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prompt post one

+ All comments except fills should be posted anonymously.
+ 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.
+ don't hijack other people's prompts.
+ prompts should not exceed ~250 words.
+ also, while this is not really a rule I can enforce, please try to limit yourselves to fewer than 5 prompts per page.
+ reposting prompts is currently not allowed.
+ no prompts based on real life tragic events. e.g: 9/11 au, concentration camp au, etc
+ PLAY NICE

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Phasma had known Kylo since he was a lanky fifteen year old. He'd turned up one day with an absurdly high security clearance, that checked, and orders from Snoke. And stayed as if he had nowhere else to go. His eyes had a way of making most people uncomfortable until he started wearing that mask. But Phasma realized that Kylo would work himself down to nothing, without even noticing that's what he was doing, if someone didn't intercede. His single-minded dedication to his training was commendable. And downright fanatical. Which is why she'd made a point of telling him, right near the beginning, that everyone gets homesick.

Kylo had glowered at her suspiciously, as if he thought she were bringing this up because, contrary to what she'd just said, there was something specifically wrong with him; some weakness he'd done an inadequate job guarding.

“Look,” Phasma had added, “I don't know where you come from, and I will never ask you about it. You're one of us now. The First Order will make you bigger and stronger than you ever imagined yourself being. But there are people who try to take the edge off their stress by giving the new kids more to worry about. Setting up countless, meaningless tests that they insist are 'proof' of whether you're good enough to be here. It's bullshit.” She took a breath. “People come from all over, from all kinds of pasts, and adjusting is it's own special kind of hard. So having doubts and bad days and not knowing how you're going to breathe with this pain in your chest – we've all done it. None of that means you're making a mistake. It's just, breaking away from what used to be your life can get to you.”

Kylo considered this, the sudden intensity in his eyes belying his attempt at a neutral expression. Phasma knew she'd hit a nerve when he asked, “even if you basically never want to see your old life again?”

She nodded. “It's not wrong to miss what you never thought you'd miss. And the less you're fighting yourself, and second-guessing yourself, the better you'll cope with a program that (frankly) demands a lot, from all of us.”

Without a moment's hesitation, Kylo's hand shot out and grabbed her arm. “I don't need your help,” he growled.

“Kylo, I'm a soldier.” Phasma responded, unfazed. “The point of sharing intel is that our chances of defeating our actual enemies improve if we help each other. And I do mean we – there will be times when you know things I need to hear. So I want a working relationship where communication isn't awkward.”

“That's …” he released her and looked down, chewing his lower lip. (Phasma thought he looked embarrassed, because her offer was genuine and he'd obviously been expecting something else. Disrespect? Pity? Something that would have justified his anger.) But Kylo shook off his momentary indecision. “I need a sparring partner,” he said, “who isn't scared of me.”

Phasma's lip twitched, because the sly, underlying challenge in his voice was perfectly audible. Even so, she could work with this. “I'm not force-sensitive at all,” she warned, “but if you want to practice hand-to-hand fighting, meet me at the training facility at 0600 hours.”

She'd had no idea how badly he just needed to roughhouse. And punch things. And get flipped against the mat for the umpteenth time because his footwork was outstanding, but his balance was crap. But it became a regular thing they did.

PROMPT POST #2 - CLOSED

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FILL: Kylo/Phasma, working out (Part 1/5, I think)