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charlottesbookclub · 1 year

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Nightmares (Armitage Hux x Reader)

Summary: Armitage has a nightmare but you’re there to comfort him.

Warnings/Tags: memories of child abuse, hurt/comfort, some angst but really mostly fluff, gn!reader (let me know if I missed anything!)

Words: 1,057

Author’s Note: so, uh, this is my first fanfic ever! I’m super happy to take constructive criticism but please be nice -- I’m sensitive 😅 This is just entirely self-indulgent because I’ve had this scenario in my head for months and I just finally had to get it out. I hope you enjoy it!

Armitage was shaking. His mind had gone blank, no thoughts except trying to block his father’s next blow. It was useless of course. Brendol was so much bigger and stronger, and running now would only make the punishment even worse later. Armitage squeezed his eyes shut, trying to numb himself to the feeling of Brendol’s hands against his face again and again. His fists were so large and meaty and unbelievably hot. Or maybe that was just Armitage’s pale skin, reacting to both the violence inflicted upon it and the tide of anger and fear that was rising steadily inside him, flushing his extremities as adrenaline coursed through his blood.

But then the steady pummeling began to fade, the feeling of his father’s fists growing fainter. Now there were new hands. Smaller hands. Cooler hands. And there was a voice.

“Armitage!” the voice was so sweet, quavering with worry. The gentle hands pressed against his overheated cheeks, the grounding reality of the skin-to-skin contact slowly pulling him from the hell to which his unconscious mind had decided to deliver him.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, adjusting to the soft darkness in the room. His vision was almost… watery. Had he been crying? As his eyes focused, they found your face in front of his, eyes wide with worry, your hands still pressed to his face.

“Armitage…” you said again, more quietly this time, realizing your attempt to free him from his own mind had worked. You moved your hands, carefully brushing lingering tears away from the faint freckles that dotted his face. He had been crying.

His mind gained clarity more slowly than his vision, portions of his thoughts still caught in the shadowy tendrils of the dream. He closed his eyes again, focusing of the feeling of your soft palms pressed against his skin. Reaching up, he cupped your hands in his, pulling them gently from his face and intertwining his fingers with yours. He took a deep breath, just like you had taught him, and opened his eyes again.

The parts of his brain that had not yet broken free from the terror of the dream tried to convince him that you too were merely a figment of his dreaming mind, an imaginary balm sent to comfort him momentarily only to leave him all the more devastated when he finally woke up alone. But you were still there, looking at him with the same concerned expression. That’s when he noticed that there were thin, sparkling tear tracks on your own cheeks, faintly illuminated by the starlight that crept into the room.

He lifted one of his hands from where it lay folded with yours to echo your earlier gesture. He cupped your cheek carefully, brushing the tears from your face. Your gaze relaxed a little then, and it was your turn to close your eyes, leaning into his touch.

“Was it your father again?” you asked quietly after a moment, your gaze focused on his face again, searching his expression for the answer, even though you already knew it. Armitage nodded slowly, not yet sure he could trust his voice not to break. He swallowed, trying to steady himself. No one else ever saw him like this. On the bridge, he was composed and authoritative. With his engineers, he was organized and knowledgeable. With his officers, he was professional and controlled. But here, in his chambers, he was a frightened child again, helpless against his father’s rage. He was crying and shaking, unsteady and unraveled. But you folded him in the warmth that seemed to flow from you as easily as light from a star. You wrapped him up in your compassion, your understanding. Your love. a comfort he thought he would never feel, that he thought he would never deserve to feel. Yet here you were all the same. Holding him in the dark and pulling all his broken pieces back together again. He had to tell you.

“It was my father, and…” Armitage had never been good at expressing affection, or even fondness. The example of his father and the strict professionalism of the Order had stripped him of his vulnerability long ago. But he could feel it beginning to bloom again, encouraged by the sunlight in your smile and tended by your gentle hands. So he tried again: “but the worst part was…” He faltered again, feeling his voice break. You didn’t rush him, just continued to hold his hands in yours, absently running your fingers in circles against his skin.

“The worst part was that for a moment I thought you were just a dream as well.” It all spilled out in a rush, pouring from his mouth before he could choke on the delicate, vulnerable words. Your fingers stilled as you processed his hurried confession. When the full meaning of his words finally hit you, he barely had time to react.

You launched yourself against him, wrapping your arms around him, completely enveloping him in your comforting scent and warm presence.

“I’m here,” you whisper in his ear, the quiver in your voice suggesting that you might be crying again. “I promise. I’m here.”

Armitage buried his face in your neck, letting his tears fall against your skin as he pulled you into him, wanting you to be as close as possible. This time though, the tears weren’t from anger or fear, but from a feeling that was so much lighter, so much more… lovely than anything he’d felt before. He didn’t have a name for it yet, but he knew he only felt it when he was with you.

He wasn’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms, just breathing. Eventually he laid back down against the mattress, bringing you with him and holding you firmly against his chest. You were real. You were real. You were real. The weight and warmth of your body against his helped him assure himself it was true. You curled into him, sighing contently as he ran a hand through your hair. After a few moments, he felt your breathing deepen as you fell back into the waiting embrace of sleep. He followed soon after, no longer haunted by memories of his past, but dreaming only of you and of your future together.

#charlotte writes #armitage hux #general hux #hux #armitage hux x reader #general hux x reader #hux x reader #hux x you #tw childhood abuse #tw child abuse #tw nightmares #armitage hux fanfiction #general hux fanfic

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ao3feed--kylux · 1 year

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The Inaugural Waltz: A Dark Kylux Tale

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/eoFizlL

by Armorweave (Shimmersilk)

This is a fully dark POV dead dove alternative scene of Kylo Ren asserting his dominance over General Hux in the throne room aboard the damaged Supremacy.

Snoke is dead, and now you’re Supreme Leader of the First Order. Hux disagrees, so you choke him into line, but that’s not enough. You should make your lesson last like Lord Vader would have. This is Hux’s fault. This is what he deserves. This is your inauguration. This is what you deserve.

Snoke is dead, and now you’re powerless. Kylo Ren is insane. He’s playing with you, playing with your head. He sees it all — what those men did to you as a child. He’s determined to be worse than they ever were. You should have been better to Ren. You should have listened to him. Now it’s too late.

*Read those plentiful tags and may the Fourth be with you.*

Words: 2578, Chapters: 2/9, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux

Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux & Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Brendol Hux, Armitage Hux/Brendol Hux’s Sick Buddies

Additional Tags: Movie: Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Alternative Scene, POV Kylo Ren, POV Armitage Hux, Mentioned Ben Solo, Mentioned Darth Vader, Mentioned Phasma (Star Wars), Mentioned Rae Sloane, Minor Ben Solo/Tai, Minor Ben Solo/Voe, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Evil Kylo Ren, Sadist Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Brendol Hux is Not Nice, Bad Parent Brendol Hux, Abusive Brendol Hux, Creepy Snoke (Star Wars), Manipulative Snoke (Star Wars), Abusive Snoke (Star Wars), Inappropriate Use of the Force, The Dark Side of the Force (Star Wars), The Force is Sentient (Star Wars), Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Character Death, The First Order Is Terrible, Violence, Gore, Mild Blood, Incontinence, Torture, Beating, Whipping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Aftermath of Violence, Rape, Underage Rape/Non-con, Gang Rape, Mind Rape, Rape Aftermath, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Mind Manipulation, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Psychic Abilities, Power Imbalance, Angst, Derogatory Language, Crying, Begging, Suicide Attempt, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Painful Sex, Blow Jobs, Skull Fucking, Hurt No Comfort, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Porn With Plot

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/eoFizlL

#star wars: the force awakens #star wars: the last jedi #kylux #kylo ren #general hux #fanfic

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solohux · 3 years

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Hi! I kinda took a break from Kylux but I'm getting back into it. Do you have any fic you'd recommend from the past 5-6 months? I really like your taste in Kylux fanwork. It's 100% okay if you don't have time for recs too!

Welcome back, darling! There have been so many great fics recently!

(Please remember that this is my opinion and all fics are great fics! And whilst I may not have read all of these fics, the ones that I haven't are in my to-read list on my phone.)

Enjoy! And thank you, fic writers! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

- To Clothe You in Crimson Roses by need_more_meta Kylo invites Hux to take part in a Dark Side ritual. Hux agrees, for better or for worse. (E, 2.6k)

- Booty Call by DaisyChainz The progression of a relationship, via booty holocall. (E, 4.2k)

- Cross My Heart by soIiIoquy Armitage stared up at the sky. Rich blue drifting softer and darker with the evening light while passing clouds went from white wisps to puffs to bundles of grey as the sweet, static scent of another coming storm filled the air. He crushed a handful of cool grass beneath him, sleek and fresh, inhaling a petrichor breeze. Liar. (M, 27.7k)

- supernovas blast in blood by Polly_Summerisle "I can explain." Hux, his blaster firmly pressed under the Allegiant General's chin, smiled. "Oh, I have little doubt about that, Enric." (E, 2.6k)

- Orbital decay by proprioception Kylo grins, predatory, and Hux wants to hit him, kiss him, bite him, fuck him. He doesn’t know where the genetically coded alpha aggression ends and Hux’s personal animosity for Kylo Ren begins. He doesn’t really care. (E, 4.7k)

- Blood's Left No Room For Rust On Our Blades by Kittens The emperor is missing and his most loyal enforcer will stop at nothing to get him back. (E, 27.7k)

- Morning Routine by Mintysprouts Kylo and Hux have established a new addition to their regular morning routine, one Hux actively enjoys. (E, 1.9k)

- All Work, No Play by RedFae When King Kylo Amidala sees his favorite consort overworking himself trying to put together his birthday celebration he decides that it's time for him to remind the man how to relax. (E, 5.3k)

- The Bastard and the Lord by mysticmilks The whole castle was terrified when fearsome Lord Kylo Ren came to Arkanis to collect taxes. Lord Brendol didn’t have enough to pay and their only chance of survival was to strike a deal with Ren. What might Brendol, who had nothing valuable, suggest to him? What might Lord Ren be interested in taking? How far would Armitage, young bastard omega son of Lord Hux, go to protect his family? (E, 23.6k)

- Don’t Panic by Pizzzazlut “Waking up next to Hux since entering their new life in exile hadn’t lost its novelty. Waking up to Hux having a nightmare, however, was something that Kylo wished he didn’t have to experience time and time again for Hux’s own sake.” Or the one where Kylo comforts Hux after a nightmare about this father. (T, 2.7k)

- To Forge a Double-Edged Sword by FracturedSpine Six times that Brendol Hux was afraid of his son. (T, 7.3k)

- Fever (a lovely way to burn) by AabH Hux and Ren are stranded and must rely on each other. Kylo finds that Hux may need to rely on him for more than the general cares to admit. (E, 13.3k)

- Witness Him by valda With the help of his lover, Armitage Hux takes his revenge on Enric Pryde. (E, 595)

- In Full Compliance by rudbeckia Kylo Ren takes his helmet off in public and shakes out his glorious mane. Hux is beside himself with… with… something at his co-commander’s lack of respect for uniform regulations. Something must be done, and Hux will do it himself if necessary. (E, 1.9k)

- Enough by EmperorsVornskr Hux's body finally gives out from fatigue after being pushed too hard, too long. Kylo tends to him, and glimpses some vulnerability. (M, 726)

- Ginger Slave by mysticmilks Ben Organa-Solo is twenty years old, a trained Jedi Knight, and the son of galactic heroes. His mother is a princess, senator, and general Leia Organa. His father is a general and ex-smuggler Han Solo. His uncle is that Luke Skywalker. Ben is ready to use his Force powers and skills to infiltrate the criminal underworld and find intel on the elusive First Order. He was quite literally born ready for this undercover mission. It's in his blood. It's his destiny to save the Galaxy. He's less ready to meet a ginger slave in dire need of saving and Ben feels protective of this poor boy, who is more than just angry big green eyes and tragic backstory. Maybe this Armie is not that helpless and knows much more than Ben thinks. (E, 11.8k)

- Muffin by KyberKills Hux flusters easily, and Ren likes to see him flustered. (T, 100)

- Veiled Union by oorsprong On Emperor Hux's wedding night he will finally see the face of his new husband. (E, 2.2k)

- The Golden Egg by Kylokitty “It's enormous, Hux. A lot of men can't handle it.” "I’m not a lot of men,” Hux said. The confidence oozing through his tone was palpable. Hux is determined to take all of Kylo and prepares by finding the perfect egg-shaped butt plug. (E, 3.5k)

- The Duel by DustOnBothSides After the First Order storms a Resistance base, Rey decides to duel Kylo Ren to the death. After all, there is no way the force would let the First Order win, right? (T, 1.4k)

- Lovesick by chandrilas Kylo and Hux are wrapped in their bed in the quiet hours, where Kylo confronts his feelings in silence. (E, 1.2k)

- From Now On We Are Enemies by notlikelybutpossible Demoted in all but name, omega Armitage Hux has enough to deal with just clinging to his place in the First Order, without Supreme Leader Kylo Ren demanding his ass-istance when he goes into rut. (E, 45.8k)

- Watch Me Make 'Em Bow by phoenixspencer The doors to the throne room were closed, but he didn’t need permission to enter. The Stormtroopers standing on either side didn’t even look his way when he approached. He opened the doors to find the Emperor seated on his throne, just where he anticipated he would be, and surrounded by advisors, snakes the lot of them. (E, 1.4k)

#kylux #fic rec

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therenlover · 3 years

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can we get some modern hux as a boyfriend headcanons

You know what? Yes, you can anon! (I need to put down some inspo for a requested fic anyway, so here goes nothing!)

Modern! AU Armitage Hux Boyfriend Headcanons

18+ headcanons will be marked with a line towards the end!

WARNINGS: Mentions of childhood abuse (aka Brendol Hux’s A+ Parenting)

First of all, Armitage works somewhere pretty high profile. I like to lean towards it being a pretty generic big office where they do nondescript business things and make lots of money, but I’ve considered that he’d be great working at a law firm too.

He’s also a workaholic

This means he’s busy like... always.

You want to grab lunch? Sorry, there's a huge meeting with the higher-ups that day and he needs to get a raise before Pryde does. You want to take a weekend trip? Well too bad because a big case is coming up and he needs to be in the office until 8pm every day.

That being said, if you ever brought it up to him that he spent more time pulling extra hours at the office than with you, he would be more than a little mortified and do his best to try to balance things a little more evenly, even if it meant losing a promotion to Ben “Nepotism” Solo because losing you would be so much worse.

Speaking of which, you’d also have to get to know his only 3 friends- his bestie Phasma, his work frenemy Ben, and his assistant Mitaka- pretty well because they tend to show up uninvited at random times.

A lot of the time you spend together with ‘Tidge (his nickname, because he hates it less than Armie and saying Armitage 20 times a day can be a real mouthful) is at his big-ass apartment. Date nights on the town are lovely every once in a while, but Hux doesn’t exactly know how to act like a normal person in public,

Before moving in with him, you’d just drop by after work every day and spend some time with Millicent while waiting for him to get home. Once you do live there you’d pretty much do the exact same only in your pajamas.

He likes to know that, once he gets home from the insane stress of work, his two favorite things are sitting there waiting for him.

Hux outside the privacy of his own home is, to put it kindly, a man who constantly acts like he has a stick up his ass. When he’s home with you though? Completely different dude.

Lots of kisses and affection are MUSTS for him because, after his childhood, he craves a lot of physical affection and he only trusts you to give it to him. It’s all in private, though, because he’s uncomfortable with the idea of being seen as weak

The two of you have a lot of little rituals around the house that make him feel more secure.

Like every day he sits on the floor between your legs while you sit on the couch and brush the gel out of his hair. It takes about 15 minutes and you both just sit and talk about your days. He loves the feeling on your hands running through his hair after a long day. It makes even the worst days bearable when he knows he has that to come home to.

Armitage also loves to cook dinner for you.

You always try to insist that he’s worked late so you could do it, or you could just order in, but he loves to cook for you and thinks it’s a great way to show his affection. Surprisingly, he’s a pretty great chef.

If you ever met his father, which Hux would try to prevent with literally all his might, it would probably go very, very poorly, because the second Brendol made some asshole remark about your boyfriend being less-than-enough you’d defend him.

And the second Brendol started getting on you about anything, Hux would just beat the shit out of him. Because it’s one thing for his father to ridicule him in front of people, but you? No way.

He refuses to let anyone make you feel the way his father made him feel, even if it means standing up to him for the first time.

Also, Armitage is rich. Like, old-money rich. And even if his dad tried to get him cut off from the fund his mother put in place for him during the divorce, he makes enough money at his job that it doesn’t really matter.

Basically, expect ridiculously expensive gifts.

If you don’t like gifts or don’t want him to ‘waste money’ on you (which would never be the case, but he wants you to be happy) he’ll spend the money on things you both enjoy instead, like really good ingredients for dinner or a new mattress made exactly the way you need it to fic your back pain.

--------- 18+ from this point on! ---------

Armitage isn’t very confident in bed, but he makes up for that with enthusiasm and pure skill.

It’s more comfortable for him to be on top. He likes to feel like he’s always in control of the situation because it’s already kinda weird for him to be so vulnerable and exposed. That being said he trusts you more than anybody else. If being on top is what you want then he’ll try it.

Even when it comes to getting pegged/fucked, he’d be open to it, but only if you were the one doing it. (he’d probably be a crier as a sub tho, fair warning)

He tends to get self-conscious when it comes to his scars, they’re a reminder of his ‘failure’ in the eyes of his father, but some nights when you make love you kiss them and tell him all the things you love about him to try to give him something else to think about when he sees them.

‘Tidge LOVES giving head

You never would have guessed it, he does seem like the kind of guy who will take what he wants to chase his own release, but he really just likes making you feel as good as possible at all times.

Hux tends to cum second. His whole goal is to make you feel as good as possible and that usually means taking care of your needs before his, but even when he neglects himself you take care of him (in the bedroom and outside of it)

Both at home and at work he wears a lot of suits, so if a sharp-dressed man is a turn-on for you, congratulations.

He tends not to go for quickies, they’re too reminiscent of work to him where the idea is to do as much as possible in a short amount of time, but sometimes if you show up at the office with flowers or lunch he’ll take you in his office.

Finally, he has surprising stamina.

No, like... surprising.

For someone who looks like a fucking twig and works in an office all day, he can absolutely keep up with whatever you throw at him.

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a/n: whew! This was like a writing warm-up before a marathon! I know Hux is definitely not the main bitch I post about on this blog, but he was my first love. Technically, even my username is paying homage to him (and Kylo, who I love dearly but cannot stand a lot of the time lol) I loved returning to my roots for this one. Thanks for the request anon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 , @another-emotional-wreck , @lovelymischief

#hux #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #hux x reader #star wars #brendol hux's A+ parenting #headcanon

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noodlecupcakeswritings · 3 years

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Sanctify - Chapter 13(Ben SoloxOC AU)

Ben Solo is looking for a new place to call home. When Snoke arrives offering a home, food, community for the simple price of manual labour Ben and a few others jump at the chance to start over. Upon arrival at The First Order Ben meets Cora, Snokes daughter. Whilst Ben and Cora grow closer Ben learns the secrets of the town, and Cora has some secrets of her own.

Please leave likes, comments and reblogs if you like it. If you want to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

Warnings: Cult stuff, Religious themes, Language, Violence, Blood, Knives, Threatening language/behaviour, Love triangles, Fluff, Angst

Chapter 13

Cora

Armitage and I watched in horror as Ben spoke with Brendol and ruined my original plan. As Ben came back over to us, the glare Brendol cast at his son didn’t go unnoticed. Armitage hastily exited the church, clearly panicking. I followed him to the lake. “What on earth was he doing?! Better yet, why is he even involved?” Armitage snapped at me. “Armitage please, I didn’t know he was going to do that. Please calm down, we’ll work this out I promise.”

Ben made his way over to us, annoyingly, he still looked calm, as if his actions had been rational. “Armitage, someone had to say something even if it was just to let him know that what he does to you doesn’t go unnoticed,” Ben explained. Armitage practically threw himself at Ben, his fist colliding with Ben’s jaw. “You idiot! You didn’t need to do or say anything! None of this concerned you,” he exclaimed. I gasped, shocked by Armitage’s outburst. I’d never seen him hurt someone, let alone raise his voice.

Ben remained mostly unphased, and uninjured. Before the situation could escalate, I put myself between the two of them. I understood Armitage was just afraid of what was to come, Brendol would no doubt punish him later, but that still didn’t give him the right to attack Ben. “Please calm down, I will fix this. I promise,” I attempted to reassure Armitage before turning my attention to Ben, “now he knows we’re on to him. How could you be so stupid?” “I said something to scare him off, now that Brendol knows his abuse doesn’t go unnoticed, he’ll stop for a little while,” Ben explained.

Armitage and I knew Brendol better than Ben did. Brendol would not stop now, he’d make things much worse for Armitage the next time they were alone. “The plan was to expose him Ben, how are we going to do that now when he knows that we’re on to him!” I argued. “Its better than you risking your safety! I won’t have the woman I care about getting herself hurt.” I paused for a few moments; Ben had been trying to keep both of us safe. But that still didn’t make things right.

“I would have been fine. I appreciate your concern, but pain isn’t a foreign concept to me. I handled myself before you got here, Ben, and I still can,” I replied, folding my arms over my chest. “I’m not saying you couldn’t handle it; I’m saying god help anyone that laid a finger on you,” Ben glanced at Armitage, “what? Does it put a damper on your plans, knowing I care about her just as much as you do?” “You hardly even know her, you have no right to just come here and start throwing your weight around as if you own the place,” Armitage disputed. “Oh, I haven’t started throwing my weight around yet. You’ll know when I do.”

Seeing that this was going to escalate again, I placed my hands on Ben’s chest to stop him from advancing further. “Will both of you just stop, please,” I protested. Ben gently held my wrists, “I’m sorry. I swear I was only trying to help; I know it’s something you cared so deeply about, and I wanted to try to make it better.” Armitage scoffed, walking away. Watching him go, I was unsure if to stay with Ben or go after Armitage. Ben’s intentions were good, but the way he’d worded things hadn’t helped the matter.

“Well, you should care. And not just because I do, but because it’s wrong,” I sighed, pulling my wrists from him. Turning, I decided to go after Armitage. He was the one who had been hurt by all of this, and he needed me. Finally, I caught up with him. “Armitage, at least stay with me tonight. Theres a spare room you can have where you’ll be safe,” I pleaded. “Your father will only ask questions; I won’t want to answer. Besides, it would only delay the inevitable. I told you Ben wasn’t to be trusted.” As much as I wanted to defend Ben, I knew it would only fall on deaf ears. No matter how much I tried to reason with Armitage, he still wasn’t listening, as if he had already accepted his fate.

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Later I kept watch over the Hux household, waiting till both Brendol and Armitage returned before heading over myself. As I reached the path to the front door, I heard shouting from inside before something was smashed. Thankfully, the front door had been left unlocked as I ran inside. In the living room were Brendol and Armitage. Armitage was on the floor, the remains of a smashed vase by him. Brendol was stunned by my presence, looking like a deer in the headlights. After all these years, he’d finally been caught in the act.

Before he could work out what to do in this situation, I helped Armitage up and made sure he stayed behind me. Producing my blade, I pointed it at Brendol so he wouldn’t come closer. “Armitage is staying with me tonight. And you will not hurt him again,” I declared. Brendol raised his hands as if to show me he was no threat, but I knew better than to trust him. His gaze shifted to Armitage. “You should have known not to get anyone else involved,” Brendol warned. Brendol advanced on us, grabbing my wrist to stop me from slashing at him.

This was the reaction I had expected and needed if I wanted to prove Brendol was nothing more than an abuser. Struggling against Brendol, I let out a shrill scream, knowing at least their neighbours would hear it. He squeezed my wrist harder to make me drop the knife before delivering a harsh slap to shut me up. Brendol’s hand wrapped around my throat as he pushed me against the nearest wall. I attempted to kick at him, claw at his hand, anything to get him off me. Armitage attempted to pull his father off me, but was shoved back.

My vision blurred from the lack of oxygen, my fight growing weaker by the second. Suddenly there was a loud thunk sound before Brendol released his grip on my neck. Another loud thunk and he fell to the floor. Ben stood over Brendol with a shovel. My mind was whirling, was Brendol still alive? If he wasn’t, how were we going to cover this up? Glancing down at Brendol, I felt a small sense of relief to see him breathing. All my instincts were telling me to go to Ben, wanting to be held by him. He’d attacked my father’s right-hand man for me, I should be thanking him.

But I had to help Armitage first, we had to get to my father before Brendol woke up. Going over to Armitage, I slung his arm over my shoulder to keep him steady, although he was a little heavier than expected. “Ben, help me with him, please. We need to get him to my father,” I spoke. Ben helped me with Armitage, the three of us walking to my house. It was past curfew, which would not look good. The kitchen light was still on, meaning father was still up and likely waiting for me to return. Ben helped Armitage the rest of the way as I held to door open for them.

“What in God’s name is going on?” Father asked, ready to lecture the three of us. Ben pulled out a chair, setting Armitage down. Father’s annoyed expression quickly softened when he noticed Armitage’s injuries. “My boy, what on earth happened to you?” Father questioned. Before Armitage could answer with complete honesty, I forced tears to my eyes and threw myself at my father, seeking his embrace as I sobbed. “Oh, Father it was awful, Brendol was beating Armitage and when I tried to intervene, he tried to kill me,” I wailed.

Father held me, stroking my hair, and attempting to console me so I was less hysterical. “It’s true, Cora confronted Brendol about the abuse and Brendol knew he had to keep her quiet. If I hadn’t intervened sooner, I have no doubt Brendol would have killed Cora and Armitage,” Ben spoke up, confirming my story. “And where is he now?” Father asked. “Still at the house. I only knocked him out, I figured you would want him alive for God’s judgement.” “I’ll gather the other elders, meet me at the house, Ben. Cora, take Armitage upstairs and help patch him up.”

My father and Ben left the house, leaving Armitage and I alone. The moment the door closed; I wiped my eyes as if nothing had happened. Leading Armitage upstairs, I let him into my room whilst I retrieved the first aid kit from the bathroom. Sitting with my back to the side of my bed, I opened the box and found some sterile wipes. I was as gentle as I could be as I treated Armitage’s wounds, wanting to spare him from more pain. Although judging by the tears in his eyes, there wasn’t much I could do to help with the emotional pain. Pulling him close with his head resting against my chest, I stroked his hair to try to calm him.

We both knew Brendol would be found guilty and sentenced to death within the week. And even though Armitage would be free from his abuser, he would also lose his father and only family member. I could understand why he was upset. Armitage met my gaze, gently cupping my cheek. “Thank you, Cora. I’m sure I’d have been in a much worse state if you hadn’t intervened when you did,” Armitage said softly. Armitage leaned in closer, his lips inches from mine. I didn’t know what to do, part of me was knew I should pull away, but the other part of me was curious.

Before Armitage could kiss me, the door swung open to reveal Ben stood in the doorway. Armitage pulled away, but it was too late, Ben had seen what he needed too and was obviously hurt. He turned and left. I couldn’t just let him go, not after everything he’d done tonight. Getting up, I hurried after him, only catching up to him outside the house. Damn the curfew. “Ben! Wait, please,” I called after him. Ben stopped, waiting for me to catch up. When I did, I pulled him into an embrace. He paused before returning the hug.

“Cora, I can’t keep doing this. You need to choose between me or him,” Ben sighed. “You saved me, why would I want anyone else?” Cupping his cheek, I knew I had to do more to prove it. But I’d made my choice, I wanted Ben. I knew I should save my first kiss for marriage, but at that moment, I didn’t care. Leaning up on my tiptoes, I kissed him softly. Ben wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him as he deepened the kiss. My first kiss was everything I had imagined, just different circumstances.

Ben pressed his forehead to mine, smiling. “Well, I suppose that’s one way to thank me,” he teased, “I should get going, it’s already past curfew.” I knew he was right; we didn’t need to get into any more trouble. Parting ways, I headed back to the house, noticing my bedroom curtain twitch as if someone had been watching. Heading inside, I spotted Father sat at the kitchen table, motioning to the seat opposite him. “Sit down, Cora,” he instructed. Dread formed in the pit of my stomach and I was ready to turn on the waterworks again if it got me out of trouble.

Father reached for my hand, “what Ben did tonight was very brave and very heroic. Did you thank him?” “Yes, of course I did.” “I could have lost you tonight. I owe him a debt for saving you. And I’ve noticed something between you both. I want you to know that you have my blessing.” I blinked in disbelief, Father was giving me permission to date Ben? An outsider? Well, I suppose he now had good reason to allow it. And at least Ben and I wouldn’t have to hide anything from him. My plan really had worked out, in more ways than one.

Taglist: @chaoticrambles

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nebulousmistress · 2 years

Text

A Memory

A tiny scene of Cardinal’s past. Brendol really did instill a great deal of internalized shame in the poor man. Enough to make him look and act human, even when it hurt.

Takes place after Brendol tells CD-0922 he’ll be promoted but before Cardinal’s name is offered.

---

CD-0922 stood before the General’s desk. General Brendol Hux had ultimate authority over these matters and CD-0922 knew he was facing an uphill battle. Still, this was something he felt he needed to do. He’d even prepared a speech.

“Survival training,” Brendol said, his voice flat and unimpressed.

“Yes, sir,” CD-0922 said. “As a Captain of the First Order I’ll have access to a legion of ten squads.”

“The RX Cadre,” Brendol said, still showing no emotion. He only sat back at his desk and considered CD-0922. CD-0922 felt like his thoughts were laid bare and couldn’t help but glance at the helmet on the general’s desk. It was Brendol’s insistence that he remove his helm before speaking to him, all the better to read a Stormtrooper’s unguarded and unshielded expressions.

“Yes sir,” CD-0922 confirmed. “I chose the RX Cadre for their backgrounds and their skills. But those skills mean nothing if I can’t use them in the field. What I have in mind for them will involve time spent in terrible physical conditions. They need survival training in such harsh conditions if I’m going to be able to use them to their full potential. This is why I also request they be outfitted with the new armor as an equipment test.”

“You don't trust the simulations?” Brendol asked, one eyebrow raised in a slow yet mocking arc.

“I do, sir,” he said. Of course he did. He’d been the one to run those simulations. “But all of those sims were performed using one subject. Myself. I…” CD-0922 flushed, unable to meet Brendol’s eyes. A deep shame curled in his chest, stoked by the implication. The armor needed to be tested on a human. But he was human, almost as human as Armitage. This was just covering all possible situations, a stress test with sand and heat and bodies that weren’t adapted to it like he was.

CD-0922 cleared his throat and stood up straight. His white armor scraped and settled against his lithe frame, adding a false bulk to his silhouette that Brendol preferred in his soldiers. That he especially preferred in his personal guard. “The raid armor was tested in a variety of conditions,” CD-0922 said. “However, as the main test subject was desert-adapted, there is no usable data on how the armor performs in associated environments. The subject would not have reacted poorly to these conditions and therefore cannot be trusted to give adequate information.”

“So why not simulation test with a human subject?” Brendol asked.

That made sense, even if the words themselves hurt. CD-0922 considered it. But then the entire point of survival training would be ignored. He needed his legion to be able to go where he went, otherwise what was the point of having a legion. And then there were the selfish reasons, the desire to feel sand against his skin, to taste salt on the air, to stop feeling so kriffing cold in the corridors of this sterile stale-smelling ship. He needed more than just the UV lamps. He needed more than just forced air heating. He needed…

He needed his helmet. CD-0922 knew every thought shot across his face and he flushed in shame. He couldn’t even look at the general, not wanting to see the look of disgust or, worse, of pity. Armitage was more human than he was, at least Armitage had a human father. CD-0922 couldn’t even claim that much and only the Stormtrooper armor hid that fact from everyone else.

Brendol dismissed him and it was as good as a ‘no’ and CD-0922 hated that he’d even tried to ask.

---

With Cardinal’s looming reconditioning in the twitter RP, I’ve been hit with these small memories. Like he’s trying to bank them before they’re stripped away.

#brendol hux #cardinal #twitter rp #fanfiction #pre TFA #star wars

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starlightsearches · 4 years

Note

Hello love I would like to request a Hux x Reader oneshot where the reader interferes with a potential abusive episode from Brendol. He would be so grateful and I just can't handle ittttt thank youuuu

Free of Charge

😭😭😭😭 Thank you for this! Someone needs to help our boy.

Requests are open ✨

“Tell me,” Brendol says, breaking the silence that had been threatening to swallow the room whole, “exactly how idiotic can you manage to be?” There’s nothing Armitage can say in response, but his father waits anyways, determined to embarrass him, and the worst part about it is—even after all this time—his tactics still work. Armitage clenches his fists tighter in his lap, determined not to show any weakness.

“General, I-”

“I’m not interested in hearing any excuses, boy!” the man shouts, banging his fist down on the board room table, and a few of the other officers jump at the sound. Armitage refuses to break eye contact with his father, but his palms are becoming slick inside of his leather gloves and the prickling sensation at the back of his neck grows stronger as he anticipates the worst possible outcome. It’s alright, he tries to soothe himself, he’s all talk. There are still witnesses. The silence returns, oppressive and heavy and no one will look at Armitage—the other officers flitting their eyes from place to place and refusing to land anywhere near him. They’re all pretending that he’s not there, and somehow that’s worse than being seen as a failure in front of his peers because Brendol is determined to make it so, and he is a man who always gets what he wants.

“Everyone out,” Brendol’s voice is a dangerous hum, and the other men practically trip over themselves as they leap out of their seats. The race to the doorway is quick and quiet, and soon the shuffling stops and Armitage is alone with his father.

“I have given you every opportunity to complete this one simple task, and yet you have failed me still. How can you expect to advance in this organization when you can’t complete one simple fucking task?” Armitage blocks out the crescendos of his father’s voice, and retreats into a safer space, deep in the back of his mind. His father’s words begin to blur together, the same insults and abuse repeated once again. Armitage could still get out of this, if he stays quiet. If he stays firm. After all, Brendol is still wearing his gloves, which means that the worst of it is not yet on the horizon.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy!” His father reaches out too fast for Armitage to dodge, grabbing him by the jaw and holding him tight, forcing him to take in the arrant loathing on Brendol’s face. The grip of his father’s hand burns along his jawline, but he knows it won’t bruise. Brendol has perfected the ability to cause his son pain without leaving any visible markings; he’s had a lifetime to do it. Armitage resists the urge to shift out of his father’s grasp but he’s losing his nerve, and just when the pain reaches a breaking point, his father lets go. A wave of nausea rolls through him as he watches his father begin to remove the leather covering his hands.

“It seems I have to teach you a lesson, boy, and this will not be one that you soon forget.” Brendol’s gloves hit the table with a soft slap as Armitage braces himself for the first punch, but he can never be sure where his father will strike. Maybe it’s his imagination, but Brendol seems less controlled than the last time, a little more wild, and those bruises had stayed around for weeks; the shame for much longer. Would it be worse? It’s impossible to say, and the only thing Armitage can think of to calm himself is rather disappointing: it will have to end eventually.

The door slides open without warning, the mechanical swish echoing loudly off the walls in the empty room. Brendol drops his fist and turns to the source of the noise, taking his eyes off Armitage, and he looks to the door as well, curious to see who was brave enough to interrupt the general in a moment like this one.

You’re standing there in the doorway, fresh from your most recent assignment, and for a moment Armitage allows himself to be happy to see you, and happier this time, knowing that you had inadvertently delayed something awful.

“What is it?” Brendol asks, and his demeanor is changed now that he realizes it’s you. He reaches for his gloves and forces them back over his hands, seemingly composed, his previous rage gone, at least for the moment. Armitage isn’t sure if he believes in a higher power, but right now he’s ready to thank the Maker as you stroll through the doorway and into the conference room. There are many bounty hunters employed by the First Order with more experience than you, but you’ve certainly made a name for yourself already, quickly becoming a favorite of his father. This successful mission would be the 33rd that you’ve completed for Brendol … not that Armitage was keeping track.

“Sorry to interrupt, General,” you say, “I just came to report that the target has been eliminated, as requested.”

“Excellent,” Brendol says, and he claps his hands together with approval, “I’ll have the credits transferred to your account immediately.” He reaches for his data pad to initiate the transfer, and Armitage hears him mumble under his breath, “at least someone can do their job right.”

A blush rises to Armitage cheeks—one of the few reactions he hasn’t yet learned how to control—and he hopes that you didn’t hear the taunt. It’s one thing to look incompetent in front of the other officers aboard the ship, but in front of you …

“Thank you, general,” you say, tapping your fingers absentmindedly on the blaster strapped to your thigh as you wait. Your eyes land on Armitage, and he stiffens under your gaze, his neck growing warm under the collar.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” you nod to him, and Armitage can hardly speak. He had been under the impression that you didn’t know who he was, and your acknowledgement, in addition to the relief that his father’s hands had been stayed momentarily, is more than he can currently bear. His throat is dry—he’s not sure what he would say even if he could speak—so he opts to nod instead. Once again Armitage is forced to thank whatever higher power out there that his father is still distracted with the credit transfer. If Brendol noticed the effect you had on him, he would never be able to escape the torment the man would enact.

“The transfer has been initiated,” Brendol drops his data pad back on the table, and any pleasant feeling Armitage had experienced from your recognition has quickly disappeared, replaced with the dread of facing his father alone once again. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have to deal with my son.”

“Actually, sir, I was hoping I could discuss something with the lieutenant briefly.”

Armitage’s eyes snap to his father, waiting to see his reaction. It’s obvious that Brendol is surprised by your request, traces of anger flashing across his face, but his father is capable of being charming when needed, and he masks his annoyance.

“Why?” Despite his attempts to cover it, there’s still a hint of disgust in Brendol’s voice, one that always appears when Armitage is brought up, but you don’t seem to notice.

“It’s nothing, really, just a bit of intel I picked up and thought I’d pass along. I know you’re a busy man, General, and I’d love to explain it to you directly but I have urgent business on Hosnian Prime and I need to return to my ship as soon as possible. I thought it might be easier for you if I reported to the Lieutenant now on the way back to the hangar, and he could impart the information to you when it would be more convenient.”

Brendol looks to his son, and Armitage tries to seem disappointed, annoyed even, under his father’s gaze. He knows that if Brendol suspects that leaving with you would bring Armitage any kind of pleasure, he would immediately refuse. Apparently his act is sufficient, because Brendol hesitates, and then concedes.

“Very well,” he says, “but we’ll continue this conversation later.” Armitage can’t find any place in his mind to worry about that now; he’s too elated at the thought of spending a moment alone with you, and finally being away from his father.

You walk silently down the corridors of the ship at a leisurely pace, and Armitage grows nervous. Should he say something to you? He tries to muster the courage, but he can’t think of the right words when he’s too busy sneaking glances from the corner of his eye. He thinks he’s being subtle, but you catch him looking and look back, a small smirk on your face.

“There was no intel, in case you were wondering,” you say, “but I thought you might want an excuse to get away.”

“Oh?” Armitage is not feeling very articulate, and it’s the only thing he can manage to say in response as he tries to process all the information he’s being presented: the fact that you know who he is—which is already disorienting enough on its own—and that you recognized the threat Brendol posed, then still put yourself at risk for Armitage’s sake. He’s never had someone look out for him like this before.

“I haven’t known the general for long, but I’ve seen enough to know that he’s a man who has lived to control others through fear,” you look straight ahead as you speak, and Armitage is afraid to hear you talk this way. Statements like that could be seen as treason, even if you weren’t an official member of the Order.

“The general is a good leader,” Armitage says, but it doesn’t sound convincing, even to his own ears, “a strong leader. The one that we need.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” you respond, so casual in your defiance of one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, “leaders who control others through terror are easily overpowered. No one stays afraid forever.” Oh, how Armitage wishes that were true. He should not be participating in this conversation, but he likes to hear you speak. The ease with which you defy his father is refreshing, and maybe a little addicting. Maybe his father’s abuse is not as inevitable as he once thought.

“Then who do you think would make a good leader?”

“Actually, Lieutenant, I would say you.” A solid swell of pleasure wells up in Armitage’s chest, and he has to swallow it down before he can speak again.

“What?” He needs you to say more, knows that he could live off your praise for the rest of his life, and he wants to take in as much as he can before he has to face his father again.

“I mean, I’m no expert, of course,” you say then, stopping outside the entrance to your ship and turning to face him, “but I have seen you work with some of the other men here, and they seem to have a decent amount of respect for you, when the general isn’t around,” you shift from foot to foot, delaying your departure, “I think that you would make a fine general for the First Order.”

“Thank you,” The gratitude falls unbidden and unplanned from his lips, even though it’s not enough; Armitage can’t possibly express how much your words mean to him. It’s not just the compliment that he values, but all of it: your candor, your aid in escaping his father, and most of all, that you noticed him. The weight of it all is making it hard for him to breathe, but he thinks he could die happily, if it was in your presence. You step closer to him, lowering the volume of your voice so that only he can hear, and he wants to engrave this moment to memory—the sound of your whisper in his ear, the electric feeling of you in such close proximity.

“I know how you feel,” you say, “and I know what it’s like to be treated poorly by someone who is supposed to care for you. So if you ever find yourself in need of my services for, ah, personal reasons, just know that I’ll take care of him, free of charge.” You step away from him and onto the loading dock of your ship, turning back once more before you leave.

“Whatever you decide, you know how to find me,” you wink when you say it, and Armitage nods in confirmation. You disappear into your ship, but he doesn’t leave the hangar just yet, wanting to stay in this feeling for as long as possible. Suddenly, facing his father doesn’t seem so daunting, and he thinks that he will take you up on your offer. There’s not much he wouldn’t do, if it meant seeing you again.

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #armitage hux fanfiction #armitage hux oneshot #my writing #requests #amadwomanrambles #abuse tw #general hux x you #general hux x reader #hux x reader #hux x you

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theold-ultraviolence · 4 years

Text

Your Priceless Advice

Available on AO3

Armitage Hux/Reader

words: 1951

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You still can’t sleep, for the galaxy is going mad and anxiety is eating away at you. Your husband may have a solution for your imsomnia. A sequel to ‘Cause Moments like These are to Die for

A/N: So this is my first shot at reader insert smut so I hope I did it justice! as always, apologies in advance for any spelling mistakes as english is not my first language.

(This is part II of the “Enjoy the Silence” series > part three here)

—

Yet another sleepless hell.

You had tried everything, from mixing varieties of leafs for a good-night tea, drinking warm milk, breathing exercises…your insomnia was getting worse and worse, you felt like you kept sleeping an hour less progressively. Last night, Hux had been kind enough to hold you until you drifted, as you had roused him with all your tossing around in bed. Even so, your sleep had been light and unfulfilling, and you didn’t want to bother your husband again. You only had one more day together in your hideaway home in Arkanis before he had to return to the Steadfast. He needed his rest and you’d feel the guiltiest if he interrupted his sleep once more thanks to your anxiety.

But that was the other issue. Every second, you spent drowning in uncertainty about his condition aboard the Steadfast. With General Pryde now as his superior you lived in a state of constant worry, knowing how that man had been amongst Hux’s abusers during his childhood – a close friend of Brendol’s. Armitage had told you the stories, you knew all about his upbringing; the names, the punches, the humiliation… and all because he had been a sensitive kid. He was never meant for the life of the First Order, he had been pushed into it.

Only you knew of his big heart. Guarded, yes, as much as the prison units in Coruscant; cold as the freezing tundra of Hoth. But big, nevertheless. And all yours.

So you lay there on your back, staring at the ceiling, with the never-ending soundtrack of rain in the background. You loved the rain that showered Arkanis, and if your heart weren’t galloping at full speed as it was, you might’ve found some relaxation with the sound. You might’ve found peace with Hux’s faint breathing as he slept with his back to you. You look at his figure then; at the rising and falling of his bare shoulders, the pale column of his neck and those fine ginger hairs at the very base of his head that you found so endearing. Your heart always filled with tenderness at the sight of your husband in his sleep, such a radical contrast to his usual self – stoic, tense and distant.

Your mind seemed to be loud enough for him to hear. He turns and drowsily meets your gaze. At the sight of you wide awake, he huffs a quiet little laugh.

“Again?”

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to wake you every time.”

“What do you suppose we do about this?” And there was a tiny, mischievous glint in his eyes that any other person might miss, but not you.

“What do you have in mind?”

He smirks then – those barely there things that were easy to miss, barely a curve of his upper lip. Those terrible, enticing things that appeared when he was in a good mood.

He gently cradles your cheek in his palm, bringing you closer to him until your noses bump against one another. This close, you could see his blown pupils making his eyes seem even bigger than they were. Even amidst the darkness, those crystalline green eyes stand out to reveal his intentions.

You give into his gaze with a broken sigh, leaning into his cheek to nuzzle your face to his. You bask in the prickling sensation of his light stubble grazing against you; he always let himself get a little scruffy when he retired to the safehouse with you, as a nice break from his rigid lifestyle.

You both lean in with a timid peck on the lips at first, which makes you melt into the sheets. The novelty of kissing him never went away, not after all this time. To feel the pillowy softness of his lips ignited your flesh in a way you had never known. You could never get over the fact that he was yours to kiss, yours alone. The General of the First Order, tangled up with you in bed. All that power, focused on you.

His kiss becomes more confident, more ardent as your hands find the back of his head to brush through his soft curls– free from all that styling gel, just how you loved it. You hold onto him and answer back with the same amount of fervour to his kisses.

His palm slowly travels to the dip between shoulder and neck, where you’re most ticklish. You half giggle - half moan at the contact and he grins against your mouth, stroking that spot again, making you lean even closer to him to kiss him more intently. He knew the responses of your body like he knew the blueprints of Starkiller; knew exactly where to touch to add more fuel to the fire burning in the pit of your belly.

As you kiss, he accommodates his arm to support your head at the crook of his elbow while his other hand dances over your curves, pushing up your silk nightgown to expose your flesh. Long fingers reverently trace the side of your leg where it rests atop his hip, your waist and then up your ribcage, just below the curve of your breast. His thumb is just right there, lightly pressing up, not yet touching you like you wanted.

“Armitage…”

He answers with a deep rumble from his chest, like the purr of some threatening beast. “What are we going to do to make you sleep, hmmm?”

You retaliate by scratching your nails along his back to which he grunts and presses his own fingertips more forcefully into your skin.

“Please…” You were left breathless and desperate – desperate to sleep, desperate to feel him…

Your nails mark him from the nape of his neck, all along his spine, down to his sacrum and he groans, biting his lip as he instinctively holds you tighter to him. His palm travels along the valley of your chest before finally cupping your breast and gingerly kneading. He teases his thumb around your sensitive nipple as he leans in to kiss the side of your neck, biting and licking – turning your giggles into moans.

He’s all consuming. You feel totally surrounded by him, enveloped by him. You close your eyes in ecstasy and lose yourself into the sensations: the wetness of his tongue on your neck, his fingers pinching your nipple while the whole warmth of his palm encompasses your breast. You couldn’t do much but to arch back and expose yourself to him, surrender to whatever he wished to do to you because it simply felt so, so exquisite, so much so that you had to hold on – fisting your hand in his hair as you urge him to keep pleasuring you.

You were so pliant and dazed that it took you by surprise, the press of a fingertip to your clit – like a sudden match being lit. You jump in alert, opening your eyes to meet his smouldering green eyes imploring you to open up your legs, grind against his hand and grant him entrance. With a deep inhale you close your eyes because it’s too much, too soon, especially with the heat of his cock pressed against your belly.

You shift on your side so you could lift your leg better, allowing his hand to softly glide along your pussy, not yet pressing or entering you – just teasing along your folds while he drinks in all your gasps into his own mouth. You were wholly hypnotized by your husband, with your hand moving by its own accord along his side to feel the lean muscles of his abdomen, down to that precious V that gave way to his hot length.

He relishes in your tantalizing strokes, but falters. “You don’t have to…this is all about you” he murmurs against your lips.

“I want to…” and you mark your words by squeezing him tighter, he can’t help but nod in agreement before he brings the fingers that had been caressing your cunt right to your lips. You suck one, two, three fingers – inside and out, much like you would suck at his cock, staring directly at him all throughout.

Hux had never been a man of many words; had rather been known for his deathly glare – one look and he could scar his subordinates for life. The same principle was applied in bed, and all he lacked in dirty talk he made up with the way his eyes roamed and pierced and ate you right up. The first time you had felt so vulnerable. So exposed. You hadn’t understood yet that he was simply too entranced just looking at you that he could not formulate any words. Yet his eyes expressed everything that his words could not. They were truly, the mirrors of his soul.

So now as you gaze at him while sucking his fingers you could almost cum by the way he was looking at you. It was so intense, so feral, you couldn’t describe it. And you were weakened by the contrast of such a dark look in contrast to those pale eyelashes.

He takes his fingers from your mouth and in a quick flash he’s filling you right up – punching all air out of your lungs at the sudden intrusion.

You cave in, letting your forehead rest against his as he stroked you – as you savoured the glorious feeling of his spit-slick fingers milking you of all that you had to give. You were gushing, and you were so close already from all the build-up. So thankful were you with Hux that you quickened your own pace, gathering all of Hux’s precome and smearing it along the shaft.

The thunderstorm outside turns aggressive, almost in tune with the lightning that courses through your veins at Armitage’s hands. Closer and closer, you’re almost at the peak, and while Hux was a silent lover, the moment his laboured sighs start turning into quiet grunts is when you know that he’s also on the very edge with you.

“Will you come for me, Hux? Come for me, darling…”

He groans a bit louder and nods, just as lost as you are, but present enough to press his thumb to your clit in tight, quick circles as his fingers continue their scissoring inside your cunt.

All is quiet for a moment, save for the slick sounds of skin against skin and wet pants exchanged between mouths.

You don’t know what it is that triggers it; the smell of his sweat, his breath on your skin, the sound of his hoarse moans, but it all adds up abruptly – everything fits, and it’s perfect and lovely, and then Hux angles his thumb on your clit a certain way and presses, and you’re gone. You arch back and it feels as though you’re floating, suspended in darkness, in electricity – tingling from your toes, roaming all the way to your stomach and then settling in your heart.

A calm settles in you, freeing your muscles from their previous tension. Your forehead met Hux’s once again, and you moan when you feel the stickiness of Hux’s cum covering his stomach. You sigh into each other’s mouths and slowly come back to reality, together.

Gone were his dark pupils, replaced with a look of utter adoration that added to the mellow, fuzzy tingling in your heart.

“Thank you…” you whispered, already feeling drowsy. He simply smiles and kisses you deeply before you fall asleep. You nuzzle closer to his chest until his chin rests atop your head. You focus on the sweet lullaby composed of his steady breathing and the beating of his heart, and soon you know nothing more of galactic wars nor political conflict.

—-

Tagging: @babbushka <3 if anyone esle wants to be tagged in future works with Hux please let me know! I plan on exploring more of this reader/Hux universe in the long run! <3

#general hux #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #general hux x reader #armitage hux/reader #general hux/reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #my writing #domhnall gleeson #star wars #star wars sequel trilogy #general hux smut #armitage hux smut #fluff and smut #awesome husband Hux #star wars fanfiction

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amadwomanrambles · 4 years

Photo

Chapter One

A/N: And welcomeee to the new series! The Latin translation for this fic is “Queen of my Heart” (thanks Google translate lololololll) The gorgeous banner made again by the lovely @castieltrash1 <3

Tagged: @kissykissykissykissykissy, @girl-next-door-writes

Being the only son to the current King of Arkanis had its advantages; meaning that once the King passed away he would be next in line for the throne. But that also meant that there was a lot on the young Prince’s shoulders like learning everything on how to be a good and just King; but nothing prepared Prince Armitage Hux for this.

Marriage.

Not like he had any say in the matter, anyway. King Brendol had every belief that he knew what was best for his son and for the Kingdom, so he chose Armitage’s wife cautiously. Most marriages were based on treaties that pacified whatever strife had gone between Kingdoms, others to strengthen the borders and military; and Brendol knew exactly where to turn.

Chandrila was a Kingdom that held many influences throughout the country; known more for its politics than its military. The King of Chandrila had worked hard to bring peace and hoped to build stronger bonds with the lesser Kingdoms through marriage. You were the eldest daughter of his 5 children, and well versed in your Kingdom’s ideals. Your father had groomed you to be ready for marriage, and to be honest you were waiting for the moment when he chose your betrothed. The constant bickering from your teachers just made it worse to the point where you would rather be married and away from them than being stuck at home being told how to be a proper Queen and wife.

“Straighten up, boy! Why did the Gods punish me with such a terrible son,” Brendol huffed as the carriage made its way towards Chandrila, “You are going to marry a powerful girl, and it will make Arkanis a far more powerful Kingdom! At least look like you’re pleased,”

Armitage rolled his eyes as he looked out towards the rolling hills; he would be rather doing anything else other than finding out what hag his father had chosen him to marry. To be honest, he would rather watch the Kingdom die out if that meant that his father had no hold on him anymore.

It would take some hours before the carriage made it to the grand gates of Chandrila, Brendol was in awe. “Look my boy, this will be all yours as well when you marry the lovely Princess y/n,”

“I believe it’s the other way around,” Armitage murmured to himself as he looked up at the gates.

The lower town was busy with the usual market hustle and bustle, but it was plentiful...the opposite of what Arkanis’s was. The poor were not well taken care of under King Brendol’s rule and Armitage knew it; there were people suffering and his father was ignoring it so that he could make the rest of the kingdom look presentable. A man after his own gains, no matter who he has to step over.

Once he felt the carriage stop, Armitage stepped out to see the steps to the castle before him; guards lined up to guide them to the throne room. He drowned out his father’s incessant flattery by taking in everything about the supposed kingdom that he was going to marry from. His gaze moved from the guards to the interior of the throne room as they entered, then it stopped at the sight of the King and Queen with the rest of the royal family waiting for them.

You had been sitting at your father’s right hand side, your younger sister beside you and then your youngest brother after that. Your older brother was sitting at your mother’s left hand side with your youngest sister right after. The sight of the young prince made your heart all a flutter, and you haven’t even spoken to him yet.

“King Brendol, Prince Armitage. Welcome to Chandrila,” your father said as he gave a small nod.

The visitors bowed before the royalty, “Your majesties, it is an honor to be in your presence,” Brendol said.

“And I’m sure you’re eager to meet your betrothed. You may stand, my dear,” your mother said, bringing a hand to gesture to you to present yourself, “This is our eldest daughter, Princess y/n,”

Whatever qualms Armitage had about the entire arranged marriage disappeared as he saw you for the first time. Your hair had been put in loose ringlets with your ornate crown on your head. The dress you wore was burgundy with long sleeves with ornate trim along the sleeves and neckline along with a green velvet bodice. He was speechless as he took in everything about you.

You approached Armitage with a smile, bowing, “A pleasure, your highness,”

Armitage quickly got to his feet, “The pleasure is all mine, your highness,” he said as he took your hand and kissed it.

#medieval au #Medieval!AU #armitage hux #general armitage hux #general hux #hux #armitage hux x reader #general hux x reader #general hux x you #armitage hux x you #reader insert #star wars insert #star wars reader insert #star wars #star wars imagines #star wars fic #star wars fics #star wars fanfiction

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oh-great-authoress · 4 years

Text

Love Lies Under the Shadows

A.N. Once again, I thought I was done, people. But the Gingerrose muse struck again and it struck hard. So I buckled down and set out to write this. This is a sequel to my previous fic, The Peace of Love, but it can be read on it’s own.

Trigger Warning for nightmares, abuse and murder. Read carefully, guys.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romance

Rating: I’d call it Teen and Up.

Enjoy!

Armitage was on Arkanis. In the courtyard of the Hux mansion, to be exact. His father was before him, the habitual look of abject fury on his face, which was nothing new. What was new, however, was the presence of his mother. She was on the ground, crying, bruises flowering on her face, doubtlessly elsewhere on her body too, and he was powerless to help her, as he was being restrained by some unseen force.

“Stop!! Stop hurting her!!” He shouted, the uncontrollable rage coursing through him causing his accent to slip, making it revert to his childhood Arkanisian.

Brendol hauled his mother up by her hair, pulling her to her feet. “You’re just as weak as she is, boy. And weakness is something that must be eliminated.” The ruthless commandant shoved her in front of him, pulling out his blaster as he did so, pointing it at her.

“Mother!!” Armitage screamed just as Brendol pulled the trigger, and the next thing he knew, he was sitting bolt upright in bed, chest heaving, light from Tareth’s two moons streaming in through the window. He took a shuddering breath just as his wife, Rose, stirred beside him.

“Armie?” She said, voice rough from sleep, as she sat up, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Nightmare, that’s all. Go back to sleep, darling,” he murmured in his normal accent, having regained mastery of himself.

“The usual?”

Rose knew well the regular menu of his nocturnal horrors, just as he knew hers.

“No, something new, I’m afraid.”

“What was it, if you’re okay with telling me?” She wrapped a comforting arm around his waist, laying her head on his shoulder.

“Mother. Brendol beat her in front of me. I was powerless to help her, and then he shot her. Fortunately, I woke before I could see the aftermath,” he numbly said.

“Oh, honey,” Rose whispered, a stricken look on her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, my dear.”

“No, it’s not, that’s horrible. Did… did something like that actually happen?”

“No, thank God, nothing like that. It was more a case of neglect. He never mentioned her or paid attention to her after he took me from her. He saved his beatings for me.”

“Oh, Armie,” Rose sympathetically whispered, drawing him into her arms. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her intoxicating scent and focusing on the feeling of her right hand moving soothingly up and down his back, her left hand stroking the hair at his nape. After several minutes of this, she moved to lie down, taking him with her, the two of them still holding onto each other. Following what seemed like an interminable period of time, but in reality was only an hour, he drifted off to a restless sleep.

Over the period of a week, Armitage slept intermittently, snatches of rest here and there, fear of what he would see in his dreams plaguing him. He could see Rose’s worried looks as the dark circles that hadn’t been under his eyes for a very long time made a vicious return, his glasses, now very necessary because of his exhaustion, doing nothing to hide them at all. On the eighth night of this ordeal, he found himself again in that courtyard, Brendol once again standing over his beaten, weeping mother. “No, no, no,” he muttered, struggling against his invisible bonds. Everything played out exactly as it had last week, except, instead of mercifully waking when Brendol pulled the trigger, he saw his mother collapse lifeless to the ground.

“NO!! MOTHER!!” He screamed, his unseen bonds releasing him. He crawled to where his mother lay sprawled on the cobblestones, protectively cradling her cooling body in his arms, tears spilling from his eyes.

“See? You’re useless, Armitage. I’ll be doing the galaxy a service by killing you as I killed your miserable mother,” he heard Brendol say.

Looking up, Armitage saw Brendol looming over them, blaster poised to end his life. Not caring at this point, Armitage spat the words he had always longed to tell his father — in Arkanish, no less, a final act of defiance. “Gabh Transna Ort Fhéin!”

Brendol pulled the trigger, and Armitage shot up in bed, sobbing. Rose immediately awakened and held him as he trembled and cried. “Oh Rose, he killed her, he killed her,” he wailed repeatedly, clinging to her like she was the only thing keeping him anchored to the world, while she shushed and gently rocked him.

It took what seemed like an eternity, but he calmed, and was lying in her embrace, when he said, “I’m sorry. I’ll go and lie down in the work room,” referring to the cot he kept in the upstairs work room for when he needed to rest while working on a project.

Rose tightened her hold on him, saying, “You’ll do nothing of the sort. You’re staying right here with me.”

“You might not be able to sleep if I remain, my dear.”

“I don’t care. What’s a few hours of sleep when you’re suffering like this, Armie?”

“I —“

“I know what you’re going to say. You have me anyway,” she softly smiled, as she brushed aside the strands of copper hair that had fallen into his eyes before gently kissing him.

Her kiss was a balm to his spirit, and he soon deepened it, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. A part of him didn’t want to end the night on just a kiss, but he soon pulled back, not wanting to take advantage of the kindness of his wife.

Rose looked slightly disappointed, yet understanding, when her gaze focused on him again. She drew his head to rest on her shoulder, her thumb rubbing small circles on his neck. It was about fifteen minutes before Rose spoke again. “Tell me about her?”

“Who?” He asked, even though he knew who she was talking about.

“Your mother. I know she worked in your father’s kitchen, but… tell me more? If you can.”

He sighed, recalling the memories he counted among his most precious. “Her name was Aisling. I never knew her last name. She… she was tall. Taller than most women, and slender. She had a beautiful singing voice. Clear and high. She would sing to me at night.

I remember sitting in the kitchen, watching her assist the head cook and the head baker. Sometimes the head baker would allow me to help the two of them. I remember laughing as Mother rubbed flour into my hair.

Some of the servants were mean-spirited when it came to my presence, gossiping and such, making rude comments about me and Mother, but the head cook and baker liked the two of us, so they couldn’t do much worse than talk.

Every now and then, Cook would let Mother off work so she could stay with me in the servant’s quarters. No one ever told Brendol — Cook could be as terrifying as he if she was roused to it. I loved those days. We would sit on the windowsill in our drafty room watching the rain fall. Memories of those days are why I enjoy the rain so much. She would hold me so I wouldn’t fall off the ledge, and we’d race raindrops down the windowpane. It could be cold, so cold in that room, but I never noticed, because the warmth of her arms could chase away the chill of the coldest Arkanisian day. Hers is one of two people’s embraces I consider the best.”

“Whose is the other?” Rose asked, a teasing note in her voice.

“Dameron’s,” he grinned, and when Rose swatted him, he laughed, amending, “it’s yours, of course, darling.”

Continuing, he said, “I still remember how she smelled. Like the heather that grew on the hills around the mansion, and the spices from the kitchen. And her hands — they were very rough from her work in the kitchen, but to me, they were always soft.”

“What did she look like?”

Armitage shut his eyes, bringing the clearest image he could summon of his mother to the forefront of his mind. “She had sharp features like mine, and red, deep red hair. If you think mine is red, hers was redder. And her eyes… I have her eyes.”

“You look like her, then,” Rose grinned.

He frowned, considering her words. “Well… yes, I suppose.”

He was silent for a little while before he spoke again. “Sometimes, I wish I had never been taken from my mother.”

“If that happened, we might not have met.”

“True. But my heart tells me that destiny would have led us to each other no matter what.”

“You’re a romantic, Armitage Hux.”

“Only for you, my flower.”

There was a short pause, then, “I’m curious about something.”

He hummed interrogatively.

“When you woke up, you sounded… different.”

“Different how?”

“Your accent. It was different.”

“Oh. Well. I didn’t always sound like this. The Imperial accent is one I learned for many reasons, survival not the least among them. I must have spoken in my childhood accent. Arkanisian. I could even speak a different language, Arkanish, as a child.”

“Can you…”

“Cad ba mhaith leat dom a rá, a ghrá mo chroí?”

“What did you say?” She eagerly asked.

“I said,” he murmured, allowing his voice to fall into the cadence of the Arkanisian brogue, “‘What would you like me to say, love of my heart?’”

He didn’t miss the little shudder that moved through her and the gasp that fell from her lips. Hmm. Interesting. He filed away that bit of knowledge, before Rose tentatively asked, “Tell me more about your mother?”

He willingly indulged her, telling her stories about his childhood until they both fell asleep, wanting to share this part of himself with her.

———————————————

It was two months after that horrible nightmare, and telling her about his mother had truly been for the best. His sleep had so far been peaceful, and he even had the most pleasant dreams about his mother, amalgamations of his best memories of her.

But this time, it wasn’t his sleeping life that had been disturbing him — it was his waking life. For the last several days, Rose had been acting very, very strangely. Like she was hiding a secret. She would smile at him in the oddest way, and she would open her mouth like she had something to say, before snapping it shut. He would ask her if she had something to say, but she would always find some sort of way to distract him from his question. And then there were the sneaking glances, the snickers when she thought he couldn’t hear her. It was driving him up the wall.

He had had enough. He resolved to ask her what on earth was going on when she woke the next day, and he would not be deterred.

His world was then thrown off its axis when he woke, and found Rose’s side of the bed empty. It was a rarity, no, an impossibility, that Rose could be awake before him. Quietly, he moved towards the bathroom door, checking that she was not there. No one was in the bathroom. Armitage strained his hearing, listening for the slightest sound in the house. There was a voice that did not belong to his wife coming from the lower floor.

His heart thundering in his chest, he silently moved to his nightstand, pulling out his blaster and slipping his old monomolecular blade up his sleeve. Creeping downstairs, he surged into the kitchen, blaster raised, hoping to catch whoever was in his and his wife’s house off guard.

The sequence of events that followed was this. He saw that there was only one other person in the house, and she was seated at the dining table, Rose across from her. The strange woman exclaimed, which alerted Rose, who yelped, immediately raising her hands, nearly knocking down her caf mug, as she gasped, “Armitage!”

The other woman’s jaw dropped, and she wonderingly murmured, “Armitage?” His blaster began to move towards her when it registered in his mind that the woman had murmured his name in an Arkanisian accent. The blaster quickly fell to his side, then the floor, as he took in her willowy figure, flaming red hair with a touch of gray at the temples, sharp features, and her glass-green eyes.

“Mother?” He whispered, lip trembling, his voice unknowingly slipping into the same Arkanisian brogue.

“Armitage, a stór,” she said, as she stood and approached him, holding out her hands, tears sparkling in her eyes. “Come here, my boy.”

He did not hesitate. He ran to her, and oh, her embrace was as warm as he remembered, and she even smelled the same. “I thought you were dead! He told me you were dead!” He wept, knowing she would understand who he was referring to.

“I survived, my boy. I survived.”

Mother and son stood there, each overwhelmed with emotion. Then, to his shock, she said, “I’m so sorry, my son.”

“Whatever for, Mother? If anything, it’s me who should be sorry. I didn’t try to find you, and I did things, horrible, terrible things —“

“Shhh. You couldn’t have known I was alive, and you’re sorry for what you did, that’s what matters. I’m sorry for not fighting hard enough for you. I should never have let Brendol take you.”

“It’s not your fault. He would have killed you if you had. You’re here, now, alive. But how? How are you here?”

“General Dameron found me, and put me in contact with your dear wife. When she told me who she was, and who she was married to, I knew I had to come and see you. As to how I escaped with my life when Arkanis was bombed, well, I was in the cellar gathering ingredients for supper from the conservators. Because I was underground, I managed to survive. Eventually, through a lot of hard, honest work, I found my way off planet, and I moved around from place to place until I settled on Hestia in the Inner Rim. I run the orphanage and the soup kitchen in my town. It’s a simple life, but I’m happy with it.”

“I’m glad you’re happy with your life, Mother.”

“And from what dear Rose has told me, you’re happy too.”

He turned to Rose, who had had a bright, teary smile on her face through the whole reunion, his love for his amazing, wonderful wife unabashedly shining in his eyes, and said, “Utterly, and incomprehensibly.”

The three of them spent the day together, Armitage joyfully making new memories with his mother. She was originally only going to stay for three days, but he quickly managed to convince her without much effort to extend her stay for a week, though she refused to move on the point of her staying at the small hostel in town. He knew he was grinning like an idiot as Mother, at her insistence, helped him and Rose in the kitchen for dinner, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

———————————————

For Rose, the whole day had been beautiful. She was so glad to see Armitage like that, so effervescently happy, so peaceful. But it had also been a very interesting day. Ever since Armitage saw his mother in their kitchen, he had been speaking in that Arkanisian accent, which as it was, did funny things to her stomach, and when you added his prolonged conversations with Aisling in Arkanish, it made for quite the heady combination. She had been staring, she knew. He had almost caught her a couple times, but she was pretty sure she had managed to escape detection.

Following the amazing dinner, they escorted Aisling to the hostel, having made plans the next day for Rose to rent a speeder so the three of them could visit the cliffs on the coast three hours away. It would be a long trip, but they knew it would be a treat for her to see them.

Hand in hand, husband and wife made their way back home, Rose completely missing the look in her husband’s eyes.

———————————————

He noticed that Rose had been staring at him the whole day. She tried to hide it, but he had caught her repeatedly out of the corner of his eye. However, he let her think that he was ignorant of what she was playing at. He knew it had something to do with his childhood accent, which he had noticed he had fallen into sometime around lunch, and his use of Arkanish, remembering well how she had reacted the first time she heard him use them.

This time though, as they walked home, their path illumined by the light of the moons, Armitage was was the one staring at Rose. The light caught on her being, showing her delicate, high cheekbones, the brightness of her eyes, the elegant curve of her nose, the velvet sable of her hair, the fullness of her lips, her lips which had no qualms about kissing his, and the strength of her hand, her pure hand, which unashamedly held onto his bloodstained one, willingly touching him.

Not for the first time was he struck by the beauty of this woman who called him hers, who saw his unworthiness, yet deemed him worthy and said, “You. I choose to love you for the rest of my life. I choose to make you bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.” She chose to plunge headlong into the shadows of his heart and make it her home, suffusing her light into his very being, accepting his darkness and his demons.

Once again, he renewed his daily vow to never take Rose for granted, to show her that she was not wrong in her choice to give him her love. To show her as much love as he could. Sometimes, he thought he would die from the amount of love he felt for her. And just when he thought he couldn’t possibly love her any more, Rose went and found his mother, bringing her back to him, whole and happy — making his heart swell to heretofore unknown proportions.

She had to know. He would show her, tonight, just how much he loved her.

They had arrived at their house, and Rose released his hand to unlock the door. He entered after her, and waited until she had shut it behind him to suddenly crowd into her space. Rose found herself with her back pressed against the door, Armitage leaning on his hand braced against the wall next to her head. He inclined his ear, and he could hear her breath coming in short gasps. He pitched his voice down to the octave he knew she liked, saying, “How about a cup of tea, a chroí?”

Rose squeaked, “That — that sounds wonderful, Armie.”

He smirked, pulling away from her, and walking to the kitchen to put the kettle on. His smirk only widened when he heard her heavy exhale and her mutter of “Holy crap, Rose, get ahold of yourself.” This was going to be interesting.

———————————————

Rose came into the kitchen, and sat at the table while they waited for the water to boil. Her eyes determinedly avoided the languid form of her husband as he rested against the counter, his glass-green gaze piercing through her. Soon, the kettle whistled, prompting him to extinguish the flame on the stove and pour the hot water into their mugs. His back turned to her, Rose felt free to watch him. His movements were precise and measured, no gesture superfluous. The mugs were then placed on the table, and he sat across from her.

Tentatively, she reached for the steaming mug, waiting for him to say something. But he remained silent, content to sip at his tea, an indecipherable sparkle in his eyes. Rose was on edge, just waiting for something to happen — she could feel it, the air was charged with a tense energy, like a thread ready to snap any second. Roughly twenty minutes were spent with them just silently sitting there, sipping the piping hot drink. They both finished their tea at roughly the same time, and Rose’s heart began thudding in earnest in her chest. He stood, mug in hand, and leaned over. Then to her relief and slight frustration, he merely took her mug in his other hand, and went to place it on the counter to be washed tomorrow.

Her heart was on the verge of calming when he returned, and dragged his chair to sit right across from her, the table no longer separating them. His elbow rested on the table, and his head was tilted, an intense look on his face. “You planned all this, didn’t you? You asked Dameron to find my mother, and brought her here.”

Rose shivered — he had to know what that look of his and that accent did to her. “Yes.” Her voice was surprisingly steady.

“I figured. Now,” he leaned forward in his seat. “Tell me why you did that.”

“It was your father who told you she was dead. I knew he could’ve lied, so I asked Poe to see if he could find her, wherever she was. I told him her name and what she looked like. He found her, and I got in contact with her and told her who I was, that I was your wife. I didn’t even have to ask her to come, she practically had her passage here booked before I even hung up.”

“You still didn’t answer the question, Rose,” he softly said.

“I… I did it because I love you. So much.”

“Rose…” he whispered, and the next thing she knew, he was on his knees, kissing her deeply, desperately, like a man starved. When they parted for air, breath ragged, she saw that his eyes were blown wide, as his trembling hand reverently caressed her face. “Rose, my Rose. I love you so much, sometimes I think I’ll die from it.”

She gasped and shut her eyes from the intoxicating feelings coursing through her at his words.

He kissed her once more, worshipfully, and as if it were the only thing he lived for. She cried from the intensity of it all, overwhelmed by the depth of his love for her. She could only cling tightly to him, swept away in the riptide of his passion.

When he drew back, he gently wiped the tears from her eyes, and murmured, “If you’ll let me, mo ghrá, I would like to show you just how much I love you.”

She let her head fall onto his shoulder, catching her breath. When she had recovered, she looked up into his dear, dear eyes. “Show me,” she said breathlessly.

“Gladly,” he replied. And he swept her up into his arms, carrying her to their room, lost in his love.

The End.

Arkanish (Irish) glossary

Gabh Transna Ort Fhéin: literally translates to “Go Sideways on Yourself”, A.K.A., “Go F@&k Yourself”. (pronounced as Gave [long a] Tras [Trash with no H] na orth [Worth without a W] Hayn. [Close enough])

Cad ba mhaith leat dom a rá, a ghrá mo chroí: (Near as I can figure from several websites, this is pronounced as kahd bah whaheeth lleyuht dohm ah raw, ah grawh moh khree) [Please pardon me if this is completely wrong]

A stór: my treasure (pronounced uh STORE) [usually used to express affectionate friendship, especially for parent and children relationships.]

A Chroí: my heart (pronounced uh KHREE)

Mo Ghrá: my love (pronounced muh GRAWH)

I used google translate and various websites to glean my information — Irish speaking people, please, please do not hesitate to correct me if anything is wrong here!

Title is taken from Rae Morris’ song “Under the Shadows”

#star wars #star wars au #star wars au fic #gingerrose #gingerrose fic #The Peace of Love #general hux #armitage hux #rose tico #i wrote this instead of sleeping

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cardinal-carvings · 4 years

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Fun things to think about at 'way too dammed early after just waking up' is how a lot of the time it feels like people don't pick up on the details layed out. Then again, with the unreliable narrative of the Phasma novel that's easy to pull... and having torn it to shreds personally over and over and devouring the narrative at least 30 times by now.

I get why people are so quick to take things at face value, but there's actually a lot of proof that would suggest against the idea of Cardinal flat out hating Armitage as the man might otherwise try and claim. It reads more as him being annoyed over the factor it seems Armitage, too, favours Phasma over him. For all his constant insistence that he hates him (and maybe, yes, in a way he does—) he at the very least also holds him in very high regard.

Cardinal knows that Armitage is smart and capable and important to the future of the First Order, and while they both have their issues in the end Cardinal is loyal to him. To the point that it's something tacked onto his loyalty to the Order, as well. It could easily have been phrased any other way to avoid insinuating that if things were to get messy he'd pick Armitage's side in any matter (read; if ever push came to shove and the FO became divided amongst themselves).

Hell, even after learning of Armitage's part in Brendol's death (good fucking riddince to that bastard, he deserved worse tbh) Cardinal's first reaction aside from confusion over the matter is... 'oh great he doesn't understand! he doesn't get that she'd turn on him too! great now i've to go take care of this before he gets himself killed.' There's like a whole two or three paragraphs dedicated to the distress such a realization brings to him and despite all his claims towards not liking Armitage there's no scorn there...

Now as for Armitage? Hating Cardinal? It's literally stated by the man himself he has no issues with Cardinal up until Cardinal finds out information that's very very dangerous for him to have. And what does he do about that? Other than locking him out of a meeting that had he'd gone in (because at the time Cardinal had gone to Armitage— he had no proof) and made a scene he'd be more likely to lose his job or his life??

Nothing. He didn't even give Phasma any information. He just sat back and gave Cardinal a chance to catch himself before he ruined his life (granted, sure, he figures there's no way Cardinal would be able to resist the desire to Fix Things). It's entirely likely if Phasma ever found out Armitage knew Cardinal was in possession of such dangerous information it'd lead to issues between them. So the idea of withholding it (even if, in the end, Phasma comes out on top)— well.

Not exactly the move you make if you decided you wanted someone dead now is it?

Also tacking on the factor that had Cardinal known of the physical abuse Brendol put Armitage through there's no way he'd take Brendol's side in the matter. His reaction to Brendol firing on Parnassos mostly unprompted is pretty good proof that he'd not be okay with it. Brendol manipulated him, made Cardinal see what he wanted Cardinal to see, and did an excellent job at hiding away his more monstrous traits.

#rambling? rambling #not that I think anyone will read this I just #it's a neat little character study #and... important to my take #like there's a reason my cardi reacts the way he does to things and #tada... here.#ooc #shoving the ramble under a read more #especially since idk how long it's gonna be #I just... think it's nifty

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elmidol · 4 years

Text

Harmony Precarious :: Death is an Art

Three Blind Tooke Part Two Precarious Harmony

Read on AO3

Warnings: some death

Three Blind Tooke

Part Two: Precarious Harmony

Chapter Forty-Two: Harmony Precarious :: Death is an Art

No matter what anyone else said, you viewed life, and death, through a scope. That was not to say it was your ideal method of connecting with others. War demanded that people adapted, however, and so you had. How many possible outcomes were there if Rey were to return to the Resistance? There were three ways you could tick off the top of your head that resulted in her demise. Two possibilities that you hoped for. Many more that passed through your head even as you whispered to her once you were absolutely certain that no one else would hear your words. It was through a scope you had witnessed Kylo Ren on the battlefield, and it had been through a scope, while on a mission, that you had seen it—he had her becoming just like the monster he had been. You did not explain it to her quite so bluntly. Instead, you kept the focus on her ensuring Finn and the others were safe. You stressed that Master Skywalker would be able to provide training that Kylo Ren would not. The jaded Jedi Master would aid Rey on her journey in learning of both herself and the Force.

Rey barely listened to you. Her eyes glazed over, her mouth pinching tight, and she stared sightlessly at the far wall of the room. She was struggling with the darkness. You saw it; it was the same power that tempted you. The power that granted strength, which you required in order to save those you loved. That was the ironic thing. Sometimes, to save what we love, we destroy ourselves. To bluntly tell her that she wouldn’t be able to save you would have put an end to the conversation.

You knew who you were more than she knew who she was. Strange. Ironic. You had been destroyed in a variety of ways, however you had had the privilege of being raised by two strong parents that had assisted you in your very first journey of self-discovery. She hadn’t. Rey had waited in limbo for all those years. Waited for her family to return when they would not. She had survived. It was not the same as living. You? You had lived. Now you were focused on surviving, on aiding others in surviving. But you had had your chance. Rey hadn’t.

That was who you were, a part of who you were. You were someone who wanted those you cared for to succeed, and you cared deeply for this young woman who had for so long now been your hope. You wanted to pay Rey back for the burden you had placed on her. To put someone on a pedestal was a sure means of pushing them over the edge, of watching them crack. People were not objects. They were flawed. All of her insecurities, cracks for her mind. To fail you was to increase the crack that symbolized her self-doubt.

You also learned that you were a liar. With the best of intentions, you touched her leg and whispered, “This is the only way you can protect my mother. Hux will find her here.” It was a lie because your mother going to the Resistance would increase her risk of being discovered by Grand Marshal Hux. You waited there with bated breath, wondering if the young woman would realize this as well.

“Master Skywalker will be able to protect her. I can try to ask him—”

“And if Kylo somehow hears you through the bond?” you asked, a tad bit harsh though also growing gentle near the end. You sucked your lips into your mouth, bit down on them, and shook your head. “You would lead the entire First Order to them. And if my mother’s there when they arrive, she will die.”

The close proximity of the fallen Supreme Leader Snoke’s ashes to your heart may have darkened your soul. It was far too easy to say a lie when you believed it was for a righteous cause. A part of you knew the wrongness of it. It made your stomach ache. You felt nauseated for an entirely new reason that had nothing to do with the medication that had been helping your body mend.

There were reasons that she hesitated that had nothing to do with the dark power offered to her if she remained active in Kylo Ren’s plans. Those two members of the Knights of Ren that had continued to grow close to her. To propose to them that they defect offered an opportunity that the plan would amount to nothing. For her to not offer had the reverse possibility; if they would have gone with her and she failed to ask, she was damning them to forever remain her enemy.

“Rey,” you said quietly, pulling one last trick from your bag. “After I kill Phasma… Grand Marshal Hux will know. He will look for any way to retaliate at that point if I do not join him by betrayed Kylo. Please help my mother.”

Cruel. Manipulative. You swallowed thickly, and hoped that she did not see how your body was reacting. Rey rose from the end of the bed, informed you that she would think things over, and walked out of the room. You did not mind that there was a delay in the answer. You hoped that it meant she would figure out a way to safely remove your mother from Naboo, that perhaps she would know how to address the Knights and have them join her.

Staring at her retreating form, you wondered how the former scavenger would fare if Grand Marshal Hux had given her the ultimatum. Kill Kylo Ren or lose everyone she loved. Because, just like it had been with you, there was no winning. You would both lose in the end. The people you loved were either in the Resistance or simply rejected the First Order and its ideology. The former general knew this. He would attack where it hurt. Always. As each person changed, they developed a new weakness. Grand Marshal Hux would find and exploit that weakness. Rey had shown that she was compassionate by remaining behind with you.

You did not for one second doubt that Hux would not use that to his advantage. He was the destroyer of worlds. He, along with Kylo, had forced your ally to break in an interrogation by hurting you in front of them. Rey had the Force while the Grand Marshal did not. That would not stop him. According to the stories from other Resistance members and your parents alike, the Jedi had not been hunted only by Force users—not only Darth Vader. The Force got one only so far. The mass arsenal at his disposal and the merciless nature that would allow him to kill innocents, that was how Armitage Hux would break Rey’s spirit. Unless she returned to Master Luke before the redhead could verbally deliver that ultimatum. That lie that was worse than yours. That he would spare someone if she worked for him. She would be torn in two by that decision.

How am I different by using my mother to make her leave?

You wrapped your arms around yourself, and looked at the clock. It would not be long until dawn, at which point the ship for you would arrive. Aside from having the young Supreme Leader act as bait, there were other factors in your plan that would lure Captain Phasma to where you wanted her. Armitage Hux, whether intentional or not, had dropped far too many hints for you to not have realized that he was responsible for the death of Brendol; more than that, that Phasma had played a part. She would not allow this information to sway the minds of those loyal to her. Thus you had had Kylo Ren plant the seed by mentioning the elder Hux in passing, and he would have followed that up with the death of Han Solo. Patricide, both of which solidified one’s place in the war. Armitage as Grand Marshal. Phasma as Captain. Kylo Ren as Supreme Leader. The chrome-armored female would collaborate with the redhead. To what extent, you were not certain. The only thing you knew was that she would see to matters with Kylo personally. She could not trust another to attempt his murder. Could not chance him walking away alive.

There was no more time for you to attempt to convince Rey to leave and rejoin the Resistance. You had offered the suggestion. The rest was up to her.

A smaller scope provided you with view of your husband. A slightly larger was necessary to track Captain Phasma’s movements. She had surprised you by arriving with what could amount to a tiny army—army may not have been the correct term given its size, however it would do. These ‘troopers had to know what Phasma’s end goal was. In certain respects, you had expected as much; that there existed officers and stormtroopers alike not content to serve under Kylo’s rule. Snoke had not exactly passed the torch willingly. If the female was spinning a tale that Kylo Ren had betrayed the First Order by killing Snoke—which, yes, he technically may have, to an extent—there were those loyal enough to her that they would risk their lives now to try to right that wrong.

This very much complicated your mission. It was a reason you had only rarely gone on solo missions when with the Resistance. You were assigned a target, and your comrades had worked to remove other obstacles. Somehow you would need to eliminate Phasma as well as these troopers before they could do whatever it was they planned to with Ren. Kill him obviously, your mind shot back. The unknown method was the issue. Numbers alone would not ensure a victory.

Maker, for all you knew, they could be sporting thermal detonators. Given that Phasma would have no death wish, you doubted it. She would sacrifice all of those stormtroopers in the blink of an eye, however she valued her own life. Maybe that was the plan instead. Use the stormtroopers as fodder—if they had smaller explosives on their person, the chrome-armored woman would be able to shoot them, detonating an explosion, and rid herself of Kylo and witnesses alike. Or else she would kill the stormtroopers later. It occured to you suddenly that she may not have revealed every ounce of information she was holding to those in white. There was no need to do that.

It made you absolutely sick to your stomach. The First Order treated people like fodder. The casualties of war had always refused to sit well with you. That was one of the reasons you preferred the scope. The limited view.

You estimated the length of time it would take them to reach the designated area where Kylo was waiting. Captain Phasma would have to make something of a production for the stormtroopers to work with her, even if she planned on killing them. You could not risk a transmission to the Supreme Leader being intercepted, and so you had to wing it while hoping that he could sense the presence of the stormtroopers. This was more akin to when you had been hunting Kylo Ren than when you had been given officers as marks. You could not chance a shot not hitting its target.

Once more switching to the other scope, you observed the man you had married making adjustments to a device in his hand. If memory served, this was a recording device that he would use to prove Phasma’s duplicitous nature. Depending on what was caught, the footage would have to be edited. These stormtroopers might make it difficult. Unless Ren could sway them.

If Hux had come with Captain Phasma, would I be hesitating at all? Or would I hope for a thermal detonator? Shoot it myself? All three members of the triumvirate gone in one attack.

If Kylo Ren had complicated you, Rey had added a new layer of complexity. She had ingrained in you a sense of hope that people could be changed. Even with all of your feelings for Kylo Ren, for the Ben Solo he had been and could have been, you had been prepared to kill him. The moment Rey had entered into the equation, it stopped being so simple.

You wished that you could return on a temporary basis to the Resistance to ask General Organa for advice. Perhaps Luke Skywalker as well. They had faced the Emperor and Darth Vader in the Empire, and now faced the entire First Order. Imperialists had turned. Some in the Resistance had told you the story of Han Solo, how at one point, prior to becoming a smuggler, he had been on the track to becoming an officer. People changed every day. Some atoned for their sins, or at least tried to.

Kylo Ren would never be able to undo the deeds he had done. He could not take back off the murders, the ordered executions, any of it. Rey’s influence on you had you imagining a Kylo who did good instead. Someone who helped others with what life he had left.

Behind the scope in your hands, you were crying.

You thought of the families of the officers that you had killed. Colonel Riggards. Widowed with two children. Orphans now, tooke. Those children would grow to despise the Resistance with a bias that you could understand. You had robbed them of their father. The deeds they went on to commit, if they chose to join the First Order and kill members of the Resistance, you were their reason. It did not make you fully regret your mission; you knew the reason Colonel Riggards had been made a target. His needs had helped to create you. That was the endless, vicious cycle. An eye for an eye until the whole galaxy was blind.

And there Rey was, a young woman with the ability to have mercy and compassion for her enemy.

But in the end, we all just become monsters.

You shoved aside the scope to eliminate the view of the man who was the catalyst for your transformation. Lifted the other to once more assess the speed of Phasma and her stormtroopers. That was the moment you noticed an inconsistency. The contact that you had had with Captain Phasma was limited. Yet the figure you observed in the armor there moved differently than the woman you had seen in the throne room of the Supremacy. You ran a calculation through your head to include the distance and how tall you knew Phasma to be. This person was not her.

Panic seized you. A cold sweat broke out across your entire body, and you could hear the chattering of your teeth. This was far too similar to that fateful day that you had become Kylo Ren’s prisoner. The hunted becoming the hunter. How had you not seen it sooner? You had been far too wrapped up in your own thoughts.

You whipped the scope, your view, back in the direction of the shuttle that they had arrived in. Nothing. Back and forth across the plane in futile attempts to locate the missing woman. Not that you had any idea as to her appearance. If you spotted a random female, you could not say with certainty that it was her. Would you hesitate to pull the trigger?

Relinquishing hold of your scope, you patted the ground beside you in search of the comm device. That was the moment you felt searing pain. All air knocked out of your lungs, your body convulsing. You rolled onto your back.

There. How had you not heard her? She was in her element; a miscalculation on your part. She could have slaughtered you if that had been her intention. Which meant that you were in for far worse. Another flashback to Kylo Ren taking you alive. Death would be an escape. You began to slip your tongue forward between your teeth.

Her lips curved upwards. The short, blonde hair slicked back with gel in a similar manner to how the Grand Marshal wore his. There was the possibility that it was his hair product that she used. Both so merciless. She wore First Order regulation slacks coupled with a tank top. So calm. The weapon with which she had pierced you remained in her hand. A thin, needle-like spear. The wound was not deep enough to kill you; she had avoided anything major. You were a pawn to her.

“You do your homework well,” she said, complimenting you in a way that also mocked everything you had worked for. It was apparent to both of you that you had not done your homework well enough. The hand not on the spear dropped down to a sack secured to her hip. She patted it. “So do we all.” It was large, and something within it moved. “Myrkr.” The smirk widened into a feral grin as realization dawned upon you.

He had always called you a weapon, a tool. Armitage Hux sprinkling what information was convenient for his plans. You had misstepped in the past. Always doomed to repeat your failures, you had stored away knowledge of the ysalamir and refused to mention it to Kylo. How many did they have? So do we all. Every one of those stormtroopers and the fake-Phasma were equipped with the creature. Multiple, when grouped together, could expand their Force-neutral bubble sometimes by kilometers. Ren did not stand a chance.

“Do they think they’re hunting Rey?” you shot through clenched teeth. Your hand felt along your back, at the wetness gathering in the material of your shirt. If you made an attempt to grab your weapon, Phasma would have you pinned by the shoulder. What you wanted to say was that she was not going to get away with this, but she very well could. The Resistance would not be intimidated—it was so ingrained in you to say that. You held your tongue, and waited for her to answer.

Her smirk faded away. Now the passive exterior revealed just how commonplace betrayal and death both were to her. She lowered herself onto one knee in unison with setting the tip of her spear against your shoulder in the exact spot you had believed she might. It bit through the material of your shirt and nicked the first layer of skin. Phasma’s free hand grabbed hold of your weapon. All the while, she did not break eye contact with you.

“You can save those stormtroopers. Kill him yourself. Think of the lives you will save.”

A challenge. It did not matter one way or the other to her. She simply wanted to see if you were able to set aside your humanity to kill your husband—all to save your enemies. They should have both been considered your enemy.

“It was your mission, wasn’t it?” A taunt, yet also genuine. Her eyes swept up and down your countenance. “Everything he did to you.”

So many things. Countless wrongs. Every fracture into who you had been morphing you into this person. All of that bringing you to this exact moment.

That she wanted you to pull the trigger, you understood this. The Knights of Ren would retaliate if they could say with certainty that she had been the one to kill him. The seed of doubt. The same game that you had played on her. She could blame Rey. Anyone who was not her. If Rey did choose to listen to you, if the female Force user left now to go to the Resistance, it did not matter what you did. The Knights of Ren would believe that you had killed their Supreme Leader.

Grand Marshal Hux had played you, had played Kylo Ren, had possibly played Rey. The three of you blindly trying to do what you each believed was right. All the while he kept Captain Phasma in the loop. When you had failed to express more interest in the ysalamir plot, he had chosen to go a different route.

They needed you alive for their plan to work; currently they were not in possession of a planet destroyer that could take care of the Knights of Ren on Naboo. Although, that was also the issue. Not all of the Knights were there.

You pulled in the muscles of your abdomen, which became more concave. “Very well.” The hard metal of the spear shaft whipped to the side, knocking against your head. You saw pops of red and black. Another smack.

It was through a scope that you would have watched the look on Kylo Ren’s face when the stormtroopers turned on him. Unless it had been Captain Phasma to cut through her own men and women after the fact with that red blade. Their bodies littered on the ground. The chrome armor damaged, albeit not beyond recognition. The Knights of Ren would believe her dead. Any argument or contradiction that spilled from your lips would be meaningless. The same plasma blade that had dealt death blows to the armored corpses had been used to cauterize the wound on your back.

The pouches containing the ysalamir were missing. That would have been damning evidence. A weak chuckle from the body beside yours, and you turned away from the dead. “Personal interests… You were the death of me, tooke.” There were pauses between several of the words. And you could not figure out what he was feeling. Even a warrior as mighty as Kylo Ren was no match for a shot he could not detect. You recognized the size and shape of the wound as belonging to the weapon that you had brought with you to kill Captain Phasma. She had dragged you here while you were unconscious. Your hands so red from all the blood.

There had been no need for her to kill you. Your head throbbed where you knew an egg had formed. You forced yourself to fight through the nausea, and touched the man’s chest. Despite the presence of the ysalamir, you could tell that he had been able to use the Force enough to lessen the blow; just like what he had done with the bowcaster shot. Only this time it had not been strong enough.

You rested your forehead over his heart, turned your head, and listened to his heartbeat. For so long it had been just the two of you. You knew what you should have been hearing. It wasn’t this. This? It was too weak.

You should have been happy. He had been your target for so long. What. Then. Tooka? You felt numb. Alternately, you experienced a sense of loss, of sadness. You were who you were because of him. Even before your imprisonment, his existence had assisted in shaping you. That was fading away. Which was hard to believe—he was too strong to die of this, wasn’t he? Had it always been this easy?

It had not been easy. You had lost yourself along the way.

Shifting onto your knees, you tugged him backwards, his head resting on your lower stomach so that your hands could lay splayed over his chest, one atop the other to where you could see the pair of tattoos. Is this what he had felt when you had died? Your lips were moving in a silent plea. Please. Over and over again. Although you were not certain what you were asking for. For him to die? For him to live? For someone to explain to you how you had gotten it all wrong?

The two who had conspired to put Kylo Ren into this position, they would be leading the First Order. Merciless. Willing to sacrifice so many people, so many worlds for their cause. They would destroy a planet to kill Luke Skywalker. They would use the ysalamir to void his powers, just as they had done with Kylo Ren. They would hunt down Rey the exact same way.

“Please,” you said, managing to vocalize the word. “Don’t leave me alone.”

Kylo weakly lifted one hand away from the wound in his stomach. A gut shot. A slow death. Maybe he would have found a means of finding a way off of this planet if Phasma had not taken the comm devices. If she hadn’t cut through his face, blinding him. That was the strange thing. He could not see you, though he had seen you. He felt you in the Force, with the Force. He was the only person who truly knew who you were. All of those times inside of your head; the one person in all of the galaxy who had truly known the person you had become. He had known the girl you used to be, and the woman you now were.

You did not want to die. You did not want to be alone either. The hand he had raised touched the backs of yours. “Blinded by sentiment.”

“Shut up,” you whispered. He was smirking, amused at the irony. You attributed that to the bloodloss. He should have been angry. His breaths were more shallow.

“You won, tooke.”

“Shut up.” This was a victory and a loss. This was the shattering of that precarious harmony you had started to rebuild your life around. Where did he end, and where did you begin? Your vision swam. Gloved fingers touched the two digits that held the tattoos. It had never mattered if he lived or died; he would always be a part of you. You wanted him to live. Then, thinking of everything he had done, you thought it might not be bad if he died.

He might not die, you thought, feeling his breathing become softer again, understanding that he had lost consciousness even as you heard the ship. Two ships. To ensure that her plan worked, Captain Phasma would have had to contact Grand Marshal Hux, who would contact the Knights. They would arrive before you could leave. If he holds on…

If he held on, the war would not be over. If he died, the war would not be over. You had wanted to make a difference in this galaxy. That was why you had joined the Resistance.

What. Then. What happens after Ren is dead?

You had never allowed yourself to form an answer. There had been countless ways that Kylo Ren could die. All of those scenarios… Did you return home? Did you find yourself?

Undoubtedly, Kylo Ren had been a monster in many respects. That only meant that Grand Marshal Hux and Captain Phasma were soulless beasts by comparison. You hunted monsters.

Leaning forward, you stared through blurry eyes at the hand atop yours. A droplet of water hit the leather. Tears. Only five. The numbness returned in a fresh wave. He remained breathing. The ship had touched the ground, shouts meeting your ears. You could not decipher what was being said. They spoke Basic, yet you understood absolutely nothing. Could hear them drawing their weapons. That did not register immediately though. Your heart hiccuped in your chest then pounded with such ferocity. His, on the other hand, had stopped.

You were grabbed away from his body by just one of the Knights. The bruising grip threatened to jerk you back to the present. Instead you stood there, the numbness stronger.

Something about Rey… She was not there, which meant she had heeded your advice. Should have known...her mother...gone… They thought you had killed Kylo Ren—hadn’t you, though?

Was there a part of you that had willingly overlooked all of those variables? They seemed so obvious now. Had there been a part of you that hated Kylo Ren that much, that wanted him dead so badly?

There was a weapon at your throat. A different Knight shoved its owner away, locked you in cuffs, and roughly steered you towards the second ship. You understood the necessity in these actions. There were medics present, grabbing hold of Kylo Ren’s body and bringing him to the other vessel. The Knights followed, no doubt to berate the medics for any misstep. Blood still poured from the wound.

He’s already dead. It’s too late.

You knew this by the utter emptiness you felt. The Force was in all living beings. It connected everything. You ached at the loss of that connection.

The ramp to the ship you were on started to raise as the Knight hit a button then pressed you into a seat. He strapped you in restraints. They would torture you, interrogate you to learn how you had fulfilled the task of killing Kylo Ren. Would press to know if Rey had been involved—her absence from Naboo meant that she could have been there on this planet with you when things had happened. She had already assisted in killing Snoke, why not the next Supreme Leader?

“Why did you do it?” the Knight asked. You did not turn to him, although you recognized his voice. He had bonded with Rey the most out of them all. “She told me to bring you to her after the mission ended...to be with your mother.” He had been willing to betray the Knights of Ren, but not kill them. “He kept your mother alive. Why didn’t you spare him?”

It was such a human thing to ask. It was what you knew Rey would ask you as hurt flashed across her face.

You should have seen Phasma through your scope. Instead you had seen a ruse without realizing it.

You won, tooke.

You remembered what it felt like when your father had relinquished his hold on your hand, had returned you to the world of the living. This was sort of like that. The feel of Kylo’s heart stopping as you held him in your arms.

“The Resistance will just love you, won’t they?” The bitterness in his voice was also so human. The sense of betrayal. Rey had left the Resistance temporarily, but that did not mean she would allow them to be killed. You could see just how this man was able to grow attached to her, enough that he would walk away from the First Order. He had, like Rey, hoped that Kylo Ren could change.

You did not understand why, if he hated you so much, he wouldn’t simply return you to the First Order like his fellow Knights were assuming he would. You did not understand why the Knights were taking the body to the First Order; it did not matter how much the medics worked on him. His heart had stopped beating. Grand Marshal Hux desired that it never restart.

The ring fingers on either of your hands twitched.

You did not want to die.

It felt like, along with him, you had.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #three blind tooke #kylo ren smut #kylo ren imagine #elmidolfanfic #precarious harmony #end of part two

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permian-tropos · 4 years

Note

Brendol Hux for the character ask.

1. How I feel about this character

I’m really fond of a version of him that absolutely doesn’t exist in canon, though it’s based on some canon elements. He has a particular position in canon that I think is cool -- being a link between the problems/evils of the Jedi Order and the evils of the First Order -- and there’s no way to take that really good content and bestow it to a different character because it IS Brendol’s thing. So I’m remodeling the mean dad man. I can make other mean dads but I can’t make many other architects of the stormtrooper program.

But basically, as a guy who is ideologically descended from the Jedi, he’s the sort of villain that ought to have been more accessible. You should be able to read about him doing appalling things but be invested in what’s going on so you can understand those appalling things in a wider context. It should be engaging to get stuff from his POV. I don’t think we’ve had any Brendol POV content in canon at all, and canon writers seem like they’re not particularly interested in making him someone you want to see more of. Plus, I don’t think they ever want to talk about how messed up the clone program was. Brendol being inspired by the clone program only implicates the Jedi if Brendol is relatable enough that you can see how the Jedi playing fast and loose with morality could have a corrupting effect on others.

Besides that though his British boarding school aesthetic is good actually, and the times he’s allowed to be affably evil really sold me.

2. All the people I ship romantically with this character

As most of you know, Armitage’s mother, but an OC named Moira who is Palpatine’s daughter and is a powerful Dark Side user who was an Inquisitor for a while and then hides out on Arkanis doing her own thing. She and Brendol are gross and sappy together, even though they do have some pretty major relationship troubles. Evil power couple.

Maratelle, in the sense that she used to be in love with him back when he was hiding the worst of his ambitions.

I’ll put Sloane and Rax on the same line here because I lowkey like the idea of either of them having a thing with Brendol, sort of an X with benefits situation because they’re all having depressed midlife crises.

3. My non-romantic OTP for this character

This will be hard to convey without a lot of context but I created another OC, a FO officer around Finn’s age who used to be a trooper, that would have a relationship to Brendol kind of intentionally paralleling Rey and Luke in TLJ. Brendol survives his canon death but lives in exile (no longer evil) with Moira, and then this OC discovers them while trying to save stormtroopers on Starkiller from this supernatural disease that is connected to/caused by reconditioning. It’s like when Rey discovers that her hero wasn’t what she expected but worse, but in the end my OC and the Hux parents have this very tentative, pained familiarity… I was inspired by in canon Brendol sort of approving of Zare Leonis for being nicer than he thinks is appropriate, so my OC comes along aggressively trying to do the right thing and Brendol is disillusioned with his old career and he lets himself care about one more person, someone who he once terribly wronged (by, you know, kidnapping). Yah he get redeemed in that story im just fukcing rolling with it u know how it is... it’s also inspired by the idea of redeemed Vader sticking around long enough to have quiet domestic scenes especially since this version of Brendol has a very damaged body (considering how he canonically died). But instead of being a cyborg he’s a, uh, sea monster chimera for some bonus Lovecraftian vibes and because Moira is a monsterfucker and she put him back together.

4. My unpopular opinion about this character

Most of my opinions about him are unpopular but it’s not like there’s a ton of discourse around him though, since he’s not seen as a seductive threat to morals like Kylo Ren lol. I don’t think the people who have strong negative feelings about Brendol because, say, they love Armitage, would really be offended by my version. So my opinions are not super contentious, just unusual. Also, it’d be hard for other people to come up with the same ideas about Brendol as me since I’m inventing so much of my own content for it.

5. One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Would prefer canon not do anything more with him because I want to keep my playground of ideas going.

However, I think he could have been in TLJ as part of the arc that culminates in Finn and Rose vs Hux and Phasma. He could start off with Armitage as a parallel to Leia with Poe, and he’s not really Armitage’s villain because I want to make sure to emphasize how his villainy affected Finn and Rose (Finn is obvious, and the Order kidnapped kids from Rose’s homeworld too). So he wouldn’t be abusing Armitage for his failures, in fact he’d be forced to watch Snoke doing that, and Armitage is clearly hurt and angry that his father won’t/can’t protect him but it’s not that they completely hate each other. But later Finn and Rose could clash with Brendol in that execution scene, so they get to talk about their backstories a little more, and Phasma could shoot Brendol as part of that deleted scene where she kills the troopers after Finn reveals her treachery, and then Armitage actually watches his father die but he’s not ok with it actually and I think all that would be solid drama.

#asks

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ao3feed--kylux · 4 years

Text

Kylo Ren's Self-Appointed Glorified Babysitter

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2PAMm7d

by BlackCat (DarkCat)

As unbelievable as that is, when he first came aboard the Finalizer as co-commander Kylo Ren tried to make friends with Armitage Hux. Back when Ren was still the new kid who was much too awkward even while wearing a glorified black bucket over his head that apologized when stumbling into mouse droids and Hux was the frightening figure looming over the bridge in his underdeveloped pre-growth-spurt glory of five foot seven. Obviously it's a wasted effort, because this goes as poorly as can be expected.

Also, having someone wonder What The Fuck Is The Force™ because, someone had to. At some point in history someone had to have asked.

Words: 6941, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars - All Media Types

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M, Other

Characters: Armitage Hux, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren, Phasma (Star Wars), Dopheld Mitaka, Rae Sloane, Gallius Rax, Snoke (Star Wars), Armitage Hux's Mother, Brendol Hux, Millicent the Cat (Star Wars), Rey (Star Wars)

Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux & Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux & Phasma, Armitage Hux & Dopheld Mitaka, Armitage Hux & Rae Sloane, Armitage Hux & Snoke, Armitage Hux & Millicent the Cat

Additional Tags: Nice Armitage Hux, Armitage Hux is So Done, Armitage Hux is Not Nice, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Armitage Hux is a Jerk, Armitage Hux Being An Asshole, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, It Gets Worse, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Pre-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Pre-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Angst, Timeline What Timeline, Continuity What Continuity, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Better Than Canon, Kissing It Better, Fluff and Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, The Force, The Force Ships It, Appropriate Use of the Force, Inappropriate Use of the Force, The Dark Side of the Force, Darth Tantrum and his Evil Space Ginger, Phasma Ships It, Awesome Phasma, Poor Dopheld Mitaka, Snoke Ships It, Snoke Being a Dick, There's A Tag For That, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm Not Ashamed, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Angst, Light Angst, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, You Have Been Warned

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2PAMm7d

#star wars: the force awakens #star wars: the last jedi #kylux #kylo ren #general hux #fanfic

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boysenberry-starbucks-gremlin · 4 years

Text

Nowhere Else I’d Rather Be

THIS FIC CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE RISE OF SKYWALKER

Pairing: General Hux x Poe Dameron (Gingerpilot)

Warning: Abuse? It’s implied.

Summary: Rather than Finn blasting Hux and leaving him at the mercy (or lack-there-of) of the First Order, Hux returned with him and Poe and has officially defected. Poe, Hux, Rose, Finn, Rey, and Ben have become the closest of friends. However, they soon realize that they know close to nothing about Hux. Poe decides to attempt to get some information out of him and it turns out they have something in common.

A/N: The information Hux provides can be found in the Aftermath book series which follows the time between the Empire and the First Order. (Great book series, I highly recommend.) As for Poe, I relied on Wookiepedia for a lot of the info I found on him.

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The war was technically over. There were still a hand full of loose ends to tie up, a few battles to still be fought and won. Leia, the beloved princess and general, was gone and Poe Dameron, along with Finn, has taken her place. Although, there really is no replacing General Organna.

Poe walked into the cafeteria, BB8 close at his heals. People nodded to him as he passed and soon came upon a table filled with those who had become his best friends and family. Among them, sitting with his back perfectly straight, was the ex-general Hux.

Poe could still hardly believe that he was the spy. Part of him had always felt that the redhead could do amazing things if he had chosen the correct side. But he would have never imagined him actually changing sides. Of course, he told them that the main reason was to get Kylo Ren dead. That doesn’t change the fact that, when offered, Hux flew away with Poe and Finn back to the base. And besides, Kylo Ren was gone. When Rey had returned, another ship carrying one Ben Solo arrived soon after.

It had not been an easy transition. For anyone.

Hux had gotten cornered many times for Starkiller, people wanting to get revenge for the lives he had taken that day. Poe tried to keep an eye on him, be there as back up when needed, while adjusting to life as general. Rey had left and returned, having taken the Skywalkers’ lightsabers to Luke’s home planet. When she returned, she told him and Finn that she felt like she left a part of her on that desert planet with the sabers, but she also knew that now she could begin living as her own self, and hopefully make Luke and Leia proud. Ben had the most adjusting to do. He mourned the passing of his mother, while also getting the chance to properly mourn for his father as well. Rey helped him through it, though. They were there for each other.

Poe took a seat across from Hux. Around the table also sat Finn, Rose, Rey, and Ben. The six of them met up for at least one meal a day, often dinner, to catch up and have a few laughs before having to return to business. It was the highlight of all of their days.

“And he decides to go though regardless, this narrow opening between mountains and my father decides, ‘oh, the falcon can fit.’ I’m surprised we didn’t crash,” Ben laughed through the end of his story and everyone joined in.

Rose caught Poe’s eye and smiled. “We’re talking about our childhoods,” she explained.

Poe nodded understandingly. “What have we got so far?”

Finn, Rey, and Rose quickly recounted their stories. Poe smiled and laughed along with everyone before turning to the only person only slightly chuckling along. Hux sat there, only a small smile on his lips as he ate, but his eyes were kept down on the table.

“What about you, Hugs?” Poe asked, a wide, flirty smile on his face.

Everyone turned to look at the man in question.

“Yeah,” Rose spoke up, “We hardly know anything about you. We don’t even know your first name. I mean, Ben should. You’ve known each other for years.”

Ben chuckled. “Actually. I don’t know that either,” he turned and looked at Hux properly. “You were always just General or Hux.”

Hux sighed, knowing they weren’t going to let it go. He had gotten to know everyone around the table, it was only fair that he returned the favour. “Its Armitage.”

“Armitage,” Poe repeated. “I like it, it suits you.” As the rest nodded Hux smiled a little brighter. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Poe. What Poe didn’t know was that Hux hadn’t heard his name spoken so kindly since his mother last spoke it.

The group soon disbanded, everyone separating to their private rooms. Poe and Hux branched off down their hall. Their rooms were a short distance from each other’s and they often ended up sitting in each other’s rooms late into the night. They didn’t say much; Hux read and Poe would have a gadget that he was busy fixing. It was often something off his x-wing that didn’t get flown quite so often anymore since he became general.

Hux enjoyed the company. So it wasn’t a problem that when he entered his room, the dark haired man followed him. Hux sat on his bed, while Poe took a seat in the chair nearby. Neither of them moved to pull out a book or a gadget, they just sat in silence for a moment.

Poe took a deep breath before speaking. “So what else can I know about you?” He leaned back, his legs crossed so his ankle rested on his knee.

Hux shifted uncomfortably. “There’s not much to tell. Most anything you want to know, I’m sure you have seen from files I gave you from the First Order.”

“No, not stuff about General Hux. I’ve been told and have read plenty about him. I want to know about Armitage. Your childhood, your parents-,”

Hux let out a scoff before he could stop himself. At Poe’s puzzled look, he explained, “Anything regarding my parents is...complicated. That’s saying the least.” Poe just gazed at him, eyebrows slightly raised, urging him to continue. “Surely you don’t wish to hear about my childhood. Or lack-there-of.”

Poe smiled softly. “I do.”

Hux could feel his wall breaking slowly. He always could when Poe was around. It was even worse when they were alone together. He could never be cross or cold with him. He sighed before leaning forward and deciding to speak, staring at his hands folded in front of him.

“My father was...not a good man. He started training me to be in the military from a very young age. For most of my life he refused to call me his son. It wasn’t until I ranked general that he did. By that point though I couldn’t have cared less.” It was the first time he was ever being honest with someone about his father. Someone who never saw the way Brendol treated him, someone on the outside who otherwise wouldn’t have known.

“What about your mother?”

Hux’s face dropped. He should have seen that question coming from a mile away. Part of him had. And yet, it still stung.

Poe opened his mouth to apologize, but Hux quickly cut him off. “She died when I was young. She was kitchen staff where my father lived on Arkanis. I don’t remember much about my life there. But I remember her.” He was still looking down at his hands. He wanted to brush off the topic, as he had so many other times. But this wasn’t like other times. This time he was with Poe, and for some reason unknown to him, he had opened up to the general, and he couldn’t find it in himself to close back up again.

Poe sighed softly and hung his head. “My mother died when I was young too. She was an a-wing pilot in the first war. She taught me how to fly.” Poe let a small smile grace his features. Hux looked up just in time to see it. Poe reached around his neck and pulled out a chain with a ring hanging on it. “Her wedding ring,” he explained, meeting Hux’s gaze. “I had told my dad that he should have kept it, but I had always loved it. I never take it off now. It’s my good luck charm.”

“I’m sure your mother would be very proud of you,” Hux spoke softly.

Poe smiled and gave a chuckle that was hardly audible. “So would your’s.” The two men gazed at each other for a long moment before Poe cleared his throat. “My mom, she would have liked you. She probably would have tried to put us together.”

“Would she really have to try so hard?” The words were out before he could think them. Anxiety rose in Hux’s chest as he prayed that the comment went unnoticed. But this was Poe. Of course it didn’t.

Poe’s features softened to that of a sort of realization. He gave that cricked flirty smile he gives that makes Hux believe that he would’ve defected from the First Order much sooner if only he’d seen that smile. “No,” Poe said at last. “No, she wouldn’t.”

Hux’s ears turned as red as his hair as he lowered his face and turned away from Poe. He was so caught in his thoughts that he hadn’t seen or felt Poe move to sit next to him on the bed until a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. He turned and faced the dark haired man sitting closer to him than anyone had ever sat before.

Their eyes scanned each other’s faces; Poe’s searching for a go-ahead, Hux’s looking for any sign of doubt. Because Poe would never do anything unless he knew for certain that Hux wanted to; and the situation was so unfamiliar to Hux that he was sure Poe didn’t really feel the same way he did. Hux reached over and blindly took Poe’s hand, which had been laid on the bed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to him. That gesture was all Poe needed, and the gentle squeeze Poe gave in response reassured Hux.

Poe’s hand which had been placed on Hux’s shoulder moved up to his face, running along his jaw before coming to just above his ear. He pushed some fiery hair behind Hux’s ear. It sent chills down Hux’s spine and Poe nearly melted when Hux leaned into the touch. It couldn’t have been a more perfect moment.

Poe leaned forward and closed the gap between them. Their lips collided in what Hux felt was an electric shock. It was a soft kiss, one that lasted a long time, with Hux rubbing his thumb against the back of Poe’s hand, and Poe running his fingers through fiery hair. It was perfect.

When they broke they rested their foreheads together and laughed. Neither really knew what to do now.

“Armitage,” Poe spoke softly.

Hux hummed in response, waiting for Poe to continue. He loved the way Poe said his name. And Poe loved saying it. It rolled off so naturally that he felt like he had no other words.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

Hux smiled and pulled back to look at Poe’s face. What he was about to say was the most honest he had ever been with anyone in his entire life. It scared him a little. “There is nowhere I’d rather be, Poe, than here with you.”

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A/N: I typically don’t write fics with major spoilers in them. However, I feel like our wonderful General Hux did not get the ending he deserved. Neither did Ben but that is beside the point. (We’re also never specifically told that Ben is dead. Maybe something could have happened to save him. Just my thoughts on it.) If people like this fic I will happily do more based of this idea of these six becoming friends and Ben and Hux being accepted into the group.

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