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Just sayin' it again here: YES. And I'm massively flattered. <3

OP

You give me life, anon! :D

It's coercion wrapped up in gooey romanticism, too. It's so deceptive. And of course Rog would never imagine that his ex-girlfriend wouldn't want to marry him and have his Imperial babies. Bad move, Rog! :D

Just in case: this is finally on AO3, and still going! http://archiveofourown.org/works/6709552

Yessss! MOTHAFUCKIN SPACE BATTLES WITH SPACE SHIPS IN SPACE OMFG! I was fist pumpin all the way through that and then I slithered over to your tumblr and read ch3 and it was EVEN BETTER and I just started singing some bizarro theme song that I made up, yo check these A+ lyrics:

Pew pewpew!
STAR WARS!
Pew pewpew pew pew!
ACTION HUUUX!

Because space battles make me happy. Because EPIC AMOUNTS OF DETAIL and tactics and competence and peril and PEW PEW make me very happy. Because, for real, I was just reading the TFA incredible cross-sections book and nerding out about the troop transports. Because First Order vs Thirst Order is the showdown I never knew I wanted. Because Action Hux!! Because Action Hux keeps it at 100, always, and everybody just gotta strap themselves in and deal. Because Kylo doesn't even know (yet????) that he's at the center of a massive and violent tug of war or that Hux has elbowed his way into the fray to be severely annoyed at the situation in person. Because there's another Knight of Ren on the loose! *HOOTS AND HOLLERS* *BANGS POT AND PANS* *BURSTS INTO FLAMES* THIS. IS. MY. JAM.

Also I think Hux/The Finalizer Crew is my brotp or squad goals or something because this:
The entire bridge shifted to salute in an audible snap of fabric, one moment of brief silence in the midst of the mayhem that was battle. Hux nodded firmly to his crew, fierce joy burning through his chest, before he turned neatly on his heel and stalked out.

MADE ME "AWWW" OUT LOUD.

Can this please happen?!

The congratulations do not end, and all blur into one. Hux hangs on Rog's arm, her face numb from smiling after only a few minutes. Landa bustles up to them with even more sickly sweet tipple, his smile blinding and sincere. "I didn't know he was going to do that!" he tells Hux, clapping her on the back. "I really, truly did not."

Hux doesn't even raise her glass. "Oh, didn't you?"

"Don't be modest, Landa." Rog nods at him. "I nearly got cold feet. He talked me into doing it after all."

"I merely suggested that if he was serious about this whole marriage scheme, he ought to pop the question before it was too late."

"Too late for what?" Hux asks.

"Before some other guy swept you off your feet, of course." Rog puts his arm around Hux.

Despite herself, Hux relaxes against Rog's body. It's hard not to. "Please. Do you really think I'm the type to be 'swept off my feet' by anyone?"

"I was kind of hoping you'd make an exception for me." Rog kisses her on the cheek.

"You can do all the sweeping you'd like after Starkiller is safely finished and operational."

"That long, Boudi?"

"It's less than a year."

"I don't know if I can wait that long." Rog kisses her again, pressing his mouth to her neck.

"You'll have to. Starkiller can't be delayed. Our wedding can." The word feels strange in Hux's mouth. "Our wedding," she says again, trying to get used to the phrase.

"Er, General?"

Hux vaguely recognizes the officer who's trying to get her attention as one of Mitaka's junior officers. She doesn't think she cares to be congratulated by someone so subordinate. "It can wait."

"It can't--I'm so sorry--" The officer squeaks. "It's a KR situation, General. Room TVC-15." She must be new, Hux thinks. And spending too much time around the stormtroopers.

"Oh, for--" Hux pulls away from Rog and smoothes back her hair. A few strands of her copper coif seem to have gotten loose, and they're frizzing to life in the close, humid quarters. "I'll just be a moment, Rog." Two. Three. The rest of the party.

"Cadet." Anson detains her with the lightest touch of his metal hand as she's about to leave the lounge. "You aren't really going to leave your fee-ancy all on his lonesome in this crowd of old buzzards to go deal with some foofaraw, are you? That's what you've got lieutentants for."

"Duty first, Admiral," Hux says briefly, trying to step around him. "If Rog could hold off a swarm of Resistance fighters, he can certainly suffer another round of whiskey and claps on the back."

Anson's pointed eyebrows drew together. "Must be a big one, then. Need backup?"

"Thank you, no."

"I'm serious, Cadet. This old war boar's got some life in him. I won't have you running off to face mortal danger by yourself--come to think of it, if your man was any kind of man, he'd be right at your back."

Hux takes a deep breath. She knows it will sting when she says it, and she curls her hands into fists behind her back. "I am no longer your cadet, and right now I've put myself on duty. If I wanted backup, I'd get my own men. This matter needs to be dealt with by me, alone."

She expects Anson to chide her, even to detain her if he was bold enough. It's something she remembers from the sodden academy on Arkanis, the nights when she'd do her level best to slip out of the human womens' dorm, run through the rain and let Rog reward her with an offer to take her wet clothes, to dry her off with his body heat. Half the time, Anson would stop her at the door with a metal hand and an outstretched arm; half the time, he'd cough and look the other way. She pinches her hand to steel herself for the sting of his disapproval.

"Well." Anson puts his metal hand behind his back, formally, and gives her a two-fingered salute. "General, as you were." He turns on his heel and swings stiffly back into the lounge.

Hux breathes out and starts to walk, very quickly. Of course the idiot would be in the observation deck. She cannot have this on her ship. It's one thing to rub shoulders uncomfortably with an unpredictable masked man with extremely odd psychic powers--whatever "the Force" might be--but it's another thing to have him thinking he's got some kind of say in her personal life. That's a path to disaster.

She reaches TVC-15 and slams her hat onto her head. The door slides open to the sound of buzzing Dopplering from top to bottom. A few small explosions form and fade in her ears.

The durasteel bench is twisted, torn from its position, hovering in mid-air. Kylo Ren is taking vicious strikes at it with his lightsaber, his pale skin glowing in the spitting red light. Several slices out of it already glow red.

At least it's not something important, like an instrument console. Hux can probably mount this as a piece of neo-Imperial art, something about the brutalism of form. She'll put a damn sofa in here. Nearly nobody but her comes here, anyway. Kylo Ren's anger problems aren't her issue; it's when they interfere with the functioning of her ship that she has any reason to care.

After a few minutes, Ren's shoulders slump and his lightsaber lowers. Hux can see him panting, his chest heaving. There are beads of sweat on his chest. It's ridiculous and utterly dramatic, and she might as well leave him here alone until he tires himself out or throws himself out into space. Then perhaps she'll seal off this useless compartment forever.

Over at AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7095946

Hope you like it!

(Oh boy, I thought this would be funnier but it got very dark, very fast, and Kylo is a creepy, space-invading flirter. The ending is happy and fluffy though because I am weak.)

Hux eyes Kylo’s offering the way one might a particularly dangerous animal. ‘What are you doing, Ren?’ The demand is dripping with scorn, Hux’s face twisting into a sneer.

‘Giving you flowers.’ Kylo hisses back, shaking the bouquet in his hand in Hux’s direction.

Hux narrows his eyes, glaring alternately at Kylo and his gift. ‘You’ve brought potentially hazardous materials on-board my ship-’

‘Our ship. And they’re just flowers.’ Kylo mutters.

Hux ignores his interruption. ‘Safety protocols exist for a reason, Ren, though I’m not surprised you disregard those as easily as you do others.’

Kylo can feel his face heating under his mask, is glad Hux can’t see it. The general has a particular talent for making him feel foolish and his anger rises at this latest rejection. He throws the bouquet forcibly to the deck, watching his carefully chosen flowers scatter into crushed pieces. ‘They’re for you. Do what you want with them.’ Kylo stalks off, casting challenging stares at the gathered crowd of crewmembers to make them cringe away, their reactions soothing some of his wounded pride. Confronting Hux in public had probably been a bad move, but he’d had such hopes for the flowers working that he hadn’t thought it through.

When Kylo returns to his quarters he places his mask carefully on a table then flops onto his couch, datapad in hand. He frowns at the book open on the screen. Despite its promising name, The Complete Guide to Wooing the Being of Your Affections (Human Edition) is proving to be rather less than helpful in said activity. The author had seemed very confidant in assertions that humans liked flowers, especially ones with pleasing scents. Kylo sighs and marks off the section as tried and failed, he’s starting to have several such notations next to different parts of the book.

He flips idly through the pages, stopping as a paragraph catches his eye. ‘Most humans are very open to flattery and compliments on their appearance are an excellent way to start a conversation.’ It seems like a fairly basic method of flirting and Kylo wonders why this piece of advice wasn’t mentioned earlier. After pondering for a moment what kind of compliment he could give Hux, Kylo decides to go for the most obvious target: Hux’s uncommon hair colour. He’s always wanted to touch it, as though the colour would somehow make it feel different than anyone else’s hair, and this is the perfect excuse to get his hands on Hux.

Kylo waits until a late shift when Hux is on duty and the bridge staff is minimal. He finds Hux working on something in a semi-isolated corner and comes up behind him, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts.

‘Ren.’ Sensing his presence, Hux turns to scowl at him, straightening his posture to equalise their heights as much as possible.

The cold derision in those green eyes throws him off and left unsure how to continue Kylo simply launches right into his latest line. ‘You have pretty hair.’ He reaches out as he speaks, daring to tangle his gloved fingers into the red strands and tug lightly.

There’s an inhuman snarling noise and then Kylo’s hand is being twisted so hard he shrieks in pain, falling to his knees from the pressure. ‘Get your fucking hands off me.’ Hux’s voice is low and harsh as he finally lets Kylo go and backs away.

Kylo cradles his injured wrist to his chest, watching Hux warily for another attack, but the general seems more shaken than hostile now. His breathing is unsteady, face pale with fury as his fists clench and relax convulsively, eyes wide with something that almost seems like panic. Hux flees before Kylo can say or do anything else and he’s left staring at the worried, unsure faces of the bridge crew. ‘Get back to work.’ He hisses venomously at them as he struggles to his feet.

His wrist isn’t that badly damaged and he’s able to tend to it himself in his own quarters, still puzzling over Hux’s extreme reaction. Kylo pulls up the book on his datapad again, tapping his fingers against it in thought before making another of his notations beside the section about compliments. He can’t figure out how that particular overture had gone so badly but he’s undeterred in his mission and optimistic that the next will go better, he’s sure that Hux will give in eventually if he only tries hard enough. The trick is in finding the correct thing that appeals to Hux and makes him receptive to Kylo’s proposal of going on a date.

The next time Kylo makes sure they’re alone, surreptitiously following Hux down a hallway until it’s deserted.

Something tips Hux off though and he rounds on Kylo first, glaring. ‘Do you need something, Ren?’

‘I want to fuck you.’ Kylo blurts out, cursing at his clumsiness, he had been going to try to be a little less blunt, and maybe take his helmet off but his anxiety got the better of him.

Hux looks utterly horrified for a moment and then his face changes to a blank expressionless mask. ‘No.’ His voice is as vacant as his eyes.

Nervousness is replaced by anger at Hux’s lack of response to his earnest confession. ‘Why are you always so cold?’ Kylo snaps back at him. ‘Is it too much to ask that you show me a little courtesy, we’re supposed to be co-commanders.’

The words seem to break Hux’s trance and he’s suddenly as angry as Kylo, green eyes filling with such pure rage that Kylo unconsciously steps backwards. ‘A little courtesy involves letting you fuck me? And you wonder why we don’t work well together. You’re disgusting, Ren.’ Hux spits his name out as if it makes him sick.

Biting his tongue until he can taste blood is the only way Kylo refrains from saying something he knows he’ll regret later and he leaves without another word.

He sulks in his rooms for awhile, hurt by Hux’s barbed comments. Maybe he shouldn’t have just started in with a request for sex but Hux didn’t have to be so cruel about rejecting him. Kylo flips despondently through the dating book again, no other ideas sound any better than what he’s tried and he sighs in frustration, throwing the datapad into a wall to relieve some of his anger.

Hux has a easy, affable rapport with the delegate from the planet they’re orbiting. It’s so insignificant that Kylo can’t even recall the name of the world and yet Hux is talking with the woman like she’s an old and treasured friend. Kylo feels a surge of jealousy as he watches them, he’s never seen Hux act like this before and the fact that it’s directed at someone else makes him angry as well. His hand closes on his lightsaber and he only resists the urge to destroy something with great effort, partly because he’s loath to leave the two of them alone with each other.

When the woman finally departs he doesn’t even wait for the hangar to clear out before he confronts Hux. ‘So it’s alright if other people flirt with you, just not me?’ He uses every extra inch of his height to loom over the general.

‘Who I choose to talk to is none of your business, Ren.’ Hux tries ineffectually to match Kylo’s threatening stance. ‘You don’t own me.’ His voice shakes slightly on the denial, which Kylo takes as a sign that he’s going to start yelling again.

Kylo pulls off his helmet and drops it to the deck nonchalantly, then slams a hand against the wall next to Hux’s head as he leans in to kiss him. Blood coats his tongue when Hux bites him but Kylo had half-expected that and it doesn’t discourage him, it’s occurred to him that the reason Hux is so vicious is because he likes it rough. He traps Hux against the wall when he starts to struggle but he doesn’t really want to push too far and he backs off after Hux bites him again. Kylo smirks as he wipes the blood off his lips, the accompanying sarcastic remark never making it out of his mouth.

‘Fuck you.’ Hux growls, blanching as he realises what he’s said, pressing his back into the wall and glancing quickly around as if searching for an escape route. Kylo almost laughs but there’s something about the way Hux is acting that makes him uneasy. There’s a tension in his body that isn’t the anticipated arousal, his posture somehow defensive and he won’t meet Kylo’s eyes. Disquieted, Kylo doesn’t say anything else, merely retrieves his helmet and walks off.

Despite Hux’s strange reactions to his attempts at flirting, Kylo is determined to try again. He waits for Hux in a strategic location next to a control room that he purposely cleared of personnel.

When Hux shows up Kylo practically shoves him into the room, locking the door before lunging towards him. He grabs Hux’s wrist, manoeuvring him against the wall to pin him in place with his body, intent on restraining him even as Hux struggles in Kylo’s grip, twisting to try to free himself or land a blow. He’s more than prepared though and blocks Hux’s attempts with a growing contempt as the general’s efforts become more desperate and less effective.

Hux’s head suddenly jerks up and when Kylo looks into his eyes he falls - he’s being forced down onto a bed, ‘Pretty whore.’ whispered in his ear before a hand wrenches his head back, teeth sinking into his exposed neck. Hux tries to fight back but the man is so strong and he bites back a scream as his arm is twisted behind his back, something breaking with a sickening noise. Don’t scream, don’t cry. He repeats the litany to himself, turning his face into the sheets to smother his whimpers as the man holds him down, ‘Don’t worry, you’re going to enjoy this.’, and then there’s nothing but pain - Kylo screams in fear and anger, grabbing for Hux and heaving them both out of the terrible memory.

Frightened green eyes stare into his own, an awful, broken terror that threatens to pull Kylo back into the past even as he struggles to process the images he’s seen. ‘No.’ He isn’t sure which of them says it. Kylo wants to scream again, to kill, to hold Hux and swear to him that no one will ever hurt him again but he’s frozen in place.

Hux is tense under him, his face twisted into a snarl of rage and Kylo unthinkingly pushes him back into the wall when he tries to get away. The defiance drains out of the general, his shoulders slumping and his expression changing to defeated resignation. ‘Are you going to fuck me?’ Hux asks quietly, his voice small and trembling.

It’s not how Hux should sound and Kylo’s hands clench as he fights to control his anger. ‘No.’ The denial is useless, he can tell Hux doesn’t believe him even before the general’s eyes flicker over to the side. Kylo follows the glance, sees his own hand gripping Hux’s wrist and he’s suddenly acutely aware of how tight his grasp is, he can feel the grate of bones under skin, the frantic pulse of Hux’s heartbeat. It’s the same wrist that was broken during Hux’s assault and Kylo releases him as his anger swells again, mixed with horror. ‘No. No.’ He turns and draws his lightsaber in one smooth movement to release his rage and hate the only way he can, in destruction.

The repetitive motion of his blade rising and falling is soothing, the screech of metal tearing calming his nerves. When the room is in shambles Kylo looks back at Hux to find that he hasn’t budged. He’s still huddled against the wall where Kylo left him, arms crossed defensively, his eyes wary in the fear of a trapped animal as he tracks the knight’s movements. The general is gone, replaced by a terrified redhead who looks too young and vulnerable to be wearing a First Order uniform, as if he’s a child playing dress-up in his father’s clothes.

The jarring image helps curb the jagged edges of Kylo’s anger, he can’t stand to see Hux so afraid and know that he’s to blame for some of that fear. He crosses back over to stand in front of Hux, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible but his voice is harsh despite his efforts. ‘Where is he?’

Hux cringes away and for a moment Kylo thinks he hasn’t even heard the question, that he’s withdrawn completely. ‘Dead. He’s dead.’

Kylo growls in frustrated satisfaction. ‘If he wasn’t I would kill him. Tear him apart and make him beg for mercy at your feet.’

That makes Hux glance up quickly, eyes widening in surprise not fear, but he drops his gaze just as fast. With no convenient living target for his violence, Kylo closes his eyes in an attempt to steady himself but all he can see is the terrible visions of Hux’s past.

When he opens them again Hux has uncurled slightly, staring at him in a plaintive curiosity. ‘You’re upset.’ Hux directs the observation to the floor before looking back up at Kylo again. ‘Why are you so upset?’

Kylo stares at him in stunned silence before finally finding his voice. ‘Because he hurt you. I care about you, I-’ Trust him to pick the worst possible time for a confession but he’s come this far and he’s not going to retreat now. ‘I love you, Hux.’

Unsurprisingly, the words bring a familiar sneer back to Hux’s face. ‘You don’t love me. You only want what he wanted. This.’ Hux makes a disdainful gesture at his own body.

‘That’s not true-’ Kylo protests.

‘Then why didn’t you stop?’ Hux whispers, hugging himself and flinching away as if expecting to be hit. ‘I told you no and you just kept harassing me.’

‘I thought you were playing hard to get.’ Kylo winces at his own pathetic excuse, feeling sick as Hux shudders. ‘He said that to you.’

‘Something like that.’ Hux mutters without elaborating.

He can practically see the parallels that Hux has drawn between the man who raped him and Kylo. ‘Hux, I would never hurt you. I won’t force you into anything you don’t want. If you ask me to stop, I will. I promise.’

There’s something calculating in the way Hux is studying him now, the same look he gets when he’s analysing a battle. ‘Then stop, Ren. I’m saying no.’

Kylo bites back the flare of disappointment, this isn’t about him and he can keep his desires private if it means Hux will feel safe around him again. ‘I understand.’ He moves to the back of the room, giving Hux space to leave.

The next few months are only made bearable by the fact that Hux actually warms up to him slightly. He doesn’t automatically argue with Kylo every time he makes a suggestion and the first time he agrees with Kylo is such a shock that the knight has trouble believing the event actually happened. At some point Kylo realises that they might almost be friends, or at least not bitter enemies anymore. It’s not what he truly wants but it’s enough.

The negotiations should have been simple and quick had the Resistance not shown up unexpectedly. Kylo’s first priority is to get Hux out of harm’s way and he drags him bodily through the forest back to their shuttle. They make it back with minimal fighting only to discover that they’ve been pursued by several Resistance members. Shoving Hux behind him to protect the general, Kylo deflects the blaster bolts aimed at them before launching himself at their attackers with single-minded purpose.

Hux’s shouted warning comes too late as one of his opponents flanks him and pain sears across his nerves. Kylo falls to his knees in a curiously slow movement, Hux’s voice distorted as he screams something else in rage. Then a hand grabs Kylo and he’s being dragged across the ground, the red glow of his own lightsaber somewhere overhead, reflecting in ferocious green eyes and bared teeth. The hallucination of Hux is beautiful and wild, and Kylo grins as he slips into blackness.

‘Don’t you fucking die on me, you bastard.’

Kylo opens his eyes to blink at the institutional ceiling of a medbay. His body is a vague sensation of almost pain behind the drugs and he can feel something squeezing his hand tightly.

Hux is sitting next to him, raking a trembling hand through messy hair, his uniform bloody and half-stripped off. He doesn’t seem to notice that Kylo is awake but he’s talking to him anyway, mumbling pleas for him to live while glaring down at their joined hands as if it’s Kylo’s fault he can’t let go. ‘If you die, I’ll kill you…’ Hux trails off as he realises that Kylo is alert.

‘Hux.’ He barely croaks the name out before Hux is kissing him hard, the general tastes like ashes and sweat, and when he pulls back there’s blood on his lips. Kylo expects him to grimace and wipe it off but instead he licks at it absently, the action even more arousing for how unaware of it he seems to be.

His semi-delirious state makes the whole episode seem wonderful and Kylo grins widely in pleased triumph. Hux laughs too, sounding more than a little hysterical himself and smiles back, it’s faint but it’s the first time Kylo has ever seen him genuinely smile. The expression lights up his face, as if his mouth is made for smiling and Kylo reaches up to trace his lips in distracted glee. ‘You should smile more often.’

Hux just shakes his head in exasperation but the smile stays as Kylo’s hand drops away. ‘Are you still in love with me?’

‘Always, forever.’ Maybe he shouldn’t have said it so bluntly but in his drug-induced haze it seems right.

Hux flushes at the admission and as Kylo starts to wonder what’s happening, Hux blurts his next words out. ‘Do you want to come to my quarters for drinks? Just drinks.’ He clarifies hastily.

‘You’re asking me on a date?’ Kylo asks, thrilled.

‘I’m not sure if I’d call it that.’ Hux protests, eyes narrowing.

‘Yes, Hux. I’d like to have a date with you.’ He pulls the general back down for another slow, lingering kiss.

This turned out angsty, and not at all what I had intended to write. Rey fought me every step of the way. I really, really hope you don’t hate this, OP. There’s no smut either, I’m so sorry about that, I can’t write it! The end is fluffy, though, so there’s that? Title comes from Firelight Waltz by Fountains of Wayne.

“Attachments in general are forbidden,” Luke tells her, his body fuzzy over the Holochannel’s weak connection. “That includes love as well.”

Rey sighs and breaks eye contact with Luke. “But you loved, and deeply, too.” She protests, though she doesn’t speak either person’s name: Ben Skywalker, now Kylo Ren. And, on a whole different level, Mara Jade.

Luke swallows, though the peaceful look doesn’t fade from his face. “Yes I did, and both nearly destroyed me. There is a reason why the Jedi’s enforced the rule, and why every Master teaches their Padawan’s of the danger of falling in love, and how it leads to the dark side.”

Rey scowls, and upon meeting her Master’s eyes, exhales and lets her turbulent emotions slide away into the Force. She still doubts, but her mind is at ease now. Luke smiles, sensing her peace even over the light years separating them.

“Contact me should you need me.” Luke says. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Rey nods and smiles, feeling a surge of affection for her Master. “Of course, Luke.” Even after months of training, she doesn’t call him by his title. Luke never seemed bothered by her reluctance to address him as such, and when she finally brought the topic up to him, he waved it off. He was more concerned with teaching her the ways of the Jedi, and guarding her from the temptations of the dark side. Titles were of little to no concern to him.

Luke bows and gifts her with one of his rare, gentle smiles. “May the Force be with you.” Rey bows as well, and repeats the farewell. The Holochannel’s connection cackles and then flickers off, leaving her standing alone in her empty room in the Rebel base.

Rey closes her eyes for a moment. She summons her lightsaber to her hand with a flick of her index finger. As her weapon settles into her hand, she smiles. Poe is waiting for her in the training room, and she doesn’t wish to keep him waiting any longer.

((()))

The reason for her talk with Luke is because of Finn. She’s been uncertain of where they stand since she left him, injured and unconscious, to meet up with the Jedi Master. Since her return a month and two weeks ago, they’d easily settled back into their friendship, though it’s initially been difficult to do so. Finn has been little terse with her, the first four days, but after a training session which left her with a bruise on her cheek, and Finn with a busted lip, they’d put their differences aside and talked.

Once the air had been cleared, she’s gone back to being Finn’s friend, and she’s happy. He is her first friend, and he’s had her back during a difficult, trying time. He’d come back for her, along with Poe Dameron, and helped her escape from the Resistance’s clutches.

However, she’s noticed that she is jittery in Finn’s presence. She finds herself blushing for no reason when her eyes meet his, or if their arms brush while walking or sitting. When she isn’t with him, Finn is constantly in her thoughts. She wants to spend as much time with him as possible.

A little research, and an impromptu girl’s talk with Jessika Pava, reveals what she should have figured out herself: she’s in love with Finn. She knows she’s in trouble.

And so, she contacts Luke.

((()))

Her training session with Poe is satisfying. She wipes her sweaty hair from her brow and grabs her canteen and takes a long sip. Poe moves to her side and elbows her gently. His face, lightly sheened with sweat, glistens under the room’s soft lighting.

“Are you going to join Finn and I in the mess hall?” Poe asks.

Rey’s heart races just hearing Finn’s name. “Of course.”

Poe nods and grabs his shirt from where he’s carelessly thrown it on a bench. “Great! I’ll see you there in fifteen minutes.”

She waves as Poe exits the training room, and closes her eyes. She needs to get moving, so she has enough time to shower and change. She can do this. Jedi don’t love. She is a Jedi; she can resist any and all temptations.

((()))

She can’t take her eyes off of Finn, even as she sits down across from him and places her tray on the table. Poe and Finn are talking animatedly about the newest flight suits the Rebellion has purchased. Her eyes move over his face, tracing features she now knew by heart.

Her gaze moves to his lips. They are full and perfectly formed. She wants to bite them and soothe away the hurt. She dreams of licking them, and she imagines the way he’ll moan and pull her body closer to his. She wants to make him scream her name. She knows, deep within her soul, that she can satisfy him in ways no other woman can.

She wants to make him hers. She’ll make him so happy, he’ll never want anyone else. She knows, at the same time, that she can’t do anything about her feelings and she needs to release them to the Force. Attachments and love lead to the dark side.

“Rey?” The object of her thoughts is calling her name. She starts and realizes she’s staring over Finn’s shoulder. She forces a smile she doesn’t feel onto her face. Finn’s eyes, as they meet hers, burns to her very core.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you. My mind has been all over the place today.” Rey apologizes.

Poe laughs and picks up his napkin. “Our training was intense. It’s okay to admit that I tired you out.”

Rey scoffs and throws her spoon at Poe with unerring accuracy. Poe sputters and rubs at his arm, where the spoon hit him, but the indignation melts off his face and is quickly replaced with a laugh. Rey can’t help joining in, Poe’s jovial laugh infectious.

Finn is frowning at her, which is worrisome. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Rey nods and pokes at her food. She can feel that Finn is still watching her, and her stomach churns under the weight of his gaze. To her embarrassment, she can feel her cheeks heating. She quells the desire to fidget. She starts as Finn’s hand, warm and slightly calloused, clasps hers.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” Finn sounds not only worried, but uncertain. She hates that she’s made him worry about her and feel as if she were hiding something, no matter how correct his assumption may be. She’s dealing with her feelings for him as best as she can, and she doesn’t want anything she’s going through to ruin their friendship.

“Of course I would, Finn,” Rey assures him. The dishonesty lies heavy on her shoulders, but she can’t tell him yet, not until she’s conquered her feelings for him.

Finn’s face relaxes upon hearing her words. Poe rests a hand on Finn’s shoulder, squeezes gently and then turns to Rey. His eyes dance with what Rey recognizes as mischief, and she feels an answering smile tug at her
lips.

“Finn and I have been planning out a truly epic prank over the last few days,” Poe says.

Finn chuckles and moves as if to take his hand away, but Rey stubbornly twines her fingers through his. She refuses to look at him, even as her cheeks heat, and her mind screams at her to let him go. Finn tenses for a moment before he relaxes. Her thumb strokes the top of his hand. She turns her attention back to Poe.

“…And we’re certain that a certain amazing Jedi is what we need to make this happen!”

((()))

Rey dreams that she’s back on Jakku. The heat from the desert is suffocating; she’s running from something, but she isn’t sure what it is. The sand slows her down. She falls to her knees, her breath catching in her throat, and cries. The tears dry on her face from the intense heat leaving salt behind.

A hand cups her cheek. She looks up and into Finn’s eyes. The irises are black nearly obscuring the white of the eyes. A scream dies in her throat as Finn pulls her to her feet. His arms, strong as steel bars, wraps around her waist. The heat of his body, even through their clothes, is a different kind of torture from the unrelenting desert sun.

“I’ve been searching for you, Rey,” Finn says. He presses a kiss against her sweaty cheek. “They tried to take you from me.”

Rey shakes her head. “I don’t understand, what’s happening?” She’s mortified to hear her voice breaking.

Finn rests his head on top of hers, and hums a melody she can’t place. When he speaks, he sounds almost bored. “The Jedi order. We ran here so that we can be together.”

“What?” Rey cries. She attempts to pull away, but Finn easily keeps her close. She reaches for the Force, but it is missing. The connection she feels to the Force, always in her mind, is absent, the place where it resides like a giant hole.

“Don’t worry,” Finn presses another kiss to the top of her head. “We can be together now.”

“No,” Rey argues. She hates that her heart races upon feeling Finn’s lips against her skin, no matter how wrong the situation is. “This isn’t right.”

Finn chuckles. His left hand cups the back of her head. “This was your idea, Rey.”

He tilts her head back with the hand cupping the back of her head. She opens her mouth to speak, but she’s silenced, quite effectively, as Finn’s lips press against hers. She feels as if she’s drowning in sensation, her body on fire. She melts against Finn’s body and all is forgotten.

((()))

The next morning, Rey attempts to keep the dream out of her thoughts. It’s difficult to do, as she spends the day with Finn. Their epic prank is put on hold, as Poe is unexpectedly called away on a recon mission. Finn is sulky and dejected because he wasn’t chosen to go along with the Rebel pilots.

Rey is a good friend and listens to Finn’s complaints as she fine tunes her lightsaber. Finn sits across from her, their knees nearly touching, as her quarters are so small. Rey looks up as Finn lapses into silence.

“Is something wrong?” Rey asks Finn. “Aside from the obvious, that is.”
Finn shrugs. He seems uncomfortable. It is almost a full minute before he finally is able to speak. “It’s just…every time I feel like I belong, and I’m part of something, something comes along and makes me feel like I’m one word or action from having everything taken away.”

Rey takes a moment to sort through Finn’s jumbled explanation. “You don’t feel as if the Resistance wants you here?” Finn shakes his head. “You know that’s not true. You’re one of them. We both are. And even if the worst happens and you are turned away by the order, Poe and I are sticking by you. We’re not letting you go. I’m not letting you go. You’re mine.”

Finn’s eyes fly to hers upon hearing the possessiveness in her tone. Rey flushes, but refuses to take back what she’s said. Her emotions are turbulent and all over the place; she feels rage at the mere suggestion of the order turning Finn away, protectiveness at the hurt in his voice and, finally, possessive over Finn, from his happiness to his well-being. The air around them is charged. The weight of her emotions, channeled through the Force, is electric. The hair on her arms is standing straight up.

“Rey,” Finn begins, uncertain.

Rey places a finger against Finn’s lips to silence him. The skin of his lips is silky against the tip of her finger. She unconsciously licks her lips at the feeling. “You don’t have to say anything, Finn. I’m merely speaking the truth.”

The room is quiet, save for both of them breathing. The air around them sparks from her power. The tension is palpable as Finn sits frozen, his eyes locked with hers, her finger still resting against his lips. Finally, slowly, Finn nods his acceptance.

The tension breaks. Her power releases with a soft burst of air that ruffles both her and Finn’s hair. Finn looks around, confused, but doesn’t ask the question that is probably on his mind. She strokes his bottom lip as she removes her finger and sits back.

“Okay then,” Rey claps her hands. “I need to meditate, so how about I meet up with you for dinner?”

Finn seems grateful for the escape she presents him, if his ready agreement is any indication. She watches as Finn gets to his feet and, without meeting her eyes, exits the room with a half-hearted wave.

Rey buries her face in her hands and bites her lip hard enough to draw blood. She allows one moment of panicked breathing before she exhales and climbs to her feet. She looks to her index finger before closing that hand into a fist.

Meditation will clear her mind. It has to.

((()))

The obvious answer is to avoid Finn, but she knows that she isn’t going to do that. She decides on a happy medium, and instead cuts down on the amount of time that she spends with him. Finn doesn’t notice, because the universe, or rather the Force, seems to be working with her. Finn is called away on a recon mission with Poe, the second such mission in a week.

Finn’s happiness is contagious and Rey allows herself a hug. His arms are just as strong as she remembers. His scent tickles her nose as she pulls away. She knows she’ll be dreaming about his arms tonight. She can’t bring herself to regret it.

She spends the four days Finn is gone alternating between meditating on her feelings for her friend, and training with Luke over the Holochannel. She feels calmer than she has since she realized her feelings. The Force hums, alive and bright in her mind. The peace she feels is wonderful.

She worries that the nirvana she’s found will disappear once Finn returns, but her worries prove unfounded. Finn and Poe return amid much fanfare. She smiles at both her friends. Her eyes may linger a little too long on Finn’s face, but that is all. She resists the temptation to hug Finn. Even his hand gripping her shoulder doesn’t dispel her tranquility.

Over the next month, her tranquility remains. She is once again Finn’s friend. Everything has returned to normal. She still spends most of her time with him, though she makes sure she sets aside extra time to meditate. They joke and laugh; they eat every meal together except breakfast, as Finn is not an early riser. They are as close as ever.

The most Rey allows herself is to, on occasion, hold Finn’s hand. It’s what they did a few times when they first met, once she stopped chastising him over it. Finn doesn’t tense up, as he did in the mess hall what feels like ages ago. He smiles at her and twines their fingers together, and keeps talking.

That one moment of weakness is all she will allow herself. She cannot banish her feelings completely. It seems she never will be able to. She has found a way to live with them and not yearn for more. She can live with that.

((()))

Nothing would have changed had it not been for a party the Rebel’s hold later that month to celebrate the success of a particularly dangerous mission. Both Finn and Poe participated in the mission.

Finn’s cheek is bandaged and there is a nasty burn on his left shoulder. Poe’s ankle and right wrist are both broken from when his ship crash landed. The rest of the pilots are similarly banged up, but miraculously no one was killed.

The party is loud and raucous. Poe is surrounded by four women, one of whom is caressing his cheek. Everyone, save Rey and Finn, has a drink in their hand. Rey learned back on Jakku that she doesn’t enjoy drinking. Finn, on the other hand, limits himself to one drink. He’s already had his earlier in the evening.

Jessika pulls her into conversation with a group of girls. Rey enjoys their company. She laughs and jokes around with them. She excuses herself to get something to eat a little later. She freezes on her way to the buffet table, her heart in her throat.

Finn is talking to a pretty red head. He’s leaning against a wall, his head tilted towards hers. Her interest is obvious; her finger traces patterns on Finn’s right arm, while her other hand rests on his shoulder. Rey sees red. She is over by Finn’s side before she’s even aware she’s moving.

Finn catches sight of her first. He smiles and moves away from the red head, who pouts adorably. She’s still running her finger up and down Finn’s arm. Rey moves close enough to Finn that her shoulder presses against his.

Finn is all smiles as he introduces Rey to the red head. “Rey, this is Jhessail. Jhessail, this is my good friend Rey.”

Jhessail smiles, glances at Rey before clearly dismissing her. “A pleasure.”

Rey laces her and Finn’s fingers together and rests their clasped hand on chest, where Jhessail cannot miss it. Jhessail arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow and makes a moue with her lips.

“Just what were you talking about with my friend?” Rey asks. Finn seems confused. His smile is uncertain.

“I was telling her about how Jessika and I tracked down Poe’s ship. It was really difficult, too.” Finn’s hand shakes in her grip; she can feel his fear through the Force. The bleed of emotions from those she’s close to happens on occasion, if their emotion is strong enough. It’s unsurprising that she’s feeling Finn’s fear; Poe is one of the few people that Finn really, truly cares deeply for and has allowed close to him.

“You’re so brave!” Jhessail coos.

“He’s the bravest man I know,” Rey declares, sincerely. She turns and brushes her lips against Finn’s cheek. Finn stiffens and his breath catches. To Rey’s surprise, he doesn’t move away. “The Rebel’s are lucky to have him.”

“Oh,” Jhessail says flatly. Rey’s surprised she can feel the red head’s disappointment clearly through the Force. She must have really been interested in Finn. She tries and fails to feel guilty for keeping her away from Finn. All Rey feels is jealousy and possessiveness churning in her gut.

Finn is frozen in place, seeming unable to say anything. His palm is sweaty
against hers. Rey meets Jhessail’s eyes, challenging.

Jhessail backs away, her hands raised in defeat. Her smile is obviously fake. “It was nice meeting you, Finn, but I really need to get going.” Rey feels triumph as she scurries away.

Jhessail’s retreat seems to break the spell Finn is under. He backs away from Rey, though their hands remain clasped together. “What was that?”

Rey thinks about feigning ignorance. One look at Finn’s face tells her that isn’t going to work. Finn’s confusion, tinged with anger, is loud and discordant through the Force. “She was flirting with you.”

Finn groans. “No she wasn’t, Rey! Jhessail wanted to hear about the mission, nothing more!”

Finn’s naiveté is adorable, and she tells him so. “You’re so cute when you’re oblivious, Finn.” Finn glares as Rey grins at him.

“I’m not oblivious!” He snaps.

Yes you are, she thinks. If you were anyone else, you’d realize how much I love you. Luckily, you’re not anyone else. I wouldn’t love you, if you were an ordinary person.

Rey laughs. The tension is broken. Finn’s bad mood evaporates. Jhessail is forgotten. She steps back into his personal space, relieved that Finn lets her. She’s still in possession of his hand.

((()))

Meditation still helps, even after the upset Jhessail caused. Her feelings for Finn are just as strong as ever. She still loves him as fiercely as before. Rey still cannot act on her feelings, as love can lead to the dark side.

Meditation doesn’t erase the possessiveness and jealousy she feels for Finn. Both can lead to the dark side. She doesn’t know what to do.

(((())))

A dream in which she is a Sith Lord and is destroying the galaxy not only with Finn, but Kylo Ren as well, scares Rey so badly that she contacts Luke as soon as she calms down somewhat.

Luke listens to everything Rey says, his face frighteningly blank. The blankness breaks upon Rey’s description of the dream she just had. Luke covers his face with both hands.

Seeing Luke so affected by her words has Rey’s heart racing. “Was that a vision or a dream?”

Luke lowers his hands. He is once again the calm, collected Jedi Master. Rey finds this reassuring. “You know the answer to that.”

Rey closes her eyes and reaches out to the Force. The Force sings to her in her mind. She has the answer in seconds. “It was a vision of a possible future.”

Luke nods. “Yes. It’s what will happen if you continue the way you have been.”

Rey bites her bottom lip. “Then I should leave. I can’t become a Sith Lord. I can’t bring Finn back to what he escaped from. I won’t become what Kylo Ren is.”

She watches Luke as he paces back and forth. He seems to be wrestling with himself. He finally stops moving. “There is another way.”

Hope blooms in Rey’s chest. “Truly?”

“Mara Jade and I were happy once,” Luke says, the words soft and laced with sadness.

“You told me you regretted being with her, that your attachment to her is what led to her death.” Rey protests.

“I wasn’t entirely truthful,” Admitting such obviously costs Luke greatly. “Mara Jade was a Jedi. She died a few years before Kylo Ren’s betrayal, while escorting a dignitary. Her death nearly destroyed me.”

“I thought Jedi were against love?” Rey asked, confused.

“Once in a great while, if the Jedi Council deemed a love pure enough, they’d allow the couple to be together. Together, both couples are strong enough to resist the temptations of the dark side. When one wavers, the other is their anchor. Such it was for Mara and I.”

“So Finn would be my anchor?” It sounds ludicrous, but, at the same time, Rey can understand what Luke is saying. All of the possessiveness and jealousy, while still present, is muted in his presence once he’s focused on her. All that matters is her feelings for him.

“Yes. If you believe that he is strong enough to keep you from the temptations the dark side presents, then confess to him. But if you have even a kernel of doubt that by being together your dark desires will be amplified, then I suggest you leave.”

Rey considers Luke’s words. She cannot imagine that her Finn, who turned his back on the First Order and the Stormtrooper’s brainwashing, would allow her to fall to the dark side. She’s been resisting on her own, and somewhat succeeding. With Finn by her side, with his love, she’ll be ten times stronger. She can feel it in her very soul.

“I choose him,” She says with absolute certainty.

Luke seems relieved. “I am sorry I withheld such important information from you, Rey. I let my fear of losing another Padawan to the dark side blind me to the dangers such an attachment presented to you. Had I told you the truth sooner, you wouldn’t have been struggling.”

“I won’t lie and say it hasn’t been difficult, but, at the same time, I feel as if this was an important lesson for me. I’ve become stronger, and more attuned to the Force. And, I know with absolute certainty that I love him.”

Luke bows to her. “Then you know what you must do. May the Force be with you,
Rey.”

Rey returns the bow. “Thank you, Master. For everything. May the Force be with you, as well.” She turns the Holochannel off, and goes to her knees to meditate.

((()))

She finds Finn later the following evening, enjoying the view outside. He’s leaning against a wall, in a deserted corner outside the ship hanger. He accepts the hand Rey holds out to him. She settles against his side, their shoulders brushing.

The silence is comforting. She looks at Finn out of the corner of her eye. He seems relaxed, comfortable in his own skin. He’s wearing Poe’s jacket, as usual. He must feel Rey’s eyes on him, as he turns his head towards hers. Rey flushes, but doesn’t look away.

“You seem to have something important on your mind,” Finn says, after Rey does nothing but continue to stare.

“I love you,” She blurts out. She clasps her hands, one still entwined with Finn’s, over her mouth. She’s thought of dozens of ways of confessing her feelings, over the course of the morning and afternoon. They ranged from the romantic, candle-lit dinner confession, to the ludicrous, her singing her feelings to Finn while the Rebel pilots backed her up. Not once, in all her imaginings, had she divulged her feelings in such an idiotic way. Force, she’s dumb.

Finn’s mouth opens and closes several times while Rey has an internal break-down. She can feel his surprise bleeding into her mind. It adds another layer of panic to her own. For one wild moment she thinks of turning tail and running.

Gazing at Finn’s face and feeling his complete surprise, Rey forces herself to get a grip. She loves this man. She just told him she loves him, and while it wasn’t how she thought she’d do it, it’s over and done. She’s confessed. It’s time for her to saddle up and get her man.

“I really, really do,” She says with conviction, once she’s managed to unglue her tongue. “You’re such an amazing, compassionate, brave man. I’m so very lucky to have you in my life. I love you so much that sometimes I can’t breathe. I love you so much, Finn.”

Finn still seems to be in shock. “You-you,” he stutters. “You love me?” He sounds uncertain.

Rey brings their clasped hands to her lips and presses a gentle kiss to his knuckle. She steps closer, until the toes of her boots touches his. Finn stares at her, shocked. The feedback she’s getting from him through the Force is still surprise. It’s not as strong as a few minutes before, though.

“I love you, Finn,” She repeats. She cups his chin with her free hand. His skin is warm under her palm. “Can I hug you?” The question makes Finn laugh, but it’s not panicked, at least.

“Yes you can.” Finn draws her into his arms and rocks her gently. He still hasn’t said anything about her feelings for him. Rey isn’t in a hurry, though. She’s in his arms, her body against his. She can wait for him to tell her how he feels. She’s sure that he isn’t going to reject her. The Force is singing with the possibilities of their union.

“I just realized I never once asked for permission to hold your hand,” Rey says. She’s enjoying being in his arms. It feels just as incredible as in her dream. She never wants him to let her go.

Finn chuckles. “That was random.”

Rey pulls back slightly and pretends to pout. Finn continues to rock them back and forth. “I’ve been forcing you to hold my hand for a while now. I’ve also been scaring away women. I don’t want you to think I’ve been forcing myself on you.”

She feels Finn’s surprise fade away in the wake of his amusement. His lips twitch as he fights off a smile. Rey doesn’t bother to suppress her own. Finn’s eyes move over her face, almost as if he’s memorizing her features. Her cheeks heat again.

“I’m surprised the ultra-powerful Jedi didn’t realize that I like holding your hand. I enjoy your company, Rey.” Finn’s voice is soft. He seems to be choosing his words with great care.

Rey places one hand on each shoulder and stops Finn’s rocking. She wants Finn to hear what she has to say. “I love you, Finn, and love for a Jedi can be dangerous and lead to the temptations of the dark side. I had a lot of thinking to do today, and that included my interactions with you over the past few months. I was a little worried when I thought that my possessiveness over you may have led to me being…forceful with my advances.”

Finn seems worried. “Loving me may lead you to the dark side?”

Rey nods. “Only if I’m not careful. You’ll be my anchor, during my times of more negative emotions, helping me to not do anything brash. With meditation, and Luke’s guidance as well, and yours too, of course, I’ll be fine. However, with us together, I’ll never stray. I know this. I can feel it.”

“Rey…” Finn says, his voice thick.

Suddenly embarrassed after everything she confessed, she rests her forehead against his shoulder, hiding her face. “I mean, if you’ll have me.”

For one horrible moment, Rey thinks she is wrong and that she is misreading Finn’s words and the signs he was giving her over the last few months and that he’s going to reject her. Her heart is in her throat as her stomach churns.

Finn’s arms tighten around her waist. “I love you too, Rey. I just didn’t know what to do about it. Poe kept telling me I should confess, but I was scared. I’m a complete wuss. I can turn my back on the First Order, but I can’t tell the girl I love I’m crazy about her.”

Rey pulls back and cups his cheeks with both hands. “I already told you, you’re the bravest man I know. Together, we’re an unbeatable team.”

Finn’s smile is breathtaking. Rey can feel both his amazement and yes, his love, through the Force. It feels incredible. She loves this man so much, and he’s hers now.

“I really want to kiss you,” Finn confesses.

Rey gently pulls his face towards hers and breathes, “What are you waiting for?”

His lips meet hers and it’s incredible. She can’t get close enough. He backs her up against the wall. One of his hands threads through her hair and tugs gently. She growls and bites his bottom lip, just like she’s wanted to do for what feels like forever. Finn moans and moves closer. The noise is delightful, so she bites his bottom lip again. Finn breaks the kiss with obvious reluctance.

His eyes are cloudy with desire. She can feel his arousal through the Force. She grins coyly at him and tips her head back invitingly, baring her neck. Finn moans and leans forward and peppers her neck with light kisses. Each press of his lips against her neck sends sparks of desire through her blood.

“Love you,” Finn gasps against her neck. “Love you so much.”

“I love you too, so very much,” She tells him. She’s the luckiest girl in the world.

She moves her hand down his back and finds a sliver of bare skin. She scratches her nails lightly over the patch of skin and Finn lets out a breathless moan. She’ll never tire of making Finn crazy with desire for her. She has the rest of their lives to hear each noise he makes. She can’t wait to hear them all.

She pulls Finn’s lips back to hers, and proceeds to do just that.

I'm so happy that Ren listened to Hux in the end. Not bitter enemies is an improvement. And somehow that sweaty but ashy kiss is just sweet. I hope their date - er, drinks turn out to be nice. Love how you handled this prompt.

Not OP, but I think this is a good fill, and you should feel good for having written it!

You wrote that really well! Kylo's obliviousness was so cringe-worthy, I swear I actually winced at the screen during his awful, awful attempts at seduction. Even when he realises why Hux isn't responding the way he wants, there's still that level of 'but I'm different! Why do you feel this way?' that just feels so... Kylo; really in character.

It's also nice that he backed off and I liked how it basically took near-death to change the dynamic. Good job!

A!A, will you put this on AO3 so I can kudos the fucking hell out of it and rec it to everyone I know? Please? I can also do it on anon if you want.

This is really great!

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7132097

Oh noooo, Kylo's destroying their bench! Their gazing-at-planets-I'm-gonna-blow-up-one-day bench! Their not-date bench! Hux don't you see, he's not being ridiculous and dramatic, he's being ridiculous and dramatic and sentimentalllll!!! She's just a magnet for (terrible, unstable, doomed) sensitive fellas.

I really like how Hux dealt with Anson btw -- 2 cool 2 professional -- I'm sure she'll pay for it, but the fact that he's calling her "general" now instead of "cadet" is definitely an improvement. And can I say I love how Landa clearly loves being the absolute worst? I'm sure he was planning the whole proposal while editing Rog's newsclip together, probably thinking it was a good story but needed a romantic angle. Hmm who should he cast as the leading lady...? Starts calling Hux, really rubbing in all the "Miss" shit, all "no u have to be in close proximity w/ ur exboyf, for reasons lol." Landa, you shipper trash.

Also I just want to say this whole fill is A GIFT and I can't believe you've been making chill regular updates since FEBRUARY and the quality of each update is just A++++ and this is the Fem Hux of MY DREAMS and she's forever associated with David Bowie and that's THE BEST. The kink meme is so lucky to have you! <3 <3 <3

*hacks a durasteel bench into a ugly lumpy sculpture to express my ugly lumpy love*

OP

Hux really is a magnet for terrible men. I had a friend compare what I was writing to "Pride and Prejudice in Space", and I'm thinking, no, it's like "House of Mirth"--the story doesn't really have the "right" man to choose, it's more of an illustration of a bunch of fairly bad choices. The only reason Kylo Ren might be the right choice is that Hux is also, frankly, his wrong choice. Hahahaaa!

I'm glad you liked the bits with the two old dudes! I'm having a lot of fun with Anson and Landa--this story has let me indulge my love of fun OCs to a satisfying extent. I think Landa is actually kind of a romantic, just also the WORST. And I don't know if you made the connection, but I'm basing Anson off a sort of Heinleinian attitude towards the Space Marines tropes--there's a lot of casual chauvinism for also Respect for Hot Redheaded Women In Authority in his Gender Neutral Space Marines worlds.

I'm really glad that you've been enjoying this so much and leave such amazing comments! I know I can count on great feedback and encouragement from you, and it gives me a very good incentive to keep on going with something that's become an unusually long story for me. So thank you for that! :) I've never written a character quite like Fem!Hux, and it's been a hell of a ride.

(Psst! I'm kleenexwoman.tumblr.com if you're interested in following me! Send me a message. You seem really cool and I love that you love the Bowie connection!!!)

Hux leans against the doorway and gives a long, slow clap. "Are your renovations finished, Ren?"

Ren whirls around, his borrowed cape flaring, his lightsaber hissing in his hand. The ruined bench drops to the floor with an alarming clatter. "Go back to your party, General."

"I thought it would be more interesting down here." Hux can't help her gaze being drawn to the sparking red weapon. On an impulse, she holds out her hand. "I'd like to have a go, if you're done."

Ren's face goes as blank as his mask. "With my lightsaber?"

"It looks...relaxing."

"This is a lightsaber, Madame General, not a stress relief exercise. It's ancient, mystical--" Ren shuts up suddenly, tilting his head to the side. Hux has the unpleasant feeling that she's being appraised for something. Then Ren steps forward, powering down the lightsaber and holding it out to her with a flourish. "Very well. If you can handle the weapon, of course."

Hux closes her hand around the handle of the lightsaber, her fingers pressing against Ren's. She's a little relieved that they're both wearing gloves, although her slender hands are still dwarfed by Ren's. "It's a sword made out of light--the blade should be weightless. I can't imagine anything easier to use."

"You'll see. Don't turn it on until I tell you to." Ren lets go of the weapon. The metal is warm in Hux's hand, lighter than she thought it would be. Ren moves behind her, and she can see the cape flapping out of her peripheral vision. "It's not made of light. It's a loop of plasma, powered by a khyber crystal. It works the same way as your precious Starkiller does, but as a grounded circuit instead of a one-way journey."

Hux thumbs the button on the handle, but doesn't press it. "Fascinating. Starkiller disrupts its power sources' matrix of dark matter and dark energy that hold the plasma in place, and then the plasma's off-gassed as a by-product of the phantom energy conversion. But of course, there's no sun in your saber. What is its power source?"

"It's not for the uninitiated to know. But you must be able to hold the blade steady with your mind. With the Force. Those who don't have the strength of will to do it cannot control this weapon for long." Ren's hands slide down Hux's arms, his body pressed against her back. "Turn it on. I'll ground you."

Hux presses the button, arms stiff, holding the saber out from her body. The beam of red light climbs out of the metal casing, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Her arms are crackling with static electricity, and there's a kind of cold fire running down her arms.

Ren slides his glove over hers, steadying her grip. "Do you feel how it jumps in your hand? That's not just an idiot weapon. It's guided by the Force. Many may wield it, but few may truly wield it."

Hux turns the weapon over in her hand, flexing her wrist. "It tingles. The power source isn't very well shielded."

Ren's breath is hot on her ear, her neck, his voice low and soft. "You'd be ashes by now. Let me guide your hands."

Hux lets him. The pressure of his arms around her is nothing compared to the cold thrill that sizzles through her body when the plasma blade slices through the twisted wreck of the ruined furniture. There's virtually no resistance when the blade hits metal, but she can feel it twisting in unexpected ways as it moves through the air.

"Do you like it?"

Hux feels as though she could slice through the hull of the Finalizer, slice through space and time itself somehow. Like she could deliver a killing to blow anything in her path, even a sun. "It's incredible. Do you feel like this whenever you hold it?"

Ren doesn't respond at first, but slides off his glove. Hux is equally transfixed by the impossibly bright light of the blade and Ren's fingers. They're not stubs or mutations; they're just pale, broad fingers, with slightly ragged fingernails and a few scars. He draws the sleeve of Hux's uniform shirt up, exposing her wrist.

Electricity hits Hux with the touch of his fingers, it sparks invisibly off her skin to die out before the bright spot of heat ever touches the floor. Hux is sure she's hallucinating. Fire races through her limbs, a pinprick of searing currents anchoring her to the charged metallic floor of the gigantic ship. She stands in the center of a column--no, a complex web--of light.

That's when Ren whirls her around and presses his lips to hers, a sudden rush of light connecting their mouths. Hux can feel her own nervous system hooked into his body like a Gnithian tick, and something warm begins to seep into her veins, her nerves. She's thrumming with energy, crackling with it. It's not hot like lightning, it's hot like fire--

Ren is facing the door, and Hux can see it frame a thin string of light in slow motion. She knows that Rog is behind it. Anson must have gone back and talked to him.

"Lord Ren!" She pushes Ren away, holding the crackling saber between them like a fencing foil. It's steady and calm in her hand, but the warmth in her veins ebbs, leaving her chilled. "I am engaged, sir. Control yourself."

Rog is framed in light in the doorway, holding a blaster with his good hand. His eyes dart from Hux to Ren, and back again, centering on the lightsaber. "Stand down, Ren."

"I am the one with the sword, Rog," Boudi says. She tucks an errant lock of hair behind her ear, the point of the lightsaber still aimed at Ren.

"Surely you wouldn't shoot an unarmed man," Ren says. He raises his hands, his mouth twisted into a mocking smile.

"Stand down, Zoller," Boudi says, because Rog still grips the blaster, his hand trembling.

"I'm sorry, General," Rog says to her. "But I'm not going to stand down when my fiancee is in danger."

"Does your fiance know what I can do to him if he tries to shoot me?" Ren asks casually. "I'm just curious."

"You're escalating hostilities, Zoller. Leave."

"I'm escalating hostilities?"

"The happy couple's first fight. Charming."

There's a thunderstorm building in Hux's chest, her arms itching to swing and shatter whatever stands in their way. The lightsaber jumps in her hand. She gives in, wrenching the plasma blade through the air. It connects with the twisted ruins of the bench in a shower of sparks. Hux strikes again and again, carving slices out of the metal, until there's nothing left but slivers of glowing red slag.

Ren's pale raw hands wrench the lightsaber from her grip. Her hands shake and flex convulsively, her skin prickles. Someone wraps their arms around her and pulls her back. She recognizes Rog's body against her before she recognizes her own.

"Don't touch my fiancee, Ren." Rog's voice is stern and deep and his arms are strong and warm, and Hux's body is melting into his. For a moment, the bliss of being so utterly protected is the only feeling in the world. But Ren still has the saber in his hand, a crackling and potent spear of light. Hux reaches out for it, wanting the tingling feeling of power in her limbs back. She squirms against Rog's grip, reaching out to Ren, to the weapon. She's seen him move things with his mind. If she could just get that power back, feel that energy coursing through her skin again--

Abruptly, Ren powers off the lightsaber. He turns on his heel and strides out of the observation room, Phasma's cape drifting behind him.

"Boudi." Rog's fingers are warm and gentle under her chin, turning her face to meet his. Anxious blue eyes search hers. "Did he hurt you?"

"I was the one with the sword, Rog."

Rog doesn't reply. He holds her. Hux lets him.

nice!!!

THIS IS SO FANTASTIC. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed this!

Rog escorts her to her quarters. Hux feels like she's walking in zero-g, disconnected from the ground. The floor. There's never been anything but a thin layer of durasteel between her and empty space. Why shouldn't she feel like she's floating?

Her fiance is like a planet, generating his own gravitational force, an anchor in nothingness. She tilts her head slightly and she can smell him. There's something to him that smells like bread survival rations, and something like the petrichoric rain on Arkanis. It must be sweat, she thinks, and wrinkles up her nose. Everyone on Arkanis was crammed into dormitories, into mud and grass that seemed to go on forever, the dim promise of trees a smear of dark green on the horizon. Soap and water were mandatory. If deodorant sprays and shots ran out, everyone suffered in a haze of sweat, like canned lunch meat gone rancid. Being on the Finalizer was a revelation--a human being's skin needed so little to sustain its own ecosystem. The smell of human filled the corridors without the taint of alien fungus or microbes, rich and diverse and then almost subconscious. Hux had stopped thinking about it until Rog rocketed in, smelling like a planet. Like ground beneath her feet.

Hux waves away the stormtroopers on guard outside of her quarters. They aren't large, but she has a few rooms to herself, more than anyone except for Phasma and Kylo Ren themselves. She could have moved in a romantic partner, theoretically. But there's something more enticing about having two whole rooms and a separate bathroom to herself, all things considered.

Rog ushers her into her quarters. Hux sees the anteroom for the first time with new eyes--the sagging leather couch she sleeps on if she needs to be up late and up early. The brushed durasteel desk. Unfinished, First Order chic--when all you have is salvage, make salvage fashionable. The crude stone sculpture of a downed Imperial Star Destroyer, collected from a cargo cult of scavengers who had lived on the fat of its larder. They'd been bought off easily for a constant drizzle of the cheapest nonperishable rations the Order could find, Hux remembers. She's a little proud of how tastefully minimalist it is, and wonders if Rog will like it. A man in the field must be used to harsh quarters, might prefer something more plush, comfortable, inviting--

Hux pushes the thought away. She enjoys the starkness of her quarters, the sharp aesthetic choices. The only time she wants to wrap herself in something fluffy and soft is when she's taken a Perkium. During the occasional cycles when the close quarters and buzzing fluorescent lights make her grind her teeth and press her sharp nails into her palms, she dips into the stash of her mother's doctor presented her with as a graduation present. They don't make her sleep for twelve hours like they did when she was a cadet, but they make the edges of the world soft and kind for a while.

"You must think the place is decadent," she says, "sleeping in a barracks full of other pilots. Or do you have your own room now?"

"I was never fond of sleeping alone. You know that, Boudi." Rog smiles and rubs his thumb over her cheek. "It's bigger than any room I've ever had. You could practically raise a family in here."

"On a warship? They'd be underfoot all the time."

"True," Rog says thoughtfully. "A warship is no place for a child."

"Naturally. Isn't that why most peoples' parents sent them to Arkanis?"

Rog's face falls. "You wouldn't want to send our children away, would you?"

"For an Imperial education? It's not even a question." Hux glances into her bedroom. There's a familiar spark of anxiety in her gut. Maybe it's the rumpled sheets, the hairbrush tangled with copper frizz. The disarray, the personal touches. But won't Rog see this side of her, once they're married? What does one do with a man in one's quarters, anyway? "Would you like a drink?"

"I think I've had enough for one day. Got to stay sharp."

"I only have caf and Vitajuice anyway." Hux turns away from Rog. Her hands are still shaking, and she hides them behind her back. She'll need to take a sedative to sleep tonight. Ren's ridiculous dramatics keyed her up so badly she can't imagine being able to sleep without help tonight. The First Order standard issue sedative is an instantaneous hormone gel drop, placed on the tongue to sublimnate into the sinuses. It doesn't soothe her nerves like Perkium does. Tonight might be a Perkium night. Or...

"Let me stay with you tonight," Rog says.

Hux's breath hitches. "I have a personal guard, Rog. You don't need to worry about me."

"And I notice they're not here." Rog's hands are on her shoulders, his lips on her neck. Despite herself, Hux relaxes into his touch. Maybe she won't need any pills tonight after all.

Hux wakes up at 0600 hours to the familiar sensation of her pillow vibrating, and to an unfamiliar dip in the mattress. She succumbs to gravity, pressing her cheek against Rog's smooth, firm back and snaking her hand over his hip. It's tempting to lie in bed with him. She's forgotten what it's like to luxuriate in pure warmth, in the freedom of a hot bath or a sauna; Starkiller is a planet of snows, and heating the Finalizer is an exercise in balancing heat costs and thermodynamic entropy. Rog always seemed like the sun, warmth emanating out of nowhere.

She's out of the sonic shower and fixing her hair, and Rog is still lying in bed. The white sheet is rumpled, twisted between his legs. Hux tilts the mirror and focuses on her braids. She's going to have to look absolutely perfect today, nothing out of place. Eye makeup, even. Her groomer droid flourishes tweezers, a safety razor, several brushes at the same time, and finally a tube of greasy, bug-tasting lipstick that Hux declines.

She opens up the small wall safe that lies behind the 'fresher mirror and fishes out a delicate pink blown-glass bottle. It's pretty and complicated and subtle, and Hux can pass it off as a gift from her mother, which it was. Mathilde Hux-Winzor had never understood her daughter's tastes, goals, or ideas, but she'd taught her everything about survival she knew. Just Hux's luck that her mother's survival tactics involved protectionary camoflague rather than total annhilation of the attacking species. Hux crunches a pearl-pink Perkium tablet between her teeth, then pops a whole tablet into her mouth and swallows the chalky substances with a swig of water.

"Come on back to bed, Boudi."

"I have to lead the tour of Starkiller, and we depart at 0800." Hux doesn't look at Rog, focusing on her wardobe. The worst thing about using an actual planet for a base is the unpredictable shifts in climate, which means that Hux needs to layer. Someday she'll build another Starkiller from scratch, and she'll create her own ecosystem on the surface. Sixty-five degrees, no rain. And no sun to orbit.

"It's not even 0630."

"Rog, I need to eat an actual breakfast and not just an energy bar, clear the perfect landing site before we even leave, and be there before everyone else so I can--"

"Eat two energy bars, let Mitaka clear the landing site, and let 'em wait." Rog wraps the sheet around his hips and saunters over to kiss her on the cheek. His stubble rasps against her skin. "You always took on too much. You're the General, Boudi. They'll wait for you." The edges of the world turn soft and warm, and Hux isn't sure if it's the Perkium starting to kick in or just Rog.

Hux manages to get them dressed and out the door by 0730, which is just enough time to see Kylo Ren in full robe and mask coming down the main corridor. When Hux sees him, he stops cold.

Rog slips his arm around Hux's waist. Hux lets him. Let Ren see that she's happy to be with Rog. Let the whole world see! Rog is perfect, and they make a perfect couple. It's all great. She pointedly ignores the phantom fingers on her shoulders, on the back of her neck.

*

Hux keeps her chin up through the whole tour. It doesn't matter that there's only a handful of people who bothered to come. It doesn't matter that there's nothing she can do about it. She needs these old men and their credits and spaceships more than they need her right now, but that's going to change very, very soon. Hux smiles widely and gestures to various pieces of machinery. She usually knows her way around the sprawling base quite well, but today she can't seem to dredge up the names of quite a few things. It's the Perkium, and it doesn't matter. Nobody on the tour cares except for Mitaka, who is taking copious notes. This is an ad for the Starkiller project, confirmation that the trillions of credits and work-hours dedicated to an improbable planet-sized destruction beam are bearing fruit. And Hux is sure they love it.

"Unlike the Death Star, we won't have to move Starkiller to orbit around any planet before we fire on it. All we need is a strategically placed star."

Landa raises his hand. Hux recognizes his guileless expression from the "Interviewterrogation!" program at 2200 hours. She winces internally. "Ah," Landa says happily, "but Miss Hux? What happens if we don't happen to have a handy nearby star? I mean..." He waves his arm at a nearby window. "I only see the one, just now."

Hux's blinding smile is real. "What an astute question, Han," she says, and Landa's face immediately goes stony cold. "You see, Starkiller isn't just a much bigger laser than the Death Star ever was. It's not a laser at all--it's a beam of pure dark energy, which generates phantom energy without the dark matter of the sun to lock it into an energy matrix. Phantom energy vibrates at a high enough rate to rip holes in hyperspace at certain intervals during the discharge process. With our precise aiming algorithms--"

"I'm sorry, but I haven't the faintest idea what you're saying. You'll have to make it a little simpler for us, my dear." Landa bares his teeth.

"It means we can deliver a beam of pure destruction to any coordinates anywhere in the galaxy--or outside of it--from anywhere we can park Starkiller. And the khyber crystal goes two ways." Hux dares to wink at him. She feels she's winning. "While we power up, we can also steal another star system's sun just to show the galaxy that we can!" She smiles pleasantly.

Thankfully, the next question comes from Anson. "General," he says in a clipped voice. "I know your proposal mentioned 'strategically chosen planets,' but I don't think it was ever specified which stars were to be selected. Or how."

"Strategically, Admiral--as you taught me. The first target is the Hosnian system."

"The seat of the New Republic Senate. Of course." Anson nods approvingly. "And then?"

"Unless there's a more urgent need for a demonstration of force elsewhere, my current plan is to eliminate Coruscant."

There's a dead silence. Landa looks at Rog, and Hux doesn't bother to think about why. She glances at Ren and wishes he hadn't worn his mask. Who does he have to scare here? He's prince of the space pirates, or something equally outlandish.

"Why Coruscant?" It's Rog, with his sad face.

Hux hopes the whole tablet of Perkium kicks in soon. "We're striking at the Core. Coruscant is the heart of the Core worlds, is it not?"

"And the home world of the entire human race." That's Landa, frowning.

"I've never been," Hux says. "I'm sure it's lovely, but--"

"You misunderstand me. The symbolic value would be great, sure, I get it. And it would be cultural suicide. What do we have to fight for, if not reclaiming our birthright as a species in the Core?"

Hux can feel herself tearing up a little. The Perkium always does that at odd moments. The cluster of Core worlds, bright and shining with art and ridiculous old artifacts. Of course Landa would love it. "I understand that many of us are attached to Coruscant for sentimental reasons. My father took my mother on honeymoon there." Hux laughs. Should that garner a laugh? She'd rather laugh than cry. "Humanity can live without the Core Worlds, sir, and we do very well for ourselves out on the Rim."

Landa's attention slips to Rog again. "The Coruscant honeymoon is a fine tradition for a Rim couple, you know."

"So I've heard," Hux says. "But we shouldn't argue strategy here, do you think? Supreme Leader Snoke seemed very pleased with my choice, last time I spoke with him." She holds her head a little higher. She's earned it.

*

The tour ends at a stand of spiky green plants. Trees, Hux vaguely knows, although they look nothing like the fronded and creeping trees on Arkanis. Biology was never her strong field.

"A word alone, General?" Anson gestures to a stand of pine trees outside of the landing pad. The other Imperial officers seem in no hurry to board, lighting up the odd cigarra (forbidden on the Finalizer), so Hux nods and follows him. She'll let the old fool make his point, and then perhaps that will be it.

"I had family on Alderaan when it blew up," Anson says.

Hux blinks. "I'm sorry, sir."

"It wasn't the first time a planet died. Supernovas happen. Asteroids do, too. But it was the first time anyone had used a weapon to blow up an entire planet, and the galaxy remembers."

Hux winces. "The First Order doesn't commemorate that particular observance, sir."

"No, but I do. So do a lot of folks who used to be in the Empire. Listen, nobody was happy that Alderaan was destroyed. But we had to sacrifice something important to achieve order, and Alderaan had to be that sacrifice."

"So does Coruscant."

"The galaxy remembers Alderaan. Once they see what we've got in our pockets and what we're willing to do, it'll be over."

"It was hardly the end of the Rebellion last time. In fact, it was the end of an Empire."

Anson looks haggard in the waning light of the Starkiller's sun. "Listen to me, General. Nobody wants a war. I promise you, the New Republic remembers. And they will capitulate."

"They may," Hux says. "But Leia Organa won't."

She doesn't speak to Anson again until Rog's entourage boards their shuttle again, wishing him a safe journey. She says it to everyone, even Rog.

Hey, so I've been sitting on this prompt for a while and finally decided to try it today. Chapter 1 is up at http://archiveofourown.org/works/7423732/chapters/16861657

I decided to start it off as more of an action story, but as Poe keeps finding himself in more ridiculous and embarrassing situations it becomes more like crackfic. Only he's fully aware the situation are ridiculous, and the other pilots never let anyone live anything down, so eventually there's lots of lampshade-hanging on tropes.

Oh, and third nonny, you inspired the lampshading idea, so the title is in your honor. =)

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PROMPT POST #3 - CLOSED

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Re: Snoke/Virgin!Kylo 'purity' and non-con

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FILL: Some Slight Misunderstandings

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