tfa_kink | PROMPT POST #2

YASSS

Thank you to everyone who commented :) I had way too much fun writing this, so I'm really glad others found it as amusing as I did :D

OP: aahhh I loved this. I about lost it at 'your mother in a metal bikini'
This was so funny & well-written. Thank you!

i got u anon
i'll be back with SO MUCH CUDDLE

Omfg i need this!

Author nonnie here:

I'm so glad you loved it! <3 <3 <3

OP here! I love it so far! I cant wait for more ^_^

so much yes

Could Rey and Poe become allies? Who knows!

TW for minor violence, I guess?

Rey’s standing in line in the mess hall, waiting for her turn at—she squints, makes a disdainful face—whatever it is the Resistance is passing off as lunch when she hears a sharp, bloodcurdling shout. Rey would recognize that voice anywhere, even in her sleep.

She reaches instinctively for her quarterstaff but—blast it, she left it back in her room. She’d been modifying it with a shoulder strap and she hadn’t thought to bring it with her to the mess.

Rey sighs, ducks out of the line, and runs toward the shouts and, now, the sound of fists hitting flesh. She breaks into a sprint, wishing she had her staff on hand, and skids around a corner.

Poe’s got a ruddy-faced young man—a low-ranking serviceman by the looks of him—pinned against the wall with a forearm to his neck. Finn’s on his knees off to the side, an arm wrapped around his midsection.

“What happened?” she asks, running to Finn’s side and getting an arm around his shoulders.

Poe tosses a glance her way, for just a moment, before returning his attention to the man he has pinned by the throat. “Name and rank.”

“Private Doran Sellex. Sir,” the man chokes out. He lifts a hand to the arm against his neck before thinking better of it and letting it drop.

“Private Sellex. I’ll be reporting this incident to General Organa,” Poe says, stepping back. Sellex wilts against the wall and touches his neck. “If I’m not mistaken…this is your third offense.”

Sellex’s eyes widen. “Commander Dameron, I can explain! I was just—”

“Not interested in hearing it, Sellex. Get out of my sight. You should be grateful it was me and not—” Poe looks at Rey and lifts his eyebrows. “Jedi Master Luke Skywalker’s padawan who found you. We’d’ve been peeling your sorry hide off the walls for weeks.”

Sellex can only nod, as he rubs at his reddened throat.

“Go,” Poe says, his voice a pal of thunder right before the storm hits. He turns his full attention—and a very intimidating glare, complete with scary forehead vein—on Sellex.

“Sir, yes sir.” Sellex tosses off a sloppy salute and scrambles away, nearly tripping on his own feet in his haste to get as far away from the three of them as possible.

Once he’s gone, Poe turns toward Rey and Finn and straightens the front of his olive green uniform jacket. He walks over to them, the soles of his boots clipping on the tile, and crouches down beside Finn.

“Now, what happened?” he asks gently, more friend than commander now. He places a hand on Finn’s back, right about where his scar begins.

Normally, Rey would bristle at the contact, maybe toss off a snappy remark, but she lets it pass without comment.

“I was just walking back to my room after lunch. Totally minding my own business! And then that bantha-bleeding nerfherder just pops outta nowhere, spewing this garbage about how I must’ve been a spy for the First Order!” Finn pauses to gulp down a couple big breaths before launching into the rest of his story. “I managed to get couple good licks in, but he ended up getting the drop on me. It’s kind of embarrassing, I’ve got hand-to-hand combat training, I shouldn’t’ve let him—”

“How about we get you to Doctor Kalonia for a check-up,” Poe suggests.

Finn gives him a horrified look. “Poe, I’m fine! Sure, my pride’s busted, but other than that…” He shrugs, then looks at Rey beseechingly. “Tell him, Rey.”

“I think Poe’s suggestion is actually—” Rey braces herself with a weary sigh. Poe will never let her forget this, she’s certain of it. “—a pretty good one.”

Finn blinks rapidly, and looks at Poe. Then he swivels his head back toward Rey. And then back to Poe. “Really? Really?”

“Really. C’mon.” Poe splays a hand low on Finn’s back—and, okay, Rey does bristle at that—as they both help Finn to his feet. “I’m sure you’re just fine, but I’ll feel better—and Rey’ll feel better after you get checked out.”

Finn huffs indignantly. “I’m not a kid. I know my own body better than either of you do,” he grumbles.

Poe’s cheeks flush slightly and he bites on his lip, no doubt trying to keep an inappropriate remark to himself. Rey’s almost impressed at the restraint. Almost. It takes a lot more than that to truly impress her.

“Of course you do,” Rey jumps in before Poe can open his mouth and unleash whatever filth is currently on the tip of his tongue to say. She hooks her arm with Finn’s. “But if it had happened to me or…Poe, would you tell us not to go to the medcenter?”

“No!” Finn protests, managing to sound both somewhat angry and deeply offended at the same time. “But that’s different. That’s you guys. You’re—”

“Buddy,” Poe says, slinging an arm around Finn’s neck.

Finn ducks his head, mutters to himself under his breath. “Fine,” he says, lifting his head. “You guys win. I’ll go.”

Poe flashes Rey a victorious grin behind Finn’s back. She tries not to think about that—or how good it actually feels, like she might have gained an ally in Poe—as they take Finn to the medcenter.

Rey fixes her face in a scowl. Pfassk, I’ve gone soft.

A!A

Thanks! It's been a lot of fun to write. :D

A!A

Give in to the petty side, Rey!

I love this.

A!A

Heh, did you get a misfire fill, anon?

But, yes, vengeful Finn. I am fully onboard Team Vengeful Finn. And I'm glad others are too. ;)

beautiful!

Oh *eeeee* ty for your kind words! I was thinking of putting it on ao3 but I need to work on editing it a bit better first. Thanks again!

This is beautiful! Please take this as a rousing endorsement to finish things more often.

**

“New Republic sympathizers were foiled from a potentially deadly bombing plot in attempt to assassinate our beloved Emperor, Brendol Hux II, and destroy the Fourth General Transportation Factory along with all its innocent employees early yesterday afternoon. Fortunately for those involved, most of the bombs were faulty. And our valiant Emperor, his loyal Stormtroopers, and some brave factory workers have quickly detained the terrorists themselves. More details on their heroic deeds to come in personal interviews later tonight. The terrorists have since been transferred to the proper authorities. They are to stand trial in three days. Here we remind the public to be vigilant and report any suspicious activities, for your own safety and the safety of your loved ones…” read the rolling holo on the morning commute.

Ben never saw the news, for the Emperor’s personal transport did not need a rolling news broadcaster. So he never saw how the news never even hinted at his own very very important contribution in containing the explosions to prevent the many workers, some officers, Emperor Hux, and himself (mostly Hux and himself, saving the rest was just a fortunate side effect) from being blown to bits by the definitely not faulty bombs or crushed by the collapsing building.

He looked up from his jam and butter sandwich (the Emperor’s mother made the jam herself. Blessed Lady and her delicious tea parties) at the Emperor sitting across from him. Hux was already done with breakfast long before Ben even roused from sleep (not Ben’s fault that he woke so late. He fell asleep in Hux’s bed for the first time last night, after the man rinsed the soot and blood off both himself and Ben and hugged Ben again. Hux’s bed was so much more comfier than his little cot, which in turn was comfier than the beds at medical, and the beds at reeducation, which were somehow still better than his old beds at the dark place with all the other RN-####’s), and was now on the com, busy discussing with his chief of intelligence about the interrogation progress and any possible associates who may have slipped through the net. And how was this plot not caught ahead of time? It was a routine factory inspection, with strict safety protocols to protect the visiting officials. How did the riff raff manage to even set the bombs?

When Hux ended the call with a justifiably nervous chief of intelligence and his closest staff, he looked up from his holo display, and saw Ben smiling at him (Ben hoped he would get to nap in his favorite warm sun spot on the office carpet today. He was extra good and useful yesterday, and Hux always made sure to reward good behaviour. So many bombs, such a big factory, all those people angry and afraid. Ben was so tired).

Something like a smile tugged at the corner of Hux’s mouth, as the Emperor reached over with one ungloved hand, and swiped away the extra bit of jam that had somehow gotten onto Ben’s right cheek, right next to his little moles.

**

“They were angry,” said Ben.

“People who try to kill me often tend to be angry. Doubly so when they also just had their deepest secrets ripped out of their heads,” Hux paused in his reading to look down at Ben, curled lazily around his feet.

“Not them, the other workers. They were angry. A shimmering sort of anger, like a slowly boiling pot of stew, but not so delicious,” Ben bit his lower lip.

“The workers are angry? The New Empire lifted them out of poverty, rescued them from aimless unemployment, assigned them all jobs, made them productive citizens, and they are angry?” How dared the ungrateful masses.

“You said your Commandant father said people didn’t care about who ruled them as long as their needs are met, like dinner on the table and trains running on time and things. And I know he is right. My needs are met, and I am happy even when you are bossy sometimes…”

“Hey!”

“… But I don’t think those workers’ needs are met. They are angry and tired and want better food and pay and the freedom to complain and time with their families.”

“And you are mentioning this why? You never paid attention to the welfare of the masses.”

“Umm if this keeps on, I think some of them are going to blow up another two factories, for real this time. I dreamed it,” Ben tilted his head at Hux. “And if that happens, you will have overtime and be sleep deprived and cranky and fall back to drinking, and have less time for me. And Phasma will be angry, because she wouldn’t get her new TIE fighters on time at all.”

“Blast it,” the Emperor swore and stood up from his seat. “This may call for faster policy changes. The old coots at the council won’t like this one bit. Oh and Ben, give me a list of names, or just faces would do, of the ones you think will perform such terror acts. Some people have just signed themselves up for intense reeducation.”

**

Hux still got significant overtime, and was sleep deprive and cranky, and foisted Ben off on his mother for days.

Just to prove Ben wrong, he did not fall back to drinking.

**

To many people’s surprises, instead of tightening security at all priority work sites and publicly executing the terrorists and their friends and families, the Emperor instead made a big production of rewarding the loyal workers who bravely came to his aid, investigating possible corruption and graft in state owned agencies, allowing more differing opinions and freedom of speech, and raising the salary of base level workers. Not by much, mind you, but credit was credit. And have you heard of the rumor of a two days weekend to be slowly implemented?

That the Emperor also increased security and surveillance covertly, had all the terrorists’ associates followed, their families laid off from stable state sponsored jobs (all with very valid reasons), and their children suspended from state funded schools (so very, very valid reasons), were deeds not very publicized at all. And when the impoverish families disappeared later, no one cared. Not their old friends who could not wait to distance themselves from Resistance scum, and definitely not their old neighbours too busy enjoying their long-weekend family trips.

**

The high council had fought Hux the hardest on increased wages and benefits, for it fattened and enabled the very sheep that council families were so used to fleece to the bone. Hux quickly silenced them all by charging a few of the most daring with corruption and sedition.

The high council had fought Hux the least on freedom of speech. Let the rabbles talk, and feel better about themselves. Let them gather and talk to the air, and the Empire to choose what to listen to, which group to grant its ears. Let them talk, for most of them would not act out of lethargy and apathy, could not act out of cowardice and fear, did not know how to act to fix the very ills they complained of. And for the few who did? Well they were either gainfully employed by the Empire, or quickly and quietly silenced.

And Hux recalled to Ben during one dinner, as he cut a choice slice off his steak to be hand-fed to the pet at his feet (Ben ate breakfast wherever, depending on how the day started; ate lunch sitting at the table, after needling Hux into not skipping his in favour of more work; and ate dinner at Hux’s feet. Being handfed was a bad habit developed during his first months with Hux, when he was still being bounced between the research center and the reeducation center), of something Brendol Hux I was told by his own grandfather, of the old councilmen of the loathsome Republic, from the old home world of the Hux family, that great green shining jewel from which they were so unjustly exiled. Of how the same few powerful families sat the council seats in rotation, advocating differences in small, inconsequential things, advancing the same agendas and same special interests all exactly the same, voted in by the appearance of democracy. Of how the people complained of abuse, but accepted their own ‘choice’ of leaders, and did nothing.

So let the people talk. And once the Empire is strong and prosperous, its people truly proud, fewer and fewer would talk at all.

(Ben learned a new trick. Selective memory alteration and erasure. It took a few tries, fried a few minds, but he got it at the end, and Hux was so, so proud of him. And Hux liked the trick so, so much, that he immediately commissioned the research council to duplicate it with science.)

**

The two factories from Ben’s dreams merrily chugged on, churning out war machines for their beloved Empire. And now that Ben knew to watch for more than the visible arms of the New New Republic, the intelligence agencies patched the holes found in their services, and the Empire readjusted its policies to better bring glory to all its citizens (not quite), no more factories blew up. Though from time to time inconsequential people disappeared, and consequential people choked on their food.

Even then, Ben was still caught by surprise when a public stabbing happened at the city core luxury shopping district, right under his nose. The incident occurred when Lady Hux was walking him at the Tarkin Memorial Park, merely three short blocks away from the scene of the crime. It was too small an incident to be dreamed of by the supernatural, and too random to be predicted by the conventional. Eight people, including the assailant, were dead. Three from stab wounds, three from the small stampede and traffic accident that ensued, one from a heart attack, and the assailant from a sudden and violent suicide. Horrified bystanders described the man as a creature possessed, who held his knife up in shaking hands as he rammed his face repeatedly into the blade.

The corpse was later identified through dental records as one of the indicted factory bombers’ family member, his name and face publicized to show how vicious Republic sympathizers could be, going after unarmed, ordinary citizens (rich, government and First Order affiliated citizens), and dumped unceremoniously for recycling.

**

Ben helped Lady Hux in her kitchen more frequently, when the Emperor’s esteemed mother felt the fancy to honour her dinner guests with her own handmade desserts. Fruits were diced up by invisible knives, whisks whipped up cream and egg suspended in thin air, jars of jam uncapped and scooped themselves. And in the midst of it all was Ben, a conductor of this strange orchestra, who somehow still managed to get flour on his own nose. He must make the Force listen, he must have finer control.

Ben went on morning runs with Hux on a daily basis now, instead of the half-hearted efforts he’d put in before. Round and round the private lake and its mini military obstacle course they went, in rain and snow and fairer weather. He must be faster, he must not trip over his own feet.

Ben bugged Phasma into teaching him more advanced hand-to-hand combat, attacks now instead of pure defense, specially modified to compensate for his lack of balance and grip.

Two of the dead that day were children. Ben still remembered RN-0003’s nightmarish vision, calling to him from across the cosmos, blurred with tears, of all those small children in drab robes, laying in pools of blood.

RN-0003, who fell upon his own lightsaber, after he so successfully completed the mission carved into his brain (Ben was so glad he himself wasn’t successful at biting his own wrists back then. Staying alive turned out to be worth it in the end. And Ben needed to be faster, stronger, better, so that the people in his life now would stay alive with him).

**

Ben was not Ben Organa Solo, a soft and stupid Republic boy murdered slowly over the years.

Ben was not RN-0000, a creature wasting away under Snoke’s care.

Ben was certainly not Kylo Ren, who lived harder, burned brighter, and was larger than life in all his iterations.

Ben was also not quite a thing of Hux’s making either.

Somehow Hux could not have been more glad that this was so.

(The crooked and all too self-pleased smile that Hux had so liked mirrored the smile of Han Solo. The gentle core nature so twisted by nurture (what nurture?) and tinted by the dark came from Leia Organa. But Hux did not know that.)

**

Emperor Hux could not believe the riff raffs and criminals of the Resistance had regrouped so fast.

Leia Organa could not believe so many bowed so readily and willingly to the tyranny of the First Order.

Each looked at the other’s half of the galaxy in distain and righteous fury (the totalitarian regime that destroyed her world and took away her son; the anarchist rebels that ruined his world and as good as killed his father), and neither could believe how prosperous the other’s worlds had gotten, now that they weren’t constantly at all-out war, both turning inward for reforms instead of striking out.

Ben slept better. Hux’s bed was soft and comfortable, the man himself an adequate hug pillow, and there were less and less bad dreams, both of the past and future (no more dark lonely cells, no more families drowning under rivers of blood. Instead there were sunny days in the sitting room, cool evening strolls along the lake, hot sandwiches with home-cured meat, a spoonful of honey in his morning milk, summer night sky decked with a thousand stars, winter hearth’s roaring fire, red and raven fading to silvery white).

**

Not done yet, still more to go

op: i love you so much! i really like your rey shes exactly how i see her. this is the best and thank you for your wonderful updates!!

Filled here on AO3 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/5942302)

A!A

Yay, I'm really happy to hear this! Think I might be wrapping this up soon too. :D

ok anon this is it, this is just pure cuddle. I hope you enjoy!!! Poe calls Ben feo which is what my grandparents call each other as a pet name in spanish. if u don't know any spanish, it actually means ugly, but it's like "hey ugly" in a cute, really endearing way as a petname, trust me. also poe is totally the type to be like "hey buttface" in an loving way i feel. it's the way to an organa-solo's heart <3.

---

Mornings like these, Poe wakes up with his nose pressed between Ben’s shoulders, arm slung precariously over his waist. He smells wonderful - of nothing in particular, but something nice, and entirely Ben. Warm and heady when he breathes in.

In bed, their height difference is a little less noticeable. Ben often curls in on himself in his sleep, so their legs tangle and Ben’s thigh is pressed against Poe’s leg. Usually, Ben also hogs the covers — which is a crime, if you ask Poe, because Ben is already the warmer of the two of them.

It’s the Force, he’s convinced. Light is warmth, and heat — stronger and brighter than anything else. Seeing Ben return to it has convinced him all the more of its power. Feeling it has also made him all the more convinced by Ben. It’s less like conflict or chaos dragging a struggling moth to its flames, and more like Ben and the light have begun to melt into each other. He’s more powerful, and yet needs less power. And though Poe would never credit himself with any of these changes, he knows that his initial willingness to reach out had helped. It’s Poe’s second gift: not forgiveness or dismissal, but the drive to be proven right when he can see someone’s potential.

He’s always right, when the conviction takes a hold of him.

When Poe finally opens his eyes, he presses a kiss to Ben’s spine, admiring the way the muscles in his shoulders cut elegant, strong lines. In his bed, Ben is a small star system — constellations drawn against his shoulder and chest in dark freckles, and gravity nearly inescapable. Not that Poe wants to try to break away first thing in the morning.

And Ben — Ben never wants to leave a warm bed. When Poe nudges him gently, he makes a guttural noise that Poe thinks might actually be a reply Wookie, but isn’t sure. A second nudge earns him a whine that confirms Ben is stirring. It almost makes him feel guilty for nudging Ben into a better spot.

Almost.

“Roll over,” Poe directs, hand gently pulling at Ben’s waist. He bites his lip to stifle a laugh when Ben sighs loudly and acquiesces, rolling half on top of him. They’re both pretty sturdy and more muscle than anything else, but Ben is heavy and tall, making him just shy of suffocating.

“Ass,” Poe says contentedly as Ben continued to grumble against his neck, protesting daylight. Eventually, Poe will have to bribe him to get up with a cup of caf, but until then, he’s happy to have Ben groggily flop an arm over his chest and sigh against his ear.

“—Frillin’ laserbrain,” Ben huffs, burying his face into Poe’s shoulder. He curls into Poe, pressing his hand against Poe’s side as he moves closer.

“Lumrunning idiot,” Poe returns without missing a beat. But like his first insult, it has no venom. Between the two of them, nothing really does anymore. It helps that Ben’s now saved his life more times than he’s put it in danger.

It takes a long moment, but Ben finally moves just enough to ensure Poe isn’t smothered. When he finishes settling, Poe ruffles his hair, eliciting a pleased rumbling noise from Ben which is definitely Wookie. Poe doesn’t speak it himself, but context matters when speaking Wookie, and he understands the sentiment. He’s also pretty sure he agrees with it.

A long minute passes before Poe breaks the silence again. “Eventually we gotta get up,” he says, thinking of the midmorning drills he’s supposed to be leading with his squadrons.

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Ben complains against Poe’s shoulder. He wrinkles his nose, before idly tracing circles over Poe’s skin. Sometimes, when he begins ghosting his fingers over Poe, Poe thinks he recognizes a pattern. Star coordinates or Aurebesh letters, usually, but this morning, Poe suspects it might be the shape of a caf mug that he’s tracing over his ribcage over and over again. Typical.

“It sounds like the only way we’ll get breakfast before my squadron eats everything,” Poe retorts, pulling back just far enough to kiss Ben awkwardly on the crown of his head.

“I know we have another hour,” Ben says, “Your droid hasn’t even started yelling at us through the door yet.”

“Beebee-Ate wouldn’t have to if you’d wake up at a decent hour.”

Ben scoffs. “This hour isn’t even civilized, much less decent. Nothing this early ever is.”

“Feo, if you got up earlier, that’s a promise," Poe says, knowing even under-caffeinated he could be swayed to the idea of some morning indecencies. "But since you’re so intent on sleeping in…” he adds, trailing a suggestive line down Ben’s hip. Ben shivers, then sighs, knowing he’s been defeated.

When he leans up this time, it’s to kiss Poe good morning, briefly sharing some of the pressing heat of his lips. It’s hard not to laugh, because Ben’s still half asleep, and Poe can feel the effort he’s putting into keeping his eyes closed and ignoring the lights in the room. Naturally, Ben finds his chin before he finds his mouth, mostly because he’s just that stubborn. Poe’s stubble is rough against Ben’s cheek but neither of them are terribly concerned for the moment.

They lose a few minutes to just that — being wrapped up in each other while Ben tries to stave off the day with his kisses. Eventually, though Poe finally breaks away and nudges Ben in the shoulder, pushing him up.

“C’mon, we gotta hit the fresher,” he says, still ignoring Ben’s grunt as his back hits the mattress. “If you don’t get up now, I’ll just use up all the hot water in the shower,” Poe threatens lightly, tearing back the covers on the bed. Ben yelps at the cold air, and mutters something under his breath about pilots. It’s not totally fair — Poe isn’t especially a morning person, he’s just disciplined enough to wake up for it. A fine distinction Ben doesn't believe in.

“Alright, alright,” Ben manages. “I’m getting up— you hot water fiend.”

Poe smiles. Mornings like these, he wouldn't trade for anything.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5950303

oops the formatting is evil sorry. :/ idunno why it double spaced EVERYTHING

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5950423

Wonderful!

No misfire fill. Sad really, more vengeful Finn is always a good thing.

PROMPT POST #2 - CLOSED

This post is closed to new prompts!

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Re: [FILL] Hux/Ren, Hux shields himself from Ren's mind reading

Re: [FILL] Poe is raped on the resistance base (Finn+Rey, Finn+Poe) 6/? (blanket TW)

Re: [FILL] Hux/Ren, Hux shields himself from Ren's mind reading

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Fill | Hold Me Close

Re: Fill | Hold Me Close

Fill link

Re: [FILL] Hux/Ren, Hux shields himself from Ren's mind reading

Re: [FILL] Poe is raped on the resistance base (Finn+Rey, Finn+Poe) 6/? (blanket TW)