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+ 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.
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+ Warn for common triggers, please
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+ prompts should not exceed ~250 words.
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Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Omgggg I live for this! Classic misinformation trope, I'm so excited! I can't wait for the drama between Poe and Ben. Is it wrong of me to hope that Poe would actually cheat on Ben with Finn? The thought of Kylo and Hux being the only "successful" "relationship" is hilarious.

Also, can there be a moment of surprising affection between Kylo and Hux and everybody is completely floored? Like oh god you losers actually DO love each other.

Awww, boys.

AHH this is so sweet!

That was really sweet. <3

This turned into more of a Leia introspective rather than a general shit-kicking. Hope that's okay.

These Violent Delights (non-con implied but not described)

Leia is there when he disembarks from the ship, head held high and a sneer on his face, like the shackles around his wrists mean nothing. He's been Force-bound, his connection to the swirls and eddies surrounding them cut off, and yet still he looks at them all like he could kill them with the crook of his finger.

It was a fluke that they had him, no one expected him to be on the First Order base they had hit. They'd expected nothing but a stormtrooper training ground, another base to raze to the ground in the in-and-out attacks they'd been carrying out since Starkiller Base exploded into the darkness.

But he had been there. And with the element of surprise on their side, he'd been brought back to D'Qar in chains.

He pauses when he sees her, no indication that she's anything more to him than a General of the Resistance, other than the soft curl of his lips.

And it pains her to admit that she still sees her son in his eyes. Sees the child that looked up at her in the middle of the night, sees the reflection of his father in them. But it's only the smallest part of him. The part almost entirely covered by the darkness within him, the darkness she tried so hard to deny.

She wonders if it was her, if it was Han. Wonders if it was anything they did that set their child down the same path her father walked. (Only, not her father, never her father. Where Luke could accept that, she never could. Because when she thinks of her father, she thinks of the summer nights on Aldaraan, when she looked at the stars and Bail Organa's voice told her of the stories behind the constellations. She thinks of the strong arms that picked her up when she fell, and of the way she'd crawl in to her parents' bed when she couldn't sleep, settling between them. When she thinks of Vader, she thinks of a monster behind a mask and a billion people silenced in one terrible act.)

His gaze slides off her easily, settling on the man by her side. And Leia doesn't need to look at Poe to feel the tension coming off him. She's grateful that Poe wasn't with them, grateful that he hasn't been cleared to fly yet. Not since last time. Not since Black One got brought down, and they lost Poe for too long, until he finally managed to escape. (She recalls the wave of relief that ran through the base when they'd realised that it really was Black One approaching, that it really was BB-8 requesting clearance to land. The relief hadn't lasted for long.)

Poe doesn't say anything as he turns and walks away, and Leia allows him that. Allows him the right to deny the man in front of him. Because Poe was silent for the longest time when he finally came back to them, and Leia refuses to force him to speak now. She watches as he leaves, and she thinks that, somewhere, Shara is watching her, just as Leia watches Poe. Watching her and cursing Leia for failing her son, for failing both their sons.

Because Leia sees Poe flinch when touched, when he's not expecting it. And then she sees him laugh it off with a smile that never reaches his eyes. And his pilots know, takes them barely a day to figure it out. Snap doesn't reach out and slap Poe on the back any more. Instead, he makes sure Poe can see him, telegraphs each move before it ever happens. The easy touches that went between Poe and his squadron seem have gone, vanished into the ether to be replaced by careful hands and fingers that reach out only to pull away before they connect.

She knows what happened to him, read the report from Kalonia. Because as much as she wanted to give him his privacy, to give Poe the dignity of coming to her of his own will, of telling her only as much as he wanted, she needed to know. And even though she told herself it was only because Poe is her best pilot, and she needed to know how long he would be grounded for, she knows it's more than that. Because she made the hands that caused every single mark on Poe's body, made the eyes that looked him over. And if Poe had to go through it, then Leia will as well. So she'd read the report, and took inside her every bruise, every burn, every cut. Took inside the broken bones and the bite marks and the violation of his body with the knowledge that her child did this, not because he had to or because he was forced, but because he wanted to.

When she turns back to the group in front of her, turns back to her son, he's not looking at her. His eyes are fixed on Poe, watching as he heads back into the base. And it sends a shudder through her to see the hunger in his eyes as he watches Poe, to see the way he licks at his lower lip as he realises that Poe still has a slight limp when he walks.

It's Karé who steps forward and breaks Leia's gaze. Karé who asks what they should do with the prisoner. And Leia can almost see her anticipating what the answer's going to be. They have cells, empty and dusty and at least half of them filled with spare parts for the X-Wings because there was nowhere else to store them. Cells that are set up to hold a Force user. (Because they learned. Maker, how they learned.)

They could, in theory, hold him there indefinitely. (And she'd get used to seeing her child from behind the static of a forcefield. Knowing that, at least, he wasn't out there.)

What she doesn't know is if she'd be able to look Poe in the eyes when she told him. Even if she told him that it was just temporary. That it was just until Luke got back from Ach-to. (And then what? Would Luke take him, try to bring him back to the Light. Would her brother ever trust her son as a Jedi again.) She could tell Poe that it was just until they could hand him over to stand trial for what he's done.

Only, the Republic is still pulling itself back together. Is still a shadow of its former self held together by the senators who hadn't been in the Hosnian system when Starkiller Base had fired for that one and only terrible time. They're scattered and depleted, and little more than a name banding the remaining members of the senate together while they try so hard to recover.

But even with all that, Leia knows what she should do. Her entire life has been shaped around the belief that one person should never have all of the power, that the rule of government should be just and true. And the tenants of the Sith, of those who would claim that name, go against everything Leia believes in. She should contact the Republic, tell them that they have Kylo Ren, tell them that he's waiting here for them to pick him up, to try him, to serve justice as they see fit.

And yet Leia still doesn't move. Doesn't head towards the control room to send a message out from D'Qar. Because it's about so much more than doing the just thing. It's about the way Poe struggled before he could even take a step without wincing in pain. It's about the way they nearly lost him twice, only the skill of Kalonia and her team keeping him with them. It's about the way BB-8 was the one who flew them back, the medical team having to almost peel Poe out of Black One when it landed. (She still thinks that it's something of a miracle that Poe managed to escape, given the state he was in when he finally returned to them. But maybe she shouldn't be surprised, maybe she should know that any child of Shara Bey and Kes Dameron would have the same fire in his veins that they did.)

But mostly, it's about the way Poe can still barely meet her eyes, like he doesn't want to remind her that her son was the one who did this. And Leia knows what she has to do.

She looks at Karé and nods. Because she heard the unspoken question in Karé's voice, can see it in the way Jessika is clenching her fist, and the way Snap has that look on his face that Leia has only ever seen there once before.

Karé's eyes widen for a brief second before she schools her features, the soft "Yes, ma'am--" saying a hundred other things that Karé doesn't need to voice.

She looks at their prisoner, clad in black and surrounded by a dozen pilots, all of whom call Poe their friend, as well as their Commander. And she sees it in his eyes when he realises, sees the smirk on his lips, like he hadn't expected anything else.

She knows what she's leaving him to when she turns and walks away. And part of her says she should be horrified with herself, for leaving her child in the hands of people who have every intention of ensuring he never walks away from where they're going to take him. But the rest of her knows that Ben is truly gone, that her son isn't coming back. That even if Luke managed to get Anakin back from Vader, they won't get Ben back from Kylo Ren. Because the last time she asked someone to try that, the Millennium Falcon came back without its pilot, and they buried an empty coffin with Han Solo's name on it.

The door slides closed behind her, blocking out the sounds from outside. Not that they'll stay on the landing pads. There are other places on D'Qar far more suited for what they have planned. And when they come back, there'll be one less person with them. And Leia knows they'll never talk about it, that what's about to happen will never be spoken of. Instead, they'll keep it inside of themselves. They'll keep it inside of themselves so Poe doesn't have to.

Karé won't tell her of how fists met flesh, blooming their anger into blues and purples. Snap won't tell her that the footprints he left mirrored the ones that took so long to heal on Poe. Iolo won't tell her how easy it is to break someone's bones. Jessika won't tell her how the knife she keeps in her flight suit opened skin so easily, dripping red onto the forest floor. And two squadrons will keep their silence.

They won't tell her of her child's final resting place, because he's not her child, not any more. She knows where Ben Solo died, she doesn't need to know the same of Kylo Ren.

And when it's over, when it's finally over, she'll watch as Poe slowly starts to reach out again. She'll smile when Snap touches his shoulder and Poe doesn't flinch away, when Karé leans over him and he doesn't hold his breath. She'll feel her heart pound when he goes up for his first mission, and feel it settle again when Black One lands, followed by the others who went with him.

Poe will heal, and Ren will never hurt anyone again. And Leia finds herself accepting that it's a fair exchange.

This is so fantastic!!! I love new takes on omegaverse. Tell me you'll post it to ao3 or something.

This is so brilliant and I absolutely adore this! This is my favorite!
Yes if you ever post this on AO3 please link it! I will kudos, comment, and bookmark for sure!!!

[A/N: Hey, nonny! This is also slightly inspired by the second comment to your prompt, which was just… delicious. I hope you enjoy!]

Academy Style

Frankly, General Hux has been expecting his antagonistic relationship with Lord Ren to take a physical turn for quite some time now. The fact that the turn has turned out to be sexual is vastly preferable to the outright violence he’d been predicting. Hux may be ambitious, but he’s also a realist, and he doesn’t fancy his chances in a fight with a Force user with poor impulse control.

What Hux did not expect, when Ren shoved him against the wall of this supply closet, stuck his tongue down his throat, and starting grinding against him desperately, was the monstrous size of Ren’s cock.

Hux eyes it in his hand warily, before glancing up at Ren. “That’s not going to fit in me,” he says. Hux is still mostly clothed, although his jacket and shirt are open, and Ren’s merely dropped his leggings underneath his cape, cloak, and tunic, pulling his tunic up high enough to expose himself.

“That’s not what you were saying a moment ago,” Ren says, as he undoes Hux’s belt.

“It’s not a question of desire, it’s a question of logistics.” Hux wraps both of his hands around Ren’s cock—as he expected, there’s plenty left over. Ren is a big man, but this is… this is just excessive.

Ren chuckles darkly and kisses Hux’s neck as he tugs Hux’s pants and undergarments down his hips, freeing his reasonably but respectably sized cock. “The great general, afraid of a little challenge?”

Ren splays a gloved hand over Hux’s stomach. His stomach contracts at the feel of the rough leather on his sensitive skin. He bites back a groan. “That’s not a little challenge.”

“Mmm,” Ren grunts noncommittally, and kisses him, squeezing his waist, rubbing his thumbs into the divots of Hux’s hips. Hux is not a small man, but Ren is making him feel that way. He hates that even as it makes his cock ache. “Turn around,” Ren says, breaking the kiss to breathe in Hux’s ear.

Hux grimaces. “I told you, you’re not—”

“You can’t take it, I know,” Ren says, grinding gently against him to make his breathing hitch. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.”

Hux eyes him warily, but turns, slowly. Ren slides his still-gloved hands over Hux’s stomach, pressing their bodies together, hooking his chin over Hux’s shoulder. His breath is hot on the side of Hux’s face. Ren begins to suck and bite at the joining of his neck and shoulders, sucking a bruise into the perfect spot for the collar of Hux’s uniform to brush against whenever he moves. An obvious maneuver, Hux thinks, as his cock leaks at the feeling of Ren’s wet mouth on his skin, but an effective one.

Ren slides his right hand up Hux’s chest to his own mouth. Out of the corner of Hux’s eye, he makes out Ren biting the fingers of his glove to pull it off. For a moment, Hux is seized by the idea of Ren stuffing his glove in his mouth to keep him quiet, but Ren, disappointingly, spits it to the floor.

He pulls his bare hand back, barely brushing against Hux’s skin. With his still-gloved left hand, he tweaks Hux’s left nipple, eliciting a groan. Then that hand withdraws as well.

There’s a clink of metal, a rustle of fabric, and the crass sound of Ren spitting into his hand. Hux feels Ren’s erection, wet with precome, rubbing at the cleft of his ass. “Ren,” he hisses, but then Ren’s spit-wet fingers are rubbing roughly at the meat of his inner thigh, knuckles brushing against Hux’s balls. Hux lets his head drop as he shudders, bracing himself against the wall by his forearms.

It takes Ren another pass to be satisfied with the state of Hux’s thighs, and then Ren pulls back, just enough for his cock to slide leisurely down the curve of Hux’s ass. Hux tenses for a moment, but then Ren pushes his cock between his thighs, cock head snagging on his testicles. Hux groans.

Ren presses his chest to Hux’s back, sliding his hands around Hux’s hips, resuming his previous position to nip at Hux’s ear. He’s ditched the remaining glove, to Hux’s disappointment. Ren thrusts experimentally between Hux’s legs, and makes a groaning noise that goes straight to Hux’s cock.

“You must be used to this,” Ren purrs, patronizingly, into Hux’s ear. He wraps a rough hand around Hux’s leaking cock. Hux swallows, thickly. “Academy style.”

Hux rolls his eyes. As if he’s not over a decade out of the Academy and more women than men have shared his bed in that time. He’s not actually familiar with this style, although he would never admit that to Ren. It never seemed worthwhile, when he took the trouble to take a male lover—the whole point, in Hux’s eyes, was to feel them, deep inside, not let them come on your thighs.

“Clench your thighs,” Ren orders. Hux presses his knees together and obeys. Ren makes another delicious groaning noise, making Hux’s cock ache. It feels like he’s riding Ren’s cock. Although with Ren’s sheer size, it’s more like straddling, Hux mentally corrects himself.

He feels swallowed up, acted upon, in a way that Ren actually fucking him wouldn’t feel. He can’t do much of anything but just let Ren take his pleasure on him. That’s not something he’d normally cede to Ren, but in this context, in this supply closet in the dead of ship’s night, it makes him ache, leak, and moan softly against the wall, its black, shining surface fogging with his breath.

“You’re so big,” Hux says, stupidly. He feels Ren’s teeth press against his shoulder—he’s smirking at him.

“I know,” Ren says, into his ear. “But I think you could take it. If you put your back into it.” Ren presses his thumb into Hux’s slit, and Hux gasps at the pressure, his eyes rolling back into his head.

He’s caught between Ren’s cock thrusting between his thighs, Ren’s hand working his cock, and Ren’s low, deep voice in his ear. His cock is aching so hard that his balls are tingling. “I’d have to work you open, first, with my fingers, just to stretch out that tight hole of yours. Regularly. I’d sneak you into supply closets and locked rooms just to finger you until you came screaming my name.”

Hux moans at the idea. “Sounds like—ah!—sounds like it would take some time,” he murmurs. His legs are starting to shake with the effort of keeping his thighs clenched around Ren’s cock. “Days. Weeks.”

“It’d be worth it,” Ren says. He’s starting to pant, his voice fraying at the edges, not unlike his helmet’s vocal distorter. “And then once I’d gotten you open, I’d plug you up with something, get you used to it. We’d have start small and work our way up. You’re probably so tight, you’d have to wear it all day.”

The idea of walking the halls of the Finalizer with something Ren shoved up him heavy in his hole makes Hux’s head swim. He grinds back on Ren as much as he’s able. “You should probably fuck me with those things before you leave them in me,” he offers.

Ren’s hips stutter, and his hand tightens on Hux’s cock. Hux hisses and fucks into Ren’s fist. “And then you’d be able to take this,” Ren says. Ren pulls back, dragging the head of his cock along Hux’s perineum—Hux tries to press against it, desperate for any pressure on his prostate—and then presses it against Hux’s hole, rubbing it up and down the cleft of his ass.

Hux struggles to stay upright, seized by both a bodily panic at the size of Ren’s cock and lust at the idea of being able to take Ren’s cock, stretched to his limit and made sore for days just for the privilege of being able to clench down around Ren and make him scream. “I’d feed it into you slowly, let you adjust.”

“And then?” Hux prompts. He can feel his balls tightening—he’s getting close. Ren thrusts back into his already dripping thighs, and Hux clenches around him. It’s close to what he wants, but it’s not close enough.

“And then I’d fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to stand up the next day,” Ren growls. “I’d come in you so hard you’d overflow. You’d be dripping with my come. Is that what you want, General?”

Hux groans at the use of his title in conjunction with the idea of being full of Ren’s come. Oh, if he could take Ren’s cock without tearing in half, he would. “Yes,” Hux hisses, and he turns his head to kiss Ren savagely.

After that, they fall silent, lost to the rhythm they’ve set. Ren comes, Hux’s thighs clenching around him, streaking Hux’s inner thighs with his seed. It’s a strange, wet feeling, to have his thighs soaked in Ren’s come, one that makes him ache. Hux fucks desperately into Ren’s fist, panting and whining, heedless of how wanton and wet he looks.

“You look good like that,” Ren sneers into his ear. “But I’d prefer to see my come dripping out of you.”

Hux comes with a whine at the idea of Ren’s come dribbling out of his red, overstretched hole, splattering the wall.

Ren recedes from him, leaving him cold, shaking, and suddenly aware that he’s still mostly dressed. Ren’s rapidly cooling come drips down his thighs. He presses his forehead to the cool steel of the wall. This could get out of hand, if he’s not careful.

He startles when Ren presses some rough fabric between his legs. “That better not be a rag covered in blaster oil,” Hux says, but it’s without heat. Ren says nothing as he finishes cleaning up Hux. He throws the come-soaked rag on the floor and pulls the tangle of Hux’s trousers and undergarments up, tucking him back in smartly. Ren’s bare hand on his oversensitive cock makes Hux’s mouth go dry.

Hux straightens up and refastens his shirt and jacket. As suspected, Ren’s bite has blossomed into a bruise that brushes up against his collar. He bites his lip at the feel of it. It’ll be worse tomorrow. He’ll feel it every time he turns his head.

Hux turns around and faces Ren. Ren is already dressed, helmet in his hands. They regard each other for a moment. Hux is uncomfortably aware of what he’s just done and with whom.

Hux coughs and makes for the door. Ren reaches out a powerful arm, hooking him by the waist. “Well,” Ren says, casually, “shall we start your training tomorrow?”

Oh, yes. Please post the training.

OH I'M SORRY I DIDN'T SEE THIS UNTIL NOW, but OP here, and yes, please do! I hope you started already as well.

It's the delicious intercrural-sex-in-a-supply-closet fic I've been waiting for, with a side helping of size kink and glove fetish! Yum.

This is very well written, in-character, too. Pleas do continue; I feel like you've really got some potential here! Your Kylo already made it clear what he would do, now all you need to do it write it!

Extremely hot! Thank you for writing this.

This was hot as hell, and oh so perfect!

...Whoa. Intense. I feel vaguely queasy, in a good way, because if I'm gonna read dark stuff I want to be affected. And I was. Good job!

Awwww... this is such a great start. Love it.

Oh goodness yes that was amazing

Omg turn this into a trilogy. Sequel: The Training ft. finger-fucking in more supply closets and progressively bigger butt plugs. Part 3: The Fucking. Epilogue: Hux really is sore for days. But wooorth it.

“It’s not a question of desire, it’s a question of logistics.”

TALK DIRTY LOGISTICS TO ME, GENERAL

Alright and thank you!

Beautiful nonnie, I wish I could embed the CHIRST ON A CROSS cat image doing the rounds on tumblr because THAT IS THE ONLY THING THAT DESCRIBES my feelings re: this fill

... the intercrural ... Hux, for a second thinking Ren is going to use the leather glove as a gag...

imnotokay

I love everything about this fill, but somehow it's the patting of Ren's hand at the end that kills me the most.

This was beautiful and so, so hot. I sincerely hope there will be additional parts.

OP here! Ooh, this was smoldering! Thank you so much!! This is everything I was hoping for.

[A/N: This is probably not cracky enough for this prompt, but… this… happened because of this delightful prompt, so here you go, nonny. Spot the quote from the Return of the Jedi novelization and win Internet bucks, good for… smut fills, I guess? IDK.]

The Peanut Gallery

lt.e.baggano
All I’m saying is that you cannot hate someone that much without touching their dick

lt.s.sing
or whatever situation he has we shouldn’t assume anything

lt.e.baggano
agreed. but i think my point still stands

lt.s.sing
oh, i totally agree, you can’t hate someone that much unless you’ve banged

“Do you think the Resistance speculates wildly about their superior officers’ private lives on Channel?” Lt. Mitaka says loudly, behind Lt. Sing and Lt. Baggano’s stations.

Sing yelps, blushes furiously, and covers her work station with her hands, but Baggano just looks back at him evenly, as if he’s caught her doing nothing out of the ordinary. To be fair, this is nothing out of the ordinary for Baggano.

“No, sir!” she says with relish. “I do not think for a moment that the Resistance splashed for the license on this software, no.”

Mitaka rolls his eyes. They’re all the same rank, but Baggano likes to call him “sir” when she thinks he’s getting too testy with protocol. It’s extremely patronizing. It’s also the closest thing to a nickname he has.

“Who are you two gossiping about, anyway?” Mitaka asks.

“General Hux and Lord Ren,” Sing offers, having recovered from being startled, her face slowly turning back to its normal brown color.

Mitaka goggles at them. “I’m sorry, what—”

Sing and Baggano are saved from having to answer him by a sudden siren. They turn to their stations diligently as Mitaka scuttles off to his.

What an absurd notion—General Hux and Lord Ren, of all people! But Mitaka can’t stop thinking about it in a horrified kind of way. General Hux is the very model of a modern First Order gentleman and quite handsome besides, in Mitaka’s opinion. And Lord Ren is… well, Mitaka doesn’t like to use strong language, even in private. And setting aside the fact that Force users are supposedly supposed to be celibate, they just hate each other so much. Once, Mitaka saw General Hux glare so venomously at Lord Ren that he, who had not even been in a five foot radius, felt like his face had been burned off.

The next time he sees Sing and Baggano—off-duty, training in the gymnasium—he has to ask.

“Why,” he asks, without greeting them, “would General Hux even be interested in Lord Ren?”

Sing looks up from the datapad she’s lazily leafing through. She’s supposedly spotting Baggano, who is doing those weird push-ups where you clap at the top, despite sitting in a chair she’s dragged over to the mats. “Because he’s a droid,” she answers, as if it’s obvious.

Mitaka gapes at her for a moment, before managing to sputter out: “But he breathes!”

“You put that much fabric on a droid that big and see how well the ventilation system holds up!” Sing says, jabbing a finger at him.

Mitaka turns to Baggano for some logical support, but Baggano grunts and shakes her head. “I know it sounds wacky, but hear her out.”

Mitaka rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Fine. So you’re saying that Lord Ren is General Hux’s personal…” he glances around the gymnasium, as if Lord Ren is going to leap out and attack him. “Pleasure droid?” he finishes, in a much quieter voice.

Sing laughs and clutches the datapad to her chest. “Don’t be silly. I think all the Knights of Ren are surveillance droids sent by the Supreme Leader to keep an eye on operations.” Before Mitaka can even begin to process that, he drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I mean, had you ever heard of the Knights of Ren until Lord Ren was assigned to the Finalizer?”

Mitaka thinks back. “Well, no,” he grants.

“And why would we need a Force user onboard? Have we ever run into any problem that would require the judicious application of the Force to fix?”

“No…” Mitaka says, but an obvious hole in Sing’s argument occurs to him. “But… droids can’t be Force users—only living beings can be Force users.”

Sing grins at him. “Smoke and mirrors, Mitaka! How would you or I tell if what Ren is doing is the power of the Dark Side… or sufficiently advanced technology?”

Mitaka doesn’t want to agree, but it is true—they would have no way of knowing. Sing barrels on. “And those stupid tantrums of his? Those are preprogrammed to throw us off the scent. Mitaka, have you ever even seen his face?”

“No—”

“That’s because the helmet is his face.” Sing spreads her arms wide as if to dare him to contradict her, datapad clutched in her left hand.

It’s… it’s very out there, as theories go, but it almost makes sense. It would certainly explain a lot about the mysterious Lord Ren.

Although not about the theory he actually came here to ask them apart.

“But if Lord Ren is a droid, according to you two—”

“I am completely agnostic on this subject,” Baggano protests.

“According to you,” Mitaka corrects himself, “then why would General Hux be interested in a droid?”

“Because General Hux is so perfect that only a droid could satisfy him,” Sing says rapturously.

“Sing’s in love with General Hux,” Baggano says, matter-of-factly. She yelps and falls to the mat when Sing kicks her in the arm.

“I am not in love with General Hux!” Her protest is loud enough that the trio hovering around the weights turns to stare at her. She blushes floridly (Mitaka marvels at how quickly she can go beet red) and stares down at her bare toes. “I just sometimes, you know, have this urge to mop his brow and comfort him and tell him how great he is…”
That’s rather sweet. Mitaka can’t deny he’s had the same impulse himself sometimes.

“…after I’ve railed him until he cries and he’s super-into it because he’s perfect,” she mumbles to the floor.

On second thought, Mitaka definitely doesn’t have the same impulse Sing has towards General Hux.

“What Sing lacks in confidence, she makes up for in ambition,” Baggano says amiably, popping to her feet. She gives Sing a sisterly slap on the back that makes her almost double over.

“I just don’t see it,” Mitaka confesses. “You make a really good case for the droid thing, I have to admit, but… the other thing…”

“The thing where they’re having sex?” Sing asks. They’re sharing a half-ration in the hangar bay, dangling their legs over the ledge they’re perched on. It’s very pleasant, Mitaka thinks, sitting here with her, talking about nonsense. They’re really hitting it off.

“Yes,” Mitaka says. “That. What makes you two think that?”

“Well,” Sing says thoughtfully, swallowing her mouthful of ration, “the way they hate each other just seems so intimate. Like… you know Thanisson?”

“Thanisson is the worst,” Mitaka says, automatically.

“Oh, yeah, Thanisson is the worst,” Sing agrees. “But I don’t think about him unless I have to look at him, right? I don’t spend my time upbraiding him for being so awful, or having arguments where our faces are so close that we could kiss.” They both make a face at the idea of kissing Thanisson. He looks about twelve. “Thanisson’s awfulness doesn’t affect me at all! It doesn’t keep me up at night, thinking of ways to punish him.”

Mitaka shudders. “You think General Hux stays up at night thinking of ways to punish Lord Ren?”

“I think General Hux thinks about Lord Ren a lot, is what I think.” Sing slaps Mitaka’s arm with the back of her hand. “I mean, look!”

Mitaka follows Sing’s line of sight to see General Hux and Lord Ren enter the hangar bay below them, accompanied by a trio of stormtroopers. They’re safely out of view, but Mitaka still experiences a jolt of instinctive fear whenever he actually lays eyes on Lord Ren.

They’re clearly arguing about something, but they’re too far away for him to make out what they’re saying. Looking at them through Sing and Baggano’s eyes, Mitaka suddenly notices how closely they’re standing together, how intently focused on Lord Ren the general is. When General Hux lays a hand on Lord Ren’s arm and Lord Ren angrily bats it away, it looks less the preface to a brawl and more like a lovers’ spat. Mitaka feels his face color.

“Oh, Ren,” Sing says under her breath in a nasal impersonation of the general, “I burn for the cold touch of your mechanical digits.”

Mitaka snort-laughs, despite himself. “Must you go away on some obviously fake mission for the Supreme Leader?” she continues. “I’d rather have you charging yourself nightly in my personal quarters.”

Mitaka takes the last bite of his ration and they watch Lord Ren wave his unignited lightsaber about to punctuate whatever point he’s trying and failing to make. General Hux waves off a stormtrooper who tries to get between them, puts his hands on his hips, and huffs. Mitaka is suddenly reminded of something.

“His pulse and breathing cannot quicken, but something in his chest becomes more electric around the General,” he recites from memory, adapting the passage to the situation at hand. “A feeling of fullness, of power, of dark and demon mastery—of secret lusts, unrestrained passion, wild submission—all these things were in Lord Ren’s heart as he neared his general. These things and more.”

Sing stares at him. There’s a smear of ration on her chin, Mitaka notices. “Mitaka, that is beautiful.”

Mitaka flushes with pride. “It’s, ah, from this terrible Imperial romance novel I used to read all the time at the Academy. It’s about…” Mitaka glances at General Hux and Lord Ren, who are now squaring off warily on the floor of the hangar bay. “Well, it’s about Emperor Palpatine and Lord Vader,” he whispers to Sing.

Sing grips his arm with her deceptively strong hand. “May I borrow it?”

“Don’t you two ever get nervous that General Hux and Lord Ren will find out what you’re saying about them? They say Lord Ren can read minds.”

Mitaka and Baggano are taking a shortcut through the senior officers’ quarters—Baggano much more leisurely than he is. He always feels nervous taking this shortcut and normally avoids it, but Baggano managed to bully him into it by virtue of being taller and louder than he is.

Baggano scoffs. “I don’t buy it. If Sing’s right, then he totally can’t. And if she’s wrong and he is a dream warrior or whatever? There are what, like, a million people onboard?”

“83,465 at last head count,” Mitaka says automatically. Baggano squints at him, clearly suppressing the urge to call him a nerd. They seem to be making some progress as friendly acquaintances, he thinks, although he prefers Sing’s quieter (although no less weird) company.

“Like I said, a million people. He probably gets so much interference that he can’t leave it running in the background without his head exploding. He probably has no idea who…”

Baggano trails off, distracted. She takes an exaggerated step backward and then flattens herself to the wall, pressing her ear to it.

“What is it?” Mitaka asks, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“It’s them!” she hisses at him. “It’s Lord Ren and General Hux!”

“What?”

Baggano shushes him, waving her arm at him theatrically. “I think…” Baggano says, and presses closer to the wall. “I think they’re fighting. Yeah, that’s definitely—”

Baggano’s face lights up with maniacal glee. “That’s definitely grunting.” She grins at him.

“Oh, I can’t know this,” Mitaka groans.

There’s a sudden screeching noise, and Baggano springs away from the wall as the nearest door opens. She grabs Mitaka’s hand, and Mitaka’s trying to shake her sweaty hand off when General Hux storms through the door in an imperious whirl of coat and glaring eyes, freezing them in their tracks.

He always cuts an imposing figure, but today Mitaka fixates on General Hux’s mouth. His lip is split, blood lurid on his otherwise pale face.

“What are you two looking at?” he snarls, and Mitaka wants to pass out. Baggano’s hand tightens on his.

“Nothing, sir!” she barks smartly, but she has to be nervous, too. Mitaka can tell, because Baggano, to his knowledge, does not usually have a Coruscanti accent.

The general’s nostrils flare, but this seems satisfactory—he continues storming off. Baggano yanks Mitaka along as she tries to peer into the room beyond, but the door’s already closed. Mitaka is so mortified that he just flees, dragging her along in the opposite direction of wherever General Hux is going.

“Did you see that? Lord Ren split his lip open!” Baggano hisses in his ear.

“Then they must have been fighting,” Mitaka hisses back. “It’s the simplest explanation!”

“Or General Hux tried to make out with an angry droid—oh my stars and garters, Sing was right!” Baggano cackles triumphantly all the way back down the hall, even as Mitaka maneuvers back exactly the way they came.

“Could someone please tell me why we can build a planet-sized superweapon and yet somehow not to dry a single tray?” Sing asks archly as she sits down next to Baggano in the canteen. Baggano ignores her, apparently trying to see how quickly she can scarf down her rations without getting sick.

“Well, Starkiller Base is way more more important than the trays,” Matt says, in his droning monotone. Sing squints as she eyes Matt warily. Mitaka makes pleading eyes at her. It was either sit with Matt or not sit at all. At least it wasn’t Thanisson.

“Mmm,” Sing says noncommittally. They eat in silence. Mitaka prays Matt will just finish up and leave immediately, because he wants to ask Sing what she thought of The Emperor’s Secret Temptation.

“So…” Matt says, and Mitaka groans internally, because it’s the familiar warmup to his favorite question in the entire universe. “What do you guys think of Kylo Ren?”

“Droid.” Sing says, primly sipping her coffee.

“Droooid,” Baggano singsongs.

“What?” Matt gapes at them, ill-fitting glasses sliding down his nose. He shoves them back up with a finger. “I’m… he’s not a droid. He’s a guy. Like, a really handsome, super ripped, totally regular guy.”

“Uh huh.” Baggano swallows her last mouthful of ration and scrunches her face up, sizing up Matt as if he’s a threat. Which, Mitaka knows, she considers any man with the audacity to be taller than her. (She’s not that tall.) “I got a question for you, Matt.”

“Is it about Kylo Ren?” he asks eagerly.

“General Hux and Lord Ren—totally boning, right?”

Maybe it was worth it to sit with Matt at luncheon today, Mitaka thinks, just to watch him turn every color of the rainbow.

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PROMPT POST #3 - CLOSED

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