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I would like to see either an officer in a high position on the Finalizer/Starkiller or a visiting high ranking FO member abusing his power and using his rank to coerce/force themself on a lower ranking crew member/soldier.
Hux finds out and there will be hell to pay because he is massively protective of his crew and does not tolerate people absing their power like that.

+++ If other crew members witness it and are surprised (even a little touched) because they honestly didn't expect Hux to be so loyal to them

Military disciplinarian/Good boss Hux is my kink apparently.second

I miiiight have a fill for this. Would the OP be okay with the noncon happening between OC/Named Canon Character?

OP
That's perfectly alright!

It was not her place to make assumptions about her superior officers.

But if it were, she would have thought that new general was a nervous, pedantic sort of man. The kind who directs his troops from safely inside his office, like he’s playing a game of dejarik.

Not that she has ever spoken to the general personally before. It was just something in the way he walked; tense and ramrod straight, his hands constantly clenching or twisting around each other behind his back. He reeked of barely-concealed anxiety.

Pale and aristocratic, the youngest of his rank at barely thirty, General Hux had the air of someone with relatives in high places.

When she is dragged before him in his office, she is briefly surprised to discover that he’s as tall as she is. Even standing in front of her, he seems somehow smaller. As if all that tension was pulling him inwards, like a star collapsing into a black hole, making him seem less than he really was.

He is fussing with his gloves, tugging at the stiff new leather, when she is brought in.

“I’d like to make an example out of this one,” Captain Merix creaks, oily with satisfaction. She gets a brief flare of satisfaction from the way his broken nose flattens his voice. “I thought perhaps the pillory, the way we used to.” Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “With your permission, sir.”

“Why?” General Hux asks flatly, more interested in his gloves than in either of them.

She resists the urge to scream through ease of long practice.

“Assault on a superior officer, sir,” Merix says, thumbing at the bruising on his nose. “The usual penalty for that is, ah, execution. But I thought, considering her exemplary record, other arrangements could be made. A day or two to learn a bit of humility should suffice.”

She would gladly take the death sentence, and thank the executioner for it. It isn’t humility Merix wants her to learn.

“The goodness of your heart, captain?” General Hux fixes Merix with a pale-eyed stare. He crosses to his desk without looking at her, pulling something up on a datapad with one hand while the other clenches and unclenches at his side, making the leather creak.

Merix shifts slightly from foot to foot beside her, unsure if he’s been dismissed or not.

“Just yesterday you submitted a commendation for this particular soldier,” the general reads from his datapad. “You called her one of your best, and recommended her for immediate promotion. Today she punched you in the face. Why?”

It takes a moment for her to realize that last question was directed at her. She swallows to clear her dry throat. When she speaks, her voice is hard and clear, “Because he threatened to rescind his recommendation for promotion unless I went to bed with him, sir. Then he attempted to touch me.”

“Clearly she, ah, misunderstood the situation,” Merix says, barely even attempting to make the lie sound convincing.

“Did she?” Hux asks, with all the cold, slow patience of a glacier wearing away at the landscape of some frozen planet.

“Either way, that’s hardly cause to strike a superior officer.” Merix half-smiles, as if letting the general in on a little secret.

Hux hums thoughtfully. He beckons Merix closer with a little crook of his gloved hand, and gestures for him to sit across the desk. Merix tucks his hat under his arm, pausing to run a hand over his thinning hair, as he folds into a stiff-backed chair.

Not having been told otherwise, she stays where she is, relaxing into a loose parade rest. Out of respect, she does her utmost not to actively listen in on their conversation, in spite of the fact that General Hux is making no effort to exclude her.

“Do you know why we don’t use clone armies anymore, captain?” he asks.

“Your father’s training program is reported to be a model of efficiency.” Merix nods, obsequious.

“That isn’t what I asked.”

Merix pauses, thrown. “Then I’m afraid I don’t, sir.”

“Studies showed that when placed in a unique situation, a cloned soldier will make the same decision as his peers seventy-six percent of the time. Do you know what that means?”

“No, sir.”

“There are, of course, variables for upbringing and temperament,” General Hux says dismissively, “but largely what it means is that seventy-six percent of the time, a cloned soldier will make the exact same mistake as his peers.”

“I see, sir.”

“Do you? Then tell me why we don’t use a clone army anymore.”

“Well…” Merix stammers. “Since the new soldiers make fewer mistakes-“

“I didn’t say they made fewer mistakes. Please keep up. The point is, captain, that they make completely different mistakes. Even with training, ten thousand different soldiers will react to a new situation in ten thousand unique ways. And one of those variances might be the difference between victory and defeat. What we lose in uniformity, we make up for in adaptability.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Do you know what the first rule of survival is? It’s basic genetics.”

“… Adaptability, sir?”

“Good. Now, in this particular case, we have an exemplary soldier, whose reaction to being propositioned by a superior officer is to completely disregard rank and strike him.”

"Yes, sir,” Merix says, smirking like he’s won something. She regrets not having hit him harder.

“Now, what do you think a soldier like that will do to the enemy in a tight spot?”

He frowns. “I-I don’t know, sir.”

“Neither do I.” General Hux smiles, thin lipped. Worrying at his gloves again, he adds, “Incidentally, Merix, do not quote procedures and penalties at me. I should think I know them all by now, considering I wrote the last edition of the code of regulations.”

“Of course not, sir- I never meant to imply. I was simply outlining the usual protocol in these cases.”

“ ’In these cases’,” he echoes, quietly. “Tell me, do ‘these cases’ happen often?”

“I… Sir?”

The general’s mouth twitches, an aborted snarl. “I’ll clarify. Do the men you’re trying to rape usually fight back?”

“That’s, ah, rather harsh,” Merix gives a desperate little half-laugh, as if he is waiting for Hux to reveal that this is all a joke. “You’ll find that everyone does it, sir. It’s just one of those things…”

“Perks of being an officer?”

“Precisely, sir.”

“I see.” He laces his fingers together on the desk, thoughtfully. “If she’s up for a promotion, it only stands to reason that you deserve reimbursement for your time and effort in bringing that about?”

She does not move, or react, even as the pit drops out of her stomach.

“Something like that, sir. Just a little consideration.” Merix agrees.

“And if I ordered you to drop your trousers and bend over this desk? As your superior officer, that’s my right?”

“I…” Merix stammers. “Well that’s hardly the same…”

“Are you sure? I’ll even promote you.”

While Merix flounders, unable to think of a response that isn’t either treasonous or damning, General Hux rises from his desk, pushing the chair back in neatly as he does, and crosses to her.

“Is this the first time this has happened?” he asks, hands clasped behind his back.

“To me, yes, sir. There have been others.”

He nods once, brisk. “Another thing about the new training program- my father’s program,” Hux says to Merix, “Is that they do not have submission bred into them the way a clone army does. This means that, unfortunately, you have to treat them like people or they will turn on you. A captain whose men hate him is a liability.”

He draws a blaster from his belt, a sleek new F11N model, holding it up between them. Merix rises in alarm.

“If you had to choose between shooting a Resistance soldier and Captain Merix, who would you pick?” Hux asks her. He almost sounds bored.

Her eyes never leave the general. Somehow, he no longer seems quite so small to her. “I’d shoot them both, sir. But I would shoot the Resistance soldier first.”

Hux laughs once, in his throat. He laughs like a little boy.

“Sir, you can’t-“ Merix begins.

“Shoot the captain,” General Hux interrupts, handing her the blaster. He flinches slightly when she levels it over his shoulder and fires, but doesn’t pull away. She decides not to hold it against him.

“Call sanitation,” he adds, holding out his hand for the weapon. She places it in his palm without hesitation.

“Yes, sir,” she says smartly, snapping a salute. “Thank you, sir.”

For just a moment she is ashamed of the relief that leaks into the words. It’s unbecoming. Shameful. But the general does not acknowledge it.

Hux pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes a smudge from the polished black metal before holstering it. “My father used to say that his training program was his other child. I’ve always thought that, in a way, that makes us family.” He folds the handkerchief neatly before putting it back in his pocket. “What do they call you?”

“Phasma, sir.”

“Congratulations, Captain Phasma. You’ve just been promoted.”

OP
Aaahh Iabsolutely love this! This is such a great origin story for how Phasma became Captain!
I love that it's from her POV and the way she sees Hux is amazingly well done - thanks for bringing his anxious hands clenching into it, I just adore that little detail! And Hux himself is great as well - the way he twists that guy's words around and makes him stumble was an absolute joy to read.

Thank you so much for this amazing fill!

Eee! Glad you like it! Thank you for the prompt. It kinda ate my soul. I should have been in bed hours ago.

Hux is a nervous little trashbaby, but he's still a badass.

*noodlearmsflailingcollapse from sheer awesome*

FUCK. YES.

*scREAMING* I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS

LOVE IT<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3~

“Did she?” Hux asks, with all the cold, slow patience of a glacier wearing away at the landscape of some frozen planet.

Perfect. So perfect. I love the way you write Hux.

And wow, that slimy, chummy way Merix was so sure Hux was on-board with entitled abusive officer culture, ick! So punchable, so satisfying to see him squirm and get his comeuppance.

“My father used to say that his training program was his other child. I’ve always thought that, in a way, that makes us family.”

INSTANT HEADCANON

Oh boy, I love this.

This is so great, if you put it on AO3 please post the link!

Sure! It's here:http://archiveofourown.org/works/6658279

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PROMPT POST #5 - CLOSED

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OC/OC, implied noncon, Hux being protective of his crew

Re: OC/OC, implied noncon, Hux being protective of his crew

Re: OC/OC, implied noncon, Hux being protective of his crew

Re: OC/OC, implied noncon, Hux being protective of his crew

Re: OC/OC, implied noncon, Hux being protective of his crew

Fill: Family (implied attempted noncon, protective!Hux)

Re: Fill: Family (implied attempted noncon, protective!Hux)

Re: Fill: Family (implied attempted noncon, protective!Hux)

Re: Fill: Family (implied attempted noncon, protective!Hux)

Re: Fill: Family (implied attempted noncon, protective!Hux)

Re: Fill: Family (implied attempted noncon, protective!Hux)

Re: Fill: Family (implied attempted noncon, protective!Hux)

Re: Fill: Family (implied attempted noncon, protective!Hux)

Re: Fill: Family (implied attempted noncon, protective!Hux)

Re: Fill: Family (implied attempted noncon, protective!Hux)