#captain phasma my beloved

[s1nful-sa1nt]

"FN-2187. So good to have you back."

[riveramorylunar]

Hehe 🤭

[starlightsearches]

Hi Star! Huge congratulations on your 2k milestone - it is so well deserved!!

Could I possibly get "Let's Hear it for the Boy" with our beloved ginger general?

Thank you so much and congrats again!!

Drunk / In Love

Track 3: Let's Hear It for the Boy by Deniece Williams - Give me a character and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons on how they would want you to show them that you love them. 

General Hux x F! Reader / 📼 ✨ mixtape milestone ✨ 📼

Thanks for the request, my love! Sorry it took me so long!

The idiots from these two stories are back again. Sorry I'm obsessed with them (I'm not sorry at all). Warnings for some minor sexual content and weird consent issues!

Phasma said you were drunk.

What she failed to mention was how—how drunk you were, or how you ended up that way. It was only supposed to be a friendly dinner when Hux first suggested it (and didn't stop suggesting it until Phasma finally gave in).

He thought if you made connections here—even just one—that it might make you more comfortable being with him on this ship, and so far from anything familiar.

Although this might be too familiar.

He reaches the door to Phasma's quarters and they glide open automatically, programmed to recognize his approach. He sees Phasma seated at the table, out of uniform, a smirk playing on her wine-stained mouth.

Armitage is not prepared for the dark flash in his peripherals, or the arms around his neck.

Your embrace frightens him, and that alone is enough to leave him feeling hot, stomach swimming, even when he recognizes your touch on instinct. It has him weak at the knees, just this, has his heart in his throat as all the alarm and panic well up inside him, threatening to spill out.

Then your lips meet his. 

There's been a handful of almost-affectionate moments shared between you. The brush of your hand as you wished him goodbye one morning. A kiss on the cheek that missed its target, landing at the edge of his lips.

But nothing like this.

Hux can feel your mouth shift against his, lips turning up at the corners, and the little laugh that passes through them—maybe at the way his hands hang limply at his sides, or the crop of perspiration blooming at his collar from the warmth of your skin, the smell of you. He can't make himself kiss you back, although he wants to.

He really, really wants to.

There's no malice in your eyes when you pull away—Armitage doesn't think you're capable of malice. You smile at him sweetly, taking his hands in both of yours.

"I missed you," you tell him, each word bleeding into the next, eyes half-lidded and hazy from whatever you'd been drinking, "did you miss me?"

"I- uh, yes," he answers—unavoidably honest—his eyes flitting towards Phasma, who's so pleased with herself it practically drips from her, hanging heavier on her shoulders than the armour she usually wears.

A hot anger floods through his stomach, spiked with acrid shame. He doesn’t need any witnesses to his inept attempts at marriage.

Your smile widens, every facet of you bursting with delight knowing that he’s missed you in the hours since you last spoke his name, and then he’s back in your embrace, the sound of sweet laughter in his ear. 

He reaches out for something to brace himself on, and finds nothing. It takes everything in him to keep standing. 

Armitage peels your arms from around his neck, putting a desperate inch of distance between himself and the press of your body. 

"Why don't we let the captain get some rest?" he asks.

Your enthusiasm at the suggestion turns his stomach into knots.

He's able to usher you through the empty halls at a speed just short of a jog, one hand at your waist to keep you from stumbling, and the other wrapped firmly around your wrist to stop any further attempts at touching him.

And, though he can’t puzzle it out just yet—with the warmth of you still against him—he knows something is wrong with you. Something that wine alone could not bring on.

Armitage knows you don’t want him. Not like this. 

Yet you practically drag him through the doors of your quarters, mouth planted against his before the mechanical lock whirs into place. 

All the desire in him makes him sick—feverish and weak. His body shudders against yours, nerves trying to break through skin at the gentleness of your touch.

“Armitage,” you whine, pouty in a way he’s never heard before—always so polite and obliging when you’re sober, “kiss me back.”

He couldn’t refuse you, even if he wanted to, even though he knows it would be better for both of you—knows the way this memory will torture him endlessly, until the moment he dies. Maybe long after that. 

But still, he cups your face in shaking hands, and presses his uncertain lips to yours.

And it’s nothing like all the times he’s thought about this—about taking you, feeling the warmth of your breath mingling with his own, pulling you tight against him with his arm at your waist and kissing, kissing, kissing you, until he tires of the feeling, until he rids himself of all his hideous need to be loved and to be wanted. 

It’s nothing like he imagined because he’s terrified. Because he can’t manage to move the ways he wants to, tripping over his feet when you stumble deeper into his chambers. Because his stomach roils at the feel of your tongue against his stubbornly closed mouth, and his arms shake with the need to move, but his hands stay where he placed them, holding hard enough to bruise, pulling you closer with enough force that part of him wonders if he’s hurting you. 

And still, your mouth on his, your wandering, eager hands. 

The room spins; Armitage’s reason leaves him when his feet lift from the floor, your body underneath him, and below that the cushion of his bed molding you together.

Still kissing. Still you. Your hand, guiding his down the thrumming pulse of your neck, lower. Lower.

Armitage is on the other side of the bed before the thought of how wrong what he has done truly registers, his feet planted and one hand pushing back the fallen strands of his hair.

 “Armitage?”

He curses the day you learned his name, curses the ill, vile part of him that wants to go back. 

He clears his throat and finds it doesn’t steady him at all. 

“You- you should get some rest, I think.”

Your movements are clumsy as you crawl to him on your knees, fighting against the thick bedspread and the fabric of your skirt. There’s a little huff on your lips when you reach him, eyes big and wide and brimming with glistening tears. 

“Why don’t you want me?” you whisper, and tears well up to their breaking point, slipping down your cheeks.

Fuck. He wants to touch you, and knows it’s a terrible idea, palms aching beneath the leather he wears and hates—now more than ever when it keeps him from you. His hand reaches out against his will, hovering just out of reach of your skin and the tears he can’t manage to wipe away because, once again, he is the cause of all your suffering. 

 “You’re- you’re drunk, darling. You’ll feel better if you just-”

“No,” you tell him, pushing his hand away with your own, “why don’t you want me ever?”

Oh, gods. Armitage recoils like you’ve slapped him, the sting of those words and what they mean destroying everything—every moment he’s agonized over since he first saw you and knew you had to be his. 

“You . . . you can’t possibly believe that.” 

You nod your head, fists curled at your sides petulantly, and your stubbornness would make him laugh, if it weren’t so sad.

“I do,” he whispers, then swallows, reaching for your hand. You let him take it. It gives him something to look at, watching your elegant fingers intertwine with his. “I do, but I—”

How much of this will you remember? Even now, the idea of revealing this soft, vulnerable part of him strikes fear into his very core, has him wishing he could run, wishing he could escape the way your eyes flay him wide open.

Your hand against his chest, he can feel his own heartbeat meet the shapes of your fingertips, molding to you. Armitage meets your gaze, and as frightening as it is, there’s no part of him that could deny how deeply he craves it.

“Please forgive me,” he stutters, and there aren't words for him to explain everything he needs to, just the truth. “I am—oh, gods—I am a ruinous man.” 

He watches you, the muscles working in your jaw, the way your brows pull together, examining him, weighing the assessment of himself that he’s offered to you. 

“No,” you tell him, “no you’re not.”

He thinks you might kiss him again, as close as you are. Close enough for him to count each of your lashes, map the constellations you’ve hidden in your eyes. 

You drop to the mattress instead, and the look you give him has him holding back a laugh, the mix of stubbornness and grudging deference that has Armitage wondering how hard it’s been for you to play at obedience in your union.

“You should change,” he tells you, just resting on the edge of the bed, “you’ll be more comfortable.”

It’s easier to talk to you when you’re like this. It has Armitage feeling like he’s the one intoxicated, and he is, in a way. Because what if this is your most honest self? 

He didn’t think you could make him love you any deeper, but you’ve managed. 

“Don’t care,” you mumble into the pillows, trying to brush him away with a waving hand. He takes it in his own.

“You’ll ruin your dress.” 

There’s a look of intense focus on your face, and he wonders if you’ll refuse again. Maybe you don’t care about the dress either, although Armitage would be disappointed. It’s one of his favorites from your incredibly extensive wardrobe—a beautiful black and cream confection that always catches his eye.

But you shift instead, turning to look up at him. “Kiss me.”

Stars, not again. Not now, when the weakest parts of him are so palpable. “I- I don’t-”

You flop into a sitting position, hold a single finger up between your faces.

“One kiss,” you concede, “okay?”

He nods, despite himself. You wait patiently for his approach, still and hardly breathing through your parted lips as he slides closer. Armitage keeps his eyes open, and so do you, heavy as they are, watching the distance between your faces fade into nothing.

It’s not like the other times he’s kissed you, although all but one had happened only a few moments ago. You let him set the pace, his lips just barely brushing your own, a sigh bubbling up from deep inside his lungs. He can only offer a little more pressure before he’s lightheaded again, little bursts of light dancing across his vision.

He pulls back from what could hardly be called a kiss, and waits for your disappointment, for your insistence that he try again, that there must be something more, or better, that he’s kept from you. 

Armitage doesn’t want you to know that there’s nothing else to hope for. 

You don’t say a word about it though. Just flop your arms out in front of you, waiting, satisfied in your demands.

“Help me.”

And it passes like that, with more bribes in the form of barely-there presses of his lips to yours—a kiss for you to raise your arms as he slips something soft and oversized over your head, a kiss for you to clumsily remove the dress from underneath. A kiss to get you to leave him for a moment while he changed into his own night clothes after you’d begged and begged for him to spend the night beside you, and a kiss upon his return.

It feels like a lifetime of kisses to Armitage. He doesn’t know what that number would be for anyone else, but you’ve certainly exceeded it for him. He could die in his sleep tonight and have more than he ever deserved. 

And now you’re curled up beside him a hand at his waist, your head on his chest. Armitage breathes, but only barely, hoping he won’t wake you. 

The tension drains from him, his body the closest it’s been to relaxed in ages. He wonders if he should ask Phasma to invite you to dinner again.

He hopes the next time he kisses you, you'll be sober enough to remember it.

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

...the unholy flames of ♥kink!week♥ burn brightly... (don't know what kink week is? click here!)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ the unholy week nears its end, and today we venture into the murky waters of dubious consent — what monsters await us there? ∼

∼ day six brings us our beloved villain ♥ Captain Phasma ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

tags: #rape/non-con elements #tentacle rape #tentacles #tentacle sex #tentacle monsters #dubious consent #extremely dubious consent #face-fucking #triple penetration #double penetration #anal sex #power dynamics #power struggle #choking #fainting #dom/sub #forced submission #rape #multiple orgasms #kink!week

easy prey (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

Captain Phasma sometimes manages to catch a breath in-between missions. Sometimes, she has a night off, and sometimes, on such nights, she lets herself blow off some steam — always, she does it by picking up a pretty thing, usually at a bar, and having some fun with her. She has a type she usually goes for — she prefers a pretty, human(oid) female that appreciates a firm hand. 

She isn’t too picky, however, after weeks spent aboard a stuffy spaceship. 

She’d never been to this bar — nor this planet. She doesn’t know much about this part of the galaxy, nor does she care to learn. Her plan for tonight is to hang out by the bar, get reasonably tipsy, and see if there’s a pretty girl she could have a good time with.

It doesn’t take long to spot her. 

She’s gorgeous. Long, wavy hair down to her waist, dark, glowing skin so smooth it doesn’t look real, full lips that are made to appear ever plumper with glittery lipgloss, broad shoulders, skimpy bright blue dress that looks almost neon against her skin tone and barely covers anything. She’s just the right balance between muscular and soft. She dances alone with a drink in hand, paying no attention to the swarm of people trying to approach her and talk to her. She firmly pushes away anyone who tries to grind against her or gets too handsy. 

Phasma needs to have her. 

She waits until the girl gets bored of dancing and goes to the bar to buy another drink. The girl leans on the bar as she waits, her bare, toned back partially turned to Phasma.

“Not interested in a good time?” Phasma asks.

The girl turns towards her. Phasma is immediately struck by how unnaturally — how beautifully — blue her eyes are. If Phasma knew — or cared — about particular colour shades, she’d call them ultramarine blue. They are accentuated by glittery eyeshadow, and seem to shine in a way that’s just slightly unnerving and uncanny, indicating she might not be quite human, despite appearing so — but Phasma doesn’t care to analyse her genealogy. The girl seems human enough for activities that Phasma has in mind.

The girl smiles. “Not with those desperate bastards over there, that’s for sure.”

Her teeth are pearly white and shiny, and perhaps a bit sharper than Phasma had expected — but her voice is smooth, melodious and lilting, and Phasma forgets all about the teeth. She wants to hear more of that voice, wants to make this girl moan her name — or, preferably, her title. 

“If you’re tired of desperate bastards groping you on the dance floor, you could sit here with me — have a nice chat.”

The girl eyes Phasma up and down, lingering on her muscular arms before looking her in the eye and smiling even brighter. Her blue eyes and her sharp teeth seem to shine in the dim light — the visual is a bit eerie. Phasma feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she doesn’t think anything of it, distracted by lust and the pleasant fuzziness from all the alcohol she’d already had. 

“And I suppose you’ll only grope me if I ask nicely?” the girl asks, sitting down on the stool next to Phasma.

“Ah, see? We already understand each other very well.” 

The girl laughs. Her laugh is like a babbling brook, bright and melodious.

“I might ask you that later — but first, I’d like a name.”

Phasma isn’t keen on giving her actual name to one-night-stands. 

“You may call me Captain,” she says, taking a sip of her drink.

“And are you a captain?” the girl asks with an amused glint in her eye, shifting on her chair. 

It is in that moment her drink arrives. Before the girl can react, Phasma pulls out a crisp bill from her pocket and pays for the drink. She never breaks eye contact. 

“I am.”

The girl takes a sip of her drink — some sort of sugary concoction that’s probably stronger than it looks. She nibbles on the pink, neon straw. “I could believe that.”

“And what should I call you?” Phasma asks.

The girl grins mischievously, straw in her mouth. “You could call me Lucy, but you could also call me something else, if you prefer.”

“Lucy is a lovely name.”

There is no way in hell her name is Lucy — but then again, Phasma’s name isn’t exactly Captain, either. She can understand the desire to keep one’s identity private, and she can appreciate a girl with a brain — even if the dumb ones are way easier to bed. 

This one will probably be way more fun, though.

“So, Captain,” she purrs, raising her hand to caress Phasma’s bicep. “Wanna continue this pleasant conversation somewhere more private?”

Phasma is a bit taken aback by how eager the girl seems to be all of a sudden, especially since she seemed so disinterested in physical contact on the dance floor. Usually it takes a bit more flirting, and usually Phasma is the one to suggest going somewhere quieter — no girl wants to seem easy, after all. 

Phasma doesn’t need to be asked twice, though.

She towers over Lucy as they walk through the crowd, enjoying how much smaller the girl is compared to her. She puts her hand on the small of her back — her skin is smooth like marble, but way hotter. 

As soon as they exit the bar and step onto the dark alleyway, Phasma pins her against the wall and kisses her. Lucy nips on her lip with her sharp teeth and draws blood. Phasma enjoys it. 

Easy prey, she thinks as they head towards Lucy’s residence. 

It never crosses her mind that Lucy might be thinking the same thing. 

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Something about Lucy isn’t quite right — and Phasma, unfortunately, only becomes aware of that once they’re making out on Lucy’s couch. 

Phasma is straddling her, pinning her wrists down with one hand, and the other one she runs over her throat before lightly squeezing. Lucy whimpers. 

“Like being choked like a filthy slut, hm?” Phasma asks. Lucy shakes her head. “No? You’re out of luck then, pretty girl, because I enjoy that very much.”

She squeezes again — not too hard, but enough to let her know who’s in charge. She feels herself getting wet at the sight of Lucy squirming underneath her. The straps of her skimpy dress slid down and one of her nipples is exposed — it’s dark and pretty and perfect. Phasma can’t wait to put it in her mouth. Oh, she’ll love fucking this pretty thing. 

Lucy is noticeably smaller than her, and a head shorter — she shouldn’t be able to throw Phasma off of her like she weighs nothing — nor climb on top of her and pin her down so she can’t move an inch — and not for the lack of trying.

And yet.

“Had enough of your little power trip?” Lucy says, smiling, and her teeth somehow seem sharper than before. Her blue eyes are glowing. She gives Phasma a look that makes all the hairs on her body stand up — predatory, lecherous, hungry.

She holds Phasma’s wrists down in the same fashion Phasma held hers moments ago, her long hair tickling Phasma’s neck. Phasma tries to throw her off of herself, but finds that she can’t — Lucy’s grip is iron. She keeps squirming, but Lucy doesn’t even break a sweat as she holds her down.

“You can’t escape, handsome thing,” Lucy purrs. Phasma stares at the glitter on her lips — remnants of her now smudged lipgloss. 

“Fuck,” she says, giving up on trying to escape Lucy’s grip. There isn’t much else to say. 

“Yes, that’s what I’m about to do,” Lucy chuckles, then surges forward and pushes her tongue into Phasma’s mouth. Phasma makes a guttural noise as Lucy kisses her and assaults her mouth with her tongue — a tongue that, now that Phasma thinks about it, feels a bit too smooth, and is perhaps just a bit too long. The girl isn’t human, that much is clear, but Phasma has no idea what she is. 

“Like being choked, Captain?” Lucy purrs, breaking the kiss, her breath hot in Phasma’s mouth. 

Before Phasma can react in any way there is a tentacle wrapped around her neck. 

For a couple of seconds, Phasma can’t breathe. The tentacle feels smooth and slimy and slick, with little suction cups latching onto the skin of her neck hard enough to bruise. Her eyes widen in horror when she sees more of them appear above her. They seem to be sprouting from Lucy’s back, eight of them — thick, dark blue and glistening, with pink, fleshy suction cups. 

Lucy releases the hold on Phasma’s neck, and Phasma gasps for air. The suckers painfully tug on her skin as Lucy removes the tentacle. It feels like getting a dozen hickeys all at once. Phasma hisses in pain.

“I love dominant women,” Lucy whispers in Phasma’s ear. “I love how helpless they look as I fuck them, and I love it even more when they realise they fucking love it.”

She licks Phasma’s neck, cleans up the slick left on it from the tentacle. Phasma actually enjoys the sensation, and would perhaps enjoy it even more if she wasn’t distracted by the fleshy blue and pink tentacles wiggling around her. She stares at them, wrists pinned down, frozen, as Lucy kisses her neck.

“Like them?” Lucy asks. Phasma can feel her grin into her neck. 

They are horrifying, gross and slimy, but there is something mesmerising about the way they move — and they are attached to the most beautiful creature Phasma’s ever seen — that certainly makes a difference. 

“Feel them,” Lucy purrs and pulls on Phasma’s wrists, bringing them behind her back. Phasma tries pulling back, but Lucy’s grip on her wrists is too strong. She guides Phasma’s hands to slide along the tentacles. Phasma’s entire body tenses up. “Mmm, that feels really good, you know,” Lucy murmurs into her ear, licking and placing lazy kisses onto it. 

The slick tentacles and the sticky, bulbous suckers are unlike anything she’s ever touched. They feel weird, but not unpleasant — and mixed with Lucy’s hot kisses on her ear and her soft body pressed against Phasma’s, it’s… it’s…

Phasma settles on confusing.  

“You must have thought I’d be such easy prey,” Lucy whispers as she grinds her hips into Phasma’s and slams her arms back onto the couch. “Pretty girl you could throw around a bit, get some frustration out on, hm? Have a quick, dirty orgasm while you choke me. And if you accidentally squeezed too hard, who’d know?”

“I wouldn’t kill you,” Phasma says, trying to keep her voice level, not wanting it to show how much she’s affected by Lucy grinding on her, the feeling of Lucy’s tits against her own, Lucy’s tongue on her ear. It’s not exactly a lie — she wouldn't kill her on purpose. If it happened accidentally, however… 

Well — she wouldn’t dwell on the life of a pretty whore from a bar.

“How generous. Perhaps I won’t kill you either, then. It would ruin the mood just a little bit.” She takes Phasma’s lower lip between her teeth and bites on it, drawing blood. Phasma sucks in a sharp breath. “I’d much prefer to fuck and humiliate you. It’ll be super hot. I promise you’ll love it.”

Phasma feels both relieved that she probably won’t get killed tonight and completely horrified at the prospect of what this girl — this creature — might do to her instead. She wistfully thinks of her blaster, left by the door as they entered the apartment. Oh, what a fool she was to think she wouldn’t need it in a makeout session with a pretty alien.

Lucy seems to notice the dread in Phasma’s eyes, because she laughs, showing all of her sharp teeth. Her laugh is lovely sound — one that Phasma still finds charming. She wonders if the girl is some sort of siren-like creature. 

Lucy caresses Phasma’s cheek — not with her hand, as she is still pinning Phasma’s wrists down — but with one of her tentacles. Phasma shivers at the feeling of the slimy, slick limb on her face leaving a wet trail of sludge. 

“Afraid, hm?”

“No,” Phasma spits out. She’d rather die than admit to fear.

Lucy chuckles. “I can tell you’re a crazy bitch. And you know what?” She leans in closer. “It takes one to know one,” she whispers, and then laughs — it send chills down Phasma’s spine.

“I’d say you happened to meet your match, but I could eat you for breakfast without even blinking. Now, my advice for you would be to try to relax and enjoy yourself. It hurts more if you’re all tight,” she purrs and crashes her lips into Phasma’s again, forcing her tongue into Phasma’s mouth. It’s definitely too long for a human tongue, and she sticks it so far down Phasma’s throat that she gags.

“Aww, not a good gag reflex?” Lucy coos, breaking the kiss. “Poor thing. Let me give you a little treat as a reward.”

She sits up on Phasma’s lap, and before Phasma can use the fact that her wrists aren’t being held  down anymore, Lucy replaces her hands with tentacles. Two wrap around her wrists, and two slide under her shirt, groping her tits over her sports-bra, wetting the fabric and leaving a disgusting trail of sludge on it. The suckers latch onto her skin — it feels bizarre — but she doesn’t dwell on the sensation too long. Her attention is taken by Lucy making a show of removing her dress, slowly sliding the straps down her shoulders. One of her nipples is already out from all the grinding and wrestling on the couch, but the other she reveals slowly — painfully slowly — letting the silky fabric slide down her perfect, round tit. Phasma watches her, mesmerised. Lucy is the prettiest thing she’s ever seen. 

Lucy maintains eye contact with her as she undresses, ultramarine eyes sparkling in the dark apartment, plump lips curled into a wicked smirk. There’s glitter on her face from all the smudged makeup, and her long, wavy hair falls onto her shoulders in beautiful, fluffy tresses. Her dress now pools around her soft belly, and rides up her thighs. She isn’t wearing anything underneath, and Phasma can catch a glimpse of dark hair between her legs. She can feel the heat radiating from there against her own pelvis. 

Lucy lazily starts rolling her hips into Phasma’s. Phasma’s eyes wonder up towards Lucy’s exposed tits that are lightly bouncing up and down as she grinds against her — perfect, round, soft tits, with small, dark nipples that she wants — needs — to have in her mouth. She watches, spellbound, mouth agape.

There is, however, a disturbing addition to the otherwise very arousing visual — the tentacles — slick, thick, deep blue and soft pink limbs that sprout from Lucy’s back and sides, four of them floating around her, and four pinning Phasma down and groping her over her bra. Phasma is only able to feel so much over the thick fabric strapping her tits down tight, but it still feels surprisingly good — better than Phasma would like to admit. And as she watches the alien goddess grind her hips on top of her, slimy tentacles surrounding her like a halo, tits bouncing, plump lips parted and smirking, she can’t deny it. 

It turns her on. 

She feels the wetness pool between her own thighs, and she's frustrated that she can’t do anything about it. She isn’t used to being helpless — or pinned down. She squirms underneath Lucy, unsure of what she’s really trying to do — escape, get some friction between her legs, or gain some semblance of control. 

“Poor baby,” Lucy says, smiling wickedly. “Craving some attention, hm?”

Phasma is pissed. Nobody dares talk down at her like that — and if they do, she makes sure they never talk again. She squirms some more, exasperated, trying to sit up, and she almost manages — but then the tentacles slam her down into the couch, and she realises she was only able to get up even a little because Lucy let her. She’s fuming — Lucy is toying with her like a cat with its prey. Phasma tries kicking her legs, but that does precisely nothing. 

“Fuck,” she grunts in frustration, and Lucy laughs. That bitch is laughing at her. Phasma thinks about blowing her head up with her blaster, and then each of the tentacles. She imagines how they’d twitch and fall down, limp and lifeless. 

“You’re so cute when you can’t get what you want,” Lucy chuckles, then rips her dress from her torso in one swift move, throwing it on the floor. Phasma is so mad she doesn’t even register the fact that Lucy is now naked on top of her. She’s seething with rage, her vision blurring.

“You fucking bitch,” Phasma says through her teeth, “I’ll fucking kill you—”

“Ah-ah,” Lucy interrupts her. “You might wanna keep your pretty mouth shut, Captain. I’m the one who could kill you, after all.”

Phasma cries out in frustration, but then there’s a slimy, thick tentacle in her mouth. She almost gags on it. She tries to scream, but the only thing coming out of her mouth are muffled groans. She throws her head left and right, trying to get the thing out of her mouth, but there’s no way she can manage that. Tears fill her eyes. The sensation of sludgy, sticky suckers latching onto her tongue disgusts her. She tries screaming and squirming some more, but to no avail. Finally, she stills, realising her defeat. She’s breathing heavily, trying not to gag.

“All done with your little tantrum?” 

Phasma just stares at those stunning, glowing, blue orbs mocking her, her chest heaving and her eyes wide. 

“Good. Now, stay still while I undress you,” she says, as if Phasma could do anything other than obey.

Phasma stays as still as she can, but she’s shaking, unable to help herself. She feels her cheeks burn with shame and disgust for her own helplessness.

Lucy undresses her almost gently — using her hands, thankfully. First she removes Phasma’s boots, then she undoes her belt. 

“Lift,” she says, and Phasma lifts her hips. Lucy pulls down her pants, then her underwear. Phasma trembles the entire time.

“Awww, don’t be scared, pretty captain.” She kisses Phasma’s knees, then up her thighs, strokes her legs and hips almost reassuringly. “You’re gonna get fucked so well — you’ll love it.”

Phasma just stares at her, hyperaware of the slimy tentacle in her mouth. Dread weighs down her stomach. She’s unable to do or say anything. 

“I’ll free your mouth to remove your shirt now, hm? And if you’re good and stay quiet I won’t gag you again. Nod if you understand.”

Phasma nods. She tries not to think about the tentacle shifting in her mouth as she does so. 

“Good girl,” Lucy says, and Phasma somehow manages to refrain from recoiling at the phrase. 

The suckers tug painfully onto her tongue, releasing with little pops as Lucy pulls out the tentacle. Phasma lets out a throaty whimper and furrows her brows in pain. Once the limb is out of her mouth, she moves her jaw and winces at the sludge it left behind — not enough to spit out, but enough to be gross. She swallows bits of it. It’s salty. 

“Like that, hm?” Lucy taunts her as she hooks her fingers under Phasma’s shirt. “Up.”

Phasma sits up and Lucy pulls the shirt over her head. “Stay.” She removes Phasma’s bra.

Phasma is fuming with rage at being talked to like a dog, but she says nothing — just closes her eyes and inhales deeply, trying to calm down. She is completely naked now. She can’t remember the last time she felt so exposed, so vulnerable. 

“Open your eyes, Captain. Look at me.”

Phasma does as she’s told. She gives Lucy a look full of hate.

“So easily provoked,” Lucy chuckles. “Come ‘ere.”

She kisses Phasma — surprisingly gently. She nibbles on her lip, caresses her neck and runs her fingers over the short hair at the back of Phasma’s head. She presses herself flush against Phasma and wraps her legs around Phasma’s hips. Her breasts feel soft against’s Phasma’s own as she slowly grinds against her. 

They make out for a while, and it almost feels normal, as if they’re just two naked women kissing instead of an alien and a war criminal playing a sick power game — with one side most definitely winning.

After a couple of minutes, Phasma slowly starts to relax into Lucy’s touch. She can’t resist her soft curves — she runs her hands over her breasts, grabs her hips — firmly, but not too hard, aware she’s not the one in control here. She’s very careful not to touch the tentacles. 

Lucy, however, doesn’t hold back from exploring Phasma’s body — and Phasma must admit it feels nice. She usually isn’t very keen on letting people pleasure her, as it requires giving up too much control — but since any semblance of control she may have felt in this situation is long gone, she finds that she enjoys being touched for once. Lucy drags her fingernails across Phasma’s back, fondles and squeezes her tits, her hips, her legs, her ass, runs her hands over Phasma’s muscular arms and taut stomach. She seems to really like Phasma’s muscles, and Phasma can’t help but feel just a little bit smug about that. 

Lucy quickly catches onto the fact that Phasma enjoys a bit of pain — she tortures and teases her by digging her nails into Phasma’s skin, biting her neck and her tits, leaving painful hickeys, slapping her face, tits and ass. Phasma feels herself go red with humiliation when Lucy spanks her really hard as she's kissing her, making her let out an embarrassing, needy whimper into her mouth. 

“You’re just a needy whore, aren’t you? You just need someone to spank and fuck you properly,” Lucy murmurs and Phasma’s hand flies towards Lucy’s neck on instinct, anger and humiliation filling her, but Lucy just laughs and catches her wrist, bringing it down. “You could use those in a more productive way,” she says, smirking, and guides Phasma’s hands towards her tentacles, making her caress the place where the sludgy limbs sprout from her skin. 

“Mmm, yes, do that,” Lucy purrs. 

Phasma hasn’t really got a choice, so she does as she’s told. She massages the tentacles, runs her hands over Lucy’s waist and back, sludge coating her fingers, and Lucy stars producing sinful moans that make Phasma grow instantly wet — not that the previous activities haven’t already riled her up. Much to her horror, she realises she doesn’t find touching the tentacles that gross — not when it makes Lucy moan like that. 

Lucy grinds her hips into Phasma’s, her movements growing more urgent and desperate by the second, and Phasma does the same. They dryhump on the couch, both moaning and grunting and groping each other, not concerned with being gentle. 

Phasma craves Lucy’s pretty tits in her mouth, and she decides to grant herself that wish — Lucy lets her. Phasma sucks and bites on her nipples, moans at the feeling of the soft, heavy tit in her mouth. However, when she tries sliding her hand between Lucy’s thighs, Lucy slaps it away. 

“I think we’ve had enough foreplay,” she says and roughly pushes Phasma down onto the couch.

Phasma is almost okay with Lucy fucking her at this point — she’s wet and turned on and Lucy is so attractive Phasma could forgive her most things. She even feels herself growing excited by the idea of Lucy’s fingers inside of her. 

However, when instead of Lucy’s hands she feels Lucy’s tentacles on her body — wrapping around her arms and torso, spreading her legs apart, grabbing her tits, squeezing and latching onto her skin — a horrifying realisation hits her.

Lucy won’t use her hands to fuck her.

Lucy is sitting on the couch, back prettily arched, hand between her legs. She’s a beautiful and terrifying vision — the most alluring monster. Her smooth, dark skin glistens with sludge and sweat, her lips are parted, and her face and neck are full of makeup glitter. Her piercing blue eyes glow in the dark, and her round tits and soft belly look enticing enough to bite. Blue and pink tentacles wiggle around her — horrid, thick, disgusting, sludgy limbs.

The tentacles wrap around Phasma’s tits and squeeze — Phasma suppresses a moan . They caress her torso, her neck, latch onto her skin, give her painful hickeys. They keep her legs spread and hold her arms firmly in place. One of the tentacles slowly makes its way up Phasma’s legs. 

The tentacle touches the inside of her thigh. Phasma would recoil if she could move — instead, her stomach muscles spasm. “No,” she says, as the tentacle slides up her thigh. “No, no, no—”

The tentacle touches her vulva. Sticky suckers latch onto Phasma’s skin, onto her clit, and she cries out in pleasure, pain and horror. “Fuck,” she cries through gritted teeth. 

“Feels good, hm?” Lucy asks, voice breathy and gaze hooded as she touches herself. “My handsome captain. I’m gonna fuck you so well.” 

She slides the tentacle down towards Phasma’s entrance. Phasma wonders if that thing can even fit inside of her. She squeezes her eyes shut and braces herself for the pain of being stretched out — but the tentacle slides further down, over her pussy lips and towards her ass — and then she feels it probe around a much tighter hole.

“No,” Phasma says, squirming as the tentacle pushes against her muscles. “No, stop — stop! Stop!”

She knows there’s no stopping what’s about to happen, but she fights it anyway, squirming and screaming. She tenses up when she feels the tip of the tentacle push inside of her. The thing is sludgy and slick enough that it doesn’t burn and sting too badly — but it still hurts.

“My advice would be to relax, Captain. It’ll hurt much more if you’re tense,” Lucy says, voice thick and breathy, as she rubs her own clit. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this.”

Phasma hates to admit she’s right — the smartest thing would be to relax as much as she can, if she doesn’t want it to hurt much more than it needs to. Taking a deep breath, she does her best to unclench her muscles. She feels the tentacle slide a bit further in and she grimaces, but doesn’t tense up again, instead letting it slowly fill her. It stings, and it feels wrong — but then the tentacle touches a good spot and she moans. It starts slowly sliding in and out of her. She’s breathing heavily, trying not to make any more embarrassing sounds — but then it suddenly picks up the pace and starts pounding into her, and she cries out in pleasure and pain. 

Before she can get used to the feeling of being fucked, another tentacle slides into her pussy without warning, filling her and painfully stretching her. “Fuck!” she cries.

She’s being fucked in both holes — it hurts and it burns, and she can feel the two tentacles touch over her inner walls. The slimy suckers provide a different sensation than the smooth, slick part of the tentacle, and Phasma hates how good the different texture feels. One of the suckers latches onto her clit, and then Phasma can’t hold back her moans anymore. With each thrust she lets out a puff of air and a whine. Her cheeks and chest burn in shame — but then Lucy fucks her harder and the suckers latch onto her nipples, and she forgets all about shame. Delicious pleasure overwhelms her. 

Lucy continues to touch herself as she watches her. The air is filled with moans and cries and wet noise of tentacles pounding into Phasma, as well as the slick sound of Lucy rubbing her own pussy.

“Does it feel good, hm?” Lucy asks, her voice breathy. “Tell me.”

Phasma doesn’t have it in her to form a coherent sentence — she just whines as the both tentacles keep hitting the right spots. That, combined with the sucking on her clit and nipples, makes her unable to think about anything else except the orgasm that is starting to build deep inside her belly. She’s never experienced anything quite like this. Tears are streaming down her face and she’s producing sounds she never thought she was capable of making. Her entire body tingles with pleasure.

Then, Lucy stops. 

Phasma is breathing heavily, frustrated by not getting enough stimulation to keep the delicious pleasure building. She still, however, considers herself above begging. She avoids looking Lucy in the eyes, her shame too deep — but Lucy will have none of that. A tentacle grabs Phasma’s chin and forces her head towards Lucy. Phasma closes her eyes.

“Look at me.”

Phasma slowly opens her eyes and meets Lucy’s bright blue ones that are shining with lust. She looks absolutely beautiful, and somehow ethereal — she’s almost glowing in the dark room. 

“Wanna come?” she asks her. Phasma is silent. “Tell me, slut.”

Phasma makes a quick and practical decision in about a couple of seconds — she figures that since she’s already completely and utterly humiliated, she could at least get an orgasm out of it. 

It still isn’t easy to say it.

“Yes,” she manages to utter. She doesn’t recognise her own desperate and raspy voice. 

“Then beg.”

They stare each other down for a moment. Phasma knows she’s lost — she disregards the last bits of dignity left in her and begs.

“Please,” she breathes out, barely audible.

“Louder.”

Phasma averts her gaze. “Ah-ah, look at me.”

Phasma obeys and begs again, this time louder. “Please.”

“Say, I need you to fuck me like a filthy slut.”

Phasma takes in a shaky breath. She struggles to maintain eye contact, but forces herself to do it nonetheless. “I—I need you to… fuck me…. like a filthy slut,” she utters, her voice breaking. Her cheeks burn and her stomach twists with humiliation.

Phasma will never admit it to anyone — you could hold her at gunpoint and she’d deny it — but there’s something erotic about giving up control — about letting yourself be somebody you aren’t, somebody who begs to be treated like a filthy slut. She’s never been fucked like this before, and she didn’t think she’d enjoy it — she’s never craved it, never fantasised about anything of the sort.

And yet.

Lucy grins, and it’s downright evil. “Well — since you’re begging, Captain.”

Without further warning, Lucy starts fucking her harder than before. Tentacles slide in and out of her, suckers latch onto her body, her clit, her nipples. She whines and moans, unable to help herself, but then a tentacle is forced into her mouth again and it muffles her desperate sounds. Phasma is almost grateful for it — she can’t bear listening to her own embarrassing cries.

Lucy rubs her own clit, brows furrowed in pleasure, beads of sweat dripping down her face and chest. She lets out quiet little huffs as she works herself towards her own release. Phasma watches her, and feels an orgasm build in her belly again, deep and potent. She gags on the tentacle, completely helpless as it fucks her mouth relentlessly. She feels the burning sting of her holes being stretched, revels in the delicious pleasure of her clit and nipples being sucked. She can’t move, she can’t scream — she can only watch Lucy cry out and come around her own fingers, before she herself tips over the edge of ecstasy. 

The orgasm washes over her like a wave. She would scream if she could, but instead she just grunts and convulses, her eyes rolling back in her head. She shakes and trembles, and Lucy doesn’t stop — instead she fucks her into another orgasm. 

Phasma is vaguely aware of a sticky tentacle wrapping around her neck and squeezing — she can’t breathe for a couple of seconds, and then she can again — and then she comes even harder than before. Somewhere around her third orgasm Lucy squeezes onto her neck a bit too hard and too long, and Phasma loses consciousness. 

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

When she comes to, she doesn’t know where she is. She’s in pain, her head is throbbing, and she feels nauseous. 

She lies on the floor for a while, fighting the urge to throw up. She rolls onto her side, pressing her aching body against the hard concrete and hissing in pain. She blinks furiously, trying to stay conscious and clear her vision. 

A neon sign catches her attention, and she blinks some more to try and read it. She quickly realises it’s the sign in front of the bar in which all of this started. It’s not the dead of the night anymore, however — dawn is breaking.

She somehow manages to lift herself from the floor and not throw up. Her head is pounding, every muscle in her body hurts, and she can barely walk. She’s sore from the fucking. She’s relieved to see she’s in the clothes she came here in, even if they’re wrinkled and dirty and have dried tentacle slime on it. 

And she’s, of course, also relieved that she’s still alive — she figured the girl wouldn't kill her, but she couldn't tell for sure. What a stupid way to go it would have been. 

She looks at her wrists. They have disturbing looking hickeys on them — rows of purple dots in the shape of tentacle suckers — she figures the rest of her body probably looks similar. There’s also makeup glitter on her hands. She shudders. 

Somehow she manages to get back to the ship. Nobody dares ask questions.

She spends the entirety of that day in a hot bath, fuming with rage, grunting in pain, trying to fully remove makeup glitter from her skin with little success, and thinking about the best orgasms of her life.

A year later, she’s on the same planet again — and yet again, she has some free time before a mission. Before she can overthink it, she finds herself in the same bar.

She doesn’t know why she does it. There’s no way that thing will be here again. 

When she catches Lucy’s gaze in the crowd, her belly tingles with excitement.

“Missed me, Captain?” she purrs as they dance, bodies pressed flush against each other. 

Phasma grabs her face and kisses her.

She comes several times that night. When she wakes up unconscious in the alleyway again, she swears not to do this ever again.

And she doesn’t.

...

Not until the next time she comes to town.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

big thanks to lovely @opheliauniverse for editing <3

taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @dumbasslesbi @bychrissi @scream-queenlover @muffintopxs @bigolgay @gwenslucifer @weemswife @yourhauntedhead @carnivorousflowers @i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper @softshrimpy @willowshadenox @syrenacrainn @weemssapphic @dianneking @imprincipalweemspet @kimiinou @ninelesbien @i-love-nerdy-stuff @eveymay @myzzjolanda @pluied-ete @brienneswife @gwenzone @principal-weems09 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @gela123 @emilynissangtr @gwendolinechristieiscute @h-doodles @winterfireblond @alexusonfire @larissaoftarthweems @a-queen-and-her-throne @bikergurl5 @salems-spaghettios @theflashesoflove @catechristiesstuff @vendocrap8008 @billiedeansbitch @coffeemelko @lilfartbox1 @amateurwritescm @daydream-cement @kaymariesworld @sicklygrlsicklygrl @wh0re4women @rippersz

[wickedleeyy]

Th-thank you mommy- I-I meant Captain-

[SHF Captain Phasma Gwendoline Christie My beloved]

[kaleeshbled]

// I do reflect on the fact I have been in the SW rpc off and on since like 2018 I think, maybe a bit earlier? Long history of villains and well one hero, completely different mun name tho ( I used to go by Purple mostly back then ). - Kylo Ren. One of my absolute favorites just because of the hijinks I used to get into with others back in the day - Jango Fett. 100% mandalorian fuck you Dsny for retconning that - Darth Nihilus, oh my evil ancient Sith that speaks a language nobody will understand my beloved. - Captain Phasma, and all her little porgs. Don't ask. - Captain Rex. I'm sorry Rex, you're with villains. Newest of the bunch to write so I haven't gotten much going with him.

I still write all of these guys, just mostly on discord since I have no energy to go onto my multi that I have them on. Grievous gets all my SW muse since he has been my favorite for the longest time. But if you ever want to write with any of these guys, I am happy to give you my discord name and we can do some writing there 💜 even if you want to write with General Grumpy there as well

[catholicdaredevil]

i want 2 see ur…. star wars…. hunger games…. and…. hmm the captain america line but specifically tfaws

omg the way these are such good ideas i'm gonna put hunger games and star wars here then to tfatws in the other one

this is in reference to this

-

okay so star wars let's go

my blorbo is poe dameron my fucking beloved

my scrunkly is din djarin i simply want to wrap him in a blanket and love him to death his or mine i'm not picky

my scrimblo bimblo is finn he deserved so much better he should have been the main character or padme because obviously yes i love her so much my wife and queen

my glup shitto is probably captain phasma i just love the actress so big stronk lady is cool OR TRILLA FROM FUCKING FINAL ORDER AAAAA

my poor little meow meow is hard cause a part of me wants to say anakin because i think he deserved better and they put too much pressure on him but also like king i can't defend you for a lot of this dsf

my horse plinko is fucking palpetine let's fucking go ballsack motherfucker let's do it bitch i'm ready

and my eeby deeby is gonna be snoke straight to superhell do not pass go

-

now hunger games

my blorbo is probably either finnick or johanna mason i adore them so much

my scrunkly is gonna be peeta he's simply a girlboss and i won't hear anything else of it

scrimblo bimblo is haymitch he's funky and an alcoholic and i love him

my glup shitto is fucking caesar flickerman that man is so fucking funky and i think he's so entertaining even if he does get out girlbosssed by peeta twice in a row

my poor little meow meow would be honestly probably also caesar flickerman bc while he's problematic bc of the whole capital business i still love him and i shouldn't

horse plinko is president snow why i outta...

and eeby deeby is gale. fuck gale. all my homies hate gale. immediately to jail, and then immediately to supermegahell bitch .e

[let-love-run-red]

Never Shall We Die - 6

This story was inspired by Beskarbabs story Thieves and Beggars

AO3 link

***You were curled in the corner of the captains quarters. He wasn't Kylo, he was the captain. You were waiting for something, anything, to happen as you examined the room. You didn't know him nearly as well as you thought you did, you realized.

In the corner stood a desk, with maps strewn about it. Maps of the seas, you assumed. There was a compass sitting on one of the maps weighing down the bottom corner. At the top corner there was a quill and inkwell, holding the top of the map down. On the left side lay a large and imposing dagger.

On the walls there were more maps, charts of the stars with names of the constellations. There were shelves too, some had figurines, but most had jewelry. Many different forms, actually. There were collars of beads from Africa, bracelets made of gold mined in the Americas, silver necklaces, and more rings than you could count.

You examined a small box filled with rings. There were various designs in the box. Some were thin and elegant, others were wide, some were made of iron, gold, or silver. A select few of the rings had blood stained on the metal. You picked one out of the box, a small gold ring with silver at the edges. There was a small diamond inlaid into the gold. It was beautiful, much prettier than the chunky ring currently sitting on your finger.

You were about to try it on, only out of curiosity, when you heard the door swing open behind you. You dropped the ring, whirling around as Kylo's footsteps crossed the room. He stood in the middle of it, watching you closely.

You walked towards him boldly. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get the words out you slapped him across the cheek. He hardly moved as you glared up at him.

"A pirate?" You hissed. He stood stoic, giving no response to your anger.

"How could you? What happened to you Kylo! You used to be honorable!" You shouted. He said nothing.

"I did not agree to run away with a pirate! Return me to Port Royal this instant and maybe I'll talk my father into letting you live in a cell!" You continued shouting.

"I can't take you back." He said, finally speaking.

"Why not?" You demanded, turning to face him with your arms crossed in front of you. He remained silent. The only indication of his rage was his flared nostrils and clenched jaw.

"Kylo!"

"Because if you come back without harm, you'll be accused of aiding and abetting a pirate! You will be hanged, your father cannot save you. I, will be hanged. Not only for piracy, but for kidnapping the governors daughter. And lets not forget the murder of your beloved husband!" He snapped at you. You covered your mouth in shock as he continued.

"Who by the way, I recognize as dear Commodore Whiteford's son. Thank you for mentioning that information!" He yelled.

"You killed him?" You asked carefully. Until now you had hoped that, despite being a pirate captain, he wasn't a murderer. Kylo sighed, shifting his weight as he looked at you with sorrow.

"Of course I did. How else was I supposed to ensure we could be together? You're legally married, and even in Tortuga they wont wed a married woman to another man." He said. You felt tears streaming down your face as you turned away from him.

"Please understand love, I did this for you." He tried to reason.

"You did this for yourself!" You turned suddenly, pounding your fist against his chest. He let out a small puff of breath but gave no indication your blow affected him.

"You did this because you can't let me go! I should have let you swing from that noose all those years ago!" You shouted as you sobbed, fists resting on his chest. Kylo seemed taken aback by your outburst, before his expression shifted to one of anger.

"I never heard you complain every time I fucked you senseless." He hissed, taking your wrists in one hand. "Every time I made you come on my cock you begged for more. Are you just upset you were fucked by a pirate?" He hissed.

"Upset that you fell in love, with a pirate? This, (y/n), is why I never told you. I was afraid you would think less of me."  He said carefully, still holding your wrists.

"I had hoped you loved me enough to look past it, especially once I risked everything to save you from your father. But I see now that I misjudged your character." He said before releasing your wrists and walking towards the door. He pulled it open, pausing to speak.

"If you wish, we'll drop you off the next time we make port. In three months." He snapped before slamming the door shut behind him. You sank to the ground beside the bed in tears, sickened by the rocking motion of the vessel.

You did love him. You'd always loved him, and always would. But your mind was conflicted. Your heard said it didn't matter, he was still Kylo, but your morals were torn. Pirates were vile, murderous filth. You had been raised to believe that. Yet now that you knew Kylo was a pirate, you still loved him.

Possibly more than you had before.

***

When the sun peeked through the thick curtains over the windows in Kylo's quarters you finally awoke. You had fallen asleep in the wide bed in the corner of the room. It was surprisingly soft, the blankets were warm and you had slept well. The bed smelled like Kylo, like sea salt and spruce wood with a tinge of iron.

He hadn't entered the room that night, you assumed he hadn't slept. Maybe he would later in the day, after he kicked you out of his bed. You climbed from under the covers, swinging your feet over the edge of the bed, tentatively touching the floor with your bare feet.  It was smooth with no trace of splinters. You stood on bare feet, approaching the door and opening it just a crack.

The crew buzzed around the deck of the ship. The sunlight streamed over the wood, giving it a rich chestnut color. You assumed it had been stained darker than the wood actually was. You looked up to the sails, which hung loose in the breezeless sky. You realized now they were not black, as you had thought, but a deep red.

Despite the loose sails, the ship still sliced through the water. Most likely from the rowers in the lower deck. As you looked around a tall pirate with short straw colored hair walked past. A woman, you realized.

"Ren slept with the crew last night?" She asked the shorter redheaded man walking beside her.

"Aye he did. Wonder what that new lass did to him." He muttered. You felt bad for Kylo, sleeping with the crew. You couldn't imagine it had been comfortable.

"Phasma! Hux!" Kylo boomed, "You don't earn your keep on this ship by standing around chatting!" You watched as Kylo descended the stairs next to the door, rounding the handrail/

Your heart leapt in your chest when you saw him, looking more handsome than ever. He was wearing a white cotton shirt with a deep v cut into the chest. His black breeches fit him well, tucked into the tops of his black boots. He had abandoned his wide leather belt with the cutlass and flintlock, leaving just the red sash tied around his midsection. The tails waved at his side as he walked towards the door.

You closed it and locked it quickly. You heard a heavy sigh from Kylo before he knocked gently.

"(Y/n), please." He said softly.

"The daughter of the governor will not mingle with pirates." You shouted through the door. You heard a soft chuckle from Kylo.

"You've done more than mingle love." He said. Your jaw dropped open and you turned to throw the door open.

"Please talk to me." He asked. You walked away from the door, turning your back to him and crossing your arms with your nose turned up. He walked into the room, closing the door softly behind him.

You wandered towards the desk, examining the charts laid out. The symbols made no sense to you, you didn't know how to use the tools laid with the map. You'd never learned.

"Why did you become a pirate?" You asked softly as you ran your fingers over the dried ink on the maps. Kylo let out a sigh.

"My first year on the sea, we were returning to Port Royal. We were ambushed by a pirate crew. When the fight was over, most of the crew I was with had been slaughtered. I was given the choice of being keel-hauled, or joining them."

"Why did they want you?" You asked.

"I was young. I was strong, and skilled with a sword." He explained, approaching you slowly, as though you were a deer he may startle.

"I didn't have a choice." He whispered, placing his hands gently on your biceps. You remembered suddenly the four year gap in his letters. You had dressed in mourning, assuming him dead. You supposed that he was only able to send letters again when he became captain.

"How did you become captain?" You asked. You were afraid of the answer, but you needed to hear him say it to know if you could still love him.

"I killed the old one." He said simply. He crossed around the desk to sit in the chair behind it before examining the charts. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"You don't get to where I am without spilling blood." He said, shuffling the papers on the desk. You remained silent, processing the information. Not only was he a murderer, he was a mutineer.

"Do you know how to read these?" He asked, looking up at you. His hair fell from behind his ears, the way it did when he looked down at you while making love to you.

"No." You stated sharply.

"Then let me teach you, come sit." He said, scooting the chair back and patting his thigh.

"To turn me into a pirate?"

"To share my world with you."

You made no move to join him and he let out a sigh before pulling himself closer to the desk again. You waited for a beat.

"You're not going to kill me for refusing?" You asked. He let out a chuckle.

"I'd never raise my hand to you. Ever." He said, not bothering to divert attention away from the charts.

You warily approached him once you realized he had no intention of leaving. You looked over his shoulder at the marks he made on the map, the way he used the compass to measure distances, then at the dagger weighing down the side of the map.

A thought crossed your mind, a dark thought. You could kill him with that dagger. You could cut his throat, escape the room. Nobody would know. You could take the pistol you saw on the shelf the night before and shoot anybody who tried to stop you from taking a lifeboat. You couldn't be that far from Port Royal, or any port, for that matter.

"I wouldn't." Kylo said without breaking his staring contest with the map.

"You don't even know what I was thinking." You snapped.

"You were considering slicing my throat open with that dagger." He said flatly.

"I was not."

"It would be more of a curse to you really." He said. He set down the compass, sifting through the stack of papers absentmindedly.

"What does that mean?" You snapped.

"This dagger was on the ship when we commandeered it. The legend says it was used by a woman who killed her lover while sailing the seas. She begged for the gods to bring him back, and Anansi, the trickster god, answered her." Kylo looked up to you, then to the dagger, resting the weight of his head in the palm of his hand.

"He gave the man back, but in the form of a rotting drowned ghost. He haunted her. So she begged Anansi to take him back, but the only way she could be freed was to kill herself with the dagger. She finally did, but she was trapped with him. Anybody who kills with that dagger will be haunted by their spirit until they kill themselves with it." He said unbothered.

"Why do you keep such a dreadful thing?" You asked, taken aback. The dagger suddenly looked more sinister. Kylo picked up the dagger, giving a few test swings before twirling it around in his hand.

"It's a decent paperweight." He said with a grin. You tried to hide your smile.

"I need to take these to the navigation room, at least let me show you the ship you'll be on for the next three months." Kylo asked as he set the dagger down and stood from the chair.

"You can't spend all that time cooped up in here."

You paused for a moment before agreeing with him. He smiled, gathering a few maps from the desk and crossing the room to open the door for you. You stepped through the door, pausing to wait for him.

"Can we at least stop somewhere and find me some decent clothes?"

***

@sweetth1ng, @starfishfaerie, @little-miss-mischief

[wingedwizardcat]

Child Of Mine

Summary: After Emperor Hux’s death, his son is forced to grow up in a cold palace with a grieving father who refuses to speak of his soulmate. Can the two reconnect before it’s too late?

Also on A03

-

“Phas, does Father hate me?” the small redheaded child asked, his tone casual but his eyes serious as he practiced his fencing manoeuvers. He was slim for his age but strong and toned thanks to his daily training, the spitting image of Emperor Hux.

"Why would you think that?" Captain Phasma asked, gently tapping his leg with her training sword to correct his position. She’d always enjoyed her sparring sessions with Hux throughout their time on ships and had jumped at the chance to train Hux’s son. She’d taken particular joy in training him in the activities that Hux had preferred, guiding him towards fencing, shooting and hand-to-hand combat.

"He never spends time with me and he glares at me when I see him." the boy explained, working his way through another set of movements, “I try my best to be good, so I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. If only he’d tell me, then maybe I could be better.”

“You don’t need to try and improve, you’re fine as you are.” she replied, thinking over her words carefully before she spoke, "You remind him of your Mother, he finds that difficult, but he doesn't hate you. He’s proud of you, he wouldn’t have arranged the best education in the galaxy if he didn’t want you to thrive."

"I’m his heir, I suppose he has to make sure I’m educated.” he shrugged slightly, letting the wooden sword drop and rest against the ground, “Why doesn't he talk about Mother? If he loved him so much-"

"He still feels immense pain, it's been years but as I understand it, the loss in the force continues to cause ripples." she sighed, leading him out of their sparring arena and over to a nearby bench, “Your parents were soulmates and your Father... he’s been broken since your Mother’s death. The thunder and rain that we get when he’s on-planet are his doing, his emotions bleed out and influence the environment.”

“Will you tell me about Mother? Father hasn’t spoken to me since the last time I asked and Mitaka won’t tell me anything. I just want to know what he was like.”

“Hux was... he was everything the obituaries say about him. Strong, strategic, brutal... His own father, your grandfather, was cruel to him in his youth and he always wanted a family of his own to raise properly, with love and care. Of all the things our Emperor craved in this galaxy, a child was what he wanted most of all. He would have adored you. Somewhere, he’s watching you with pride, have no doubt about that.”

“Would there be any holos of him? Anything more... relaxed?”

“Has your Father not shown you Hux’s study? I believe most of his possessions are kept there now.”

The boy shook his head, “I’m not allowed to go anywhere near the Emperor’s rooms. I’ve only seen the paintings kept behind drapes and an official speech or two.”

She frowned at his words, “Then we’ll go there now. It’s not right that you don’t get the chance to know your Mother. Hux would have wanted you to have everything of his.”

-

“You have to move forward, Ren. It’s been almost a decade.”

“I can’t, not without you. I just need to try a little more and I’ll be able to bring you back. Death is nothing compared to my powers, they’re growing stronger every day.”

“By fixating on me and burying yourself with your duties, you are missing our son’s childhood. He doesn’t know either of us, don’t let him have a youth like ours, filled with isolation and pain.”

“Now you’re just my guilt talking.”

“I’m dead, Ren. All I am now is a figment of your imagination, but I’m right. You’re pushing our boy away and each day the divide grows. Fix it now, before it’s too late.”

“You’re always right.” the Supreme Leader sighed, ending his meditation and opening his eyes. He knew his soulmate couldn’t be a force ghost, but Hux’s voice and advice had accompanied him all these years. Every strategic move to grow the Empire or maintain order was whispered to him in his dreams by the voice of his beloved.

He got to his feet and shrugged on his cloak, heading out of the room he’d converted for meditation and towards the sparring arena where he knew the boy would be with Phasma. Hux’s friends and former colleagues had taken the child on without needing instruction from Ren, and he trusted that they acted in his best interests as Hux would have wanted.

When he found the space empty, he frowned and reached out into the force, alarm rising inside him when he realised that they were in Hux’s wing, the only place in the palace he’d insisted be off-limits. The thought of anyone touching Hux’s things sent rage pulsing through him, he’d locked them away to keep them safe and now the boy - the one who taunted him with Hux’s face at every opportunity - was rifling through his beloved’s possessions.

He stormed through the corridors, forcing terrified staff to move for him or risk being thrown aside with his powers. He’d destroy anyone who dared enter Hux’s space, whether they were of his blood or not. He didn’t even set foot in there, Hux’s things were too precious to be placed at risk of his temper.

-

“He insisted the chair didn’t look right without his greatcoat on the back.” Phasma murmured with a fond smile, watching the boy run his fingers over the black gaberwool coat with the stripes of a General on its sleeves, “He spent so long in the miliary that matters of trade and domestic issues were something of a learning curve at first. He trained as an engineer originally, it was him that built the Supreme Leader’s Silencer.”

“I didn’t know that.” the redhead admitted, taking a cautious seat at the large desk and glancing around the room. There were boxes and racks of clothes that clearly didn’t belong in the space, but he could imagine the Emperor working comfortably with the large windows overlooking the palace gardens.

He carefully opened the top drawer on the right side and was surprised to find rows and rows of holos packed inside. He picked one at random and slotted it into the desk’s holoprojector, curious to know what was so important to be kept in the Emperor’s top drawer.

“Ren, will you put that thing away?” Hux’s imperial tones echoed through the room as the blue-tinged holo came to life, “It’s not even visible yet!”

“I want to record every bit of this.” Kylo Ren’s chuckle could be heard as the holocam was moved to show the two of them stood in front of a mirror, “You’re going to hate it when your feet swell and you’re stuck in bed, and I’ll show you these holos to remind you how happy you were when we found out.”

“No matter how awful I feel at the time, I’ll always know that this is worth it.” the Emperor replied, leaning back into his husband and holding their hands over his flat stomach, “Can you believe it? Us, parents?”

“The best parents in the galaxy.” Ren placed a kiss on Hux’s neck before the holo cut out.

“These are all of him, of them...” the boy realised, wiping a tear from his cheek and slotting another holo into the machine. Now he’d seen a glimpse of his parents, he wanted to see more. The Kylo Ren on the recording was not the bitter Supreme Leader he’d grown up with.

He was watching his Mother cradle him, his Father proudly sat beside his husband and newborn offspring - when Kylo Ren himself burst into the study with unrestrained fury spinning around him in the force.

-

“How dare you set foot in here!” Kylo roared, the dark inside him delighted as the child cowered under his gaze. The anger drained away when he saw the holo that was still playing and he moved towards it, drawn like a puppet on a string to the vision of beauty that was his beloved Hux. He’d been careful to avoid holos and images of him in the years since his death, not wanting to cause himself further pain, but now he couldn’t look away.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to see...” the child whispered, tears of joy now replaced by tears of fear as his father approached, “I won’t do it again, I swear. Please forgive me, Father.”

“I brought him here. Don’t blame him.” Phasma spoke up, moving to stand behind the Emperor’s chair, ready to defend Hux’s boy if necessary, “He only wanted to know Hux, you can’t punish him for that.”

“I understand.” Kylo murmured, entranced by his soulmate’s smiles and laughter in the holo. They’d been happy, the palace had been filled with hope and sunshine, but he’d allowed that to drain away. His son had been raised in cold and darkness, the opposite of Hux’s wishes, and he’d allowed it. He’d punished their son for his own failings, for allowing Hux to be put in harm’s way and brought down by a single blaster shot when he should have been there to stop it.

“I’m the one who should be sorry.” the Supreme Leader admitted, “You may come here and explore as often as you wish. It is only right that you would be curious.”

He turned away, intent on leaving the room and never returning when he spotted the sealed envelope on one of the shelves. He remembered when he’d been handed one similar by Mitaka, Hux’s dying words to his husband and child noted down at the Emperor’s insistence, and how he’d stashed it away in the study along with the rest of his memories of Hux.

“This is for you... Armitage.” he breathed the name, using the force to levitate the letter to the desk where his son sat. He’d insisted they name their son after Hux himself, yet he’d refused to even use the name since his beloved’s death, “After the shot... before he... those were the words he wanted to say to you.”

He nodded to his son and Phasma, leaving the room as quickly as possible.

-

Armitage,

Dear Mitaka has promised to give this to you and I truly hope that he keeps his word.

Of the 1294 days I’ve known you, you are already my proudest achievement.

You have a bright future ahead of you, one day you will be the Emperor of the galaxy that your father and I brought peace to. You must remember to be kind and just, to embrace compromise, and to find the light in the darkest of situations.

I am with you, always.

The boy, Armitage, gently placed the letter down and walked to the window. The rain clouds were slowly clearing, revealing a hint of sunlight beneath. When he closed his eyes, he could almost feel his mother standing beside him.

“I wish I could have known you. It’s not fair that we had hardly any time together, but I promise to do the best I can to protect what you built. I’ll try to make Father happy too, he’s been so sad for so long.”

“Don’t worry about him.” Phasma quietly interjected from her place beside the door, “Coming in here, seeing the holo, it’s reminded him what’s important and what he’s been missing. He won’t make the same mistake again, we won’t let him.”

“I’d like the drapes removed from the paintings around the palace, I don’t want Mother to be hidden away any longer.” the boy decided, a new rod of steel seemingly running through him as he turned to face her, “And I want to have meals with Father. Will you help me arrange it, Phas?”

She carefully lowered herself to one knee, “As I did for Hux when he was barely a Captain, I pledge my fealty to you, Armitage Hux II. Long may you reign when the role of Emperor becomes yours.”

“You’re still not going to let me win during training though, are you?”

“Dream on, little Huxling.”

-

“You did the right thing. It’s not too late for you to bond with him properly and be the father he deserves. You have to make the decision, no one can do it for you, do you continue on this path of pain or do you make a change?”

“I can’t just leave you behind. Don’t ask that of me.”

“Never. As if you could be rid of me so easily, Ren. We’re in this together, you and I, always. It’s time for you to raise our son now, to give him enough love for both of us. He’ll need you at his side when he comes of ruling age.”

“And you? I hate the thought of you being alone.”

“I’m not alone. I’m here with you and Armitage, waiting for a time when we can be together again. Stop trying to save me from a fate that has been decided and focus on protecting him. Make sure that he becomes the ruler that this galaxy deserves.”

“I love you.” he whispered, opening his eyes as golden sunlight chased the darkness from his meditation space. He knew he wouldn’t be complete until he was back with Hux, wherever that place was, but until then he’d do his best for their son.

-

A new era was dawning, an age of peace and prosperity for all the galaxy under Emperor Hux II.

[chromium-siren]

Those Darn Cats!

“Mreow! Mreow!”

CRASH!!!

Phasma was roused from her meditation when she heard the crash and the sound of paws running at top speed through the hall that day. Pudge and Miu Miu were being mischievous- again. This time, they had knocked over one of her gauntlets, which caused the crash- startling them, as well as some nearby troopers. Now that they came running, Phasma was going to have to explain everything.

“What happened, ma’am?” a cadet asked her, shocked that they saw her without her helmet.

“Nothing major, trooper. Only my cats knocking something down. Back to work.” They saluted and went off to do their duties while Phasma had to deal with an overturned water glass. She thought of her caf meetings with General Hux and how they would commiserate over the antics of their beloved feline companions. Phasma related the one time that Miu Miu walked all over her data pad, rendering a manifest she had written into gobbledygook. The General, on the other hand, had to try and keep Millicent away from the curtains!

One thing is for sure, when you’re a captain of the First Order with two cats, life is never dull!

[yougottalovekyloren]

Across the Stars (Part 14)

A/N: Hello, my lovelies! I hope you all are doing well and are staying healthy! This past week, I have been trying to decide what my new update schedule should be, and I think that I’m going to aim to update at least once a week.I’m thinking Fridays, but let me know what you all think!  I only have three weeks left in my semester, and then I’m free... for two weeks and then I begin a few summer courses to get ahead. BUT.... those two weeks will have quite a few uploads! Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, and I will try to have my new one part imagine up by the end of the week (no promises, though!)

-M <3

Y/N'S POV

My eyes fluttered opens lowly, sore and red with fatigue. I was still in Ben's arms, leaned against the wall. I glanced up at him. His head leaned back against it, his eyes closed and hair falling slightly over his eyes.  I let out a small sigh and leaned against his chest, closing my eyes as I soaked in the rare moment of peace.

 Unfortunately, it was not meant to last.

Only a few brief moments later, the door opened with a sharp woosh, and a familiar silver-plated figure stepped into the room. My hand instinctually grasped onto Ben’s arm.    

"Get up, girl." Phasma snapped, her hand wrapping around my arm and yanking me from where I sat. A new hand grabbed the other, pulling me back towards its source.

"She's not going anywhere." Ben’s voice was deadly, clearly awake now. The normally emotionless Captain let out a small snort. 

"Wake up, Ben. You are no longer my commander. Your words are empty. You are a prisoner of the First Order."

"Do not call me that." He hissed, not releasing his hold on me. She shook her head.

"I have to take her. She needs to be questioned."

"By who?"

"Garrik Turon, your new replacement. You may remember him from when you started training under Snoke." I could almost hear her amusement under her mask. I had no idea who that was, so I tried to believe that I had nothing to fear. But as soon as I saw Ben's face, my confidence shattered into a million pieces. As much as he tried to hide it, I could still see the fear glistening in his eyes. It quickly morphed into white hot rage.

"You can't take her to him."

"I can, and I will." Phasma grabbed me and pulled me up again. But as Ben rose to get me again, a dart of some sort shot out of Phasma's wrist and sunk into his neck.

"No!" I could only watch in horror as he dropped to the ground, his eyes open and body twitching.

"It only stunned him, you stupid girl." She growled, yanking me towards the door. "Let's go!"

"B-Ben." I cried, trying to pull away and go back to his side.  A familiar click of a gun sounded only mere inches from my ear, making me freeze.

"I suggest that you walk out of the cell before your beloved watches your blood coat the floor." Phasma spat icily. "He is not here to save you now." 

I looked down at him sadly, watching as the effects started to wear off slowly.  I had to do this, for Ben's sake. 

I walked slowly out of the room, terrified to go forward but not daring to go back.  My bottom lip caught between my teeth as I held back tears,  hearing the door shut quietly behind me. My life hung by a thread. 

"Let's go." The gun pressed against the small of my back, and I felt myself stumble forward. We walked through several long corridors before we reached our destination. "Go inside. He's waiting."

Trying to hide my fear, I entered the room. A dark figure sat in a chair, a simple hood covering his face.

"So... this is the girl who turned Kylo Ren soft." His voice sent a shiver down my spine. He rose and removed his hood.  My eyebrows rose a little in surprise. This man was only a handful of years older than myself, not too much younger than Ben.  He had soft wavy brown hair and a scar that ran directly across his right across his right eye. If his lips weren't twisted in a nasty sneer, I would’ve considered him somewhat handsome.

"I didn't make him weak." I swallowed, before continuing to speak. "I-"

A brilliant flash of pain cut me off, and a startled cry of pain escaped my lips as my body dropped to the floor. 

"I didn't ask you to speak." His voice was quiet, a slight twinge of amusement laced in with his calm demeanor, watching as I gasped for breath. My head was throbbing and something inside my chest was beginning to burn, like a growing fire. "Do you know who I am? You may speak now. “

"No." I managed to whimper.

"I'm Garrik Turon. But you can call me Lord Turon." He looked down at my darkly, disgust evident in his gaze. "I'm ten times stronger than your little boyfriend ever was, and will ever be. I do not give in when the first set of pretty Y/E/C eyes and long legs come along!"

I felt myself slowly begin to cry as I felt the fire continue to burn deeper in my chest, and the pounding in my head grow harder to bear. Who knew when it would be over? Or if I’d ever see Ben again?

---

Ben's POV

I slammed my fist into the wall for the fifth time since she was taken away. Blood began to soak through the dark fabric of my gloves, but I could not even begin to care in the slightest.  

They had taken Y/N away. 

They took her to him. 

The thought only made me angrier than I already was, my jaw tensing as my fist clenched again.

I had known Garrik for years. He was just as bad as I was, if not worse.  The friend I once knew knew nearly nothing of the Light. Snoke had made sure of that.

       (FLASHBACK TEN YEARS)

"Do you have family?" I asked after a particularly grueling duel, sitting next to him on the bench inside the training center. He wasn’t much younger than I was, perhaps fourteen or fifteen. 

"I do." His smile was bright, reaching his eyes.. "I'm hoping they'll be able to visit one day."

 I winced slightly, the painful images of my mother and father racing through my mind. And of course... my uncle.  But that didn’t matter anymore. The past was in the past. 

"Maybe. But for now, we have to concentrate on training."

"Absolutely." Garrik looked at me. "Will you help me?”

"Sure. Why not? Let’s get going.” 

   (FLASHBACK END)

Not even a week later,  Garrik received word that his family had been murdered. It did not take much sleuthing to know who had been behind the vicious attack. I expected nothing less from someone with that much hatred.

But after that moment in the training room, I never saw him smile again. I knew that whatever light, whatever inch of happiness was left inside him was gone. 

The Dark Side was all he had left.

After that, he trained hard. Just as hard as me. When Snoke appointed me as Commander, everything changed between us. Whatever friendship we had was destroyed. 

He became consumed by jealously, and I frankly didn't blame him at all.  But after that, I kept my distance and he kept his. All that remained was a growing tension. I hadn't seen him in a year or two. 

As I found myself lost in my thoughts, the door opened and my head snapped up. Phasma took a step into the room. "Where the hell is she?"

"She will be brought in in a few minutes." She hesitated,before continuing. "But first, Ren, I think we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about." I shrugged absentmindedly, pulling off my gloves and examining the damage my fists had taken only moments earlier..

"There is everything to talk about!" Phasma hissed. "You betrayed us!  You betrayed the First Order for a girl!"

"I know what I did." My gaze shifted to her once again, hard and cold. "And I have no regret for my actions." 

She knelt in front of me. 

"You came to us, remember? You felt the Calling and you left. You came to find a greater purpose, more potential."

"Shut up." I snapped. "You don't know anything."

"I do know something." She scoffed. "That girl will die, Ren. What then?"

"I won't let her die." I narrowed my eyes. "I will protect her, always."

“But it doesn’t seem that you can now, does it? Not even your love can save-”

I stretched my hand out, starting to choke her. "What would you know about love?”

"If you do not let me go in five seconds, you will never see Y/N again." Phasma choked out and I immediately released my hold on her. She slowly rose to her feet, and started walking to the door, pausing and looking back at me. “I loved you... more than you would ever know.”

I couldn’t comprehend which was more powerful, my disgust or my confusion. I gazed up at her, before speaking. “What of it now?” 

Even through her mask, I could tell she was torn in two. I did not feel anything remotely close to what she felt for me, but surely her loyalty to me could be manipulated to be stronger than to those for the First Order.

Phasma’s helmet tipped upwards. “It sure doesn’t matter now, does it?” 

The room fell silent. 

"Bring in the prisoner."

The door opened once again, and two Stormtroopers entered the room. In between them, was Y/N. 

She did not look well at all. Her eyes were wet with tears, rimmed red with exhaustion. Her hair was a mess, and I could see slight bruising around her arms. I immediately rose to my feet.

"What did he do to her?”

"Not my business nor my place to disclose anything related to the First Order’s interrogation procedures." Phasma’s voice hardened once more. "Ask him when you see him tomorrow."  

Without another word, she stormed out of the room, the troopers not far behind. The door shut not long after their departure. Y/N stood silently in the middle of the room, shaking slightly.

"What did he do to you?" I whispered, walking slowly and cautiously to her side.

"He..." Her voice cracked and she paused, as if she was praying for her tears to disappear. "He hurt me. In ways that I have never been hurt before. My body felt like it was on fire." I looked at her, and I instantly knew that she was leaving something out of her story. 

"What else?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me." I said firmly, taking her hand in mine. "I need to know."

 "He touched my head." Y/N whispered, her voice weak as she spoke further.   "And he put a vision inside." I squeezed her hand when she hesitated to continue.

"Please."

"You died." Y/N whimpered. "Over and over again. I was next to you, and couldn't do anything but watch as he killed you.”

"I'm not going to die." I pulled her closer to me. "Don't worry."

"I lost track of how many times he made me watch you die. It feels like it’s destined to happen." She softly, numbly.. "What if it’s what lays ahead of us?"

"No." I said firmly. "It won't. I'm not going to die and neither are you."

“It seems that are chances of surviving these days have been fairly small.”

"I'm seeing hint tomorrow. I will kill him myself, if or when it comes down to it.”

"You don't have your lightsaber."

 "No." I shook my head. "But I know how to without it."

 “How-”

 "Don't dwell on it anymore, my stars." I kissed her forehead softly. "Come, close your eyes and rest. That is something that we both need more than anything now.”

----

[s1nful-sa1nt]

CAPTAIN PHASMA MY BELOVED

homophobic phasma is my favorite thing she's so funny

[solohux]

@anonymous submitted: Techie and the Pilot

Brendol Hux, Jr --Better known as “Techie” to the few people aware of his existence-- younger brother of General Armitage Hux, had been watching the Resistance Pilot undergo interrogation. He hated that his older brother allowed prisoners to be tortured on his ship, it reminded him of his own miserable existence before the elder Hux had rescued him.  

  But whenever he had brought up his concerns to “Armie”, his brother brushed him off! He would feed him the same old lies about how “Prisoners who undergo interrogation usually have sensitive information that we need brother, we simply don’t have the time to allow them to tell us what they know at their own leisure.” or “I designed the standard interrogation protocol myself Bren, I like to think that it’s quite humane.”  

  Frankly, Techie failed to see how allowing droids to shock people or inject them with all manner of potentially dangerous medications was “humane”. 

  Occasionally the older of the Hux brothers even had the gall to say “Truly I can’t see how it even matters. Every prisoner is eventually reconditioned anyway, so what bad experiences they may have had while being interrogated would be wiped away entirely.” 

  Techie just thought that was missing the point he was trying to make. 

  And so, the younger Hux brother had largely given up on trying to convince his brother that torture was wrong. But that did not mean he had stopped caring about those who were tortured. In the beginning, he had tried to ignore them. But he was the eyes and ears of The Finalizer, nothing happened on that ship without him being aware of it. However he may have tried, he would always be drawn back to the interrogation wing. Seeing the prisoners struggle in their restraints, hearing their screams…. 

  How could he not feel terribly sorry for them, yet also compelled to watch over them? 

  Which is what he had been doing for Poe Dameron. Techie had quickly been impressed by the pilots stubborn spirit, he’d never seen someone hold out so long against the torture droid before! Of course, all prisoners eventually break, but the fact that Kylo Ren had to be called in to literally steal the needed information out of Poe’s head had Techie cheering for him! It was just a shame that such an inspiring prisoner was going to mind-wiped and then tossed into the closest Tie-Fighter to do battle against his comrades afterwards. Yes, such a shame indeed. 

Then a Stormtrooper turned traitor, freed the pilot under false pretenses and the two of them started making their way towards the closest hanger.  

  Techie could not believe what he was seeing! Something like this had never happened before! Even though he usually considered himself a realist --In actuality most would consider Techie a pessimist, although he could hardly be blamed for being one considering all that he had been put through-- he found himself feeling optimistic about the ‘Trooper and Pilot’s chances of escape. 

  His brother would be left in such a terribly bad mood afterwards, but Techie secretly just thought it would serve him right. 

  Only…. The ‘Trooper and the Pilot didn’t escape. They came close, so wonderfully close to freedom. But they had been spotted outside the hanger door by one of the Stormtroopers squad mates, apparently a squad mate with a bone to pick, because that ‘Trooper hadn’t listened to anything the other ‘Trooper said in lieu of explaining himself. Of course the other Stormtrooper raised the alarm, he was only doing what he had been trained to do. 

  Still, Techie felt quite crushed watching the ‘Trooper and the Pilot bolt off in opposite directions as they began to be surrounded. The Stormtrooper even had the misfortune of running straight into the fearsome Captain Phasma’s arms! Poor ‘Trooper, Techie knew he was a lost cause now.  

  Yet the Pilot…. Somehow avoided being caught! He weaved through the crowd expertly and even managed to lose his pursuers by cleverly dashing through a set of adjoining hallways! Clearly he had some experience in getting himself out of sticky situations and maybe just maybe Techie was getting a little crush on him. 

  No matter, Techie could no longer sit back and watch the Pilot eventually be chased down like some animal. He would help him. Techie had never interfered with an escaped prisoner beforehand, but he found it rather easy to do so. 

  Any door the Pilot wanted through? Techie opened it for him. Any hallway restricted to certain crew members? Techie allowed the Pilot to run down it, but stopped the search party looking for him from doing so. 

  Which is how the Pilot found himself huddled in an alcove just a short distance from Techie’s command room. Techie could see that the poor man was about to collapse from exhaustion and looked rather sorry for himself, clearly he couldn’t keep running away anymore. He needed a place to recuperate for a bit.  

  From there it was a simple matter of using the intercom system to quietly steer the Pilot towards Techie’s door. As soon as the Pilot opened it, Techie grabbed him and hauled him inside. The Pilot understandably didn’t appreciate that --He still had some fight left in him after all!-- but Techie managed to calm him down and assure him that he was a friend and would not harm him. 

By this time the poor man --Whose name was Poe, Techie almost couldn’t get enough of how satisfying that name sounded in his mouth-- was feeling his previous torture catch up with him and crashed out on Techie’s door as soon as he was nudged towards it. He slept for almost an entire day before he woke up again. Techie spent that time tending to his wounds, gazing at him admiringly and snuggling during the few hours of sleep he managed to get. 

  Poe woke up confused, but grateful for the hospitality nonetheless. Especially when Techie fetched some food and water for him. 

  Poe proved to be a chatterbox, which pleased Techie as he himself was a man of few words who preferred to listen to other people speak. Poe asked a number of difficult questions though:- “Where exactly on the ship are we?”, “What happened to that Stormtrooper who tried to help me escape?”, “Who are you?”, “What are you doing here?”. 

  Techie’s inability to convincely lie and evasive answers only gave Poe the wrong idea. He came to believe that Techie was also a prisoner of The First Order! And a long-term one at that, given how withdrawn he was and how resigned to his situation he seemed. He didn’t even dare ask about Techie’s false eyes, assuming that The First Order had tortured him via removing his real ones in order to get him to work for them.  

  Clearly the right thing to do was take Techie with him once he recovered his strength and escaped. He had failed the Stormtrooper, but he wouldn’t fail this sweet, kind-natured and vulnerable man!

  Techie was oblivious to his pilots, thought process. But still rather smitten with him. He drank in Poe’s stories of daring escapes from evil-doers and of his loving childhood home. He was delighted when Poe found his collection of copper wire animals while trying to stumble his way to the bathroom, as the pilot complimented them! Poe even showed genuine interest in Techie’s workstation, curiously asking what button did what. 

  They even shared food and the same bed together again come the ships night-cycle! 

  As far as Techie was concerned, it was the second best day of his life. 

  But all good things come to an end. 

  And Poe and Techie’s comfortable inhabitation with one another ended rather suddenly early in the next day-cycle. 

  Namely thanks to General Hux bursting in on them! Hux had come to his brother in desperation. No matter how many patrols he sent out, nor how much of the ship he turned over, the Resistance Pilot was nowhere to be found! Kylo Ren could have found him, but that damned Force User had blasted down to Jakku to capture the previously mentioned Pilot’s droid almost as soon as he was aware of the thing having hold of the map that would lead him straight to his old Master, Luke Skywalker.  

  And apparently the droid and some scavenger girl who had taken a liking to it where leading the Leader of the Knights of Ren on quite a merry chase all over the planet! Or something of that description, Ren never told him more of his missions than the bare minimum.

  The Supreme Leader of The First Order could’ve also found the Pilot, but Hux wasn’t of the mind to “bother” him with a relatively trivial task. 

  So his beloved baby brother was his only hope of finding the Rebel Scum before he did anything to damage his ship! It had been nearly three days now, who knew what the urchin could be up to?! 

  So when Hux opened Techie’s door and found his brother standing next to the Pilot, the General’s first thought was that the Rebel Scum had taken Techie hostage! He reacted instantly. He drew his personal blaster out and demanded that if the Pilot wanted to live, he would unhand his brother! 

  “Hux: You’ve made a mistake Rebel Scum, release my brother from your custody before I blow your head off.” 

  “Poe: What?” 

  Fortunately, Techie was also a quick thinker and attempted to explain the situation before anyone got hurt!  

  “Techie: Armie no! It’s not what you think! He’s my friend!” 

  “Poe: “Armie”?” 

  Hux naturally didn’t believe his brother’s explanation, assuming that the Pilot had threatened him in order to get him to say that. Or by some miracle, had managed to actually convince Techie that he wasn’t really a terrorist and just happened to want to be friends with General Hux’s brother. 

  “Hux: He is not your friend Bren! He’s a murderous scoundrel who would not hesitate to end you if it benefited him! But it’s alright, I’m here now. I’ll have you out of his clutches soon enough.” 

  “Poe: Anyone want to tell me what the kriff is going on? Because I’m honestly lost here.” 

  It was a cut and dry Mexican Stand-off. Techie couldn’t convince Hux that Poe wasn’t holding him hostage. Hux didn’t believe that Techie wasn’t being harmed by being in the mere presence of Poe. And Poe was just really confused by the idea that General Hux not only had a brother, but was apparently holding him prisoner for the benefit of The First Order! 

  Eventually Techie burst into tears and started sobbing, pleading with Hux to not kill his first friend in years --And first love interest ever!--. During which Poe turned around to give Techie a hug, which left him wide open to Hux’s blaster. Although perhaps Hux had heard some of his brother’s pleas, because he merely stunned Poe as opposed to shooting him dead as he had threatened to do so earlier. 

  Naturally this only left Techie more distraught. 

  After Hux checked Techie over to assure himself that his little brother wasn’t hurt and then reassured Techie that Poe wasn’t dead…. Techie did calm down a little bit. 

  Then he asked an odd question. 

  “Techie: *Sniffling* Can I keep him Armie? I’m lonely here and I really like him.” 

  Hux was going to refuse just on principal, but one look at the younger Hux brother’s tear-stained face gave him pause. 

  “Hux: Only if you allow me to recondition him first.” 

  And that is where our story ends. You can decide if Techie agrees to his brother’s compromise or holds out on Poe retaining his actual personality!

[cartoonjessie]

About Hux - HBD Domhnall!

It's Domhnall Gleeson's birthday! Born in 1983, he's turning 36 today! I'd like to use the occasion to talk about Armitage Hux. Whether you hate him or love to hate him or genuinely love him, I hope you learn something about his character that you did not know before.

If you wish not to be spoiled about revelations from the Aftermath or Phasma books, then you might want to stop reading right now. If you don't mind learning some new and cool beans about the sequel trilogy's favorite (only) ginger, continue reading! 

Hux grew up on Arkanis, a rainy planet that was home to the officers academy of the old Empire. He was born around the time of the Battle of Yavin, and was the bastard son of Commandant Brendol Hux and a kitchen woman. The little bastard was not well-liked by his father, who did not treat his son kindly. After the battle of Endor, Arkanis didn't remain a part of the Empire for longer than five years, and got claimed for the New Republic's side. Hux and his father were evacuated before Arkanis fell to the Republic.

Fleet Admiral Gallius Rax saw something in little Hux, who he believed to be very well-spoken for his age. While Brendol Hux had trained 24 orphans as Rax's personal child soldiers, Rax gave command over the orphans to small Hux, who until that point had been afraid he'd get attacked by them. With this new-found power, little Hux ordered one of the boys to punch the one next to him. The child soldier obeyed - and it is unclear at what point Hux stopped the child - if he ever did.

Rax wasn't the only one who saw something in Hux. Rae Sloane as well believed that they would need officers like him. Rae was not fond of his father, but did like Armitage, and suspected the abuse Armitage suffered under Brendol. During a fight with his father, Rae beat Brendol into submission, telling him to teach the boy everything he knew instead and to stop the abuse. Brendol and Armitage Hux trained the Stormtrooper children, and rumor has it that Armitage became more vicious as time went by.

Armitage was raised on stories of the old Empire and believed the New Republic was weak. In the Unknown Regions, the First Order grew. As an adult, Hux was responsible for the creation of Starkiller Base, overseeing this project and specializing in technological terror, and he gained the rank of General doing so, despite his relatively young age.

Hux took great pride in the First Order Stormtroopers, having been involved in their training for decades before FN-2187 defected. So maybe you're wondering what happened to Brendol and why he disappeared from the story before TFA?

Well, spoiler alert, but Brendol was murdered by Armitage and Phasma. Phasma didn't much like Brendol Hux and found an ally in Armitage, who didn't harbor any warm feelings towards his father either. Brendol's death was untraceable (read Phasma to learn more about it) and Armitage felt no regret for aiding in its execution, far from it. He was probably glad to be rid of the old man. He ascended to his father's role in the First Order and when Captain Cardinal, a loyal First Order Stormtrooper who rivaled with Phasma, went to see Hux to talk about the suspicious death of his father (believing Hux did not have a hand in it), one of my favorite lines from any Star Wars novel came into being: "He’s not in his uniform but instead wears a robe, black and composed of sharp lines and pleats. For all that the entire point of a robe is to appear casual and comfortable, Armitage Hux has a way of turning anything into a uniform, any interaction into a judgment." (Delilah S Dawson - Phasma)

It's the best possible way to describe how stiff and formal Armitage Hux really is. Needless to say, Hux didn't even bother hiding the truth from Cardinal, who later on got an unfortunate 'meeting' with Phasma that was meant to ensure no one would learn the truth about Brendol's death.

You know the rest of his story from the movies already.

And in case you did not realize this yet, but in TLJ, Poe's reference to his mother struck a cord of him due to him being born out of wedlock - it was a sensitive subject, one that Poe was willing to exploit. (And not just a "yo mama" joke.) Having a rather methodical mindset and being specialized in science and technology, overseeing development of tracking technology as well as the creation of Starkiller base, he's not very patient with a Force-wielder like Kylo Ren who loses control every other day or so. How Hux will fare under Kylo Ren's leadership remains to be seen. The two have not been friends due to the way Snoke turned them against each other, but I believe it's too late for that to change with Snoke gone.

Hux believes that he should be the ruler of the First Order due to his upbringing. He has kept his desires and thoughts hidden from the Force users around him. He was willing to kill Kylo Ren on the spot after he'd found Snoke's corpse, yet was able to hide his gun from sight again before Kylo woke. If Kylo had realized Hux had been about to kill him, would Hux still be alive at this point? Hux is seen as a wussy by certain people in the fandom, but I think you have to give it to Hux that he's quite brave to withstand the Force-abuse of Snoke and Kylo Ren and live to tell the tale. He's not physically strong, but he's not giving up for his quest for power even if he's surrounded by Gods - of a sort. That ambition would surely have granted him a spot in Slytherin house, if this were another fandom.

Kylo Ren has kept Hux close until the end of TLJ, perhaps under the motto "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer" - with Hux in his direct line of sight, Hux couldn't assassinate him and take his place.

Not much is known about Hux's part in episode IX. There is a rumor that at a French Star Wars convention in late april, concept art of episode IX was shown. Apparently there was a Hux drawing that did not reveal much but Hux dressed in a black First Order uniform that had a little chain on the shoulder. Does this indicate a promotion coming for Armitage Hux? Does Kylo Ren which to appease him by making him a Grand Marshall? Or is this rumor a blatant lie? (Since there have hardly been any sources on this and certainly no video footage.)

In fandom, Hux is one of the most beloved characters of the sequel trilogy, especially among female fans. Whether this is because girls too love a good villain, or because Domhnall Gleeson is a talented and attractive young actor, is not entirely certain. (Up to you to decide!)

On AO3, my faovrite fanfiction and the one with the oldest crowd, over 18 000 works of fanfiction featuring Hux can be found. That puts him only behind Rey and Kylo Ren in terms of popularity. (Most stories on there are either Kylo Ren/Rey or Kylo Ren/Hux, and the latter had more fanfiction than Reylo a few months back. Don't ask.)

In December, a Hux comic will be released around the same time that episode IX will hit the theatres. Disney has already stated that this comic will also be a way to measure Hux's popularity and demand among the fans. If it does well, this could bode well for the future of the Hux-fans out there, since it could mean we'd get more stories about Hux.

Whether Millicent, Hux's pet according to a joke by Pablo Hidalgo, will become canon in that comic, also remains to be seen. Fingers crossed! Personally, I'm hoping for a novel written by Delilah S Dawson - or with Disney + coming, a spin-off series. A girl can dream, right?

In case you want to read more about Hux, I recommend Phasma by Delilah S Dawson and the Aftermath books by Chuck Wendig. Thanks for reading this far, let me know what you like about Hux, and have a great day!

(sharing this in a few of my favorite Star Wars groups on Facebook as well - sorry if you have to read it several times. ;-))

[janiedean]

Jaime/Captain Phasma? How bout a Star Wars au? After all, didn't he say that he wanted to serve under her command? In another life he does? Jaime serves faithfully under his beloved Captain Phasma, cough, cough, her real name is Brienne?

maaaaan like

NO ONE KNOWS because I never went for it

but if you really wanna know I had actually planned an entire star wars au back when the force awakens came out where I had for some miracle managed to merge BOTH OT, PT and TFA by doing some meddling but sadly phasma wasn’t brienne because guys as much as AESTHETIC goes phasma is a true bonafide arse and they have nothing in common personality-wise (BUT IT’S FINE I LOVE PHASMA AS THE HORRID PERSON SHE IS), basically............ hahaha I should find my notes but going for a thing where robb wasn’t stark-related the entire thing was along the lines of:

ned as obi-wan, brandon as padme, catelyn as anakin > lady stoneheart as darth vader, sansa and arya as her kids except that since I had planned the TFA plot and the OT plot to happen almost at the same time arya somehow disappeared because the dark side got a hold of her or smth while ned ended up giving sansa to the equivalent of the organas so you had leia!sansa, I think jon arryn was qui-gon and I wish I had my damned notebook let me go check OKAY SO, palpatine was walder frey, I apparently hadn’t decided on who was supposed to be yoda but whatever

then the OT happened with ned exiling himself on tattooine where he has a kid with ashara (jon) that he ends up sending on the other desert planet when he realizes that he might be in danger (YES REY KENOBI WAS A THING BACK IN THE DAY SHH I LIKED THAT THEORY) and he made friends with local farmer brienne who turns out being force sensitive (YES BRIENNE WAS RANDOMLY LUKE WITHOUT BEING ACTUALLY RELATED TO ANAKIN LET ME HAVE IT), sansa is the leader of the rebels blah blah blah help me ned-wan-kenobi-stark you’re my only hope, he and brienne hightail out of tattooine after the empire finds them, they need a passage, they end up with han solo!jaime with his trusted honor!falcon or something so basically I was gonna have the pseudo luke/han storyline lmao

shit happens, they free sansa, she and brienne become bfs, jb hook up sansa brings her mom back to the light while still leading the rebellion, except that ops turns out the first order exists and either tywin or roose!snook have tried to turn to the dark side kylo ren!arya and they have to handle that menace too - featuring phasma!ramsay and hux!roose if tywin is snook

at this point BAM new trilogy happens, we have poe!robb who is the best pilot in their ranks and sansa’s adoptive brother or something idk he can be some other tully branch I had to figure that out who infiltrates the first order base, befriends/falls in love with theon!finn who can’t wait a) for robb to name him ;) b) to run the fuck away from phasma!ramsay, shit happens, finn!theon ends up on jakku where he runs into rey!jon who has been waiting for his parents blah blah blah enter the TFA plot except with jaime and brienne both sharing the falcon because what are divorces not in my fic, maz kanata!davos, bb8!grey wind and arya realizing that the pull of the light was a thing all along and her sister just wants to finally meet her properly and who the fuck are these assholes who brainwashed her? she’s not gonna like that, obv. she and jon become bfs after rather than anything else thanks and yeah that was my sw au

in this whole mess I didn’t know what to do with either chewie and c3p0/r2d2 as *roles* so I decided that tyrion and bronn were going to double for what those three were supposed to accomplish in the story’s plot or smth and like they were jaime’s understaffed falcon crew but had the bickering sassy dynamic duo thing going on, or like tyrion and jaime co-owned the falcon but jaime is... the..... *han* of the situation if you get me while bronn ended up being hired for a job once and never left because sorry but I need my ship okay, idk I had to think about it further

now: I absolutely have no idea if I’m ever going to have time to touch this because a) who knows b) it’s long af and I don’t have the force of will right now, c) I’d have had to finalize a lot of stuff and recast a few people I didn’t and so on but anyway I did come up with a SW au I just don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to go there X°DDDD also because since then we had rogue one, tlj and the han solo movie like idek if I should upgrade it or not

[knightsofdamnren]

Happy Star Wars Day to my fellow SW nerds!

I wanted to do something to celebrate my love for this universe on this special day so I decided to share my ten favourite characters from the movies, because I’m not very familiar with the rest of SW.

Kylo Ren

Kylo Ren is a complex character. For the first time, I really can feel how a Star Wars character is struggling between the Light and the Darkness. He is fierce and fragile at the same time. So full of contradictions. And, well, I always loved angry characters and the anger coming from Kylo is so palpable that I can almost touch it with my fingers through the screen. The man is so extreme in everything: his acts, his feelings, his tragedy. There is no way I can predict how Kylo would react to a situation and that’s what I love in this character. Adam Driver’s portrayal is so intense and nuanced. I really can’t wait to see where his character’s arc will end.

Han Solo

The first character I loved in this universe. How can I say more than anybody else about what I love about him? Except that I always found him more human, more nuanced, more complex than Luke or Leia. And Harrison Ford’s performance in The Force Awakens made me loving him even more. His portrayal of a broken father touched my soul and gave a whole new dimension to Han Solo, making of him more than a legend.

Jyn Erso

I can’t understand why Jyn didn’t had more love than she actually had in the fandom. For me, she is the best female character that we ever had in the SW movies. Jyn isn’t the perfect paradigm of honour and virtue. She is harsh and selfish. She is angry and has a more mixed opinion about the Rebellion than any other character and I love that. I love to see good characters doubting about their own side, not by lack of conviction but more about ethics. Her journey through Rogue One is beautiful. I would have loved to see more about her.

Poe Dameron

How can I resist to Poe Dameron? He is brave and sassy. And he knows in what he believes. What I love in Poe is that he isn’t completely blind in his obedience. Poe isn’t one-dimensional. He is ready to do things dangerous or barely legal if he is convinced that he is right and that he does for the better of his people. He is a soldier and as a soldier, he knows that the world isn’t black or white. There is darkness in Poe and he is aware of it. But he decides to be someone good, to be someone great!

Enfys Nest

I loved the design of this character at the second I saw it. The twist about this character made me loving her even more. I love to see Star Wars characters outside the eternal Rebellion/Dark Side dynamic. Enfys is a young girl but she is competent and she is ready to do something to change the world. And she has the respect of everybody, her friends like her enemies. I seriously hope that Solo isn’t the last time we will see her. She has too much potential to be wasted.

Obi-wan Kenobi

I don’t really like the Jedis. Especially because I don’t like their privileged positions. And yet, I love Obi-wan. He is something particular in the Jedi Order. I don’t really know why but his Light is extremely attractive to me. And I love how quiet he is despite all the tragedies he faced. And I have to admit that due to the inconsistencies between the Prelogy and the original Trilogy, I can’t stop to laugh every time that Old Ben is saying something to Luke about his father. He sounds so much like an old little shit that I find it extremely hilarious.

Qui-Gon Jinn

I have to admit that maybe I wouldn’t love Qui-Gon as much as I do if it wasn’t for his partnership with Obi. Even if he is acting like a dick with his padawan in The Phantom Menace, you can feel the deep love and utter respect between them. To also know that he loved to screw the rules of the Jedi Order makes me respecting him a lot.

Chewie

No words, just a weird language, blue eyes and a tall silhouette. But it’s enough to make me love Chewie. He is the guardian of Han and their friendship is beautiful. And I’m convinced that Chewie is the most important person in Han’s life (with his son). It breaks my heart to see him now without his beloved friend. It feels weird.

Captain Phasma

Okay, the most ill-exploited character of the new trilogy but I still love her. I love that we finally have a female character in the Dark Side and I love that she is such an impressive figure. And a figure of high authority. She is bad and she doesn’t care about it. I live for this kind of female characters! And well, she is a badass.

Shmi Skywalker

She is the beginning of everything. I love that the Skywalker family is coming from a woman and from a slave. She is sweet, gentle and it always breaks my heart that she agreed to let go Anakin so he would have a better life than with her. Her son has been her whole life and yet, she is willing to sacrifice herself. I would love for The Rise of Skywalker to be about her. Imagine that, the last Skywalker and the first Skywalker, reunited. How beautiful it would be to put an end to the Skywalker family history.

Post by Midgardian Nerd