that the super tight dress had ridden up, or that you had disheveled Mitaka so badly.

When you saw Armitage leave the bedroom looking like he was about to lose his dinner, you walked out, but you couldn't find him in the chaos of the living room. Mitaka followed you, trying to ask what was wrong over the music. You were screaming at the top of your lungs trying to get him to repeat himself, so he leaned in and asked what was wrong. You told him you were looking for Armitage, and he said probably bathroom, and that, if you waited, he'd probably leave soon. Twenty seconds later, there he was. Right as you were about to go to him, Mitaka asked you something, but you couldn't hear again, so he leaned in close to your ear.

"Is Gwen single? We got to talking and she's great, I mean, wow." His smile was huge, genuine. You put your arm on his to steady yourself, then rose up on your tip toes to yell at his ear that yes, she was, and she'd probably like him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of red hair leave the party.

And then you had found Armitage.

"Oh," Armitage said. Blinded by his fears, he had just... assumed. "I should probably get some therapy," he said as he chuckled.

"Ya think?" You burst out laughing against his chest, and he buried his hand in your hair. You stayed there, interrogating each other about your crushes and when they had started until about 5:30, at which point you were both soundly asleep.

The next morning, bright and early, when you sat Kylo and Gwen down at breakfast to tell them something important, Gwen just said "finally" and walked off to go get ready for class. Kylo was staring at the two of you with narrowed eyes and a baffled expression.

"So, you guys weren't already dating? Like the past couple of months?" You shook your heads. "Are you sure? Shit. Well, congrats." As Kylo left the kitchen after eating a huge serving of French toast, and half of what was left in the pan, Armitage looked at you and knew, deep down, in his heart of hearts, that he would be okay. That the four of you would change, and grow apart at some point, and move away, but the idea suddenly wasn't terrifying. Plus, he always had you, the person he would happily clean up one hundred dirty kitchens with.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

AN: SHE'S DONE!!! MY BABY IS DONE!!!! thank you all, darling readers, for staying with these two idiots until the very end!!! asks and requests are always open!

Tag list: @starlightsearches

[butterfliesandfoxes]

Placing all my bets on You — A Kylux Gambling Addiction AU

The thrills of battle couldn’t compare to this.

Like every other man and woman at his sides, Hux pulled the lever again. The pictures on the machine began to spin, blurring into indiscernible symbols which he watched without blinking.

He wasn’t an idiot, and knew the risk he was taking every time he tugged down the crank, but something about the old casino’s permeating stench of alcohol and bustling atmosphere made him repeat the motion again and again.

He came here to win big, and he wouldn’t be leaving until he did (Read, until the last of his funds were drained).

Hux held his breath as the slot machine finally slowed to a stop. He sighed in frustration as it showed the different images. He was glad those around him were too entranced with their own efforts to offer any pity.

He hated pity. He was guaranteed to win eventually.

He reached for the lever once more, but was stopped by a gloved hand.

“Why don’t you try something that requires a little more skill?”

Now frustrated, Hux looked over his shoulder in attempt to match a face to the annoyingly arrogant voice. What he found was a tall man dressed entirely in black, whose eyes peered through his cropped black hair to the slot machine in front of him. Tracing his eyes downward, Hux saw a

streak of white staining his collar, almost like chalk, but he suspected it was something more illegal. Disgusting.

He stared at the man with a hardened expression.

“No, thank you. I’d rather you leave me alone.”

The man looked slightly frustrated at his response, but quickly changed his expression into something more humored.

“Yeah, alright. Come on, meet me at the poker table and I’ll buy you a drink.”

He put his hand on Hux’s shoulder, who quickly jerked away from the touch.

“Unless the bar has decided to add wine to their drink selection, I won’t be having anything.”

The man simply eyed Hux curiously, grabbing his arm once more and leading him towards the poker table. Groups of people were hunched over the green

matts, and the conversations blended into a dull murmur in his ears. A headache bloomed at his temples, and he fought the urge to press his hands into his face. He missed the Hux of five minutes ago, before he was being dragged around a casino by some stranger.

Before he could continue mourning his past happiness, a chair was pulled out for him and he took his place at the table. At the center of the table stood Chewie, as the regulars called him. He turned to the stranger, and then Hux, eyeing them both with a look of confusion and entertainment. Saying nothing, he picked up the deck of cards with his large fingers and began to shuffle.

Turning his focus towards the dark-haired stranger, Hux felt frustration continue to bubble under his skin. The man must have felt his stare, as he turned towards him with a smirk.

“My names Kylo,” he said, and Hux frowned.

“I didn’t ask you that,” he responded, making effort to divert his eyes from the stranger Kylo, choosing instead to study his cards.

“You didn’t have to,” Kylo replied, eyes flashing something dark as he finally focused on his hand. His face fell blank, and Hux felt something stir in his gut. He wasn’t going to let this asshole beat him, stars damn it.

Despite how confident Kylo looked, Hux could see the beads of sweat gather along his forehead, which his eyes traced as they fell. He felt the heat rise in his face, as did his confidence, and he narrowed his attention towards the game unfolding in front of him. Taking controlled breaths, he steadied himself to look as neutral as possible.

He must have failed to retain his steady image, or Kylo had developed the ability to read minds, because every move taken by Hux worked to the favor of the stranger. His hands shook as his defeat was drawn out to the obnoxious man, face burning a bright red. His day had surmounted to shame alone, only this time he was unable to hide it. How humiliating, to lose to a man with whiskey on his breath and coke lining his clothes.

How embarrassing to be unable to keep Kylo out of his mind.

If only to commemorate his shame, a droid passed by the table and drew a bottle of wine to present to him. Confused, he lifted his eyes from the table and looked across to where Kylo sat, a smile sat upon his face.

“You rabid cur,” Hux muttered, downing the glass with concerning urgency. The drink was strong, and Hux found himself pouring more and more.

The lights began to shine too brightly and the noise too intense, and Hux’s eyelids felt heavy under the stare of Kylo. As he was lead away from the table by the taller man, he was only able to say

“You cheated,”

and Kylo nodded. And he knew it was true.

[bejeweledraven]

snow on the beach

and it's like snow at the beach weird but fucking beautiful flying in a dream, stars by the pocketful you wanting me tonight feels impossible

kylo ren with a s/o

parring: kylo ren x gn!reader 

genre: fluff, slight angst if u squint 

warnings: very brief mention of injuries (no graphic descriptions)

requested?: yes

request: anon: I’d like to see how Kylo Ren would treat his s/o. Do you think he’d be soft to you? Or he just as cold as he fronts? 

song prompt: snow on the beach by taylor swift feat. lana del rey

word count: 767 

(i could definitely work something out for either part 2 or expand it into an actual fic so let me know if it’s something you’d want to see :))

first of all, I think that there would be two sides when it comes to kylo and his s/o

there would be the public side, the one he shows in front of everyone, especially around the first order  

and the one that only very few people, including you, get to see

he definitely works hard to upkeep his tough image, he wants to appear strong and intimidating 

but that takes a great toll on a person, especially one under as much pressure as him 

so only behind closed doors, you can really see how much that weighs on him 

so in public, i feel like he would be very restrained, especially at first 

definitely a lot of stolen glances (mostly on his part, the mask makes it pretty easy, but even with that i think he would sometimes forget people can see him turn his head)

and he would also definitely forget he’s not wearing a mask sometimes and full-on stare, which you would endearing, he would find embarrassing, and hux would find straight-up repulsive (”oh get it together ren” with his classic disgusted hux frown)

the public relationship with kylo is very much based on subtlety, he won't hold your hand, but he will definitely ‘accidentally’ touch your hand on numerous occasions 

he most definitely has a soft spot for you, i think the first one of his love languages you get to know is gifts 

little gestures that mean so much 

a book you were talking about? on your nightstand the next day 

a childhood favorite food you casually mentioned? suddenly available in the dining hall 

and he would never admit to any of it, but you know it was him 

another thing he would never do is admit how happy it makes him,when you appreciate all he does 

admitting his feelings is not his strongest suit 

working through that took some time 

like most things in a relationship with him 

another love language of his is words of affirmation 

but you don't realize it at first (neither does he i feel like)

it takes time for you to see how happy it makes him to hear how much you care about him 

and him saying it back for the first time definitely felt really special 

he admitted how much he cares about you after he almost died, trying to take down of resistance’s bases 

and were really upset with how careless he was 

you were cleaning his wounds in silence, because of course he didn't let anyone else touch him 

you were focused on cleaning a deep cut on his cheekbone, him sitting down and you standing, leaning in 

you felt him shift in his seat uncomfortably when you pressed the gauze against the wound 

“stop moving.” was all you could get out, even though still upset with him  you felt bad hurting him 

 the silence after that didn't last long, this time interrupted by him 

“i'm sorry.” was all he said

“it’s fine, i’ll try to be more gentle”

“that’s not what i meant. i'm sorry that you had to worry about me.” 

it made u stop dead in your tracks, and you lowered your hand from his face, looking at him, unsure of what to say

and although it might have seemed like an odd way to say that he cares about you, you knew how much it mattered 

it was the first time you felt like he was breaking through his cold and guarded attitude like he was letting down his defenses 

for you. 

it was a start for a long and sometimes difficult process of him opening-up

there are definitely moments when it feels like he's going back to his old habits of bottling up and distancing himself from you 

and it's definitely a challenge to find the balance between giving him space and getting him to open up 

it’s hard work for both of you, but it’s so worth it in the end 

i definitely see it as a “you fall first, he falls harder” trope 

his also very protective 

it takes as much as someone looking at you the wrong way 

but god forbid someone actually hurts you 

he will do anything to keep one of the very few good things in his life safe 

overall, i think he still pretty much keeps to himself in public, especially with the first order around 

but behind closed doors, he tries to open up more 

and although it takes time, you can see the change slowly happening 

let’s just say usually a lot of good things happen behind closed doors. 

[starlightsearches]

His Pilot (Bonus Drabble 3)

Thank you to the anon who reminded me that I hadn’t written this one yet. It was a beautifully rainy day for me, which felt like the perfect weather for this story. I hope you all enjoy!

(Here’s part one, two, and three of the original “series” if you missed them! And here’s the first and second Hux POVs)

Requests are open ✨

Armitage Hux x Pilot! Reader (f)

Warnings: Language, mentions of death

Hux closes his eyes in a weak attempt to cure his growing headache, allowing Day's voice and the rest of the chatter to wash one him in one noisy blur.

It doesn’t help. He sees the image of Day's hands wrapped around yours—his lips pressing a kiss to your chilled fingers—burning on the back of his eyelids, and he clasps his own hands behind his back, clenching his jaw tighter.

When did he become so possessive of your touch? So desperate to have you hold him again, like an addict suffering from withdrawals. He wants to be the one who gets to touch you, wants to feel you warm and alive against him in every moment, waking and sleeping—even if he knows deep down that those are joys meant for someone else.

Every moment he has with you is stolen.

He would find the strength to stay away from you, if he were a better man. Any temporary sadness you’d feel at his rejection would fade, after all was finished. Every selfish impulse, every moment he spends in your presence is more proof—he doesn’t deserve you.

Then the party and the tour are over. The two men lean against the cold marble wall in the foyer, dark and quiet now that the crowd has gone. Hux's eyes sting from the pungent cigarette smoke, and he makes a lazy attempt to wave the haze away.

Day sighs, eyes closed, face hidden in shadow, looking half-dead with the weight on his shoulders, glaring into the darkness.

"The information you gave—it was good. The Resistance raids were successful on those bases."

“I told you they would be."

Day shrugs noncommittally, as if to say well, could you blame me?

“Does she know?” he asks, tapping away ash with a finger. Hux can’t meet his gaze.

“I didn’t think it would be pertinent information for my pilot,” he responds with the same casual aloofness.

He knows Day doesn’t like him. He’s never cared enough to change that, but there’s something about the way the man turns to look at him, the gesture biting and accusatory. It makes him sick.

“You can’t be serious, general,” he waits for a response, turning back when Hux remains silent, shaking his head as he takes another drag off his cigarette.

“They’ll know she wasn’t involved. She was just following my orders.”

“They’ll know, of course. But will the care?”

Hux doesn’t answer.

Those are the thoughts that come to him in his worst moments—the times where his coward heart takes center stage. It's never mattered what they'll do to him when the truth comes out, but what they could do to you—what Ren would do to you . . .

A shiver travels up his spine.

"I've protected her the best I know how. I've minimized the risks. There's only so much I can control, after . . . after I'm gone."

Will you take care of her? Those are the words he can't speak—even now, faced with the inevitability of his death, he still can't stand the idea of you needing someone else. Of Day's hand at your waist. He does his best to swallow back the jealousy.

Day turns to face him, crushing his cigarette under the heel of his boot.

“The resistance has offered you clemency.”

Hux inhales too sharply, smoke filling his lungs and he chokes on it, unable to catch his breath, bent over and heaving. Day watches passively, unsurprised by the reaction and unconcerned with his recovery.

“You’re lying,” the words come out hoarse and strained, not nearly accusatory enough given how he feels. He drops his own cigarette on the ground in disgust.

“I’m not. I have the official documentation in my office, if you’d like to see it—they sent it just after our first meeting.”

Gods. Fucking hell. He doesn’t want to have this conversation right now, not with tears in his eyes and his lungs full of smoke.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Day frowns, tracing his finger down a seam in between the stone wall, eyebrows knit in concentration.

“Because you wouldn’t have taken it.”

He’s right, damn him, but Hux’s anger is steady. He deserved to know.

“Think on it, general. Think about what you could be living for,” Day smiles sadly, lost in thought for a moment before he walks off into the dark and empty house.

Alone in the foyer, Hux attempts to catch his breath.

This didn’t have to change anything. He’d made plans, and accepted them, mourned for whatever life he would have lost and buried any pain he’d felt deep inside himself. He had been ready to die.

Had been.

Against his will and better judgement, hope sparks—a little warmth in his chest, where his heart would be. He sees a future with you, a door, previously locked, open before him.

Would you join him, if he asked you to? It would be the safest option—obviously—but would you want to go with him?

His thoughts ebb and flow but never come together the right way, and his head aches with too many uncertainties, too many variables. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he needs you right now.

Hux can feel himself tremble with every step he takes closer to your room, hands shaking until he forces them stiff at his sides. He should tell you the truth, first.

He’s never said those words out loud: I’ve been spying for the Resistance. He rehearses them out in his mind, and he knocks.

The door opens. Every thought disappears.

“General,” your eyes grow wide when you see him, and then you fold in on yourself, smiling shyly. You’ve changed into the night clothes Day provided, looking soft and relaxed, and just the sight of you washes the worst of his stress away. He’s never felt more fortunate to be in your presence than he does right now. “Did you need something?”

The words don’t come. They’ve abandoned him, every single word he meant to say, and all he’s left with is the slight curve of your smile and the warm, greedy desire pooling in his stomach.

His lips meet yours before he’s processed the movement, his entire body screaming why, why, why even as you pull him closer, pressing the door shut behind him with a shove.

Oh gods—he’d never expected that you’d be so enthusiastic, not with him, not like this. Your hands are in his hair; he feels you everywhere, that same low heat spreading through the rest of him. He never wants to feel anything but this, with you. Forever.

“I just— I couldn’t—” he tries to stop you, but you're ravenous, truly, and that's not a feeling he can afford to push aside. He's wanted this for so long.

Hux knows he really should tell you. But his fingers are gripping the silky material at your waist, pressing indents into the soft skin beneath it, and your tongue traces his lips, and maybe he’ll never be good enough for you but for now, this is good and it is enough.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that.” The words slip out, as soon as you’ve pulled away. He can taste you, on his lips, can feel himself breathing in the air from your lungs. You smile, falling back onto the mattress with a little bounce, happy and whole.

“I think I may have been waiting longer, General.”

He’ll let himself have this moment, let you keep your peace for now. He’ll need this memory later, if you decide it’s too much. And even after a lifetime of misery, he’ll be glad that he’s had this.

Hux Tag List: @theredwolfisalesbian, @thembohux, @writingletterstothefire, @catboykenobii, @missmadwoman, @evarinaandlat, @sitherin-mxschief, @imafatassmess, @toasterking, @rosevon7975, @holdurhuxbby, @armitages-galaxy, @dark-lord-of-the-simps, @daughterofaries, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @aramanna, @theold-ultraviolence, @mrs-ghuleh, @lemongingerart, @isthisheaven5, @trash-queen-af, @generalthirst, @tobealostwanderer, @huxxoxo

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[kyloren-theprince]

Feral

What makes Hux more feral than Ren? Lack of consent? Maybe, but Kylo isn’t one to always adhere to your every plea; sometimes what he needs is to fuck you hard and fast and without remorse and he never really asked to do that. But deep down, you and Ren both know what you want is each other.

Warnings: smut, edging, inappropriate use of the Force, swearing, brief mention of assault, blood

“Damnit, Ren!” He stands between you and the door, his body solid and taut with barely – just barely – contained rage. He could kill you no problem. But it's not about whether or not he could, the matter at hand was would he. You clench your fist, steeling yourself. “Move.”

He takes a jagged breath, bracing, everything about him so barely controlled. The air hums with an electricity that makes your hair stand on end, makes the lights buzz a little louder than before. Without his helmet, the dark tresses of his hair fall over his face, curling handsomely around the edges of his cheekbones.

“No,” he growls lowly. His left eye twitches. “You’re not leaving.”

“Like fucking Kriff I am!”

“Where are you even going to go?” He’s challenging, squaring off. You roll your eyes. “Are you running to the resistance? Go fuck off with whoever’s left?”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Don’t be a fucking child. I’ll stay right where I’m needed-“

“And yet you want to leave,” he interrupts.

“Yes!” You manage to sidestep him, closer to the door, but not yet there.

There’s pressure on your wrist, not warm enough to be his hand, but firm enough that it’s clear you’re not getting out of this quite yet.

“Why? Give me one good reason why.”

You turn on a credit, the hair that managed to free itself from it’s braids flying wild. “You are a lot of things, Kylo, but a man of reason is not one of them.”

“One!”

You watch the way his chest heaves, his fingers twitching. A pain taps the nerves in your arm. You must flinch because he releases only a hair, but it's enough that he’s not hurting you. You look at him, in his eyes, and your heart aches at the sight.

They’re red, glistening enough to know that he has tears in his eyes. You were the only one to ever see him cry (and live), but now you were the cause. Your voice softens.

“I need you to understand that I am not you little fuck toy. You don’t get to use me and then leave for days – weeks – and then get pissed off when I’ve left these quarters during that time.”

His lips press together tightly. You consider the idea of continuing to talk, but you just swallow, feeling the ghost of a hand trail across your palm, pulling on your fingers just enough to have a sense of longing. But then it’s gone, and Kylo lets you walk through those blast doors without another word.

––––

Two, almost three, weeks have passed since that night, and while the ache of Kylo’s absence weighed heavy on your spirit, other issues have arisen. These ones, however, you never realized the extent of before now. Most personnel on the Finalizer recognized your authority, and regarded you with the same respect as before, but there were few outliers.

Take General Artimage Hux for example: he’s a man of some power, and with the idea that he is irreplaceable in his head, he’s proven himself quite the pain in your ass.

He was always on your heels, offering you comfort you didn’t ask for, kind words you didn’t want to hear, gentle reassurances that made you want to pull your hair out, grab him by the ear and thunk him on the forehead, right between his eyes. Either that or kill him.

Right now, as he’s calling your name from the other end of the otherwise empty hall to your temporary quarters, you’ve decided on killing him.

“What is it, General?” You slow enough to glance over your shoulder, hating how close to you he always wants to be. “I’ve somewhere I need to be.”

“And where might that be, darling?” He teases, smoothing over his uniform.

His voice. It’s grating on your ears, makes your head hurt in the worst way. Stars, debriefings with him were awful but this was outright torture.

Maybe that’s how we should interrogate the prisoners, you think. Make him talk to them for a few hours. Melt their brains with his bantha shit.

“None of your concern,” you reply curtly. You don’t give him the courtesy to look at him, you don’t have to. “You’re supposed to be on the bridge.”

“I’ve got a few minutes to spare.”

Your door is in sight, but he’s still here. “Actually General,” you snap, turning sharply to face him, “you don’t. Report to your post immediately.”

The cocky motherfucker has the audacity to stop as well, flash his teeth in a smile, bend at the waist and ask, “Or what?”

A beast within you runs rampant, gnashing its teeth, scratching, writhing in his presence. You don’t move, only watch as he flinches, clutching his neck as he chokes.

“You seem to have forgotten your place,” you snarl. “Or you’ve forgotten mine. Which is it?”

He garbles around the pressure on his throat, usually so pale face having taken on a red tone, ripening into a purple. You release him, and he sucks in deep, lungful of air. He’s panting when he looks at you again, his eyes no longer teasing, but dark and dangerous. In a moment, your head throbs upon its impact against the wall, your arms pinned between your bodies. Hux’s breath on your face makes your skin itch.

“Your place has been Ren’s whore.” You thrash, and he takes hold of your chin, knocking your temple into the support pillar. Your vision goes spotty, but you still push against him. “But now he’s thrown you out like the cheap thing you are.”

So many emotions are screaming through you, your fight or flight going haywire. Was your brain even processing? Ren’s whore, you hear him say. His hands are moving, dragging, feeling across the planes of your torso.

Spiraling, your consciousness produces the image of walking into your quarters, the one you shared with Kylo, and burying yourself in his chest, running your hands through his hair. Even in the daydream, you’re crying, apologizing over and over. You imagine him saying your name.

Maybe he hates you for what you did, and that makes it worse, so much worse, because that’s the only place you want to be. You want to be in the arms of the person who hates you so fucking much. You’re slipping under, drowning in whatever nightmare this is, shutting down, but you don’t want to. No, no this is not going to be how this turns out. You’ll die before then.

“What was that?” It’s Hux again; grating, disrespectful, disgusting Hux. “I thought you said something, darling.”

You pry your eyes open. You bring your knee up, but he pins both legs with his own, amused by your struggle. He opens his mouth to say something, but you spit right there on his face, wishing it were poison or acid instead.

“You,” he says lowly, leaning close to your face, “are going to regret that.”

You bare your teeth. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Without further warning, you bite down on the bridge of his nose, forcing your teeth down tight around the bone until there’s a resounding crack, copper on your tongue. He shouts, smacking at your face until you let go. He prods at the break, flinching, staring at you with wide and pissed off eyes. He shifts his weight towards you, the very beginning of a step, but you throw him back with the Force. He crumples to the ground, rolling slowly to his hands and knees.

Ever on time, the patrol of the evening comes into view, and with one little flick of your wrist, Hux is sent flying to their feet. They stumble to a stop, looking to you for orders.

“Take him,” you instruct.

They move without hesitation, binding his wrists together, and escorting him to the brig eight levels down. You stand there, in the middle of the otherwise empty hallway, just breathing.

Kylo, you think, hoping – knowing – he can hear you, meet me at the throne.

––––

He’s come home from battle looking better than he does now; the bags beneath his eyes are prominent, shoulders slumped with their own weight. He doesn’t move when you enter the room, doesn’t say anything as you walk towards him. He just watches with those sad and tired eyes. You stand next to him, inches from the throne, studying its intricacies that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Do you understand why?” Your voice is soft, fragile even. He feels his heart twist in his chest, guilt sinking lowlowlow. There’s another moment of silence save for his breathing, and you pull him from his thoughts with the gentlest call of his name.

“I do,” he answers, fearing he’s spoken far too loud for the moment. He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t defend himself in anyway, he just knows these last three weeks have been eating him alive. He was rotting in ways he hadn’t expected to. And maybe to say he understood was a lie, but he knew he’d at least try to accommodate, to listen to you a little more than just your moans.

You nod once, eyes somewhere else entirely. Gentle is not his forte. You knew this, you didn’t expect him to console you, you didn’t ask him to, but carefully – awkwardly, even – he reaches out, pulling you into his chest.

“Kylo,” you mumble against the fabric of his shirt, feeling every thump thump thump of his heart. It felt good to say his name, feel it roll on your tongue.

His hands move from your back to your face, ducking down to kiss you deeply. “Say you won’t leave.” You run your hands through his hair, fingers spread wide over his scalp. “Tell me you wont leave again, ever. You can go wherever the fuck you want, but you’ll come back to me.”

Ren’s whore.

“If you promise me the same.” His brows are twisted, and you know with that one look that he’s heard Hux’s words. You shake your head. “I don’t know what I’m-“

He kisses you, short and fierce this time. “You’re Empress. You rule beside me.”

“Wha-“

“And you’ll stay by me.” His words are sharp, but he softens when he says, “Please.”

Though weak, you smile. “How could I ever refuse you?”

His sinks, smashing your lips together in a flurry, and you take it as an apology. Words he was terrible at, but he could show you, Kriff could he show you.

There more he kisses you, the more you dissolve into his touch, shaking, melting away at his fingers. His grip turns a little harsher, nose scrunching up.

He spins, sitting on the throne and pulling you with him, onto his lap. “You-“ he runs his hands up your thighs, thumbs drawing harsh circles “-fuck.”

You cup his face, kissing him, letting his hands roam, but keeping his lips firmly against yours. He’s jumpy, hips rocking, grinding his covered cock against your heat, growling when you don’t move more than your lips against his.

He wants control, needs it; can feel it scathing beneath his skin, but you’re not backing down this time. You need this just as much as he does, more maybe.

You tug at his belt, pulling away to tear off his pants, hands sliding up over his thighs, the thick muscles would tight and jumping at the press of your thumb. His eyes burn into yours, nose scrunched up.

“If you don’t sit on my cock—“

“You’ll what?” He doesn’t flinch at your sharp tone, but his face relaxes, lips parting so pretty, pupils blown wide. You push his arms down to the throne, pinning him by his inner elbow as you shift back onto his lap. His fingers flex. You gyrate your hips, barely dragging your heat over his aching erection, and he visibly shakes.

You’ve never felt this powerful in your life; not when you cut down enemies, had troopers obey your every command. No, having the mighty Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the galaxy, trembling beneath you was what made you feel fucking invincible.

Almost drunk on it, you lean forward, daring, “What will you do, Kylo?” He swallows thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Bend me over? Fuck me stupid?”

Poking at the beast is fun. He locks up, every muscle drawn tight, and he gives a clipped, “Yes.”

You reach out with the Force, seeing bind to his arms, and falling heavy with weight. You knock the snarl off his lips when you take a fistful of his hair and tug, pushing his head against the back of the throne, baring his pale throat. His lips part again, arms taut against the invisible pressure.

“Then you,” you taunt, leaning in close, “haven’t learned your lesson.”

All the ways you could bind him flit through your mind, and you know he sees them too, you make sure of it. His eyes grow darker. Every heavy breath makes his chest puff, flexed, bracing for something that might happen, might not. Nearly lost in it, you bring him back to reality, letting only the head of his dick slide into your wet hole.

“Is this what you wanted?” You sink, just enough to watch those pretty lashes flutter, before rising again. He growls through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna have to use your words.”

He hates this, hates you’ve turned the tables. Or maybe he likes it. Fuck if he really knows. He does know he likes seeing you like this, all commanding, rich with… stars, he’s not sure what this is. But you’re flushed, focused, articulate even as your cunt drools all over his lap. It’s a tug of war, whether or not he submits, so he gives back what you’re so good at: being a brat.

“Is this what you wanted?” He lets his tongue drag over his teeth, watching your head tilt as you follow his eyes. “You wanted to come prove something to your Supreme Leader?”

“No,” you hum and oh, he’s in for it now. He holds his breath when you lean forward, the pressure of hands working over his hips and pressing down at the tops of his thighs. “I wanted to break you.”

His back arches, breath coming in harshly, eyes squeezed shut, jaw slack as he moans, wishing he could hold your hips down on his, your cunt sheathing him so suddenly he’s keening. He groans, the sound catching on the back of his throat, reverberating. You wigglegrindclench, and he gasps, willing you to move. Your grip on his hair loosens, running your hand through the dark tresses, stopping only at his jaw to tug his lower lip. Kylo’s eyes are glazed over when he looks at you again.

“Please,” he breathes, the plea surprising you both.

“Please what?”

“Fuck!” He snaps weakly, breath leaving in a big sigh. “I don’t know, just please move. Please.”

You roll your hips, biting your lip when he chokes on his own voice. “Will you be good?”

There’s a moment of mixed emotions, clarity returning to his eyes. He blinks, face scrunching up, shaking his head of whatever thought occupying it.

You click your tongue, “What a shame.”

Pressure at the base of his dick and he jerks his hips up, eyes wide, flitting between a plea and a threat as you tighten the grip, fucking yourself on his hot length. He swears, pants, leans forward to bite at your breasts, but you take hold of his chin, pushing his head back against the throne.

“Uh-uh,” you chide. “You didn’t want to be a good boy, so this is what you get.” Breathless but determined, you lean forward, still bouncing. “I’m gonna use you like some dumb fuck doll, and you’re not gonna do a thing. You’re not gonna touch me, taste me—“ you make a point of tightening the invisible cock ring, earning a low, gutteral moan “—and you’re not gonna cum in me either.”

The threat almost makes him scream. He tries to bite it back, but your walls are hugging him so tightly, making this obscene squelching noise everytime you move. Sweat drips down to the hollow of your throat and stars does he wish to drink it down. He breathes your name, husky and desperate for you, for release, both.

“Please,” he begs again. He closes his eyes, nearly melting when your lips ghost over the smooth skin of his neck, nose following the line of his scar. “P-please! I’ll be a good—“ his throat clicks “—good boy! Let me cum, fuck, let me cum please!”

Those words felt foreign on his tongue, but how his whole being sings when your fingers dig into his shoulders. He’s almost there, would be if not for your hinderance, but he can feel the way your walls flutter and clench, and he knows he’s not the only one.

“Do you think you deserve to?”

“No!” Spitting that out was easier than he expected. So was, “I don’t deserve you or your cunt!”

You hum, but don’t acknowledge it further, chin dropping to your collarbone as you pant shudder shake, heat coiling at the base of your spine, muscles flexing. Kylo’s back bows, chest and face angled towards the ceiling, a loud, low moan rumbling through him.

He tries not to think about it — how fucking badly he wants to cum, fill up your pretty cunt — tries breathing, counting, squeezing his eyes shut. He forces his mind away from his orgasm, and of course it goes to you; his conscious seeks out the thread intertwining the two of you, the shared bond through the Force.

A new sensation zips through him, flitting through his thoughts, makes his brain buzz on his own skull. You sigh, moan, and he feels it, feels it against the planes of his face, feels it hum through his head like a tidal wave. Everything is so bright and electric, but there’s something there.

It’s small, tucked away, felt by numb fingers. It’s young and fleeting and yielding and disappearing melting hiding gone behind the eruption of your orgasm, and Kylo feels all of it.

In every cell in his body, he feels you clamping down on his cock, gushing, cumming all over his lap, moaning loud loud loud for him. He feels your release through you and his mind is spinning because Kriff his cock is still so full and aching as you pull away. He whines, low and pitiful.

“Go on.” His whole being hums with your voice, the pressure of the cock ring relieving into a stroke over his shaft. “Cum, Kylo.”

And he does, he fucking cums; thick spurts that touch his chin and splatter on his chest, such a big load that lands all over him. His body sags against the throne, breathing deep through chapped lips.

Fuck, maybe he blacks out for a moment, dragging his eyes open when his cloak is tossed over his lap, the fabric making his over sensitive cock twitch. When the blast doors hiss open, and troopers march in escorting Hux, Ren doesn’t move.

You briefly admire Kylo; the sweat makes his hair curl into his eyes, everything about him draped so leisurely across the ancient seat, thighs spread. The flush of his usually pale skin, little marks across his neck, make him glow. His gaze meets yours, unchanging, but curious. Hux clears his throat.

“Supreme Leader,” he acknowledges almost reverently, falling to one knee.

That something is back, scathing and scratching behind the walls of your mind, and Kylo sees it, turning to Hux slowly. “Your business here is not with me.”

You turn, and it’s now that Hux swallows thickly. At the bottom of those steps, he looks so small and scared, as he damn well should be. His back straightens when you walk forward, the troopers moving back as you approach.

“Empress,” he says lowly, far less reverently. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Something dark clouds your eyes, and Hux’s façade fades further. He reaches out, just the barest lift of his fingers, and that’s it.

Kylo’s saber flies easily from its hilt, landing in your palm, burning hot as it cuts through the air, through skin and bone, Hux’s hand falling to the floor in a sickening heap. He cries out, cradling his arm, wailing, face red. The smell of burnt flesh curls at your nose.

“If you touch another woman without her permission,” you promise, low, dark, and deadly. You put the tip of the saber beneath his trembling chin, forcing him to look at you. “I will take more than your hand.”

He nods as best he can, whispering hoarsely, “Yes, ma’am.”

What a sight to behold: an empress wielding a blade to a feral man’s throat, threatening his life with little effort and full understanding.

When Hux is half carried away on tremebling knees do you turn back to your husband. You kill the saber, slowly retuning to him, offering it for him to take. Your heart was hammering in your chest. Whether that’s from the exertion of fucking him or the adrenaline of Hux’s punishment, you weren’t sure.

Kylo’s lips remain parted, eyes wide as he pushes the saber away with the side of his pinky, his focus zeroed in on you.

“Is that what possessed you?” His voice is low, hoarse despite the way he tries to clear it. Your lip twitches and that’s all he needs to know.

He urges you forward, the Force gentle at your back, but buzzing with anticipation. You stand between his parted legs, letting his hands touch your waist, sliding up to your ribcage as he sits up. His thumbs move soothingly. He angles his head upwards, almost your height, but not quite given he’s still sitting.

He wants to say something, he should, but he’s replaying that moment in his head over and over and over until he’s dizzy with it. The power and radiance of you always left him so hard, and now was no different; with his shifting, his robe falls, revealing his cock, already flushing a deep red, precum falling from the slit.

“You are exquisite,” he breathes finally, loving the way your pupils blow wide at the sight of him. And while he doesn’t have words beyond that, your lips meet fiercely in a kiss that you both moan into, and stars he can show you just how much he needs you.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 30

Read on AO3. Part 29 here. Part 31 here.

Summary: Survival, but at what cost?

Words: 3400

Warnings: emotions

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: It's technically Friday right?

I've been done this chapter for days and I've just been sitting on it out of pure anxiety. HAHA. But I did edit it and post it so here you go. Hope you enjoy. It's a bit of a break in some ways, not a break in others. Let me know what you think--I'm ever-molding, ever-receptive!

I love y'all! Stay safe with COVID. <3

You did not remember arriving home, exiting the Audi, stepping out into the searing sun. You did not remember the car ride: a murky journey spent in silence next to your Commander, a sentient shade. You did not remember being led from the balcony down the steps, through the halls, stares sticking to you like sap, stringing syrupy sinews to your skin. You did not remember the moment you stood, or the moment you breathed, or the moment you finally moved. Most mercifully, you did not remember the body--a gruesome, heavy pendulum--as it rocked in the cotton air breeze.

What you did remember was a sharp growl of breath as Johana flung open the front door, eyes rimmed red and burning with the fuel of exhaustion.

“Glad you could make it home, Commander.” She aimed the sword of her stare at you, but it pierced you like rubber. “You must have had a wonderful evening together. Won’t both of you come in?”

You followed him like a zombie, gaze trained on the ground, watching from outside your body as you climbed the steps, crossed the foyer, swept past the kitchen. Tile blurred to wood blurred to a soft Persian pattern. All you could stand to focus on was the wall, the rhythm of your breath, the thump of your still-beating heart.

Unlike hers.

It was only after Johana snapped her fingers in front of your face that you were aware that you’d taken a seat in the parlour room. You’d landed on a dark leather Chesterfield sofa (what was the preoccupation with Chesterfield, in this house?), your Commander and Johana standing at odds beyond the ebony coffee table at your knees. Her arms were crossed. He regarded her like one might regard a swarm of ants on the kitchen table.

“Well?” She looked between you. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”

Of course, you had nothing to say. So you said nothing. Kylo Ren also said nothing, but his silence was far more unreasonable.

“Don’t just stand there,” she said. “You can at least bother to explain why you left me alone in the house without so much as a word.”

“I wasn’t aware I owed you my agenda.”

She blinked. “Oh, please,” she replied, “as if I care about your agenda, at this point. What if something had happened while you were gone? To the house?”

Kylo sniffed. “The Knights were present.”

“They’re your men, not Gilead’s. They can’t prevent me from being questioned by the Eyes.” Johana scowled. “They can’t prevent the Council from ordering this house to be torn apart.”

You stared at your hand, at the sprig of cuticle poking from your thumb--you pinched it, tugged it, pain shooting up your wrist. Real, restorative breath would not come to you. Neither would any coherent thought.

“You believe the Council would arrive at my home unannounced. In the middle of the night.”

She blinked, as if he’d asked if she believed the world was round. “After your display with your little slut last night?” she asked, gesturing to you. “I certainly wouldn’t be surprised.”

“She is my advisor.”

Johana snorted. “An advisor to what?” she asked. “Your cock?”

Kylo’s lip curled, and he stepped toward her, shoulders rolling. “Careful.”

She snarled, not budging an inch. “You think that the others don’t see how you look at her?” she said. “You think that they believe your intentions are innocent?” A disgusted, tired laugh escaped her. “Where did you go all night?”

Silence. Kylo was a wolf, thirsty for her rabbit blood. But she wasn’t backing down.

“You never answer my questions,” she said. “Not even after I… I’ve lied for you, taken responsibility for your thoughtlessness, thrown you parties to help with your ridiculously poor public image--”

His fists furled. “None of which I requested.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Her voice was rising. “I did it for you! I did it for Gilead, I--I… I did it for our future!” she said. “One day, we’re going to have a child together, and I want that child to know the Gilead that I know!”

The tear at your thumb split past the nail bed. A child. Your child. Just hours ago you would’ve been sickly elated to be pregnant. Now you wanted to rip your uterus out, barren with bare hands. Gilead was no place to create new life. And Kylo Ren certainly wasn’t the man to create new life with. What had you been thinking? Blood beaded, slipped in a fat drop down your knuckle. It was a relief.

“The Gilead you know is imperfect.” His hands were still balled. “You’re clinging to the past.”

“I’m clinging to what God would’ve wanted!”

“You’re clinging to what Moden Canady wanted.”

Johana’s face tightened, and she sneered, pointing an accusatory finger at her husband. “At least Moden would’ve thanked me!” she said. “Moden would’ve never had an affair with--with some whore, someone disgusting enough to be made a Handmaid to begin with!”

“Johana.”

Flush heat bloomed red at her neck, in her cheeks. “Moden loved me,” she seethed, “he would never have left me alone, he would never have--”

“Enough.”

“--forgotten his purpose as a husband, which is to protect me, to care for me--”

“Enough.”

“--and he never would’ve humiliated me by having some whore wear my old clothes in front of everybody I know!”

A pause. Kylo glimpsed you for only a second--saw your bleeding thumb--but did not respond.

Johana trembled, veins bulging in her neck, and she advanced on him. “Where’s my dress?” When he didn’t respond, she screeched, whirling on you. “Where is my dress!”

You were a statue, a worthy target of her ire, as she lunged and charged you, hand shooting for your hair. Kylo growled, snatched her wrist, and she wailed, jerking back, teeth bared in primal rage. He met her with dispassionate irritation as she twisted, yanked, shrieked in his grip, the rabbit now caged by the wolf.

“Let me go, Kylo!”

She flailed, tried to pry him off, whined as she failed to budge even a single finger. Wrath collapsed into resignation, and she groaned, desperation swelling and dying in her chest, recognizing the futility of it all. Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath, smoothed her hair with her free hand and straightened.

“Commander,” she said. “Please, let me go.”

He did, and she whipped her arm back, rubbing her wrist.

“Your dress has been returned to your closet,” he replied. “Where it belongs.”

It almost sounded as if he’d apologized, though that couldn’t be right. It wasn’t for her benefit, anyway, if he had--but you were still too numb to notice.

Johana blinked, then recovered, crossing her arms. “If you think that fixes anything, Sir, it doesn’t,” she said. “Really, just keep the dress wherever you want it. Throw it out, for all I care. I’m sleeping in the guest room down the hall tonight.” She leered at you. “Enjoy.” Then she turned on her heel and left.

The word enjoy made it seem as if you could imagine nothing better than spending another night with the man who had murdered your only confidant in front of you. Ofarmitage’s betrayal was forgivable--after all, it was your trust in your own Commander that had gotten her killed. The fact was, her only mistake had been that she hadn’t been sleeping with Kylo Ren. You two had been one in the same. Equally enslaved, equally naive, equally expendable. Had Hux gotten his way, you’d be the one with the broken neck.

In a way, you envied her.

Alone in the room with your Commander, you continued to sit, unable--unwilling--to make eye contact with him, studying instead the dry red river that had now trickled to your palm. The air was still, emptied even of awkwardness. There was nothing between you, right now, that you wanted to feel. Behind you, beyond the large bay window, mourning doves cooed their soft, sage song.

He shifted, his gaze razor wire, slicing your skin at the thought of being around him a second longer. Glaring at the floor, you stood, marching toward the exit. Kylo reached for your arm, and you dodged him like he was a poltergeist.

“Don’t touch me!” you spat, shrugging your shoulder as if to banish his curse.

You stalked through the halls and up the stairs, head pounding with your audacity. He didn’t try to follow you, and you were glad. A storm ravaged your mind--what was the point of this, or the point of anything?

Enslaved in the home of malevolence manifested, tainted. Terrorized. Everything and anything turned to sand in your mouth, pouring and pouring down your throat until you choked and sputtered and wept into a soundless void. There would be no reprieve from this, in this future or any other future, not as long as you remained you, stupid and gullible and more craven than shadows in sun.

No saints in Gilead indeed--and next to Kylo Ren, you were the worst of them; he’d held you in his blood-soaked hands and stained you with his sins. You were worse than unforgivable.

You were unsalvageable.

When you made it to your room, you slammed the door, ripped your wings and bonnet from your hair, and threw yourself on the bed, smothering your face with your pillow.

There was no screaming, no tears--you held the pillow to your nose and mouth, sucking in nothingness, willing whatever black wraith that controlled your fate to guide you out of this hell and the next. You had no hope for heaven, you decided, if it existed--you’d been to bed with a barbarian, sought solace in his arms, spoiled your soul under his spell. You deserved nothing but utter damnation.

Another deep breath of nothing, and another, lack of oxygen burning behind your eyes, your lungs starved--just a little longer, and you’d pass out. Yet despite your self-loathing, the base of your brain kicked in, hijacking your intent, and you rolled over gasping, staring at the ceiling as static sizzled in your sight.

As you heaved, seconds tumbled into minutes, the desire for self-destruction crumbling with it. A soft sigh escaped. Killing yourself would do nothing but award Gilead another body. If anything, you would live out of spite, denying it the satisfaction of your surrender.

In fact, you’d do more than live out of spite. You’d do what you promised. You’d get the blade with Snoke’s blood and you’d turn it over to the Resistance the second you had a chance.

The resolution brought a calm to your chest. The rest of the day whittled away as you did nothing but lie in bed, apart from eating your quick lunch and dinner in silence. Neither Johana nor your Commander made an appearance throughout your day and into the night, allowing you some time to process. Staring into your ceiling, you picked at your thumb again, peeling the scab.

It was difficult to put into words what you felt for Kylo Ren, but you knew that whatever it was, it had been unlike anything you’d ever experienced, before Gilead or after. The sexual chemistry was one thing, of course, but there was something greater than that, something almost irrevocable. It was the vestiges of compassion in his eyes, the throttled tenderness in his hands, the buried loneliness, his persistent phantom--the phantom that knew you, too.

More shredding of skin, a rush of release shot through your veins. That was the fact that most attracted and disturbed you, the fact that bound you together, the fact that tore you apart--the fact that in the depths of Gilead’s despair, you’d found each other, seen the other with needle-sharp clarity, both born into an unspoken but magnetic understanding.

You’d peered into the pits of his pain, he’d held you, helpless and fractured. He’d been your savior, your asylum, your normality; you’d grounded him and challenged and incited him. And despite this ethereal intimacy that wove between you--

Kylo Ren had deceived you and bound you to insanity, eliminated all avenues of escape--except through him. He was a beast unleashed, devouring his prey and his protectors alike in a gambit to possess it all. He was agony and rage, seeking a home. Kylo Ren was a man so long tormented by demons that he had finally become one.

And you truly, unconditionally hated him.

You stared at your ravaged thumb through the darkness, your blood black in the moonlight. Crickets hummed in harmony outside. In the hall, footsteps creaked the floorboards. Long, strong strides. Your heart seized, face hot. Your door opened.

Kylo Ren--your mirror, your spectre, your Commander--stepped through and closed it behind him. Under the glow of stars, his beauty was a black hole, celestial and sinister, hauling you toward complete annihilation.

“I haven’t seen you,” he said. “All day.”

“I haven’t wanted you to see me.”

“You’re angry.” He stepped forward, inspecting your face. “Your life was endangered. You know that.”

Sighing, you refused to meet his eyes, focusing on your gnarled cuticle. “You made me watch her die.”

“It was important that they see where you stand.”

You balked. “What? Where I stand?”

“Your importance,” he said. “To Gilead. To me.” He paused. “And that attempts to disrupt that will not be tolerated.”

“But I’m disrupting Gilead,” you said. “You’re okay with tolerating that?” Sitting up, you shook your head. “You know from the party last night that I’m still working with the Resistance. Shouldn’t I be killed?” You pried more dry skin from your thumb--pain daggered up your wrist. “Don’t you want to hang--”

“Stop.”

You frowned. “Answer my question, or don’t tell me what to do,” you replied. “I’m not different than Ofarmitage. I fucked you. I even--” The word stuck in your throat, a rock. “I even cared about you.” You sighed. “She wanted more with her Commander. She did what she had to do to get it.” Your nails were caked with blood. “Just like I did.”

Kylo stepped toward your bed. “Whether or not she is different is unimportant,” he said. “She is not you. She threatened you--threatened me.” He paused. “It won’t happen again.”

Hot indignation coursed through you. “What, so she’s just… a sacrifice?”

He came closer. “She was an example.”

“She was a person!” you snapped. “ She had--she had a life!” Your body shook with anger. “You killed her! And now no one will know. No one will know who she was.” Despair coiled your chest. “I didn’t even know her name.”

Kylo Ren was silent. His gaze wandered the room, lingering on the vacant window, your red cheeks, and settled on the floor, lids falling in a slow blink. He ground his teeth in thought, following the lines of the floorboards, tracking their notches. The knot in his throat bobbed, and he blinked again. A tiny exhale escaped his nose. Slowly, his focus returned to you.

“It’s… unfortunate,” he said. “But if protecting your life means that others die in your place, then so be it.”

You shook your head, folding your arms over your chest. “You don’t get to kill just because it pleases you.”

“Pleases me?” His eyes widened, a nameless turmoil bubbling to life within them. “Little bird,” he hissed, “I have no choice.”

“You keep saying that,” you replied, “but you’re wrong. You’ve had choices this entire time. I’m the one without a choice! I’m the one stuck here, under you!”

He edged closer, tone like a knife. “There is no choice regarding your safety.”

“But people aren’t expendable!”

Kylo Ren pounced, cornering you, fist slamming the wall. “There was nothing to me but Gilead!” His voice was living death. “Now there is you.” His chin trembled, teeth bared. “And I will keep you alive at the expense of existence itself.”

You stared at him--looming over you, agonized anguish behind his gaze--remembering the man you’d seen the night before, the man whose eyes found you when you’d woken in the morning, the man who’d said your name. Then there was the masked monster pulling the lever, the machine who’d massacred his leader’s mansion, the Commander who’d deserted his duty. Kylo Ren was all of these men--and all of them had done all of it for you.

Swallowing, you dug into your cuticle, popping another twig of flesh free and tearing at it. “You disgust me.” You weren’t sure if you were speaking to him or yourself.

A long, slow breath left him, his chest deflating.

“The worst part of this is that I understand why you did it.”

He eased back, looking between you and your mangled thumb. “You do.”

“Yeah.”

You’d kept the Resistance at arm’s length, paying less than lip service, avoiding their inquiries, denying them information that could liberate not just you, but thousands. Even after he’d killed Poe. Your loyalty likely came at the expense of other lives you didn’t know. At the time, it felt like you didn’t have a choice. Who else was dying, now, because of your reluctance? You supposed if you hated him, you hated yourself, too.

“I guess I’m still just… you.”

You drove your nail into your leision, seeking more thin skin, blood smudging your fingers. Having done that, you flayed another layer, twitching as capillaries were rended raw. Kylo sat at the foot of your mattress, watching you work.

“You’re hurting yourself.”

You shrugged. “I could do worse.”

He caught your hand, pulling you from your self-mutilation, and examined it, rotating your wrist. Holding you in his gaze, he brought your bloody thumb to his mouth and pressed his lips to it, a salve of devotion--and then guided it inside, sealing it between his teeth. Your breath stalled, pulse paralyzed as he sucked, tongue sliding up and around the tender wound, cleaning the crimson new and old. Shivers scampered over you, and he purred in soft satisfaction, laving your sensitive pad, dragging his teeth over the knuckle before pulling it free.

“My bed is open to you.” He kissed your thumb again, his affection like anesthesia. “Come lie with me.”

“Lie with you.” The words withered in your throat. No, you didn’t hate yourself--you didn’t even hate him. But this game of hopeless passion had become too deadly, too personal. You were done playing. “I don’t want to.”

He blinked. “You don’t.”

Frowning, you met his eyes, and found a terrified tempest howling behind them. Your hands quaked; you remembered the wisp of him on your lips, dew drops of worship in your ear, the wholeness you’d felt in his embrace. It thrashed in your chest, luminous and blooming into your blood. And you would sooner dessicate your veins than admit it was there at all.

“No.” You tore your hand from him, cradling it to your chest. “I don’t.”

He didn’t move. His eye twitched. “Come.”

“No.” Staring at the wall, you steeled your jaw. “Just… go away. Leave me alone.”

Kylo Ren swallowed, fear a fog in his gaze. With rash-red lips, he murmured your name.

Heat rushed your spine. You shook your head. “Don’t call me that anymore.”

Silence. He shifted on the bed. “Please.”

You speared him with a glare. “Get out of my room, Commander.”

Kylo looked to your hand, still clutched to your heart, and to your face, searching for something in the quiet of the night. Then he stood, staring out into the yard, fingers tensing. After a moment without a word, he turned, opened the door, and disappeared into the hall.

You collapsed into bed, gaze chained to the ceiling. Without him, ache filtered back through your body, your thumb now throbbing in pain. Hot shame streaked through you. Eyes closed, you pressed it to your mouth, futilely trying to taste his lips.

[amazingdriverfics]

Crowned by the devil - ch. 1

Summary: you woke up in a completely different place, what was going to happen to you?

Warnings: mention to past child abuse, language.

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Consciousness hit you like a bullet, your head ached from the inside out, like your brain was asking for help. It took a couple of minutes for you to have the strength needed to open your eyes, the moment you did, you finally noticed your surroundings. Your home was sand colored - like the entire planet that it was built on -, this room was grey, impeccably niet. The bed your body rested in was impossibly soft, unlike your old hard mattress laying on the ground of your place in Tatooine. Where the fuck were you? 

Slowly, you started to recall the last moments craved in your memory, the troopers, the masked man and his mechanic voice telling you to sleep. You were captured by the First Order. From pure instinct, you sat, making your head complain from the sudden movement. Taking the white cotton sheets away from your legs, your eyes started to travel down your own figure looking for bruises or anything that your kidnappers might have done to you while you were unconscious. You noticed that the ugly wound made by the blond man wasn’t there anymore, the skin taking its place looking like it was never bruised. Your old clothings were replaced by a silk black dress ending on your knees. Taking your shaking hands to your hair and face you also noticed that his blood wasn’t sticking on features anymore. The thought of someone cleaning, stitching and dressing you up while sleeping haunted you, but you couldn’t give yourself the opportunity to panic, if you wished to get out of wherever they were keeping you, calm and focus were needed. 

Counting to ten and taking deep breaths, you got off the bed and started to take a look at the room, looking for any possible escapes - although you doubted that you could fight your way out of the First Order, or even leave this damn place without being spotted -. The room pallet followed the light pattern of its walls and floor, the bed was greyish just like the small nightstand standing next to it, there was a small white wardrobe at the other side and three doors, only one of them was open. Making your way to it, you found a bathroom, bigger than your whole place back in Tatooine, with a bathtub and a shower. Taking a look at the huge mirror standing on a wall in the middle of it, you noticed that your hair was brushed to perfection, your face was the cleanest it had been in quite a while. For the first time, you actually noticed that your dress hugged your natural curves, making them even more accentuated. Your new looks made you seem a little younger and the most beautiful you had ever been. 

Getting out of your trance and leaving the bathroom behind, you tried to open the other doors in the room. Your attempts were useless, leaving you with a bitter feeling on your gut. Once again, you were trapped and depending on someone else's wishes. 

No matter how hard you tried you simply couldn’t come up with a reason why the First Order wanted you so badly that their kriffing Supreme Leader was there to catch you. Sure, your normal activities weren’t exactly legal, but you didn’t do anything worthy of their attention, you even did jobs for them. You didn’t associate yourself with anyone from the Resistance and you couldn’t care less about their fight to rule the galaxy, you were a nobody to both of them and you made sure of it. All you could do was wait, and so you did it. You sat on the floor with your legs crossed, closed your eyes and started to follow the shape of the moon tattooed in your hand with your index finger, trying to clear your aching head from the anxiety eating you on the inside. 

About an hour after you started your relaxation ritual, you heard a hiss coming from the door standing on your right side. Without thinking, you stood up and made your way to it, finding a room twice as large as the one you previously occupied. There was a huge white fluffy couch standing in the middle of the newly found room, but what really caught your attention wasn’t the furniture, it was the amount of people standing in the room. There were five other girls dressed just like you coming in as well, six masked man dressed in black clothes in a corner making you shiver and a red haired man with a rigid posture in a grey outfit looking directly at you with a very unfriendly face. Seeing all of them made your thoughts wander in the worst case scenario, perhaps you were captured to be their sex slave. The idea causing memories from your childhood and teen years to flood your mind, panic starting to cloud your senses as you felt the K insignia burning on your back all over again. 

The sound of the maskless man clearing his throat brought you back to reality. You noticed that the other girls were now seated on the couch and they all had their eyes focused on your figure. Fighting your urge to run or to fight, you slowly started to make you way to the couch, sitting as far as possible from the red haired man watching your every move. When your body met the couch the man started to talk, walking from side to side with a composed posture and an unbothered face. 

“Ladies, you must be wondering what you girls are doing here, although most of you have an idea of what is happening. I’m Armitage Hux, but you should call me general Hux, this man standing there are the Knights of Ren” his voice was suddenly filled with disgust as his hand waved in their direction, making you realise that he didn’t like the Supreme Leader’s boyband. Stopping right in the place he stood before his monologue started, he continued “- They are here to help you through the experiment happening. As you might know by now, the Supreme Leader of the First Order is looking for a wife, or as he calls an “Empress”, and you are the ones chosen to fight for the right to marry him. You’ll prove your value in two very different ways. At first you will have to survive for two days on an arena built for the purpose, the ones who manage to stay alive will have to earn the Supreme Leader’s affection and prove that they can behave as a Empress should, those who not succeed will be sent back to their planets”.

You felt your stomach sink, you were there to “fight” to be a psychopath’s wife? To rule the Galaxy? Who would even consider you for this experiment as Hux called it? You were a nobody, you had no idea how etiquet worked and most importantly, you had no wish to be any of that. For the first time you actually took a look at the women near you, they were all perfect in their own way, and they seemed to really be interested in whatever was happening. This should be easy, you said to yourself, you would survive the arena and then you would be sent back home. Before you could continue to absorb the information thrown at you, Hux’s boring voice started to talk again obligating you to focus on his face. 

“This room is where you ladies will have your meals and where you can meet and talk to each other if you want to. This is also where we will be meeting for the following two weeks at 0800 hours before you follow to the training center, where the Knights of Ren will help you to develop the skills needed for you survival on the arena. Any questions?” there wasn’t an answer, which seemed to please the man “Great, so I’ll see you in the next cycle”.

With that said he and the creepy masked men left the room, leaving you behind with a restored sense of hope. You would easily get your ass back to Tatooine in less than a month.

[bigmultifandomgirl]

Master and the Mute Kylo Ren x reader - Chapter Three

Chapter Two

YOUR POV

You awoke abruptly, sat straight up in bed. You could feel your clammy back as your shirt stuck to it, you shivered in disgust and wondered what could have caused you to wake up so suddenly. Could it have been Him? No, You could not think like that, you were on the same ship as him, decidedly close enough to hear your thoughts whether they were directed at you or not. Rubbing your eyes you looked at the clock and realised you had woken up a whole two hours before you usually had to in order to start getting ready for the day. You realised that you weren’t going to get back to sleep any time soon and so slowly rose from the bed, the soft sheets fell to your feet as you shuffled to your bathroom. There was a small tub and you thought that a bath was the way to go since you had all the time in the world and were sweaty and in desperate need of a deep, cleansing soak. A sigh left you as you leaned over and turned on the hot tap and felt the water temperature before putting the plug in the drain, the warm water already relaxing the muscles in your hand and you realised how tense your muscles were. 

You had been laying on a cold, smooth surface, your arms were tied above your head and your legs were spread and tied to the other side of the surface. You weren’t naked but may as well have been, you were in nothing but your underwear, all your scars were on show. You were vulnerable and exposed to your core, your body was shivering with cold and fear. You could sense a presence in the dark room with you but you could not recognise the figure in the shadows.

Another large sigh escaped your lips as you relived the beginning of the dream that had obviously shaken you deeply, but the beginning was all that had come back to you. You sauntered back into your general living quarters to find a change of clothes for after your bath, you knew you did not know when Kylo was due to turn up and you definitely did not want him to be able to see your scars. You dumped the pile of clothes far enough from the tub that they would remain dry for the duration of your time in the water, you turned to the mirror and scowled at yourself as you realised that there was a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead which some of your hair was sticking to. Grotesque. You thought as you tried to comb through the mattes in your hair with your fingers, obviously you were unsuccessful and with a huff you spun around and watched as the water level steadily rose. 

Your eyes darted around the room, desperately trying to find out who was occupying the room with you. Fear was coursing through your veins as you heard a rustle of fabric from behind your head. A gloved finger grazed your cheek and ran down your jaw to your neck, you gulped as you realised whoever this finger belonged to could see your scars and you desperately wished to be alone, it did not matter if you remained tied up, you just did not want to be seen. The body that the finger belonged to stepped out of the shadows and you almost stopped breathing completely. It was the handsome face of the master who’s head you kept invading. 

‘Now little girl, why are you invading my head with your mundane thoughts?’ he growled lowly. He was angry and you could see why, he was a highly esteemed member of the First Order, you were a useless mute. Of course your thoughts in his mind bothered him.

You could not speak and he knew this, but at this moment you could not even think to answer him. You had hoped that he would just send you away once he realised that you were going to be a constant annoyance to him as there seemed to be no way to get your voice out of his mind. You were scared of what he would do, you could feel his anger rolling off of him like a river bursting its banks and flooding the surrounding area.

You shook the image out of your head, you did not know for sure how Kylo felt about your voice in his mind and you could not make dangerous assumptions in case he heard them. You hoped beyond all hope that he could not see your dreams at night and the images you brought up, you wished to the stars that he would only be able to hear your thoughts. You felt extremely exposed as it is, there was no filter to your thoughts and he heard them all. There had never been anyone that was privy to any of your thoughts, after all you could not even communicate the ones that you wanted to share. Ren made you vulnerable and it made you uncomfortable, he was possibly the last person in the galaxy that you would want to hear your innermost thoughts. 

The bath was full and so you turned off the tap and stripped your clothes off chucking the dirty pile the opposite side of the bathroom from your clean clothes. Humming (well your version of a scratchy, throaty hum) you stepped into the bath and sunk into the water with great relief. One by one your muscles relaxed and turned to putty as you laid in the water, still and serene, recovering from the emotion of the dream you had just woken up from.

Kylo growled in anger above you as you could not think of a way to reply to him, you had no answers and could not see a way to diffuse the situation. 

‘Nothing to say huh?’ he smirked down at you. His hand closed around your neck and started to squeeze. You began to choke, the sound an awful guttural one, he laughed and withdrew his hand from you. Only to pull something out of his layers of robes, a knife. A large knife, with a jagged edge that you knew would be painful. 

He smirked evilly down at you as you gulped down the rising bile and closed your eyed in preparation for the cold metal to meet your warm and clammy skin. The tip of the blade danced down your neck and you felt yourself beginning to cry as a lump in your throat formed and tears pricked your eyes. 

Please don’t. You begged in your mind. I don’t know why you can hear me, I’m sorry, I-I-I can leave, please I’ll leave. 

He chuckled deeply, ‘No pet, you’re not leaving, you have already taken up too much of my mental capacity, you need to be disposed of before you manage to worm your way into anyone else’s brain.’

You sobbed as he pressed the blade firmer into your skin, it finally broke in the valley of your breasts, he pressed in deeper and deeper. Your gargled screams filled the room as your body was ripping apart with the jagged blade that was piercing you.

You dunked your head under the water to erase the painful images of your nightmare from your brain but they were seared into your memory. Why did you feel this way towards him? You had thought he was handsome, no matter how much you scolded yourself for thinking that and so far even though his presence did terrify you and his reputation should have sent you running, you did not feel that he was a major threat to you. Even though your vivid dream would contradict that thought you could not ignore the tiny but powerful part deep inside you which could not wait to see him. That tiny part also wondered how his skin felt against yours and you hated to entertain the thought but a larger part of you also wanted to find out those answers.

To distract you from your wondering mind and to rid your body of the rest of the residual stress from the night you reached over and grabbed the generic body and hair wash that was provided for all low level staff. The silky liquid was spilled onto your hands and you reached back to massage it into your scalp and run in through your hair. A low hum escaped your mouth and you submerged your head once again to wash the soap out of your hair. You quickly eyed the clock and you still had one hour before your usual waking time and so you decided to take your time with the rest of your bathing and really work out all of the stress that had built up in your limbs. Once you were done there was still half an hour left but the water was beginning to turn cold and so reluctantly you decided it was time to step out of the bath.

Your warm toes met cold tiles and you shivered before picking up a towel and drying yourself off before moving towards the pile of clean clothes that you had prepared before the bath. Once you were dressed you realised that there was still an hour before you were required to start working and with nothing more to do you made your small bed and sat on it. Twiddling your fingers was no use as you knew that your thoughts would inevitably turn back to him and you did not want him hearing anything so you hurriedly turned on your data pad so you could start planning your day, you may even swing by the cafeteria to grab some lunch for later as you currently had nothing edible laying around your living quarters that you could take with you.

With half an hour spent and half an hour left you realised that there was no use in waiting around, he was not coming to get you right now and you may as well get on with your day lest you wanted to bring forth the wrath of General Hux for not doing your job properly. You got up and headed to the cafeteria, slinging your bag over your shoulders as you went. 

The halls were not completely empty, you encountered the odd storm trooper here and there but they often did not bother you and you did not get in there way in return. When you made it to the cafeteria and saw that it was practically empty, you smiled and moved to pick up a flask of soup from the heated section, you paid for it with your employee card and then looked down to your data pad in order to start towards your first job of the day. Now you had fixed that strangely hard job, the ones that were next on your list were very simple, there was no problem solving involved. The problem had already been diagnosed and all you had to do was quietly go in and fix whatever was the matter.

The first job was replacing some loose screws in a control panel for a data analysis so that the keyboard no longer made a rattling noise. The second was to reboot some computers that had been crashing while important work was being done. These jobs flew by and you completed them with little to no interaction with anyone.

Then came job three of the day: there was an engineer working on the Command Shuttle, His ship, that was having issues with their computer systems and as their focus was ships and not computer motherboards you were sent to solve the issue. The computer with the issue was not one that was on the ship but the one that logged all of the engineers work and was where they ticked off checklists etc, so it was fairly important for safety reasons that this was remedied. You were grateful to find that the commander of the ship was nowhere to be found in the bay where his shuttle was kept. Unfortunately, you were not alone on this job, an engineer was stood with her arms crossed staring hatefully at the misbehaving piece of equipment. You walked into her line of sight and made a gesture asking her to move aside so you could have better access to the computer. She nodded curtly and stepped backwards, her arms remained crossed and her attitude was hostile despite her moving aside from you, you felt uncomfortable. 

Carefully you exposed the motherboard and could immediately see the issue and silently went about fixing it and replacing certain components.

‘Who are you, I’ve never seen you around here?’ she asked from behind you.  All you could do was turn your head to look at her and offer her a small smile, you wondered if there was any paper in your bag so that if she insisted on talking to you, you could try and talk to her in your own way. 

‘Well are you going to answer me?’ he tone was much more aggressive now and you could tell you had offended her by not offering her a proper response. 

You turned to her again and this time gave her an apologetic smile and shrugged a little before reaching into your bag. Before you could register what had happened you were being pushed into the ground as the engineers hands wrapped around your neck as she climbed on top of you. She brought your head up by my neck and slammed your head back into the ground. You groaned in pain as your vision became blurry as you tried to focus on her and why she was having such a violent response to you not being able to answer her. Of course you had seen people become hostile towards you because they could not understand you, but they were never this aggressive. A physical move was rarely made. You could feel tears prickling in your eyes and you tried your best to not let them fall, even though she heard your groans of physical pain, you were not going to show her anything else.

She removed one of her hands from the tight grip on your neck and brought it above her head. He open palm came swiftly onto your cheek and you could feel the sting spreading across your face as she lowered her head to yours.

‘You don’t think I’ve noticed you scuttling about? All alone, uncovering secrets for our enemy you SPY.’ she seethed at you. 

There was nothing you could do, you were pinned underneath her body weight, her grip on your neck getting increasingly tighter. Your airflow was being cut off and you were sure that your face was turning different colours at an alarming rate.

I’m not a spy. I am not a spy. I. Am. Not. A. Spy. You were screaming in your head but you knew all your efforts were futile as she could not hear you and you had no way of making her hear you. You couldn’t have responded even if you did have a working voice box but she did not seem to realise this and the fact that you only could have produced a strangled gargling noise only seemed to enrage her. 

Next she brought her hands into a fist above her head and she brought it down onto the same cheek. This time the force was enough to make your head whip to the side despite her other hand holding your throat in a vice grip. Black spots started to invade your vision as your body was starved of oxygen.

The familiar sounds of those heavy boots filled your ears just as the girls grip on your throat loosened, and you close your eyes and breathed with relief. Then your body was no longer pinned underneath hers and hers was thrown onto the wall with a loud bang which made you wince as your head was still throbbing from how it had been slammed on the floor seconds earlier. 

You could not open your eyes as your head throbbed and you gasped, desperately to get enough oxygen back into your lungs. Kylo was near you, you could feel his presence as he kneeled down to your level.

‘Open your eyes y/n’ his modulated voice commanded, you scrunched them together and then managed to open them, not without more pain running through your head. You locked your eyesight onto the place on his helmet that you were sure his eyes were peering at you from and gave a tiny nod. Yes I’ll be ok.

‘Hmmm’ he deliberated and then turned away from you as you slowly started to sit up. The room was silent as Kylo moved towards the engineer on the wall apart from her pathetic whimpers, you rubbed you neck trying to relieve the tension that had been rebuilt into your body. 

She was suspended a couple of feet off of the ground, her arms pinned to her sides, her back flush to the wall. There was no where left to go for her and you feared what Kylo was going to do next, there was no telling what was going on underneath that mask and you were not sure if you even wanted to find out. He raised his arm to focus the force, suddenly she started spluttering and choking - he was force-choking her.

No this isn’t the way. You thought, hoping that he would listen. Please don’t hurt her. Another strangled wheeze escaped her pushing you to add another, please to the end of it.

A low familiar growl spread around the room, ‘She attacked you and here you are pleading with me to give her mercy?’ he seemed astounded at what was happening and that he even had to ask this question.

The engineers eyes moved frantically between you two, trying to figure out how you were communicating. Especially as you were not reeling in the pain that was expected when Kylo Ren invaded people's minds and sifted through their thoughts. 

Yes, listen please just stop this. This is not the first time someone has been hostile towards me, they don’t understand me or how to communicate me. I frustrate them, and with my .. appearance .. my scars. I look different, suspicious which means that people naturally distrust me.

You hoped that he would not notice your hesitation over your scars and appearance but you knew that you could only wish to be so lucky.

She just thought she was protecting a cause that she loves. That we all serve, I understand that the stakes are higher on such an important ship like this, with important people like you.

You stood and waited for his response, tension was growing as the engineer was changing colour similarly to how you were not too long ago. 

‘Fine.’ he moved closer to the girl and you held your breath. ‘She is not a fucking spy you stupid bitch. If I find out that you touch a single hair on her head again’ he steps even closer and his hand squeezes into a fist and she lets out another squeal, ‘you will not live to tell the tale.’ he warned.

With a sweep of his hand the girl was thrown against the another wall with such force that it left a dent. You did not have time to stop and check that she was ok as Kylo’s robes swept past you and he was already through the door and you realised that it was probably in your best interest to follow the man considering the promise he had made to find you today. That and you did not really have a lot of intension of staying in a room with your assailant. You found yourself jogging again after every couple of steps in order to keep up with his long legs and soon you found yourself in a part of the ship where you had never been before, a small drop of fear rippled through you but you had to bite back all your thoughts, you did not want to make him any angrier. 

There were noticeably more storm troopers lining these halls. They were protection, you were nearing His chambers. You kept your strides strong and tried to no contemplate why he was leading you here, you also began to second guess your choice to follow him as he had not looked over his shoulder or given you any verbal confirmation of your assumption.

Finally a large black door stood in front of you and Kylo leant over a screen and entered a code and the door slithered to the side and allowed the giant man to stride through. 

‘Come.’ he ordered and you realised that your feet had been glued to the floor, so you quickly came to your senses and shuffled in and the door closed swiftly behind you. As you walked into the room you noticed the matt black tiles which covered all walls in the room, the books scattered over a large desk that also had screens with complicated plans on it that you would never understand, the jet black silky sheets which were strewn over the bed and finally you landed on the man whose back was turned to you. As you had been scanning the room he had taken his helmet off and it was by his feet, his raven locks were exposed and all you wanted to do was reach out and touch them. However, you would not reach out and touch him as his wide and strong shoulders were moving up and down with deep and ragged breaths. He was angry and you weren’t about to poke the bear. 

The silence was deafening and for some reason all you could think about was how he saved you. Why did he save you? Why was he so angry? It was obvious to you that he had heard you screaming in your mind and had come to your rescue but why? You were just a useless mute, he was a master. Why would someone like Him help someone like you?

He spun around and his face was brought inches from yours, you could feel his warm breath fanning your face which sent shivers down your spine. 

‘You ask me why I’d save you?’ he asked lowly and dipped his head so that he could place a kiss under your ear, a sweet spot, which made you hum in pleasure. 

‘I saved you because you’re mine.’ he nipped at your ear and you inhaled sharply as pleasure bloomed from the spot where he his lips were now placed, hovering over your skin. ‘We have a bond that I cannot wait to explore pet.’ 

You felt cold as he removed his face from your neck, and looked up into his pots of honey for eyes and almost melted into him. His expression was one that you could not decipher but you could stare at his handsome face all day. He smirked down at you.

‘I can hear you.’ he taunted in a sing-song tone and you went beet red and looked down at your shoes in embarrassment.

He hooked a finger under your chin and tilted it so that you had to look at his smug expression. He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on your lips. The moment his soft, plump lips met yours, you knew that you were in deep trouble as something stirred inside of you.

‘Stay here for the rest of the day, relax. I will come and take care of you later.’ he whispered and all you could do was look at him.

‘Answer me.’ he ordered while tilting his eyebrows, questioning your judgement on not replying to him.

Yes sir, you thought out loud as a smile kept on your lips. He smiled at your answer and leaned in again, this time the kiss was longer and more complex. Where your skin touched you could feel the nerves beginning to hum in excitement, it was not a battle of a kiss which pleasantly surprised you, it was a dance. A careful and passionate dance, so when he ran his tongue over your bottom lip you allowed him entrance and control of the kiss as he gently dominated you. A hand snaked to the back of your head and buried it in your hair, he tilted your head back which allowed him more access. You could feel yourself falling into his frame as his other hand held your cheek and then snaked down to your waist and pulled you into him, so his entire body enveloped yours. He slowed the kiss down and you almost whined in disappointment but knew better than to vocalise that feeling, he could probably already tell what you were feeling. He smiled into the kiss and then grabbed your lower lip between his teeth and tugged at it which made your eyes open in shock, only to be met with his deviant ones. 

He fully detached himself from you which you secretly hated, but it was no secret to him.

‘Clean up and get some rest pet.’ he murmured as he turned to retrieve his helmet from the floor.

He left the room without saying another word, leaving you dumbfounded in the middle of his massive chambers.

Here it is FINALLY aha. I’ve been grinding all day to try and rewrite it all, some parts I deliberately didn’t write because I now think they’ll fit better in the next installment. I think this is the longest part so far and I really hope you like it :) Thank you beautiful readers once again <3

[origamiblades]

@goldcnblood:  meme 34: a kiss upon returning from death

         (does this even count???)

  DO NOT CLICK ON THE DASH, 4,408 WORDS YOU’D DOOM YOURSELF!!!

The World Between Worlds was, perhaps to some people (who'd even heard of it)— a myth. Or, maybe, something not quite accurate to the claims. Armitage refused to believe that. That he was chasing after something unattainable.

That he'd truly, absolutely lost Ben. Yes, on a purely selfish note but also because he couldn't shake off the guilt that tore him open anytime he caught sight of the ghost that haunted him in the other man's image. Originally, he'd figured he'd been hallucinating. That his brain was conjuring up something to make up for everything— or manifest his guilt into something more demanding of his attention. Within time, he realized it wasn't so— that Ben had come back and practically tethered himself to Armitage. He hated it so much, but he also couldn't bring himself to tell the man to go— or, at least… couldn't bring himself to tell him it really was what he wanted.

Because in truth, he didn't want Ben to leave. He wanted him here… but physically. And not the passing chance touches that they were lucky enough to chase after on occasion but… alive.

Getting his hands on information about this realm wasn't exactly easy, but when the idea had come up from Ben in passing, Armitage had immediately latched onto it. His entire work had been practically sidelined (which in and of itself, was a miracle)— that which could be delegated out was, and everything else that was left over was only given partial attention once Armitage had more or less worn himself out mentally or otherwise ran out of information (sometimes that'd merely lead to another, more aggressive rereading of older information).

The entrance to the planes that had been recorded to exist on Lothal was a bust— and while he'd read as such, still Armitage had found himself before the ruins. Seafoam eyes criticizing the rubble as if he might find something that would still grant him the access he so desired. He’d seen pictures of the temple back when it was still standing— of the paintings that had graced the walls and supposedly worked as a sort of key. There were no paintings now.

Every piece of rubble that had been left likely wasn’t in the spot it had fallen at this point, and Armitage couldn’t locate any tells of any of the paintings that had been a part of the temple. He couldn’t help but wonder if that meant the Empire had picked through the ruins. Had confiscated every last piece. Or, perhaps— something more ludicrous but not entirely out of the question as he’d learned dealing with the Force— the paintings had merely vanished on their own.

Only after hours of picking over the site did Hux allow himself to sink in defeat to rest atop one of the larger pieces of rubble. Head resting in hands as a groan tore it’s way from the man’s throat. Seafoam eyes staring down at the ground beneath himself as he desperately wished for Ben’s ghost to once again appear. But would that make him feel better, or worse? This time the sound that left Armitage was a sigh— eyes finally drifting shut. For all the pain and sadness that gripped the man since he’d been unable to save Ben’s life, Armitage could feel a soft trill of calmness surrounding him amongst the ruins. He’d figured that it might well be lingering tells of the Force’s touch here, and that prompted a low, pained laugh from the man.

“So close, and yet…” Another sigh, as Armitage contemplated his next move. He could stay here— scour over the land time and time again with a growing desperation and the probability that nothing would even come from it. Or, he could quit before he found himself walking down the path of further mental descent. Before he managed to work himself back up into a once more crazed state that would do no one any good.

A hot breeze of air washed over Hux and brought him pause— eyes snapping open to note that darkness had crept in. That meant he had lost a few more hours musing in his inner turmoil. He'd been about ready to shrug it off and dive right back into the dark recesses of his mind when he noticed large silver paws just within his peripheral.

Jolting into an upright position, Armitage's hand quickly flew to the blaster that sat at his hip— eyes leveling with the giant silver canine that stood before him. A… loth-wolf, wasn't it? He recalled reading about them while looking into finding a way to access the World Between Worlds.

Sentient beings. Dangerous, and connected to the Force. And when seafoam eyes locked on the golden ones that were watching him Armitage felt no reason to believe everything he'd read was wrong. Recognition sent a chill crawling up Hux's spine and he narrowed his eyes towards the creature.

"... can I help you?" He'd finally prompted after a long stretch of silence passed between them. The loth-wolf dipped her head minutely before sitting down, and Armitage quirked an eyebrow, "How so?"

Nothing happened. Instead of doing anything to provide something that could be taken as an answer, the creature's bright eyes simply continued to regard him— and Armitage couldn't help but feel like he was being judged. And while he was more than deserving of such a thing, it still irked him.

"Look… if you don't need anything I'm going to leave. I've been here longer than I should have as is." Still nothing, and Hux found himself biting back a frustrated sigh before he pushed himself to his feet. When the loth-wolf didn't move to stop him— to try and get his attention again, Armitage turned on his heel and started off back towards where his ship awaited him.

A heavy object collided with his back after only just three steps and slammed him into the ground face first. The impact drew a loud grunt from Hux before he cursed softly. The weight applied to his back wasn't enough to cause anymore pain but he knew without even trying that the loth-wolf wasn't about to just let him up. With a huff, Armitage couldn't help but to let his forehead collide with the ground beneath him.

"Fine." The word was practically hissed out, "I suppose I'll stay then, since you're so insistent."

There's a long moment before the pressure is removed from Armitage's back and an even longer one before the man finally dared to heft himself into a seated position— shooting the creature a faint glare. He wondered, briefly, if she was simply wasting his time for the sake of entertainment.

"What do you want from me?" Armitage pressed, watching as the loth-wolf once more sat down. Her golden eyes fixated on Hux as if he should already know the answer to his own question. Another sigh heaved out of the man before he dipped his head— eyes drifting shut as he regulated his breathing into something calmer.

Though agitation prickled at the back of his mind, Hux managed to otherwise quiet the racing thoughts that were much more rampant these days. Brows furrowing slightly at first before the frustration slowly eased away.

Soon, the loth-wolf's nose found itself pressed against Armitage's forehead and his eyes blinked open— seafoam hues peering up towards the towering creature in thinly veiled curiosity. Hux dared not to speak up again, instead staying quiet and allowing the connection he had to the Force to do the 'talking' for him. 

With a faint puffing sound, the loth-wolf slowly pulled away and turned— starting to pad off slowly back towards the chunk of ruins that were bulked together. Without even having to think about it, Armitage found himself on his feet and trailing after her. She, likewise, didn't bother to look back to see if he was following.

They could sense each other's intentions, now. At least, mostly. Hux knew she knew why he'd come here, and the loth-wolf knew he knew she wanted to lead him somewhere.

Armitage had to bite his tongue at the rising anxiety— a feeling that threatened to overwhelm him and make him sick. The disgusting, vulnerable feeling of hope hammering deeper into his soul with every hard thump of his own heart.

Within minutes the pair found themselves halting before a large slab of stone left over from the collapse. The side facing them was cast in shadow thanks to the positioning of Lothal's moons at current, and when the loth-wolf looked back towards Armitage expectantly he couldn't help but frown. He'd looked over this place five times before having given up— checked every inch of every rock to the best of his capabilities. There was nothing of worth here.

Yet still, the canine once more looked back towards the stone and despite all logic suggesting this was a waste of time Hux entered into the shadow the smooth chunk of stone provided.

Unlike the last few times Armitage had scoured this rock in particular, the man was able to pick up on something faintly painted across the stone— a trick of the light, or something new…?

Instinctively Armitage reached out— fingers making contact with the design he could just barely make out. As fingertips slowly trail down the painting, golden light seeped from where he touched and spread out until the entire figure was shining in the brightness.

"A loth-wolf?" Armitage questioned out loud— about to turn back towards his current company when the painting moved. Painted eyes focus on him as the golden loth-wolf painting turned its attention towards him— before it stood from it's seated position and howled. The sound echoed deep inside Armitage's head and he couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder over it, watching as more painted wolves poured in from the edges of the stone— traversing between pieces of ruin to come alongside the one who had howled.

After a long pause where it felt like the paintings seemed to scrutinize Hux, the loth-wolves looked away and began to create a moving circle. Slowly but surely picking up speed at time ticked by.

"What the kriff…?" Armitage couldn't help but let the crude word drop from his tongue in bafflement, a hand tentatively reaching out only to pull away before it made contact with the wall. Perhaps he really was losing his mind.

Armitage managed one half step back before the loth-wolf who had led him to the slab aggressively headbutt him, shoving him face first into the wall���

Through the wall. 

Falling to hands and knees was the last thing that Armitage had expected— and he was quickly on his feet, peering back towards where he'd come from and seeing the loth-wolf watching him from through a circular portal— a portal! 

A disbelieving laugh bubbled out from Hux as he looked down towards his hands— out across a scenery that seemed to be space with transparent pathways methodically weaving throughout it— back to the loth-wolf.

"... thank you." At the words, the canine dipped her head, before turning and wandering out of sight of the portal. Armitage flexed his fingers— an attempt to dispel nervous energy— then turned his back towards the portal he had entered through. 

A sense of sheer wonder enveloped the man— distant voices echoing off just far enough away to be picked up, some closer than others. The words spoken seemed… mostly useless, at least out of context. Words of encouragement, snippets of conversation, a phrase here and there. Lips twitch up into the barest tells of a smile before flattening out once more. With one more glance back towards the portal he’d entered through, Armitage finally started forwards.

For as engulfing as the surrounding space-esque setting was, the place hardly felt dark… instead, somehow the illuminated pathways managed to bring an easing brightness to the realm— something that wasn’t overpowering in nature, almost comforting as a matter of fact. Slowly, Armitage came to a halt where the pathway forked off into three different directions and frowned to himself. Eyes casting down each route before looking once more around himself. The apparent vastness of the place was overwhelming.

“Now how the kriff am I supposed to know where to go..?” The words left his mouth, though Armitage knew well enough that the chances of an actual answer was slim to none. Eyes close, a breath filtering in slowly until he heard a particular, familiar voice. Seafoam eyes snap open once more and before he could completely register just what it was he’d picked up on, his feet had carried him with a certain urgency down the path to his left. Within moments symbols came into sight— ones that felt familiar, in a distant sort of way. As if something one might have seen in a dream or perhaps their foggy memories. Hux couldn’t place his finger on just why he’d felt he knew them… until he heard the voice again.

Eyes drift from the symbols surrounding the portal to the actual thing itself— landing on the sight of a terrified woman that he knew he should recognize. Though his memories tried to escape him, the answer as to why still somehow managed to form itself and escape past his lips, "Mother..?"

It was Arkanis, Hux realized with a sudden jolt as he rushed to be standing before the portal. Before the woman. She was close enough that if he were to reach out he could—

Commotion on the other side of the portal cut Armitage's thoughts off sharply and brought the man to a defensive bristle. Deep in his gut he knew exactly what was going on— there was only one real possibility.

Instinctively, his hand reached out— fingers brushing against the odd sensation of the portal but refusing to penetrate past it. Frustration welling up deep inside of Hux as anger burned at his eyes— tears brimming. If he were to pull her out— to save her, how much damage would he cause to the world as he knew it? He was already risking so much bringing one person back from the dead. Making it two… would be too risky.

"I'm so sorry…" The words spilled out, fingers curling against the portal as the tears broke free— burning hot as they trickled down his cheeks, "All this time I've dreamt of such a moment and now that I have it…"

He fell silent— seafoam eyes seeming to lock with a pair so similar to his own on the other side. Almost as if his mother could sense him and— that would make sense, wouldn't it? If she, not so unlike himself, was connected to the Force then maybe…

The commotion grew louder and Armitage felt the urge to risk it all burn hotter in his chest, teeth gritting as his mother turned her back on him and pulled out the small blaster she kept hidden on her person.

"No no no don't fight back." Fingers curled into fists and he wished so desperately he had something he could smash them into, "Don't be stupid."

He could hear the door slide open and finally he forced himself to glare away— the sound of blaster fire ringing out for only the span of a few seconds before everything went eerily quiet. When eyes dare look back up there was merely the sight of stars where the portal had been. A heavy breath heaved from Armitage's lungs as he collapsed to his knees.

Slowly, eyes drift shut and Armitage slammed his fist into the ground, uncaring of the factor that it sent a painful sting up his arm. If anything, the pain helped. A nice, shocking jolt to his systems. Hux took a deep breath, then opened his eyes again— forcing himself back up to his feet and turning his back to the place the portal had been.

“Focus,” He murmured to himself, casting seafoam hues back out towards the vastness of his surroundings. There had to be a system in place here, right? He just needed to make sense of it. Finally, Armitage started back off once more. Doing his best to tune out the voices that whispered off in the distance as he kept his eyes peeled for any signs of Ben. If he could find something that led to a place in time where the man was, perhaps he could use that as a jumping off point— a reference.

Booted feet click softly on the illuminated path beneath him as Hux eased his way along the path set before him. Sparing glances towards portals to make quick note of what point in time they were— some of them he recognized. Flashest of familiar faces, familiar moments— and sometimes he caught glimpses of people he’d never seen before in his life. And while that incited curiosity in the man, he could not be strayed from his mission at hand.

Until, of course, another all too familiar voice froze him in place and brought a chill to the air. Goosebumps prickled along Armitage’s skin and for a short moment, he’d almost forgotten how to breath. 

Just keep moving, he urged himself desperately in his head but just like with most times when it came to him, he couldn’t help but to freeze on the spot. Even after all the years without the man terrorizing him, he still had that effect.

“You’re pathetic,” The words were ones that echo in the back of Armitage’s mind time and time again— less often these days, after coming so far… but they still lingered. Needled his conscience when he was already down, “Can’t you do anything right?”

“I’m sorry father, I—”

“Don’t be sorry, be better.” Armitage couldn’t help but finally turn towards the direction the sound had been coming from— taking in the sight of his father back in his younger years. And a little kid… himself, he realized with a jolt. Surging forward, Hux took in the scene before him with a sort of morbid curiosity. While he could remember bits and pieces of his past, many memories were either hazy or entirely unreachable.

“Clean up your mess.” The child dipped his head at the demand, almost something akin to a nod and moved to bolt off when Brendol reached out and snatched his arm to keep him from leaving, “No. Right now.”

“But, the glass—” The protesting seemed only to further piss the man off, and it prompted him to yank the child closer towards the shattered glass on the ground.

“You made the mess without using anything, you can clean it up without using anything.” Armitage couldn’t help the low growl that left his throat at the man’s words. One that only cut off when the child meekly stooped down to start picking up the broken shards with his bare hands. Anger rose in Hux’s chest, and finally the ice in his veins started to melt— a rage replacing the fear that had captivated his frame moments ago.

It wasn’t even a minute before Brendol’s foot lashed out, catching the boy and knocking him over, “You don’t have all day.”

Finally, Armitage snapped— hand turning and lifting, coaxing the shards on the ground on the other side of the portal to raise up into the air. Seafoam eyes glared towards Brendol and he knew all it would take is the slightest bit of effort on his part to send the sharp pieces flying into the man’s neck. Seeing the flash of momentary terror in the bastard’s eyes was almost worth it, if it weren’t for the rage that quickly swallowed it up.

The satisfaction that would come with ending the man’s life a second time, however… he knew he couldn’t take. Anger had Armitage’s blood boiling as instead of sending the pieces right into the man’s neck as he so desperately wanted they flew past him and into the wastebasket behind him. The force with which they slammed into the bottom of the trash prompted them to shatter into smaller bits and Armitage forced himself to take a step back away from the portal.

Hux could feel fear crawling back up his spine as realization finally hit him on just what he’d done. Forcing himself back another step—  then another— Armitage had to whirl away and block out the sounds that soon followed. He knew the consequences of using the Force.

“Stupid,” He chastised himself, hands flying up to grasp his hair, “Stupid, stupid! You know better than to use the Force! You can’t just—”

“It’s okay.”

The words had Hux freezing once more, and his heart skipped a beat. Was he hearing things again—…

“It’s just us.”

Ben.

The sounds from the portal behind him were drowned out in an instant, as Armitage took off towards the sound of the familiar voice. Ignoring all the other portals that shimmered on either side of him before nearly passing the one he was after over. Skidding to a halt, seafoam eyes lock onto the portal— again, the symbols were vaguely familiar. But not nearly as familiar as the sight that lay beyond them.

“Yavin IV…” the words left Armitage as a mere wisp, feet slowly carrying him towards the scene playing out before him. He could see himself, seated on the ground. Next to him sat Ben. Despite his best efforts, Hux felt a grin tug at his features. Even just seeing him alive through a portal hurt less than the ghost that had taken to haunting him.

Moving closer still, Armitage only stopped once he couldn’t move any closer without breaching the portal. A hand raising up and brushing just along his side of the bridge. He was so close… so, so close.

“Ben…” The knife that had been in his chest since the other man’s death twisted again, and the smile vanished, “How am I supposed to find you...?”

Again, the whispering voices off in the distance seemed to cascade down on him. The scene playing out before him was quiet and peaceful— something incapable of drowning out the other sounds as they crashed down on him suddenly. Hands instinctively reach up, covering his ears until a voice rang directly in his head. One he didn’t recognize.

Use the Force.

“The Force…” Armitage echoed, shaking his head as if to dispel the rampant sounds. Eyes flutter closed then, and a deep breath is taken. Brows furrow, as Hux slowly relaxed. Soon, the voices dissipated— fading off into nothingness, and a small feeling seemed to all but reach out for him. With only momentary hesitation, Armitage conceded to the pull. Following after the coaxing feeling.

A few minutes peel past, before the man found himself stopping abruptly— eyes blinking open to the sight of yet another portal. The first thing he noticed was Ben. The man had been forced to his knees and restrained but still managed to wear that insufferable smirk, as if the threat that was before him was nothing. Armitage felt his heart lurch, then, as eyes cast instead to the ambitious officer that loomed over the man that he’d accidentally fallen in love with.

Without even thinking, Armitage quickly breached the portal— lifting up the startled stormtrooper that raised their blaster towards him with the Force and redirecting their shot into the one standing next to them. With a clench of his fist, the stormtrooper he held crumpled then dropped to the ground beside their partner.

Then, seafoam eyes lock onto the officer that had shifted his full attention to Hux— and Armitage couldn’t help quirking his head slightly to the side at the blaster that was now pointed towards him. Eyes dark as they bore into the other man’s.

“Supreme Leader H—” Armitage cut him off immediately with a raise of his hand, wrapping the Force tightly around the man’s neck.

“I thought I made it clear that killing him was off limits?” Armitage demanded, striding forwards and past Ben— daring not to allow himself to get distracted for the time being.

“Not- n—…” Armitage laughed when the officer spoke up, seemingly desperately trying to deny the factor that that’s exactly the path he was about to take. The grip tightens even more, before loosening enough to let the man breath.

“Not?” Hux echoed, “Not clear enough? Apparently so.”

Then, the hold releases entirely and the man gasps for air, immediately swallowing up as much as he could before trying to scramble to speak, “Not… killing.”

Armitage hummed, almost seeming to consider that refusal. Then he nods, slowly. But not at the man’s words. Oh, if he hadn’t intended to murder Ben he wouldn’t have left the wound he had. The man was foolish— even more so, it seemed, as the officer seemed hopeful over the nodding. Hux chuckled dryly, before pulling his knife out and swiftly driving it home into the man’s throat

The shock was worth it— as for the second time, the man fell desperately on his knees. Hands reaching up as if they could do anything to prevent the inevitable. Armitage merely tilted his head as he watched until the man finally fell face first into the ground. A long moment stretched out before he even dared to turn around.

Seafoam eyes immediately locked onto Ben, and Armitage felt the knife in his heart twist once more. Within seconds he was kneeling before the man, hands desperately seeking out the part of his torso where the wound had been inflicted— where he’d, months ago, bled out and left Armitage with only the blood that had stained his hands. His clothes. The floor…

Tears well up in his eyes, as hands pull away. Press again. Pull away—… nothing. He’d almost managed to convince himself maybe he’d missed it, hands seeking out all over. Eyes scrutinizing Ben before finally he laughed. A pained, yet happy laugh.

Hand finally abandon their search for a fatal wound, instead grasping Ben’s face in between them as tears rolled freely down Hux’s face.

“You’re alive…” The words were a breath, hardly even a whisper.

He can touch him….

Finally, Armitage caved. Lips crashing into Ben’s with the same desperation he’d showcased moments before. Hands easily seek out the man’s hair— his shoulders— just anything Hux could touch. He missed touching him.

And he’d be dammed if he ever let anyone take him away from him again.

[krinatheladysnake]

Lady Snake (and the Jedi Killer) Chapter 2

Summary: The galaxy calls her Lady Snake- a quick and merciless killer. Kylo Ren calls her a nuisance.Krina, a Commander and the only other Force user of the First Order, despises what the dark side has become and wishes to return it to its true state of power but what she hates the most is the naive man-child ruling over it.

Chapter 2: Depereo (To Be Utterly Ruined)

Words: 2,147

As Krina climbed into the cockpit of her TIE Fighter and prepared to take off, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander, the last few moments playing out in her head. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find a single mistake on her part. She was ruthless, agile, exactly the kind of killer the First Order needed in order to be truly successful. The only mistake that stood blatantly in front of her was Kylo Ren, a boy pretending to be a man, and barely attempting to be a leader. Outrage and hatred clouded her thoughts, causing her to miscalculate her speed as she made her way out of the planet’s atmosphere. The TIE Fighter jolted forward and Krina threw her hands out to steady herself against the control panel.

“Kriff,” She muttered, placing shaky hands back on the control stick. She wasn’t the best pilot out there but she knew how to handle herself, and her ship, on most occasions. Once she steadied herself and set her destination for the Steadfast, the flagship shared between General Hux, Kylo Ren, and herself, Krina flipped to auto-pilot and stared out at the vastness in front of her. It wasn’t a long trip back but she needed to coast and let the frustrations fizzle out in hopes that Kylo Ren wouldn’t linger under her skin.

Krina couldn’t remember exactly when she was given her current title, the one that fit her better than the name she was given at birth. She did remember the first time she ever embraced it. Overly confident Resistance fighters tried to interrupt yet another mission but were far from successful. Krina was quick to stop them from causing any true damage. A pilot, one of the best in the pathetic bunch, was no match for her. The poor woman should’ve stayed in the sky. The last thing she saw was Krina’s sinister smile as the Force crushed against her throat like a python slowly constricting around its prey.

Lady Snake is a name reserved only for the most deadly and deceitful individual in the entire galaxy. It could only belong to the most devious of people. To Krina, it was endearing that the name was granted upon her. Her name was so feared that when spoken, even in whispers, it sent shivers down spines.

She only questioned if she was worthy of such when a certain masked, intolerable individual had tried to strip her of her power. He had just given her more, let her have a taste of a potential future full of glory and above all, the true victory of the First Order. Every day, every moment she was in his presence, that victory felt far beyond her reach. Lady Snake was slowly becoming a joke, a trophy full of threats that was held up high above everyone’s head- including Krina’s.

She thought back to the days in which she was promised glory. The days when she kneeled before Snoke, her eyes on the ground in front of her and her heart beating out of her chest. He was always so pleased with how she stuck to her training, no matter how brutal it was. Even as a child, Krina was the most promising apprentice. As she developed into her abilities and truly learned the darkest ways of the Force, Snoke knew she was going to be a valuable asset.

Unfortunate events began to pile up as if the Force was punishing her for years of unspeakable and unforgivable acts. The first of which was the turning of Ben Solo. Something in the Force shifted when the son of Leia Organa and Han Solo fell and Kylo Ren rose from his ashes. Snoke felt it before Krina did. He warned her. She should’ve listened. She fell from the ranks as her counterpart continued to climb, becoming their master’s apparent favorite. Krina continued to train hard, keeping her eyes on what Snoke had planned for her all those years ago, yet she was no match for Kylo Ren- or rather, no match for a bloodline that powerful. Every day felt like another event pushing Krina far from anything her mentor had guaranteed through whispers. There Kylo Ren was, constantly keeping her from surpassing him.

He was weak and afraid. He had no true place on the Dark Side. The darkness in him was not a match for the light that constantly threatened to take hold. For Krina, there was no light. There never had been. Life had never been kind to her. For all that she knew, the light and the love that went with it were just a myth. She wasn’t ever going to be worthy of anything of that sort.

Krina was startled out of her thoughts by a beeping from her control panel, alerting her that she was nearing her destination. She straightened up, turned off autopilot, and let out a breath at the sight of the Steadfast. She landed quickly, watching stormtroopers and mechanics flood the docking bay around her. She climbed out, staring straight ahead of her.

“I want this ship fully cleaned and inspected immediately,” She barked, knowing it was completely fine and already spotless. The crew all responded in unison and got to work as she marched out of the bay.

The sound of her own heart working overtime and beating out of her chest filled her ears and overwhelmed her. She had to get herself to calm down and not create a reputation for herself similar to that of her predecessor. Before she knew it, Krina was standing at the entrance to her training quarters.

As she slowed her breathing, Krina reached down to grab her lightsaber. The cold metal of the hilt sent shivers down her spine. When she ignited it, that same cold was engulfed in heat and instantly melted away. With heat came comfort. Krina let the blade fall to her side as she closed her eyes. Her breathing steadied, allowing her mind to clash with the Force and draw power from it.

Krina felt everything and nothing all at once as her connection with the Force stabilized. As she readied herself, her mind flooded with past thoughts and images, mostly from her recent mission. As much as she tried to ignore those thoughts to focus on her training, her mind would not let her forget the interruption from earlier. The way he sauntered in, blatantly disregarding the fact that she was more than capable by herself. Almost instantly, flashes of all the times Kylo pushed her to the side flooded her mind.

When she opened her eyes again, she was met with a perfect replica of Kylo Ren, standing helmetless with his lightsaber in hand. Krina snarled at the image the Force had presented her with and she lifted her lightsaber, twirling it effortlessly. There wasn’t even a split second of hesitation before she struck, slashing angrily at the image. A loud breath escaped pursed lips, shoulders heaving from the exertion of energy.

“Again,” Snoke commanded, his voice booming in the young adult’s mind. Krina pushed herself up off the ground and grabbed her lightsaber from beside her, wobbling with unbalanced pain.

“Master,” She croaked, wiping blood from her lips with the back of her hand. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“It is not about what you can take. It is about the damage you inflict.”

Krina had dealt so much damage: to innocence, to the Resistance, to herself. And none of it truly mattered. Anyone who stood in the way was an enemy. Resentment bubbled in her chest as she stared at the Force vision of the one she deemed her biggest enemy and she slashed at it again. This time, she didn’t let herself catch her breath before she began to circle around it, stepping skillfully on the tips of her toes. Disgust wrote itself into her expression, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched.

“Match his movements. Mimic his connection to the Force.”

Krina sighed, defeat riddled in her stance. She knew this was the furthest from a fair fight. Snoke had challenged her plenty of times before but hadn’t dared try anything like this. She watched her opponent, her eyes tracking even the smallest of movements- a deep breath, a twitch, a fraction of a step. She was waiting for the right moment to make her move, the right moment to strike. The man in front of her began to move slowly. It took a few seconds before Krina registered that he wasn’t coming right at her but rather circling his prey. She gulped, trying to stay focused. This was far from her first fight against someone who made her seem so small.

“Krina,” Snoke beckoned. She ignored him, stepping forward in anger, lightsaber at the ready.

“Listen to your master,” A cocky Kylo Ren instructed, smirking at her.

“If I’m not listening to him, what makes you think I’ll listen to you?” Krina questioned, cocking her head to the side.

“One day you will.”

Sweat began to build on the Commander’s forehead the same way tension did in her muscles. Lady Snake. Venomously lethal and unafraid.

“You said she was a worthy opponent. Does she not understand that I can take anything I want?” Confidence spewed from his words that were aimed at Snoke, ignoring Krina entirely. And just like that- she began to run at him, using both of her hands to grip onto her weapon and give herself more power.

Her rival let out a tisk and effortlessly swiped, keeping still. The blade collided with Krina’s cheek and ripped all the way down to her neck. A loud and painful scream covered the hums of lightsabers and the disappointing words from their master.

Krina snapped, letting out a scream reminiscent of the one from her past as she ran forward, striking the Force projected Kylo Ren. As soon as the blade made contact, the image disappeared, leaving Krina bewildered and alone. She stood, frozen in time, coming to terms with the memory she presented to herself. With a shaky hand, she deactivated her lightsaber, placed it back on her belt, and ran a hand through her hair.

The scar on her cheek burned with echoes of a memory she continually tried to forget. The tremor in her hand became impossible to control as she reached up, letting the tips of her ungloved fingers trace over her unwanted trophy. The roughness irritated calluses and she thought back to the moment she decided it was going to be an ever-present reminder.

Krina tried to ignore the smell of burning flesh from the moment she was injured but it was unbearable, worse than the pain she was enduring. The medical droid worked diligently to treat the wound as Krina’s nostrils burned with the overwhelming smell. Sure, she had her fair share of small scars from her from learning how to wield such a powerful weapon but no one dared to harm her with one of their own. Krina hissed and recoiled as the medical droid placed a bacta patch on her cheek.

“Enough,” She ordered, ripping the bandage off in one motion, ignorantly deciding against treatment. She knew a lightsaber wound was far too much for her body to heal on its own but maybe she deserved to wear such a despicable prize.

“I take it that the mission didn’t go as planned?” A soft voice caused Krina to jump out of her skin. Hux. She should’ve sensed him coming, but at the moment she was too disconnected from the Force and mentally unhinged.

“I will not hesitate to decapitate you,” Krina spoke through gritted teeth, pushing loose strands of hair away from her face. Hux threw his arms up, surrendering.

“You were meant to be at a debriefing immediately following your return. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t lost.”

“Do I look lost?” Krina questioned, throwing her hands up.

“Not physically.”

Krina huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow at the General. “You want a debriefing? I wanted to blow off steam and ended up reliving trauma. Even the worst of people have things they don't want to remember. You of all people should know that.”

“I meant a debriefing of the mission,” Hux hummed, trying to keep a smile from creeping onto his lips.

“Oh,” Krina pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Our naive, narrow-minded leader meandered on in and stole my glory right from under me, almost sabotaging the whole kriffing thing due to his uncontrollable weakness for the pathetic Resistance. He made a mockery out of me, yet again.”

“I see. Were you successful?”

“Yes, General,” Krina answered sarcastically.

“Well done. You’re dismissed,” Hux cracked back, stepping on his heels to leave Krina to her own devices. “And Krina?”

“Mhm?”

“Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture.” With that, Hux was gone and once again, Krina was alone.

[stephanericherthanyou]

Title: Obsolescence Ship: kylux Rating: T Word Count: 1454

“It feels like he’s sitting in an airlock, unsure of how he’d gotten there, of which door is which, and which is about to open.“

(AO3)

The meeting ends and the hologram shuts off, a blue face to a blue line to nothing. Hux stares beyond it, for a second, wasting time, lets his face fall to rest against his fingers so his arm props his head up. Disgusting, even if there weren’t security cameras whose footage no one, perhaps even droids, will ever watch. He has half a standard hour before the next meeting, dwindling time to organize words on his datapad and rearrange information in files, synthesize the last meeting’s contents for his briefing with the Supreme Leader later.

He has barely been on the bridge the past few weeks, and not as much as he’d like in a long time--not that he’s commanding when he is. The commander is the highest-ranking officer on board, and that is the Supreme Leader. Ren has not rebuilt the Supremacy or shown any indication of doing so, or even moving to another ship; he seems content with the Finalizer as a flagship. On this ship, where soldiers and officers have at least pretended to respect Hux, where they have answered to him, Hux has been kicked down a rung, clearly answering to Ren, a commander who leads from the front lines more than Snoke ever did or ever would have wanted to, and thus has even less to do with the administrative duties. They all land in Hux’s lap, paperwork and budget and signing off on usage, meetings and communications, as if he’s buried under a virtual avalanche, not quite fallen into a trap but had the trap build up around him.

It should be an honor to be the liaison between Ren and all of his other immediate inferiors. The chance to do the same for Snoke would have been something Hux relished, a chance to gauge the rest of his competition, to take more risks and plant the blame, to find anyone ruthless enough to worry about, and to wave his high position in everyone’s faces. They could despise and disrespect him all they want--they still can, but being Ren’s mouthpiece is different from being Snoke’s, especially when they all know it’s because Ren doesn’t have or care to gain the requisite structural knowledge to do this himself, and trusts the things pinning Hux into place to make sure Hux takes care of it. 

And he does; he gets through the next meeting, another useless conversation with General Risohn where she offers little of value, only her sneering hologram face and empty words. If Snoke were still in charge, no one would tell Hux, to his face and on the record, that they wonder why he’s being kept around. It would be phrased differently (if they said it all), and perhaps a touch below the surface, theories as to why Snoke plays favorites with him, sideways hints. If Hux held these controls in his hands, if he were acting as a go-between for Snoke, well, Hux’s mouth to Snoke’s ear, Hux’s pin of blame piercing their struggling bodies and holding them down, would make them back away.

These hypotheticals are more of a waste than this meeting. They are not, real, and Risohn’s sneer curls like smoke from an explosion.

“I do wonder why the Supreme Leader lets you stay around.”

“I could say the same of you,” Hux says.

Risohn ends the call. Nothing to report, no real business to add. That’s to be expected; she generally has little of value to share (Hux’s remark had not been a simple combat; it had been pure truth). He smiles at the ghost of her face imprinted on his eyes, his mouth stretching wide as if he’s speaking the expression with an accent. It is not natural to him, but it is appropriate here. At least she’d gotten her verbal jabs in.

*

Her remark remains in Hux’s head, passing through his thoughts, a ribbon-thin slither cutting between personnel files and the usual peace that comes with standing on the bridge. Why does Ren keep him around? Obviously, Hux provides things that Ren can’t for himself, his organizational knowledge, the motivation to keep things running smoothly and the attention to detail that keeps all arms of the Order moving towards a common goal. Companionship. Familiarity, even (and Ren’s too caught up in the past, his own and the Galaxy’s, for familiarity to be unimportant to him). 

For now, for the immediate future, that’s why he’s here--but what of the long term? It had been easy to see himself as the long arm of Snoke’s law, crushing insurrection, maintaining the military, if and when Snoke’s First Order would finally take over the galaxy. Yet, what are Ren’s plans? It’s as if he’d shut off the autopilot, ditched the plotted course, and had spun the ship in random circles before plunging into Hyperspace where only he knows the direction. 

Hux is good at preventing, undermining, shedding his own obsolescence. He’s had to be. It’s a hell of a lot easier to do that when you can see what’s coming, though; what’s necessary today might be detrimental tomorrow, and what’s useless today can be something Ren wants tomorrow, however inexplicably. It feels like he’s sitting in an airlock, unsure of how he’d gotten there, of which door is which, and which is about to open. 

A longer-than-strict-protocol wash in the refresher does nothing; neither does his evening cup of caf, the routine of budget spreadsheets on the datapad nothing but bland numbers, a slow background beat to the course of chaos in his mind. His tongue is heavy, but he forces his report through his mouth as Ren undresses on the other side of the room and then makes his way over to sit on the end of the bed beside Hux. He says nothing, barely pausing in his motions, until Hux reaches the end.

“General Risohn hasn’t had anything of note to report from the mid-rim in over a standard month,” Hux says. 

“What are you suggesting?” says Ren.

“It seems unlikely,” says Hux. “If we could spare the resources to send someone out there to corroborate, make sure she’s not wasting time, then we ought to.”

“Unlikely, but hardly impossible,” says Ren. “She’s not competent enough to carry out any sort of serious sabotage.”

“That’s not the point,” says Hux, although he would gladly dispute Ren on that. “Even if she were to fail, she could implant her ideas--bring others to her side--and even if she’s doing nothing actively malicious, if she’s doing nothing it’s a waste and a bad example.”

“We can afford it,” says Ren.”

Hux grits his teeth. He does not want to repeat himself; he will not be trapped to exhaustion in a circular argument. “What is your plan?”

“Stomp out the Resistance, and the Jedi. Lead the Galaxy into a new age. Conquer on all fronts.”

Hux lets his annoyance show through, eases back on the caution in his thoughts, thinks intently of himself, of the other officials’ ever-growing disgust and distaste for him, images that had haunted his early childhood of the imperials saying that if Tarkin and Vader were still around he’d be shot out the airlock, have his windpipe crushed with the Force, his face carved up with a vibroblade, if he were even afforded that much. He does not peel back the layers on his fear, only the ideas that won’t sink beneath the surface. Is this how the Force works? Does Ren even know, or is it all just guesswork?

Ren leans forward, the perfectly-pressed bedsheet crinkling under his hand (and that, Hux has to consciously and intentionally wince at now; he doesn’t, though he files away the annoyance just the same). 

“Not that,” Ren says.

His tone is as even as it ever gets, his eyes opaque, staring both at Hux and past him. There is a scar on his finger, where it bends under his hand on the bed. Hux has noticed it before, but he sees it now again. 

Were this a few standard months ago--a lifetime ago, when they were still building Starkiller, when the path forward had seemed so clear and so spotless, Hux would have allowed his rage at Ren to simmer, to hiss just loudly enough for Ren to hear. How can you not know and still trust the future? How can you take vague outlines and obvious goals and march ahead? Ren’s not overconfident, not in that way. And yet, perhaps Hux is just too tired to deal with the future, too sick of designing meticulous plans only for them to be crushed and bent irreparably, because he doesn’t need to probe further. 

This is enough, for now.

[kylux]

If your still taking requests, could I ask for something involving Hux's dog tags and kylo thinking they are crazy sexy?

The crew of the Finalizer had been jarred awake in the middle of a sleep cycle by the possible threat of an incoming Resistance attack.  

Kylo groggily stood at attention as the officers rushed around him, attempting to figure out what had set off the ship’s sensors. While he’d been more in a meditative state than sleeping, Kylo hated being interrupted like this.

But apparently not as much as the General apparently hated being interrupted from his beauty sleep.

“What is the meaning of this incompetence?!” Hux’s booming voice came from the direction of his quarters, the sound of his boots stomping on the floor following him as he came closer to the bridge.  

When he came into full view, Kylo was a bit taken aback. The always prim and proper, buttoned up, perfectly styled Hux was now in a state of undress that Kylo had never seen him in.

A stray lock of hair hung in front of Hux’s scowling face and his blue eyes were red-ringed with either exhaustion or sleep. He’d managed to put his uniform bottoms on and tuck them into his boots, but he’d clearly forgotten a belt with the way his trousers hung off his waist ever so slightly. His plain white button-up nightshirt that had only been buttoned halfway up, exposing a milky, freckled chest and the silver dog tags that rested there.

“Ren, what’s going on?” Hux demanded when he caught sight of Kylo, marching right up into his personal space.

“I know as much as you, General. You’re not the only one on this ship who sleeps,” Kylo retorted, his gaze wandering to Hux’s bare chest against his better judgement.

Hux’s dog tags were glinting under the ship’s lights now and there was something strangely alluring about them. Kylo didn’t know what it was - perhaps the contrast of the shiny metal against Hux’s pale chest or the way the metal chain looked wrapped around Hux’s neck and trailing down his chest. The thought of the metal turning cold and sending a chill through the other man’s chest and effectively making his nipples hard snaked into Kylo’s mind and he involuntarily let out a shuddering sigh.

Hux looked at him strangely, cocking an eyebrow. “Useless as ever, Ren - really I do wonder what could possibly be going through that thick skull of yours sometimes,”

Kylo didn’t even have time to be upset at Hux’s comment because he was too caught up in the idea of what would happen if Hux actually knew what he was thinking right now.

Would Hux respond with disgust? Awkwardness? Curiosity?

Hux was turning to leave now, and Kylo reached a hand out and caught his shoulder. Hux spun around, annoyed at the contact. “What?” he spat, shrugging Kylo’s hand off.

“Let me see these,” Kylo said, pulling his glove off and reaching out to pick Hux’s dog tags off his chest. His fingers touched Hux’s chest as he did so, and Kylo absently thought how this was the most intimate thing he’d done in years.

Hux almost imperceptibly jolted in surprise, but he made no move to leave. The tags were warm from being so close to Hux’s body. Kylo traced his thumb over the lettering. The name listed was “Hux, Armitage” - Kylo realized he hadn’t even known Hux’s first name until this moment.

Suddenly an image rushed into Kylo’s head of Hux lying on his back, hair mussed up and breathing heavily, one of his dog tags caught between his plump pink lips.

Kylo startled and dropped the dog tags, which made a pleasing clinking sound as they hit Hux’s chest.

“Whatever was that all about?” Hux asked, buttoning up his nightshirt and fixing Kylo with an irritated but flustered look.

“Nothing. Goodnight,” Kylo said shortly, pushing past Hux to get back to his own quarters. There was no impending Resistance attack, thus no reason for him to be here. And besides, he had a...pressing matter to attend to in the privacy of his own quarters.

[calicosjinx]

Day 4: Secret Crush 😱

@kyluxromanceweek I did it again. I wrote something 😵

Day 4: Secret Crush

Theres always a mixture feelings and thoughts filling the room around Kylo Ren. Honestly at this point he was used to hearing it all. Things that ranged from disbelief and disgust that he was the new Supreme Leader, boredom, fear, worry, intrigue, and nowadays senses of hope. Hope that maybe. Just... MAYBE the First Order would finally crush the Resistance once and for all. The Supreme Leader and the General had been getting along better after all. Not great but well enough if all the private meetings Kylo had been calling between the two was anything to go on. Which it could be.

Kylo called them to spend more time with Hux and Hux seemed to enjoy actually talking and being around Kylo. Having his full attention and now not having to be worried about being thrown or hurt with the force by his hands. Kylo to this day still could not make up for that enough.

But suddenly a feeling hit Kylo Ren so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

It began a little while after General Hux rose from his seat and walked around the table to front of the room. This made him the center of attention, a position Hux had seemed to love with a passion. He began going over a few outlines for an ideal strike and Kylo has been actually listening. But then someone else’s yearning and desire began radiating around him. It was just...oozing out in thick in waves and growing more intensely. The admiration and want was so strong that it left Kylo Ren feeling edgy and more explosive than entirely necessary.

This person. This...unworthy being wanted, of all the people they could’ve possibly chosen, General Hux.

Apparently this officer found Hux’s eyes to be captivating. Otherworldly as they’re flashing in the blue glow of the holo-images of blueprints Hux has provided for a new weapon. They think Hux’s hair more beautiful than a Tatooine’s sunset (as if they’ve ever really seen it). That his golden eyelashes are magnificent. His faint freckles. This person was even captivated by Hux’s damn sideburns (not that Kylo could blame them.) All this Kylo could tolerate.

What he canNOT tolerate are the images that come to the person’s mind when Hux lifts his hand to point out focal points in his blueprints. The moment this fucker sees Hux’s wrist and hears the way Hux’s voice begins to change with the excitement of his ingenious plan, their mind becomes a frenzy. A very x-rated frenzy.

By now Kylo’s jaw is to the right he can feel his teeth grinding and he’s so angry a few items behind him are beginning to vibrate. A glass cup scattered somewhere. How dare this person? How dare this mere officer. This useless, lowly mutt of a creature want General Hux?

Want his Hux?! Yes that is correct HIS Hux. Hux just... didn’t know that yet. No one knew that yet because Kylo hadn’t gotten around to actually telling Hux how he felt but that changes nothing. General Hux was HIS. No one, not even Snoke at the time, was allowed to have him. Mentally or otherwise.

With a growl, The Supreme Leader pushes out of his chair calling the attention of everyone in the room. Hux looks up with a quick sneer and nose twitch but when the Supreme Leader says nothing, he continues on. Now all personnel is torn between looking at the Supreme Leader who’s teeth are nearly bared and the General who is doing his best to continue his presentation like this is normal.

It only takes Kylo a second now to pinpoint the officer who is, or was, listing after Hux. It’s an older but smaller man with greying brunette hair, the strips of a captain’s rank on his sleeve, and is standing entirely too close to General Hux.

With a swoosh of his cape Kylo walks to where Hux is and asserts himself between the two. Immediately taking Hux’s freehand into his own and lacing their gloved fingers together. His eyes narrow briefly at the stunned captain (really everyone including Hux is stunned but that doesn’t matter). Hux arches a perfectly arched brow. His cheeks actually filling with a shade of pink. He is...nervous and delighted? Kylo can see quick thoughts and hear small snippets of Hux’s inner voice. He wanted this. To hold Kylo’s hand in front of the order as one. As more...but right now?!

“Supreme Leader...?” Hux whispers after his eyes flicker around the room.

Kylo smirks. “Gather a team to work on the weapon right a way. Dismissed.”

A choirs of yes Supreme Leaders echo in the room before everyone begins to flee. Hux’s hand tightens in Kylo’s. His face is a mixture of bewilderment and hope and his heart is pounding out of his chest. Hux parts his lips to speak but Kylo cuts him off. Sealing his lips over his not even waiting for the room to be completely empty. Call it immature. Call it foolish. Call it jealousy. Call it stressing dominance. Call it a love confession. Kylo Ren did not care as long as he was able to call Hux just HIS.

“The weapon and whatever you need. Whatever you want, is yours.”

At the same time he used the Force to speak loudly in the captain’s head causing the man to flinch in pain. “And the General is MINE.”

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 23

Read on AO3. Part 22 here. Part 24 here.

Summary: Apparently, you can't get yourself to enjoy a dinner party, even if you're the guest of honor.

Words: 4700

Warnings: egregious dinner party antics, Hux is a bitch, Handmaid AU

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: I've never really written anything like this before. I'm not really sure what I'm doing. This chapter was like PULLING fucking TEETH. Would really love feedback/input/criticism.

Regardless, I hope y'all enjoyed. I am SO HAPPY the Daddy kink was well-received--we're all going to hell, yay!

I always want to stress how grateful I am that I receive the kind of interaction that I do. I feel so lucky and blessed to have folks like y'all. Thank you so much, I love all of you very much. <3 

The longer you sat, the deeper the burn at your backside became. The aloe that Ren had so generously applied had long worn off, at this point, but the real issue was the swelling, the heat, like a bubbling sunburn that had managed to sear itself across your entire ass. How generous of him, too, to supply you with this right before an event that required sitting.

It was only minutes, now, until the guests would arrive, and Emma and Rose were twittering in the kitchen, preparing the finishing touches on the meals. You, Johana, and Kylo Ren sat in the ornate dining room, with its tiered crystal chandelier and wall-to-wall windows that opened out toward the garden. At the long, mahogany dining table, the married couple were appointed at the heads, with you at the center, like an entertainment piece. The table had already been prepared with nine settings. The silence was so thick you could hear your blood in your toes.

Johana sighed. “Only a few people agreed to come, after all, Sir. Very short notice.”

“Mm.” Ren provided no evidence of interest or investment in what she had said.

“You know, Sir,” she said, “I’m doing this for you. For us.”

“How thoughtful of you.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” She sat back in her chair, arms crossed. “If only you could afford me the same grace.” Her eyes laid on you. “Not that it’ll be a problem too much longer, I’m sure.”

Swallowing, you stared at your hands. Ren hadn’t offered you a glance since he’d sat--hadn’t even offered a word when he’d dropped off your clothing at your door. Johana kept sticking you and her husband with sharp, suspicious glares, as if she could smell the sex on you, could see the leather marks on your thighs, could hear the words lingering on your tongue: yes, Daddy.

You pinched your legs together, fighting a shiver, fighting disgust with yourself. Back in reality, your willingness to break for him brought a nauseating chill to your stomach. After all, here you were, ready to perform for his friends, the very men who had shackled you to a dress and womb-service or death. Here you were, obedient and eager, with all of the humanity and agency of a pet, but with a hidden array of tricks that consisted of beg and swallow.

“Dolpheld Mitaka and his Wife have arrived, Ms. Johana.” Emma’s voice snapped you to attention, and you shifted, hoping to ease some of the pain. 

Following Emma’s introduction, a young, boyish man entered, his Wife--a small, timid-looking thing--on his heels. He nodded to Ren, glimpsing you for a brief second before avoiding your gaze, cheeks tinged pink.

Dolpheld focused on Ren, he and his Wife sitting across from you, near Johana. “Uh, sir, your…” 

“Per request of Snoke,” he replied. “I wouldn’t choose to share my table with a Handmaid.”  

Johana snorted, and Ren’s gaze daggered her. She cleared her throat. “Ofkylo plans on staying out of the way, doesn’t she?”

You gazed at your fists as they tensed in your lap--but you nodded. The name Dolpheld was familiar--he’d been the Commander of one of the Handmaids at the Resistance base. A cold rush coated the inside of your chest. You hoped she’d gotten away. Looking at him, though, he seemed harmless, almost pathetic. Hadn’t Ren said a few old men? As for Dolpheld’s Wife--she appeared intent on ignoring your existence entirely, which was fine by you, anyway.

Emma darted in again. “Armitage Hux and his Wife, ma’am.”

Armitage. From behind Emma emerged a stiff, reedy man with coiffed copper hair and an expression that managed to communicate both complete disdain for every living creature and unbearable smugness. His Wife was boxy and brown-haired, the type of person of which nothing notable could be said other than her utter lack of notability. It seemed strange to see these two wallpaper women at the same table as Johana--in role, like them, but in personhood, incongruous. 

“Ren,” said Armitage, the name rolling off of his tongue with hidden mirth. “Mitaka.”

“Hux.” Dolpheld nodded, looking at the table. His Wife appeared similarly occupied. 

Armitage and his Wife sat across from you, too, with Armitage taking a seat next to Ren. You looked between them, wondering if they knew of each other’s dalliances, or if the fact that Commanders brazenly fucked their Handmaids was an accepted fact of Gilead. Though you knew Ofarmitage didn’t just consider her relationship fucking. Horrifically, you felt the same way about yours.

“Imagine my surprise when we were offered a dinner invitation to your home,” Armitage said. “I can’t remember the last time we dined together, Ren.”

“Unsurprising,” replied Ren. “Your memory is frequently faulty.”

“At least my judgement remains intact.” He smirked. “Or did I mishear the reason for the invitation?”

“No, you didn’t, Commander Hux,” said Johana, folding a napkin over her lap. The other Wives looked at her with widened eyes. “We are here to discuss a possible resolution. Once--”

“Ms. Johana!” Emma squawked, for some reason breathless. “Commander Snoke--”

Before Emma could finish, an older man pushed through the threshold, accompanied by a young, blank-faced woman. His head was misshapen, craggy--a scar of war, you presumed, that had grown now into his flesh. One of his eyes bulged precipitously above his cheekbone, the other dug into his skull, the skin of his cheeks stretched like wet linen over his face. He wore a deep yellow suit jacket, threads interlaced with thin strands of red and gold. 

The very second he entered, Ren stood, eyes aimed at the floor, and you blinked, tensing your jaw to keep it from dropping. Armitage followed, and then Dolpheld, their Wives in their shadows as the man meandered his way to the side of the table that you sat on, his Wife next to you. He remained standing, surveying the table--against your better judgement, you met his gaze. A tiny smirk formed on his lips. 

“Good evening, everyone.”

His voice froze your blood. This was the same man from the recording. The man who had spoken to Ben Solo. That man, this man--they were all--

“Commander Snoke,” said Armitage and Ren, in unison. Dolpheld cleared his throat.

“Let’s be seated, shall we?” 

Snoke lowered himself to the table, and the other men mimicked him. The air had thickened to a degree that you found your own chest tightening for the lack of oxygen. Next to you, his Wife was robotic in her focus, her body iron and unmoving. You marveled at her beauty--other than Johana, she was one of the only genuinely pretty Wives you’d seen. Examining her closer, she wasn’t just young, either. She was young. Perhaps not much older than eighteen. The thought made you shudder.

The Marthas swished into the room, doling out salad onto the tiny plates at everyone’s place settings. As they served, Johana straightened, meeting Ren’s gaze from across the table. He was silent.

“Commander Snoke,” she said. “As you know--”

“Kylo Ren,” said Snoke, ignoring Johana completely. She blanched. “Your initiative on the western front brought us another victory. A very cunning move you made, heading off their supply route. Their soldiers were going to starve before they submitted to Gilead forces.” A low, dark chuckle left him. “An excellent maneuver that Armitage could learn from.”

Ren lowered his head, brow cocked. Armitage’s eyes narrowed, and he cut into his salad.

“Speaking of learning,” the redhead said, “Mitaka, I recently learned your Handmaid went missing.”

Dolpheld seemed focused on avoiding any involvement in this conversation. “Uh, yes. Yes, we did… experience that.”

“Strange.” Armitage’s attention flicked from you to your Commander. “Ren, aren’t we here for a similar issue? Your Handmaid going missing?”

Anxiety clogged your throat. You studied your salad as if it had become the most interesting collection of green leaves and croutons you’d ever seen. 

“Well,” said Johana, “not exactly--”

Armitage waved her off. “Right, yes, his suspension, isn’t it? For botching some ability to prevent Resistance interference?” His scrutiny returned to you. “Very foolish of you, Ren. For all we know, she could be with the Resistance now.”

“There was no evidence of any Resistance involvement,” Johana said. “As far as we know, it was a rogue Guardian.” She sliced apart a leaf of lettuce. “Right, Commander?”

Ren’s brow twitched. “Yes.”

“Rogue Guardian,” Armitage mused. “Interesting. Mitaka, didn’t your Handmaid disappear in much the same way? Middle of the day? During daylight? Guardian interference?”

Dolpheld glanced between Ren and Armitage, shrugging. “I suppose so, but the investigation was inconclusive, so--”

“That’s right!” The grin on Armitage’s face could split steel. “The investigation was inconclusive. If only we could’ve gotten more information to help guide us.” He turned to Ren. “Maybe we could talk to that Guardian your Handmaid was found with.”

An image in your mind: pop. Ren’s face was blanker than polished stone.

“Ah, that’s right.” He snapped, feigning a realization. “We can’t. You killed him. Shame, that.” Sighing, he popped a piece of lettuce into his mouth. “Is that type of behavior really something we should be lifting a suspension for?”

“There was good reason my husband acted as he did,” Johana said. “The Guardian had a gun with him.” She stared directly at you. “Isn’t that right?”

Every pair of eyes at the table aimed at you, like you’d tripped a sensor, set off an alarm--or maybe that was the alarm inside of your brain, wailing in panic. It wasn’t like you had to lie, but there was something about being complicit in this game that made your palms sweat.

“That’s… right,” you said. “He. He did have a gun.”

Johana gestured toward you. “The situation was dangerous.”

Armitage chuckled. “Oh, please, every smuggler carries a weapon. What we want to know is if he was part of a larger organization.” His eyes, a roaring seafoam green, bored into you. “There’s a rumor the Angel and Wife he was working for are part of the Resistance.”

The pressure in your throat choked your words. You sought help from Ren, but his stare was directed at Johana--you followed it, meeting her gaze.

“Go on,” she said. “Tell them how you ran.”

Swallowing, you fiddled with your fingers. “I ran of my own volition,” you said. “I asked a Guardian, he said he’d help. That’s it.” You shook your head. “I didn’t meet anyone from the Resistance.”

Johana shrugged, returning to her food. “That’s it, then.”

Armitage took a bite, chewing. After a moment, he frowned. “A Guardian agreed to help you?” he asked. “In exchange for what?”

“You know Handmaids.” Johana’s expression stilled your blood. “They only have a few valuable things to offer.”

Heat rushed you, and you dropped your head, examining your folded hands in your lap. For once, you wished you were wearing your wings so you’d have a better chance to obscure your reddening face. Even if you had been in a position to disagree, you knew that Johana was trying to protect you--if only secondarily to her own interests.

Armitage motioned to you. “Commander Snoke,” he implored, “do you see what we’re keeping in our homes? A Handmaid who offers up her body in exchange to escape Gilead? This is one for the Colonies, at least.”

Your heart stalled, your jaw tightened.

“I don’t think that would be necessary,” Johana replied.

“It very well may be.” He shrugged. “If she allows just anyone to utilize what God has provided for a specific purpose--”

“That’s exactly it, she could be pregnant,” Johana said, “and--”

“It was a momentary lapse in judgement.” Ren finally met your eyes. “Her re-education is progressing smoothly.”

Snoke hummed in thought, glancing between you and your Commander, his gaze peeling you apart--then leaned toward Ren, murmuring something, and Armitage sneered as the two men entered a private conversation. Silence settled over the table; you noticed not a single Wife had taken a bite of her food, other than Johana. Not that you were particularly interested in eating, either. Something about the atmosphere, maybe. Or all the guests who had the power to end your life.

Soon, the Marthas were ushering in the main course: some sort of pork tenderloin, you gathered, with what looked to be a cranberry jam and a smattering of watercress on the side. You sighed. Gilead had done nothing to endear you to vegetables, no matter how frequently you were eating them. 

Across the table, Ren and Snoke were still muttering to each other. Your Commander’s demeanor seemed changed in front of this older man, like a living echo of the person you’d heard on the recording--Ben Solo. Ren had said he was dead, but watching him now, with the slight hunch to his shoulders, the flickering eye contact, the unguarded ache in his pupils, you wondered what dead truly meant in this world. Gilead had blurred the lines of existence to meaningless muddle. After all, you might call yourself dead, too. 

You wondered who Ben Solo might have been. You wondered if who you had been might have liked him. 

“You know, Johana,” said Armitage, eyeing Ren and Snoke, “it’s really too bad that you don’t have gatherings like this more often.” He signaled the rest of the table. “Don’t you all agree?”

The Wives, ever silent, nodded. Dolpheld appeared noncommittal, in agreement only out of what seemed to be obligation. How had someone so doughy and tender earned the rank of Commander?

“Well…” She offered a half-smile. “Never really had an occasion for one as of recent, I supposed.”

“But you and Canady had them all the time, didn’t you?” 

Canady. You remembered that name. Ren had used it during the hushed conversation he and Johana had shared in the hallway. That must have been her husband--the one who had died during the revolution. 

Johana’s back stiffened, adjusting her grip on her fork as she supplied Armitage with a tight grin. “We did,” she said. “Often.”

“I thought so. I remember those parties. Don’t you, Mitaka?”

“I, uh, I guess so.”

“They were lovely,” said Mitaka’s Wife. 

“Oh,” Johana mumbled, “thank you. Yes. We did enjoy them. Those were the days. We were all so young. Parties then were… well… now we have gatherings with multiple courses. All of that.” She paused, swallowing. For a moment, her gaze met yours, then returned to her plate. “God has truly blessed us. We couldn’t ask for more.” 

“Right,” said Armitage. “Must be difficult, though, having to deal with Ren’s behavior.”

At the head of the table, Kylo Ren acted as if Armitage had spent the entire dinner with his mouth sewn shut. He was intent, listening to whatever was being said by Snoke.

“Not that it’s bizarre, considering what he’s done in the past. The equipment ruined, the meetings thrown off-kilter. You remember, don’t you, Mitaka?”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“I remember,” said Mitaka’s Wife.

Mitaka groaned. “Honey, please--”

“I remember, too,” Armitage’s Wife added.

“Brilliant.” Armitage took a bite of his food, chewing triumphantly. “Can’t imagine what it’s like being married to him. A true, enduring woman, you are.”

Johana’s face paled. She glanced across the table to Ren, who was still engrossed in Snoke’s quiet speech. Her lip trembled, and she shrugged, pushing a piece of pork in her mouth. You watched Armitage, who, despite having picked off half of his plate, was appearing more voracious by the second. 

“Yes,” she said, “well--”

“And Canady was a good man,” Armitage continued. “When was he killed? Three? Four years ago? How long have you been married to Ren?”

Perhaps to anyone who didn’t know her, Johana appeared the picture of composure. But you could see the twitch at her jaw, the frustrated flutter of her nostrils, the whitening of her tiny knuckles. She took another slice of pork, gnashing it with her back molars. 

“Three years this December.”

Armitage nodded. “Of course. That was such a brilliant sacrifice Canady made, really--Ren was right to order it.”

Johana stabbed into her watercress, silent.

“Don’t you think it was noble that Canady--”

“I think Ms. Johana is tired of talking about her deceased husband.” 

The words shocked you as they entered the air. What shocked you more was that they had left your mouth. The rest of the table appeared equally flabbergasted, the scraping of forks and knives halting, the dining room flooded with flummoxed silence. The only people who hadn’t appeared to notice were Snoke and Ren--but for Ren’s part, he’d ceased speaking entirely. You couldn’t hear Snoke’s words over the ringing of your own ears, the deafening thump of your heartbeat at your temples. Johana gazed at you, lips parted, as if she was seeing you for the very first time.

“Is this how you allow your Handmaids to speak to you?” Armitage’s brow was cocked, but he turned to Dolpheld, sparking a new topic. 

You met Johana’s eyes again. Her chest fell in a slow breath, and she broke the stare, turning to her food. Exhaling, you shook out the tremble in your hands, shifting to relieve some of the ache that had built at your backside. As the din in your head dimmed, you glanced at your Commander, wondering what had him so captivated.

���While we’re on the topic, we did find the body on the side of the road, as you described. One bullet hole to the skull.” Snoke dragged his knife through the soft meat on his plate. 

“Yes.” Ren’s gaze was vacant. “Efficient.”

“Well, you always are,” Snoke replied. “And you had an excellent idea to string it up near the border. After even a couple of days, it looks ghoulish.”

Your stomach churned. For some reason, you’d hoped the Resistance had managed to get Poe’s body, bury him properly. The thought of him hanging somewhere along the borders of Gilead, his pretty face pecked apart by birds--if you had been hungry before, you certainly weren’t, now. The fact that it had been your Commander’s idea somehow made it worse.

“It lured out a pocket of Resistance members at the border trying to reclaim the body,” Ren replied. “We killed them all.”

The more words you caught, the sicker you became. You wanted to be thankful that it meant that Finn and Rey were still alive--but the thought of any deliberate death at Ren’s hands was emptying you of gratitude.

“Really?” Snoke said. “You plan to display them, too, I hope.”

“It’s already been completed.” 

At some point, sweat had drenched your back. You desperately needed Ren to stop talking--he spoke as if they’d hung draperies, not bodies. It didn’t seem possible that this was the same man who’d coddled you to his chest, who’d pressed his lips to your forehead, who’d carried you like spun glass to your bedroom. This man, the one who’d rended your ribcage open with a desire to be known, be seen, the one who had, just hours ago, fucked you until you sobbed and smothered your ass in welts--this was the very same man openly admitting to slaughtering and hanging bodies of other humans for the benefit of your own continued enslavement.

You wanted to explode out of your skin. Perhaps what was worse was that, in reality, it did seem possible, and you’d known it was possible--the memory of Poe’s hot blood on your face cemented that. You’d just willed yourself to forget, allowed yourself to drown in the pointless, foolish desire to be your Commander’s equal. To be, in his eyes, alive. As if you could redeem the devil. As if the devil could redeem you.

“You’re managing to accomplish quite a bit despite your suspension,” said Snoke. “I suppose that’s the benefit of managing an independent militia.”

“I hope to prove to you and the Council that my limited access to the main command is unwarranted.”

“Hm.” Snoke sat, considering Ren. “Yet you didn’t seem interested in proving that when you left your post.”

Ren’s jaw stiffened. At the other side of the table, Armitage leaned forward, ear toward Snoke.

“You made an idiotic, irresponsible decision and abandoned your command during a critical period.” Snoke’s voice was low, harsh. “A decision only a child would make.”

Despite this, Kylo Ren said nothing. He stared into his plate.

“Your accomplishments with the Resistance at the border are meaningless--not when we have interference under our own noses of which you inexplicably destroyed our ability to obtain any further knowledge on.” Snoke released an empty laugh. “The more responsibility I award you, the more reckless you become.”

“Commander Snoke, my performance has been exemplary these past three--”

“And for what, Ren?” Snoke’s hand was tight around his knife. “You abdicated your post, left our armies without direction, killed a possible Resistance member, incapacitated our intelligence--for what?” 

Ren’s mouth opened--but Armitage spoke.

“Commander Snoke, I actually heard something interesting.” To your horror, he was staring at you. “There was some report... of an inappropriate relationship between Ren and his Handmaid.”

Your heart disintegrated. Thousands of thoughts stormed your mind at once, chasing breath from your lungs, petrifying your muscles, inspiring sweat at your hairline--what did he know, when did he learn, how long had he sat on this, and who told him--yet through the flurry, there was only one identifiable constant, a bell in your brain. 

Ofarmitage.

“Fascinating.” In a slow, controlled revolution, Snoke turned, leaning past his Wife, his stare spearing you. “Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve heard of such a rumor.” His beady eyes flitted over you. “But for this Handmaid?” He scoffed. “Really.”

“Commander Snoke, you should remember that previous Handmaids in this home were dispatched due to no interference on my husband’s part,” Johana interjected quickly. “It was at my behest.”

Snoke continued to act as if Johana were a tiny blue fly on the wall. “So is this why you did it, Ren?” he said, leveling you with the garrote of his gaze. “All of that for… this?” 

You bit your lip. He had some nerve to allow his voice to drip with that level of disgust. Beside him, Ren was silent, avoiding your eyes. 

“What is it?” Snoke said. “What’s special about her?”

The question made your heart ache with an unarticulated anguish. It wasn’t just about you. It was the sameness you’d found in each other’s eyes, the admiration for the possibility in the stars, the gnawing need to know that wrenched you both from your own pedestals of reason. You’d stirred his relics of doubt, he’d awakened your latent compassion. It wasn’t just you--it was the both of you, fettered to Gilead and each other by the very same chains.  

“Let’s hear from her, then.” Snoke eased forward in his chair, a smug grin tearing the fabric of his face. His knife was still gripped in his palm, resting on his plate. “Why do you think Ren sacrificed all of that just for you, hm?”

You sat, glancing over the table, flesh crawling as every sticky gaze studied you. It was as if black coffee had spilled over your tongue, drying it, the bitterness biting at you from the back of your throat. Gathering courage--or something like it--from the depths of your diaphragm, you leaned over the table, returned Snoke’s stare.

“What does it matter why he sacrificed?” you asked. “Doesn’t my uterus hold enough value to justify it?”  Perhaps that hadn’t been courage. Perhaps it’d been stupidity. 

But what crossed over Snoke’s face wasn’t rage. It was curiosity. “It matters because his motivation for sacrifice determines where his loyalty lies.” His thin lips curled in a grin. “With Gilead? Or with you?”

“So a person can’t sacrifice for a Handmaid without betraying Gilead?”

“No.”

“Then why have Handmaids at all? How else are you populating your country?” Your voice was growing louder than you intended. “If the Commander sacrifices for me, it must be for the value that was given to me by you.”

Ren’s eyes, dark with something unknowable, glimpsed you for a blink. The table was silent. You swallowed. 

“Fascinating,” said Snoke. The knife trembled in his hand, rapping the plate. “Your proposition is that I gave you this value? That it was not ordained by God?”

You nodded. “Why would God give me a mind and tell me not to use it? Why would he give me a body that needed to be controlled?”

“Your error is assuming God gives reasons for anything.” Snoke’s knife rose from the plate, stuck in his quaking fist. 

“Then,” you replied, neck stiff, “it seems that he gives just as many and as valid reasons as you.”

Snoke slammed the knife into the table, a crooked smile on his pale face, Wives recoiling in squeals, except for his own, who remained perfectly porcelain next to you. Johana’s arms snapped to her sides--both you and her sought out Ren, who sat. And did nothing. Your hands began to quiver. What had happened to you will be safe?

“Precocious little thing you have here, isn’t she, Ren?” Snoke’s arm shot out, his gnarled hand snatching your chin. “What exactly have you been teaching her during these re-education sessions?” With surprising strength, he yanked you forward onto the table. The texture of his skin was like papyrus. “Can you tell me what you’ve learned?”

You leered at Ren, internally begging him to see you. His eyes were distant, focused on the wall. “Obedience,” you said. “Honesty.”

“Seems you could still use a bit of humility.” He turned back to Ren. “What do you think, my boy? Christine is new to the home, but we could always use a Handmaid.” The bones in his fingers crushed your chin. “Maybe I could take her off of your hands for a month.”

Ren’s eye twitched. 

“Commander Snoke, please excuse me.” Johana’s voice was followed by the release of his grasp as she wrenched his arm down, pulling you out of your chair. “I must admit that I provided her with a little medication before dinner for nausea. I think it must be getting to her.”

“Nausea medication.” Snoke scanned you like you were meat. “For what?”

“I told you that she might be pregnant, sir.” She was still ushering you out of the room, her little fingers manacles around your wrist. “I’m going to get her to bed. Please, please excuse her behavior. She’s never like this.”

“Never,” Ren said, finally exercising his mouth for something other than looking fuckable. He met your eyes, and you glared at him, internally cursing him, cursing yourself for trusting him.

Johana rushed you through the darkened halls, her hands urging you forward, mumbling under her breath as she whisked you up the stairs and into your bedroom. When you crossed the threshold, she nearly shoved you onto your bed, gasping, sweat decorating her forehead. Baby hairs had sprung free from her braids, curling at her nape, at her temples. She examined you, shaking her head.

“Are you an idiot?” she said. “Do you have a deathwish?”

You shook your head. “No, Ms. Johana--”

“Oh, don’t Ms. Johana me,” she said, swatting at you from a distance. “You know exactly what you were doing down there. Now we’re lucky if the Commander ever gets his suspension lifted. He’s supposed to be re-educating you.”

“Well…” You shifted, fighting the urge to seethe at the scrape of the mattress on your ass. “He is…”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure.” Sighing, she wiped her palms on her dress, smoothing over the wild bits of her hair. She shook her head. “Thank you, by the way. For what you did.”

“Oh.” Blood rushed your cheeks. “Well, Armitage seems like a jackass.”

“Oh, Lord,” she said, “you don’t even know the half of it. He and the Commander used to...” She stopped herself, cast her eyes over you, reminding herself of your role, and cleared her throat. “Look. Don’t say anything else. Don’t do anything else. Just stay up here for the rest of the night. I’ll handle this.” She turned, shutting the door behind her--but before it closed, she added, “Goodnight.”

You laid back on your bed, deflated. “Goodnight, Johana.”

[armltagehux]

there was absolutely no need for a baldo ren fic but I wrote it anyway so enjoy.

 ------- ao3: have faith

warnings for head injury, brief mentions of suicidal thoughts, and hella amounts of angst

Blinding, uncontrollable rage.

The more Kylo thought about how foolish he’d been, how badly Luke Skywalker and the entire Resistance had humiliated him in front of the entire First Order, the more his turmoil swirled around him. Hux could feel it; it had nearly choked him.

The entire dugout on Crait had begun to shake with the absolute fury emanating from Kylo’s clenched fists. His eyes were dark, terrifying. In the right light, they sparkled red with the reflection of the sand dunes outside and for one moment, Hux thought Kylo was undergoing an actual transformation, like the whispered stories of the Sith he’d heard as a child around base.

Nobody had warning before the cave began to collapse.

A flash of terror shoots through Kylo Ren’s eyes indicating that not even he could have foreseen this happening. He’d been so consumed by his rage that he’d forgotten his power, what he could do to the world around him, the ways in which he could harness the force.

--

When Kylo comes to, he’s engulfed by the smell of bacta, the overly-sanitized smell he’s only ever had to endure a few times. He usually chooses to treat his wounds by himself, in his quarters. But this time… he’s in the med bay, and his whole body feels like a giant bruise.

He tries to move, and right away a droid swoops in, beeping at him to tell him to stay still. A flash of anger fills him, but the moment he lifts his head, the room spins and he has to lay back down.

The droid informs him rather factually that, according to General Hux, Kylo’s distress and harnessing of the Force caused the dugout on Crait to collapse upon the First Order presence in the dugout at the time - including him. Many sustained injuries, including Hux’s broken leg, many concussions, and Lord Ren’s head injury.

“I’m fine,” Kylo says curtly. “Release me to my chambers.”

I’m sorry I cannot do that yet, the droid beeps to him in binary. We must wait until your wound heals.

Before Kylo can ask any more questions, the droid gives him another sedative and puts him right back to sleep.

--

The next time Kylo wakes, he is blessedly back in his chambers. He’s filled with questions, the least of which being what wounds he sustained on Crait. He’s wearing standard issue undershirt and cotton trousers, and feels… different.

Nothing on his body feels sore. He can’t understand why he was protected for so long in the med bay, kept sedated to prevent further injury. Kylo turns to sit upright at the side of his bed. His head throbs a little, but he equates that to the fact that he’s been lying down for… an indeterminable amount of time.

But then he realizes what feels so off.

There’s no hair hanging down in his eyes, tickling his nose before he’s had a chance to comb it back. And he feels… cold.

Kylo winces as he stands and rushes to the refresher. There, in the mirror, he looks in horror at what he’s become.

Even more like your grandfather, a voice says in his head.

But he doesn’t want to be like his grandfather in this way. Not like this.

Kylo reaches a hand up, fingers trembling as he touches the bare, cool skin of his head. He’s bald. An angry array of scars just like the one on his face drift back and forth in careless strokes over his scalp. His hair will never grow back the same again.

It will never grow back over those scars at all.

He feels his anger welling inside him again, the mark of a monster well and truly on him now, evident in his reflection. He sends a message to Mitaka to ensure another helmet is made for him, as soon as possible, typing out the words instead of sending a visual message.

Kylo refuses to let anyone see him like this.

He feels dread at the thought that Hux has already seen his state, seen the way Kylo now looks misshapen and mangled like the monster he never wanted to become. In this moment, he finds himself wishing he’d just died in that cave, instead.

There’s a prickling around him, the Force bubbling the way it does before it connects him to Rey, and Kylo can only bow his head to pretend that Rey isn’t about to see him like this, to see what he’s become.

He hears her sharp intake of breath, the gasp she can’t hold back.

“Ben.”

He doesn’t dare look up. He knows she can see him plain as day - his scars, the bare skin where his hair once was. Kylo hates the way he looks, the way he feels, the way every single experience now is almost out-of-body in the way that it’s happening to him, not with him.

Kylo doesn’t acknowledge Rey, can’t bring himself to see the disgust in her eyes. Or worse, for her to realize that this is the monster he’s become now - and to look at him that way.

He would much rather remember the tenderness in her eyes like when they’d stood in the lift, on the way to see Snoke. She’d looked almost like she cared for him. That’s what he wants to remember. Not the disgust likely to be in her eyes now.

Cold fingertips press to the back of his arm, the bare skin there that is so rarely left exposed. He should have changed into his robes, for some semblance of normalcy. The feeling of her hand on his arm is a shock, and he spins around instantly. Kylo keeps his head bowed in shame. He’d done this to himself.

“What happened?” Rey asks softly.

In his periphery, Kylo can see Rey reaching up, her fingers not touching his skin, but dancing close enough that he can feel her presence. Words fail him.

He senses Rey’s realization before she ever has to say it. “You were in the cave on Crait when it collapsed.”

Kylo nods. “It was because of me,” he says. He needs her to be angry at him, he needs to not be the only person so heavily disappointed in his actions.

“Ben…”

Rey rests her hand tenderly on his cheek and Kylo’s eyes flutter closed. She’s being so gentle with him, and he doesn’t understand why. After all he’s done… after she walked away from him… she’s back again and touching him with a tenderness he doesn’t remember ever feeling before. Kylo releases a trembling breath and waits for her to say how disappointed she is. How he really is a monster, after all.

“Look at me.”

Kylo has never been one for self-preservation, not when he knows he deserves the torment, so he brings his gaze to meet Rey’s. He must force himself to look into her eyes when she realizes the monster he’s become.

But instead, her eyes are brimming with tears and there’s sadness in her eyes. Not pity, not disappointment, just sadness. “I didn’t mean for this to happen to you,” she whispers.

Her cold hand cups his cheek and she steps nearer to him. Rey’s entire body is cold; she must be on ship, or on a cold planet somewhere. Kylo yearns to hold her, to warm her up, to show her that he’s not as awful a person as he feels he is. But he’s frozen in place, his shame too much.

Rey lets her other hand drift gently over his scalp, cool fingertips brushing shapes into his skin that are etched there forever, Rey’s mark upon him, just like the scar on his face. “It’ll grow back,” she whispers. “Not everywhere, but it will…”

She’s trying to be reassuring, but why? What purpose would that serve? Kylo doesn’t understand.

“We will join each other, one day,” Rey whispers to him, both hands framing his face now. Her thumbs brush over the apples of his cheeks and his eyes drift down again.

“Ben,” she says his name again. It sounds so sweet upon her lips. Oh, how he’d love to hear her say his name for the rest of his life. When Rey speaks his name, he sounds like a real person, like he hasn’t become a broken, empty shell of who he once was.

Kylo’s eyes meet Rey’s again, and she blinks. Her eyelashes are wet, and there’s a small tear track down one of her cheeks. “Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore,” Rey pleads. “Even if this was an accident… the galaxy needs us.”

“You left.”

Her hands drift gently over his shoulders, down over his chest. He feels strong and warm beneath her palms. When Rey lets her hands fall to her sides, she looks back up at Kylo. “I know what I saw, when our hands touched,” she tells him. “We will join each other one day. But it wasn’t that day,” Rey shakes her head, “And it isn’t today.”

Kylo frowns. He’s starting to think that what she’d seen was just a dream, that he’d imagined what he’d seen, too. It was all just a game. They were pawns of the Force, nothing more.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Rey whispers. “In that vision, you had hair. It’ll grow back.” She glances at his head, at the pale, bare skin there, littered with angry red marks of healing gashes. “We will see each other again,” she promises, “And we’ll be happy. Together.”

Almost as if she’d planned it, the Force-projected image of Rey disappears in the blink of an eye and Kylo stands alone in his refresher once more. He leaves the room, not bothering to even so much as glance in the mirror. I would grow back, sure, but that took time. Lots of time. Time Kylo wasn’t confident he had left.

But he would trust Rey.