Entry tags:

prompt post

PROMPT POST #1 - CLOSED

This post is closed to new prompts!

rules | ask a mod | fills post | discussion/off-topic post | flat view | ao3 collection | delicious account

+ All prompts should focus on TFA characters. You can't post OT or PT-only prompts.
+ One prompt per comment please.
+ You can request both kink and non-kink content
+ Crossovers, characters from the other media are allowed, but must relate to the 2015 movie in some way.
+ All prompt comments should begin with a pairing tag (eg Rey/Finn) or Gen for no pairing.
+ Use 'Any' when prompting for any pairing at all (eg Kylo/Any or Any/Any)
+ Anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other." (e.g. Poe/Other)
+ Warn for common triggers, please
+ NO PROMPTS FEATURING CHARACTERS UNDER 18 IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

I love this!

Okay, I've got something, and it definitely involves blowjobs.

***

“Okay, I have to ask you something,” Finn said. He hurried Poe into their closet-sized quarters and shut the door behind them, leaving them nearly chest to chest between the bunked beds jutting out from the wall. “And it might sound kinda weird.”

“What’s going on?”

Poe stared back at him, patient, leaning into Finn’s space a little, and if he wanted the kind of favor Finn had in mind, it might not be so bad to give it.

Finn wasn’t sure how the tradition spread among the Stormtroopers in the first place. All he knew was one day there was an older guy dragging him into a bathroom, shoving him to his knees, and saying, “you owe me for earlier,” and Finn learned the price of kindness.

Still, things were different here. Kindness was different, and Poe seemed to have back up stores of it hoarded away.

“Okay,” Finn said again, trying to reassure himself. “So, you’ve been really nice to me. Like unbelievably nice -”

It was hard to put it into words, now that Finn was trying. He’d run the conversation over and over again in his head, but nothing quite did Poe Dameron justice. The guy had literally sat by Finn’s bedside for a week while he recovered. Poe had read to him, told him stories, even sung a couple songs, then helped him with physical therapy and offered to be his roommate.

Finn cleared his throat and continued. “So, I was wondering if - maybe that meant -”

“Yeah,” Poe said. He stepped closer, and when Finn met his eyes they were unexpectedly hopeful - and a little wild.

“So you want me to return the favor?” Finn asked.

It was like the weather changed in the room. Poe stepped back, his cheeks red, with his lips turning down.

“Wait, what?”

“Is that a thing here?” Finn asked after a moment, trying to be delicate. “Like, someone helps you out, you pay them back. To be polite.”

“Oh,” Poe said. He stared at the floor, then the wall, then put his hands on his hips, then in his pockets. Finn got a little dizzy watching him. “Yeah - no. It’s - you don’t have to do that.”

“Well I wouldn’t mind, is what I’m saying. Not with you.”

Poe kept his gaze on the far wall, just over Finn’s shoulder, and Finn knew the conversation had gone off course somehow, but he wasn’t sure how to bring it back. He wasn’t sure how to be straight up about offering - well, himself.

Poe shook himself off and took Finn’s shoulders in his hands.

“Listen, you don’t owe me anything,” he said. “I’m nice to you because - because you’re a good man and I like you.”

“Well,” Finn said carefully, “I like you, too. Which is why I’m offering. I’m just not sure how you guys do that around here.”

“Do what?”

Finn took a deep breath and let it out his nose in rush. When did it get so hard to talk about this? With the other troopers, talking wasn’t a part of the equation. Someone helped you out, then they’d come to collect. Only Poe never tried to collect, so maybe he didn’t want to, or maybe resistance fighters didn’t do it like that. Maybe Finn was supposed to initiate, and, well, that kinda made sense, because Poe was doing that thing where he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, and Finn’s heart was starting to race.

So he kissed Poe. He knew how to make it good; knew how to hold back and tease a little until Poe took the reigns, wrapping a hand around the back of Finn’s neck and dragging them together. Poe kissed back like he was the one returning a favor. It was a rush, letting Poe lick into his mouth, and Finn felt solid and sure of himself as he sank to his knees.

Poe slumped back against the wall, holding onto their little communal sink to keep steady as Finn nosed at the hard outline of his cock. His breathlessness turned to moans when Finn palmed at him, and Finn smiled to himself, taking the cue to undo his fly.

“Finn -” Poe gasped, reaching down for Finn’s hand, and Finn was scared for a moment that he might have to stop.

He yanked Poe’s pants open and mouthed at his cock, getting him messy and slick, before sucking Poe’s cock into his mouth. His head was buzzing with the taste - sweaty, but clean from the shower he’t taken just a while earlier. Finn hummed around Poe’s cock, imagining the way his hair had looked wet, stuck to his forehead and dripped slowly down the back of his neck.

Poe’s hand fell into Finn’s hair, pressing against the back of his head and holding on tight as Finn bobbed his head. Finn could hear him stifle a moan with his hand, and a thrill rushed down his spine, all the way to his own cock that was now hard and straining in his pants. He clutched at Poe’s thighs, focusing on the thrust of Poe’s hips against his mouth and the hard floor under his knees - anything to keep him from coming in his pants.

He took Poe deeper down the back of his throat, until he felt smothered and full, and his nose was pressed into the dark, curly hair above Poe’s cock, and that was enough to Poe keen and spill down the back of his throat. Finn swallowed as best he could, catching a few spurts on his tongue and on his lips as Poe pulled away. He licked them up, trying to catch his breath while Poe slumped down the wall until they were face to face on the floor. Finn settled back on his heels between Poe’s knees.

“You move pretty fast,” Poe said in a rough voice that made Finn roll his hips a little, trying to get some relief.

Finn meant to move - to clean up and get out of Poe’s way like he was probably supposed to - but Poe was cupping a hand around his cheek before he hand the chance, and they were kissing again. Light stubble scraped against Finn’s cheeks and he felt like his hands were glued to Poe’s thighs. If he whimpered a little against Poe’s lips it really wasn’t his fault. No one had owed him a favor in a long time.

“Your turn,” Poe said softly.

Finn was confused for a moment, and then Poe’s hand was cupping his cock, sending sparks of pleasure through his whole body. It was incredible - addictive - and not at all what Finn had in mind.

“You don’t have to -” Finn said, helplessly, but Poe was laughing and hauling him up off the floor.

“I really want to.”

Finn stumbled back against the bed and sat down hard when Poe shoved him, almost bumping his head on the low-hanging bunk above. It was hard to concentrate on anything but Poe’s lips curling into a plush smile, and the little gap in his front teeth, especially once Poe settled down between Finn’s legs and made himself at home. He kissed his way up Finn’s thigh and made short work of opening his pants.

“You don’t owe me a favor, you know,” Finn managed to say. His words tapered into a moan when Poe wrapped a hand around his cock.

“We’re not still talking about favors are we?” Poe frowned.. “Are we?”

“N-no.” Finn shook his head. He wanted to reach out and cup Poe’s cheek. Bring the smile back.

“Is this okay?” Poe asked. “Me doing this for you. I don’t have to if you don’t want -”

“No - I mean yes.” Finn swallowed hard, then started again. “I want you.”

Something dark and heated colored Poe’s expression. He pressed another fervent kiss to Finn’s inner thigh, high up where he was sensitive, even though the fabric.

“You got me,” he said, and then he took Finn into his mouth.

General Organa doesn't usually join the younger members of the Resistance during downtime, which suits everyone--it can be hard to relax and enjoy a drink or a candid conversation with the General five feet away, and she's confided to Poe that she doesn't exactly enjoy sitting there feeling like some kind of babysitter or chaperone, either. But there are always exceptions, and a week like the one they've just had--a stand-off on an Outer Rim world, civilian casualties kept to a minimum through a combination of skill and luck, and finally, once the bystanders were all out of harm's way, a battle as swift and decisive as the days leading up to it had been tense and drawn-out--calls for an exception. They've given the First Order another black eye, their own casualties were small, and they're all still high on the victory, so when Leia finds her troops at what seems to be the only halfway-decent bar on this side of the planet and declares she's buying the next round, Poe's "Only if you stay and have one with us, General" is met with enthusiastic cheers.

Several drinks later, the two of them are at a table with Finn, Snap, and Lieutenant Connix. Leia's not drunk--Poe's never seen her drunk, he's not sure she gets drunk, she's probably got some ability to process alcohol faster than mere mortals--but her eyes are bright and her posture is relaxed and at some point she put a hand on his arm for emphasis and left it there.

Poe and Snap are telling the story of that time back in their Republic days when they stumbled onto a pirate band in the middle of a completely unrelated mission. If Poe's honest, he's bragging a little, which he figures being the best pilot in the Resistance earns him the right to do now and then. He's working up to the story's climax when he catches sight of Leia's face--she's still smiling, but there's a sad, faraway look in her eyes. She catches his eyes on her and looks away quickly, and Poe's voice falters as he finishes the story.

Snap gets up to fetch another round of drinks, and Leia holds up a hand.

"I'm done for the night." There's a hint of unsteadiness as she gets to her feet, quickly hidden as she grabs the edge of the table and then puts her hand on Poe's arm again. "You, walk me back to where we're staying. The rest of you, enjoy yourselves."

They walk quietly, and they're almost back to the makeshift barracks when Poe speaks up.

"General, did I say something to upset you back there?"

"No," she says quickly. "No, just..." She stops walking and turns to face him with a wry smile and that sadness back in her eyes. "Sometimes you remind me so much of Han."

"I'm sorry," Poe says at once, because fuck, there are tears in her eyes and his brain is screaming YOU UPSET THE GENERAL like an alarm klaxon. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to--"

She shakes her head, touching his arm again. "Poe, I couldn't get away from his memory if I wanted to, and I don't want to. It's all right."

He smiles and puts a hand over hers. "Well, in that case, thank you. It's an honor to be compared to him."

Leia raises her other hand to his cheek, her smile turning fond. "The galaxy needs people like him. I'm glad it has you."

Poe doesn't remember making a conscious decision to kiss her. One second he's looking into her eyes, and the next he's leaning forward with her face cupped in his hands and his mouth on hers and every part of him screaming in panic and exhilaration at the same time. Then she's kissing him back, her hand sliding around to cup the back of his head, and exhilaration surges ahead for a moment before she pushes him away and panic wins out.

He kissed the General. He. Kissed the General. He kissed the General.

"I'm sorry, General, that was so out of line, I--" he starts babbling, before she stops him with two fingers against his lips.

"I'm the one who should be sorry, Poe."

"You--wait, what?" For a second he wonders if he heard her wrong--he probably should have cut himself off a drink or two ago, and his heart is hammering in his ears.

Leia raises her eyebrows slightly. "Last I checked, I'm the superior officer here. And old enough to be your mother--who, by the way, was a friend of mine."

Poe shakes his head, stepping closer and looking at her intently, because if that's why she pushed him away this is all wrong. "I don't care."

Her eyebrows go up further. "You don't care?"

"I mean, I don't care that you're my superior or that you're older," he clarifies. "I do care that I'd rather throw myself into a Sarlacc pit than upset or offend you."

She snorts, putting a hand on his chest. "Kid, it's going to take a bit more than one kiss from you to upset or offend me."

"Okay. Good." He pauses, then leans in further and adds hopefully, "...Does that mean I can kiss you again?"

Leia shoves him away, but not hard. "No, because I'm still your superior officer and it's my job to care about that even if you don't."

Poe steps back, looking down to try and hide his disappointment. "Right. Okay."

Leia sighs and puts her hand on his shoulder. "Go get some sleep, you probably need it as much as I do. And thank you."

"Thank you?" he echoes, looking up at her, and she gives him a crooked smile.

"It's nice for a woman of a certain age to know an attractive young man wants to kiss her." Before Poe can say anything, she holds up a finger. "Which is not an invitation to try again."

He nods, smiling. "Got it. And...you're welcome. Good night, ma'am."

***

They don't talk about it after that, which, for Poe, is not the same as not thinking about it.

The thing is, he's been in love with her as long as he can remember. He just never expected anything to happen, and now that it has his mind and heart are on fire with things he didn't think were possibilities.

But if Leia doesn't want anything else to happen, he's just going to have to resign himself to a life of silent pining. He's definitely not going to let it affect their working relationship. It's always been a point of pride that General Organa knows she can rely on him, so he's going to keep being reliable and not bring up the kiss.

Then they lose contact with the Millennium Falcon during a mission. Luke and Rey and Chewie are aboard with a Star Destroyer and a squadron of TIEs behind them, trying to stay ahead of their pursuers until they get the coordinates they need to jump to hyperspace. Leia's at her command post relaying information and even joking with Luke and Chewie over the comms, she's in control, she's fine, and then there's the muffled sound of an impact, a shout from Rey and a distressed roar from Chewie, and Luke's voice crackles and breaks up into nothing but static.

Leia stays where she is, repeating Luke's name until it's clear he's not going to answer, then calmly asks to be informed the moment there's any news and walks away.

Poe hesitates briefly, then goes after her. "General, can I do anything?"

She stands with her back to him, arms folded, and her voice is thick when she answers. "No. Thank you, Poe, I'm all right."

He moves to stand next to her, trying to get her to meet his eyes. "All due respect, ma'am, I'm not sure that's true." She doesn't say anything, and he touches her shoulder lightly. "Leia."

He's never called her by her first name before, always princess or your highness or general or ma'am. She looks up at him, and for just a second she lets it show how worried she is, how scared of losing even more than the unbelievable amount she already has.

Poe steps closer, putting his arms around her. She leans into him, her head on his shoulder, and Poe closes his eyes and rests his cheek against her hair.

"They'll be all right," he says in a low voice. "They'll take care of each other, and trust in the Force, and come home. We have to have faith in that."

"You're good at that," she replies, the words muffled against his jacket. "The having faith part."

He smiles. "Who do you think I learned it from?"

Leia pulls back to look at him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "I used to be good at it. Now...mind if I leave that part to you for a little while?"

Poe takes hold of her upper arms and leans forward until their foreheads touch. "They'll be all right," he says again, firmly. "They'll be all right, Leia."

She tilts her head up, so that her nose brushes his and he can feel her breath on his face. Poe closes his eyes as the moment stretches out, the not-kiss hanging between them like an unspoken word.

"You sure about this?" she asks.

"Sure as I've ever been," he replies with no hesitation, and then her mouth is on his.

It's not just a single kiss, this time. Poe tugs her back into his arms and Leia brings her hands up to frame his face and it's several minutes before she pulls back again.

"If I tell you I don't want to be alone tonight..." she begins.

"Whatever you want," Poe tells her, low and urgent. "Just tell me what you need from me."

Behind him there are footsteps and a deliberate throat-clearing, and they step apart and turn to see Connix standing there, her professionalism too well-ingrained to show any reaction to finding them like this.

"Excuse me, General, but we've reestablished contact with the Falcon. They're all right."

Leia closes her eyes for a moment, and Poe hears the quiet breath she lets out. "Where are they?"

"Lying low at an old smuggler's hideout near Lothal," Connix tells her. "Admiral Statura suggested we send a squadron to rendezvou and escort them back here."

Leia nods. "Tell him I'll be there in a second." Connix goes, and Leia turns to Poe, putting her hand on his chest. "You want to know what you can do for me? Go bring them home."

Poe nods instantly. "Already on my way, General."

omgomgomg this is brilliant

OP: THIS IS WONDERFUL. I'm so, so, so excited that someone is filling this and what you've written so far is glorious. I can't wait for the next part!

this speaks to my soul. thirded.

i just discovered this fill yesterday but i'm glad you wrote a part 2/aftermath

i don't even care about this pairing and yet this sounds so good omg. i hope someone fills these perfect prompt

The wookie growled as he slung the injured body of Kylo Ren over his shoulder.

"You don't know that. He might have let me live." Han snapped one of his usual retorts, which was met by another growl. "Hey. Hey! Be careful... Please..."

Han spared the limp body a long, anxious glance. He knew what kind of damage Chewie's bowcaster was capable of. Hell, he practically gushed over the latest round of modifications, impressed at how deeply the quarrel pierced even Stormtrooper armor. All of those praises now haunted him like a force ghost.

"...He's still my son."

There were no further arguments as they boarded the Falcon and set off the detonators. Rey took the helm without a word. Finn followed. The uneasy silence was thick enough to drown out the resulting explosion. Han promised Leia that he would bring their son home. Unfortunately, he made no promises as to what condition he would be in.

...

Behind the cockpit, Han carefully eased his son's body off Chewbacca's shoulders and onto one of the cots. A faint hiss was the only confirmation he received that Kylo Ren, no... Ben, was still alive. Barely. The color in his face had drained to the sheen of a Stormtrooper helmet. His breathing was shallow, his skin clammy. He was going into shock.

"Don't just stand there. Give me a hand." Han barked softly, reaching for nearby knife.

Unlike a lightsaber blade, a bowcaster quarrel didn't cauterize on impact. The resulting wound was more like an old-fashioned bullet-gun than a blaster pistol, damaging everything in its path until it burned into nothing. Already, blood had soaked through every layer of clothing Ben wore. The more Han cut through, the worse it became. Parts of the undercoat had even melted into his skin.

"At least you missed the abdominal aorta..." Han whispered. It was the most positive thing he could wrap his head around. "Chewie, get me some towels, something. Anything I can use to stop the bleeding."

He turned back to his son. A bloody hand pushed a lock of black hair aside. For a moment, he thought he saw his son's eyes flutter open. But when he looked again, they were closed.

Chewie grunted, and Han took the towel out of his hand without even looking. He held it against the gaping wound and Ben gasped. Hands twitched, a cry caught in his throat and a tear slid out from behind closed eyes.

"Doesn't the dark side have some saying about focus on the pain?" Han willfully ignored how that probably sounded to anyone within earshot. He would condone just about anything to keep his son from dying in his arms. "I need you to do that for me, Ben. Can you do that? Just... just stay with me."

Chewie growled again, and Han just glared.

"Yes, it is that deep." he pressed harder, and a broken whimper escaped Ben's lips. "...I'm probably going to need another towel."

Chewbacca had barely turned his back when the ship suddenly fell out of hyperspace. Whatever hope Han held onto suddenly sunk into the pit of his stomach.

...

"How long until you can get the generator working?" Desperation bled into what should have been a gruff command.

Unfortunately, Finn didn't have any easy answers. Rey had been under the console for several hours, cursing in languages even the Stormtrooper had never heard before. They were still on course for the base, but what would have otherwise taken hours could now take days.

Ben might not last days.

Eventually, Finn sat down next to Han and faced the leader he'd been conditioned to believe was invincible. Underneath that fearsome mask was a human being after all - a man who didn't look any older than the pilot he helped escape. There was pain in every shallow breath. Beads of sweat clung to the curls of his hair. It was almost unreal.

"...He's burning up."

Han just sighed. "I know... Fetch me some more water, will you?"

Finn hesitated, biting his lip. Han picked up one of the discarded rags, something that wasn't already covered in blood, and folded it in half.

"That can't be good."

"...It's not."

The bowcaster shot didn't just tear through skin and muscle. It went into the abdominal cavity. It perforated the intestine. He wasn't going to bleed out. He was going to suffer slowly, painfully, at the same time. A cool compress on the forehead was a kind but futile gesture, but it was all he could do.

...

"Stay with me, Ben. You have to stay with me." Han found himself repeating more and more as the hours dragged on. He hadn't once left his side.

The pain came in waves that seemed to grow longer and more intense. It was heartbreaking to watch his son cry through grit teeth. Disjointed fragments of dark force powers shattered bottles of Corellian whiskey on the other side of the room as he lashed out in confusion. No matter what he tried, Han couldn't get the fever to break. It wouldn't even relent. His heart was pounding in his chest. He was hyperventilating while choking on air.

Ben Solo was dying. Han couldn't stop it.

The phrase, 'hear me baby, hold together.' never sounded so hopeless.

...

"I got it!"

Rey's shout echoed throughout the ship, and when they made the jump back into hyperspace, Han couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his cheeks. Ben was unconscious, and had been for the past hour. But now there was hope. They were so close, he could almost feel Leia's presence and he knew she could feel theirs.

"Do you feel that, Ben?" he cried, draping his arms over his son in an awkward hug. "We're almost home. We're almost..."

Han jerked back as his son's chest failed to rise.

"...No. No, Ben. No." he shook him, forgetting the wound in his side. "No, don't you do this, Ben! Damn it, where's a stim pack when you need it?!"

Finn came charging with Chewbacca right at his heels. Both of them said something, but Han didn't hear anything but the silence coming from Ben's cold lips.

Immediately, he met those lips with his own, forcing air into his son's lungs. One palm on top of the other pressed into his chest, forcing a collapsing heart to keep pumping bad blood through a dying body.

"Come on, Ben!" he shouted between breaths. "Use the force!"

They all knew the force didn't work like that, but this time, no one dared to admit it.

...

"Screw clearance, we need to dock now!" Han shouted at Rey as she made the descent into an open hanger where Leia was undoubtedly waiting.

It was a miracle, but Ben was somehow still hanging on by a thread. His eyes were open, but glossed over in agony. The flush of fever was the only color left in his skin. He was hot, so sickeningly hot, but he was shivering, if not seizing. Blood dripped from the newly reopened wound.

Chewbacca grunted, gesturing to the body. He would lift him more gently this time, cradle him the way he did when he was still a child. But Han held out his arm.

"No..." he spared Chewie only a quick glance. "He won't make it that long. Get Leia. Hurry."

As soon as the ship touched down and the door opened, Chewie was there and Leia was already climbing aboard. The force was strong in her. Words weren't needed. She felt her son's presence from light years away, felt it fade farther and farther into the cold grip of death. She felt Han's sorrow, his desperation. She even felt Finn's reluctant sympathy for the man who ordered him to commit atrocity after atrocity.

"Ben!" She sprinted toward them.

Han didn't even look up.

"I brought him home, Leia." he whispered, stroking the back of Ben's hand. "I brought our son back..."

Leia's breath hitched in her throat. The gaping wound was covered, but the makeshift bandages were bloodsoaked again. The cloth had undoubtedly caught just as many tears.

"My baby..." she brushed hair from his face and wiped the sweat from his brow. Weary, unfocused eyes seemed to follow her, and Ben cracked a small smile. It was an expression he hadn't made in more than ten years.

"...Mom?" It was a whisper, barely audible, perhaps made only in the force. But Leia heard it loud and clear.

"I'm here. You're home..." she leaned in, and kissed the top of his forehead.

Kylo Ren, no... Ben Solo, took one last breath. And then, he was one with the force.

This was supposed to be a story about cuddling. It turned into a story about other stuff that happens to have some cuddling. Sorry OP.

Hux never saw the rebel torpedo.

The sensors shrieked an alert, Kylo Ren hissed something under his breath, and the shock of the impact threw Hux against his harness hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

The shuttle spun out of control, sirens wailing as the stabilizers failed. Hux’s harness was crushing him as they flipped end over end. Gray closed on his vision and he recalled his zero-g training, where his instructors had delighted in making him vomit and pass out over and over. Something exploded behind him and Hux hoped it wasn’t their stardrive. The shuttle righted itself with a tremendous jerk and shriek of metal, and Hux’s forehead smacked the bulkhead next to him.

Silence.

The drone of the shuttle’s emergency alert system pulled Hux back to consciousness. He forced open his heavy eyelids and immediately closed them when the red emergency lighting sliced straight into his aching brain.

Fire, starboard engine ….fire, starboard engine… fire…”

Oxygen levels critical… oxygen levels critical…

Hux knew he should do something about that but he couldn’t seem to move at all, jammed up against something hard. He pushed his elbow against whatever it was and choked on a gasp as pain slammed through his ribs. Spots crawled across his vision. He was so tired, and his head was throbbing sickly. Thick smoke burned deep in his lungs with every shallow breath.

Kylo Ren stirred in the pilot’s seat, and his dark robes brushed Hux’s face as he slid past.

“Fire, starboard engine… fire, starboard engine… fire…fire…”

Hux passed out again.

Kylo Ren emptied the second fire extinguisher into the engine bay, coughing on black smoke despite his mask. It wasn’t really intended for this sort of thing, but the mask and helmet had already saved his life today. Despite the crack on the head he’d received as the shuttle spun out of control, Ren had been able to cut himself free of his harness and address the most pressing situation, the fire in the starboard engine.

Ren sealed the engine compartment to prevent any re-ignition, and found the supply lockers undamaged by the torpedo strike. He pulled out the emergency oxygen masks and med-kit. Their onboard oxygen was limited, but if he could repair the shuttle’s generator, he and Hux would not have to worry about suffocating while they waited for a pickup.

In the cockpit, Hux was still slumped unconscious against the control panel, blood seeping from deep gashes across his forehead and cheek. Ren wasn’t sure how serious his injuries were, but they would have to wait. Ren got the mask on him and made sure he was breathing before turning his attention to the damaged generator. He was feeling lightheaded himself, the air in the shuttle hazy with smoke. He unsealed his helmet and slipped on the oxygen mask instead, immediately feeling sharper as he breathed in the clean air.

The oxygen generator was located under a floor panel and Ren pried it open, frowning at the mess underneath. The damage was extensive, and Ren only had the most basic tools in the shuttle’s kit. He took a deep breath, ignored the burn of smoke in his lungs, and began to pull apart the ruined generator.

The next time Hux woke, something had changed. The shuttle was cold and dark except for the dim glare of red emergency lighting. The warning klaxons had been silenced. His lungs no longer burned so badly when he breathed, though the awful pain in his left side remained. An oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose, and Hux wondered how it had gotten there. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat and he feared that if he moved at all, he would vomit.

Hux was laying against the instrument panel, wedged awkwardly between his seat and the bulkhead. His seat had been ripped from its bolts by the torpedo strike but his harness had held, preventing him from snapping his neck against the cockpit canopy. He raised his right hand and released his harness, easing some of the pressure on his damaged ribs. Bracing himself for the pain, Hux slid out of his chair. His vision doubled alarmingly and his knees buckled, dropping him to the deck. Nausea seized him and he retched painfully, bringing up nothing.

He curled into himself, trying to regain some composure while he decided what to do next. The pilot’s seat next to him was empty, with no sign of Kylo Ren. Hux wondered where he’d fucked off to, useless as ever in a crisis. Hux squeezed his eyes shut and tried to assess his injuries.

He’d hit his head, that much was obvious from the nausea, blinding headache, and alarming amount of blood dried on the console. Hux touched his injured side carefully, pressing just hard enough to turn his stomach. Broken ribs then, which would hinder his movements. Hux suppressed the urge to cough whenever he tried to take a deep breath. No doubt he’d inhaled toxic smoke from the engine fire. His lungs felt seared.

Engine fire...

Hux struggled to sit, bracing a hand against his ribs. The emergency sirens were silent, and the overwhelming odor of fire from before had dissipated into a faint hint of smoke. Had the fire burned itself out? The shuttle was clearly running on backup power; he could barely see anything.

Hux hauled himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the back of the copilot’s chair until he felt steady. He trailed a hand along the bulkheads until he reached the cargo bay, where he found Kylo Ren upside down in the floor access panel, his mask replaced by welding goggles. Ren looked up when Hux entered the bay.

“I’ve repaired the oxygen generator. You can take your mask off,” he said. He pushed the goggles up into his hair and snapped off the welder. Hux stared at Ren: with his helmet and heavy robes gone and his hair tousled and matted with grease, Kylo Ren was barely recognizable. Ren’s own face was streaked with soot, and Hux noticed an angry burn across the back of his left hand.

“You put out the fire,” he said, feeling sluggish. He needed to sit down.

“We lost the starboard engine,” Ren said.

Hux lowered himself into one of the jumpseats and leaned his head back against the bulkhead. Ren had clearly repaired only the most essential systems, which did not include climate control. Hux always felt chilled in space, but the temperature in the shuttle was dropping noticeably. He tugged his coat around himself.

“I had no idea you could do constructive things with electronics,” he said, pain clouding his better judgement. Ren’s mouth tightened, his eyes narrowing. Hux waited for the invisible fingers around his throat, the inevitable end for the idiot who goaded Kylo Ren.

“It’s a simple system,” Ren said dismissively. He unplugged the diagnostic unit he was using and tucked a bundle of wires under the deck. Hux eyed the blackened tangle of electronics on the floor by Ren’s foot, presumably what he’d extracted from the damaged generator.

“Of course,” Hux agreed.

“You’re injured,” Ren said.

“Are you offering to help?” Hux asked. He hoped Ren wasn’t. He’d heard rumors of Ren’s healing abilities, but had written them off largely as exaggeration and wanted nothing to do with whatever Ren might consider therapeutic for his injuries. His headache was becoming unbearable. He needed to lie down, preferably after a large dose of narcotics.

“Your injuries are beyond what we can address with the medical supplies on board,” Ren said. Hux felt something, like the barest brush against his mind, when Ren spoke. He bristled.

”Do not.” he snapped. The tickle in his lungs was aggravated by speaking and he broke into a coughing fit. It left him breathless, involuntary tears streaming from his eyes as the coughing pulled his injured ribs.

A hand braced his shoulder, keeping him from sliding out of his seat. Hux was vaguely aware that he was trembling, no doubt Ren could feel it.

“You should lay down,” Ren said. “It will be some time before we are in signal range of our fleet.”

“How long?” Hux rasped.

“A day, maybe more,” Ren told him. He was fiddling with something in the storage locker, and produced a bottle of water and emergency blanket. Hux accepted both without comment, wrapping the blanket around himself tightly and sipping at the water. It tasted flat and awful, but chased the remnants of blood and vomit from his mouth and soothed his burned throat.

Hux slid to the floor, stretching carefully. The deck was cold beneath him but it felt good against his various bruises. He closed his eyes as the shuttle seemed to swim around him. He knew he shouldn’t sleep with a head injury, but he was so tired, and at least when he was asleep he wouldn’t have to deal with Kylo Ren.

The blanket warmed him a little, but the shuttle’s chill had sunk into his bones. Hux wondered if he’d ever feel warm again.

“You shouldn’t sleep with a head injury,” Ren said, sounding far away.

“Leave me alone,” Hux mumbled, pulling the blanket over his head.

Hours passed, and the shuttle grew colder. Ren could see his breath. He pulled his robes back on and found the other emergency blanket. He knew he would need it soon enough. He checked the transmitter once again; it was broadcasting their distress call on all known First Order channels. The ailing flight computer told him that they were still out of signal range. He had done everything he could.

Ren settled himself against the bulkhead near Hux and wrapped himself in the second blanket. He knew he should meditate, but he found the practice difficult under the best circumstances. He could barely focus here. He was tired and bruised from the crash. His head ached dully where his helmet had smacked a bulkhead. He had another problem as well: he couldn’t seem to block out Hux’s pain and discomfort. It nagged at him, a muted ache that he couldn’t get far enough away from.

He rifled through the med-kit until he found the ampoules of emergency painkillers that would deaden the sensation of Hux’s injuries. Ren jabbed the needle into Hux’s shoulder. Hux didn’t twitch. Up close, Ren could see the extent of his injuries. Two gaping, tender-looking cuts marred his pale face: one above his eyebrow and the other along his cheekbone. They had bled profusely, caking blood down Hux’s neck and into his hair. Ren extended the smallest tendril of the force, guiding it over Hux’s body with his finger.

He sensed Hux’s pain in red splotches, a deep, pulsing ache down his side: three bright, fractured lines along his broken ribs, torn muscles and severe bruising down to his hip. The obvious concussion and its accompanying headache and nausea. Hux was also freezing, trembling under his heavy coat and emergency blanket. Ren shivered involuntarily. He broke the connection with Hux, and was deeply annoyed to find that he could still sense Hux’s pain, despite the drugs he’d given him.

Ren leaned back against the wall and crossed his legs, assuming a pose of meditation. If he could not ignore Hux, perhaps Hux would be useful to him yet. Pain did enhance his communion with the force. He let Hux’s pain flood over him, following it down into the labyrinth.

Ren’s meditation was troubled, interrupted by the remembered sensation of the shuttle flipping end over end, of fire burning up his lungs. He couldn’t focus, becoming more impatient as his grasp of the force slipped away. Annoyed, he flung a wrench against the wall hard enough to leave a dent. The cold was affecting him too; his fingers and toes were numb, and he was shivering.

He stood and checked the flight computer: still twelve hours before they were in signaling range. At this rate he and Hux would freeze to death before they were rescued. Ren glanced down at Hux, who looked ghastly, gray with shock and probably hypothermic. Something tugged under Ren’s ribs, a feeling he’d tried to kill for years but that still troubled him from time to time.

Hux was possibly the closest thing he had to a friend, if nothing else he was a loyal servant of the First Order, as Ren was. It would be a disservice to the First Order to let a good officer die when he had the means to prevent such an occurrence. Ren clenched his fists at his pathetic train of thought. If Hux died, it was because he was weak. But the part of himself that Ren hated refused to be stifled, and Ren needed something to do for the next twelve hours besides slowly freezing to death.

He dug through the pile of ruined electronics on the floor until he found a power cell. It was still in working order, and with a little effort he was able to make it glow. It was a simple exercise, a parlor trick, Hux would probably say. Even so, keeping it going would take a considerable amount of energy and concentration.

He sat the power cell on the floor and turned his attention to Hux. Carefully, he gathered Hux against his chest, mindful not to shift his broken ribs. He leaned back against the wall, Hux settled between his legs, dead weight against his chest. Ren tucked both blankets around them, sealing in as much heat as he could. Ren wrapped his arms around Hux’s narrow waist to keep him from sliding to the floor.

“Wha-?” Hux mumbled, blinking slowly and trying to sit up.

“Be still,” Ren said. Hux didn’t reply, his head rolling back onto Ren’s shoulder. Ren focused on the power cell by his knee, enhancing its glow until he could pull its warmth around them both like a blanket. It helped a little, and after half an hour Hux stopped shivering so violently.

The minutes stretched out and Ren felt some of the chaos within him settle into an unfamiliar peace. Keeping the power cell going should have drained him, but instead it felt effortless, a small task to keep his mind alert while he waited. He tightened his arms around Hux and the little spark of pleasure that had annoyed him earlier grew. Ren didn’t bother to stifle it, instead he let it sit calmly in his chest. He could address his weakness some other time.

Hux woke disoriented, a situation that was beginning to annoy him. His head ached dully but he felt better than he last remembered. Had they been rescued? No, he realized quickly when he slitted his eyes open and saw the dark shuttle. He was much warmer than the last time he’d been awake, and he realized that whatever he was lying on was moving.

Not whatever, he amended, whoever. He was leaned up against a warm body in a way that managed to take the pressure off of his broken ribs. As of his last count, there were only two people aboard the shuttle, which brought Hux to the conclusion that he was currently cradled in Kylo Ren’s arms.

It was less awful than he would have anticipated. Ren was quite strong, solidly muscled underneath those ridiculous robes, and he put off a lot of heat which sunk pleasantly into Hux’s skin. He was also asleep, judging by his deep, even breathing. Ren held him close, protectively, and Hux was grateful for the warmth.

Beside Ren a salvaged power cell glowed cheerfully, putting off gentle heat. The air around them seemed to shimmer faintly if Hux looked at it the right way. Hux was certain this was a side effect of his head injury. Maybe this all was a side effect, a figment of his injured brain, conjured up to soothe him as he slowly froze to death. The soft fabric of Ren’s robes under his cheek felt real enough, though. Hux doubted he would have imagined that.

Hux closed his eyes and leaned back against Ren’s chest. Ren’s arms tightened around him at the movement and Hux settled, drifting back to sleep. Next to Kylo Ren, the power cell glowed a little brighter.

LOL I didn't even set out to do it... it just happened!

I never knew I wanted sweet Kylo and Hux. I thought I just wanted hatesex.

Thank you so much for showing me the error of my ways. This was incredibly precious and well-written!

15,000?? :O Ohh, really curious and looking forward to this >D

Not the author

In what way is this fic incestuous???

This is so good and so, so sad. I loved it, even though it broke my heart. <3

i loved this!!

YUM

Finn, baby, oh no. But oh yes for this fic. Very hot!

I LOVE EVERY WORD OF THIS KEEP GOING

I'm so excited to read this! Take your time thought; you have many patient readers! Thanks! :)

So I'm dying and you are a saint (THANK YOU)

wow, this is amazing! your language is so evocative; poe's pov is amazingly well done. whoa, I've got the shivers. anything else you ever chose to write about him, I'd absolutely read.

This fic is already amazing, and I cannot wait to see the rest. :D

ahhhhhhh I loved this!!!!!!!!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 226 of 289

PROMPT POST #1 - CLOSED

This post is closed to new prompts!

Re: Sexual Sociology - Search Your Feelings

FILL: Finn/Poe, Finn thinks he owes Poe sex

FILL (1/?) Re: Leia/Poe

Re: Luke/Wedge, Luke didn't go into hiding alone – FILL

Re: FILL (1/?) Re: Leia/Poe

Re: Poe/Any First Order left a trigger word [non-con implied]

Re: 2/2, look what you made me do

Re: Past Ben Solo/Poe, non-con, manipulation by Snoke

FILL: A Long Way Home

Fill: Kylo/Hux cuddling 1/2

Fill: Kylo/Hux cuddling 2/2

Re: [FILL] Hux + Irish accent

Re: Fill: Kylo/Hux cuddling 2/2

Re: Rey/Kylo/Hux, Rey tops the boys

Re: Leia/Poe/Han, minifill

Re: Leia/Poe/Han, minifill

Re: Fill: Kylo/Hux cuddling 2/2

Re: FILL: Finn/Poe, Finn thinks he owes Poe sex

Re: FILL: Finn/Poe, Finn thinks he owes Poe sex

Re: FILL (1/?) Re: Leia/Poe

Re: The Original Three Get De-Aged

Re: FILL

Re: [FILL 3/3] Poe/others - dub-con/non-con

Re: FILL (1/?) Re: Leia/Poe

Re: FILL: Finn/Poe, Finn thinks he owes Poe sex