Chapter Text
you vaguely smell the scent of something floral. probably some exotic plant that phasma collected when off-duty. strange, because the captain doesn’t seem like the type to like anything as fragile as a flower. she is a woman built on a foundation of steel and blood, chaos and order, victory and duty. yet, there had been other things in phasma’s room. small trinkets here and there; objects lost to the sands of time and ignorance. sometimes, you wonder if you are one of them, a thing that is lost, but then picked up by phasma’s firm hands.
unconsciously, you curl deeper against the wall. the three velvet blankets provide a blissful protection that steadies the atmosphere around you. your heart, nonetheless, beats hard and fast in preparation for what is to come next. you let your mind think among the sleepiness, about how your heart is moving so strangely. this feeling is like when in training, those times as you wait your turn to go against a comrade. eventually however, that feeling will burst and some kind of numbness will inject itself into your system as you fight with both fists and weapons. it is a good thing phasma watches over all your combat trainings, you are not exactly capable of stopping your partner once everything reaches a peak.
a faint buzzing could be heard coming from the bright fluorescent lights. vaguely, you remember how phasma’s voice sounds like as she read off reports. her body would be stretched out on the bed, while you sit or lie next to her in a half-awake state of consciousness. she only offers such casualness when out of armor. sometimes though, she would let slip a little of her private self in the public. the subtle voice change, the small gestures, and all the times she stands close to you-those things are what makes you see the phasma beyond the chrome armor.
you then shift, and spend the next new minutes finding a comfortable position for your arm to stretch. the bed and sheets are the most comforting when they are cold. then, someone could leave their warmth on them. peeking open your eyes, you recall once how phasma would already be lying on the bed when she asked for your presence. certain memories provide a warmth fluttering gently across your chest; it is a slow undulation between gentleness and a beating harshness. no matter how soft phasma makes her face seem, you will always see her as your captain, first and foremost. which is why no matter what she says, you’ll accept and do it. your loyalty is phasma’s, and then the first order. you wish to tell her that and see how that would change her demeanor, but you could never speak of that out loud. doing so would be a transgression of your soldier’s order.
the air shifts, ever so gently, like a needle point upon the water’s surface. that feeling of a presence is familiar, and so you hold your breath and stiffen your body out of habit. you hear her take off her armor pieces and hear the hiss of air coming out as she lifts her helmet, and then there is a sigh. you open your eyes and see phasma running a hand through her short blonde hair, with an unreadable expression on her face. you push your head deeper into the soft bedding beneath, eyes now entirely wide and ready to follow the captain around, lest she speaks.
even in her flesh and body, phasma is an imposing woman; tall, statuesque, and strong. your jaws slacken, your eyes grow dry as they widen, and a warmth spreads itself across your cheeks. your hands find themselves clammy all of sudden as you watch phasma saunter towards you. at first, your view lingers upon the muscles strewn across her upper body.
“what’s wrong, my love?” her deep and rich voice speaks of a subtle worry behind a tone built on command. she stops on the edge of the bed, and leans down until her shadow encases your body and the heat of her skin feels as if they are digging themselves within your vulnerable form. at that moment, your rigid body goes soft, and you turn around so you could face her and stretch your arms out, welcoming her to you. she understands, phasma always understands, so she allows herself to dip down until her face is inches away from yours, until most of her muscular body is on your smaller one. this gesture is old; it is tradition now. but phasma likes it, and you don’t have any qualms with that.
“i miss you,” you say. “not because you are gone too long, but just seeing you out of armor and being you.” you thread your fingers through phasma’s hair, the latter sighs in contentment as her arms encircle your head. “you don’t have to miss me, because i will always be with you. in mind, spirit, and body. no matter what, you will always have me, i am yours,” phasma replies. she begins peppering your left cheek with kisses that elicits such soft gasps from your mouth. the hand that is once in her hair is now splayed on the back of her head. your thighs unconsciously spread themselves, allowing phasma to place her lower body between them.
the pressure on your heart is still there, even with the change in weight. it only feels heavier when phasma begins to brush one of her knee against that area between your legs. she smirks, but does only so much as your gasps become a cacophony of little moans and pants. “is that good? do you want me to continue?” she’s doing this so well, as she kisses down your neck, and then…
“phasma…wait.”
phasma stops, abruptly. she pulls herself off and settles beside your body. you do not know what her face shows, because your eyes are staring at the ceiling, now blurry in vision. there is wetness in the corner of your eyes, however, you are not sure what that means. you clamp your legs together as one of your hand brushes the wetness away. phasma’s touch left their residue in the forms of ghostly kisses upon the same area of your body she previously touched. you peel off the sheets one by one, as phasma patiently watches you. suddenly, you feel like the whole galaxy has their eyes upon your form, and you feel naked. a
kind of feeling, unwanted and undesirable, envelopes your flesh. but you didn’t say anything. instead, you utter out: “i’m so sorry, i didn’t intend to stop you.” you could not look into phasma’s eyes, because you fear reprisal and disapproval. you never can tell what she looks like with those emotions written on her, but it is exactly the unknowing that makes you fear them. you could feel bile rising up from the pit of your stomach and your skin begins to quake and tremble. cold sweat breaks out, just as the once tender warmth on your cheek becomes hot. something is off, and the only image you could bring up is the one where phasma kissed you and the way your body reacts to her touches. so when a hand is brought forward to pull you close, you could only whimper and hold off whatever is building up within you.
“don’t apologize. i was too bold, and i should have asked first,” phasma says. “i should be the one to say sorry.” you didn’t respond, you only nod your head and accept her words. if that is what she says, then that is what it is. she is the captain, the one whose words are always right. so you only let the gentleness of her embrace and her breathing mediate your inner turmoil. sometimes, serenity is better than even the most gentle of kisses.
perhaps many minutes went by, or mere seconds. you are not sure; being with phasma means slowing down time. but then you feel phasma shift, and you immediately dislodge yourself from her embrace. she places her bare feet upon the floor and stands. you look up at her, with hands and knees pressed on the velvet sheets, and both ears and eyes attentive to her person. “your unit will be sent to jakku on a raid soon,” phasma says. “you should prepare in advance.”
her words strike you as out of the blue, because you are suddenly brought into reality. that is the captain phasma speaking, not your lover. you blink and try to force in the information into your brain. "that’s right, i will be on the battlefield someday,” you think. the pressure grows in your stomach, and you suddenly feel sick. you look down at the floor, then your gaze climbs upward toward phasma. her face is expressionless again as she waits for an answer.
“i understand, captain phasma.” the words feel forced and dry. there is a silence which dwindles afterward, where you think phasma is going to do or say something, but her figure stands rooted to the spot as her eyes scour your body. probably to sear it once again into her brain, just in case. you chance a try to break the silence, lest you find yourself too attached to her armor-less form. “i’ll try to get more training in, just in case.” your words come out in a hurry and then you scramble up and put on a second layer of clothing that is to be the base of your armor. you are used to that, but later on pieces of metal will suffocate all of that human flesh. you try not to think of that as your hurriedly leave phasma’s room. though, not before you hear her voice call you.
“em-2034.”
you pause, and turn your head towards the woman after she calls your name. she crosses the gap between the two of you, and soon, you found your cheeks in her hands and her lips on your forehead. then, she withdraws, but her eyes still hold you to your spot as she finishes her sentence. “don’t forget what i said before.” there is no answer from you, but you are sure she knows what you are thinking, and that she needs no words to be spoken. already, her powerful presence has staked its claim, and it’s going to be there as you fight your battle.
the empty corridor’s silence is interrupted by the sound of your feet upon the ground. the destination is quite a distance between phasma’s room, and you couldn’t help but feel like it’s only natural that it is. you only wish that your physical condition is up to par with your captain’s. which means you must get more training done later on, and maybe you will be able to accompany phasma on her patrols in the distant future. all you should accomplish right now is how to hit targets. “one-hit kills, that is what i am trained for,” you repeat that mantra over and over as you increase your pace, but you stop and feel a prickling sensation upon the back of your neck. the air suddenly feels stifling and warm, but it’s not normal, as you stop and breathe in and out.
then, you see him, coming into view like a black wraith.
he is in no rush, but his pace is always fast as if he is. maybe he is in a rush, but you’ve seen so much of him that you automatically assume that it is his default movement pace. nevertheless, you press your shoulder against the wall, hoping to skim past him without letting your fear surface. phasma once told you that he can hear thoughts, so might as well keep your mind empty for now.
“you are hiding too much,” his modulated voice speaks. you shiver and stop your movement, and then you turn and gaze at his back. power and authority transcends him, just like how it does with phasma and the general. but what the other two lack is direct danger. this feeling is even more tangible when you are some mere feet away from him. “don’t think i cannot dig into your hidden thoughts, soldier.” he turns, and that is when you see the metallic mask. he isn’t wearing his cowl today, but he’s still a sight to behold.
“kylo ren,” you stop yourself as fast as possible as the realization dawns upon you that you did not address him in the proper manner. “no, lord ren, i’m sorry for my improper usage of your name.” curtly, you give him a nod, while your eyes shun his form for the hard floor underneath. vaguely, you hear something coming from him, a strange metallic clicking sound repeating over and over. you have to slightly strain yourself to discern what it is; is he…chuckling?
“how strange, these names, do you really think i care as much as hux and phasma would?” kylo ren asks. he takes a step forward while you withdraw enough that your back hits the wall. cold sweat is once again plastered upon your skin, and your body is shaking from the fear his presence instills upon your meager being. at first, kylo ren’s right arm twitches, but then he must have changed his mind. instead, his masked form merely looks in your direction, and you are sure he is picking you apart. a small part of you wonder what he looks like underneath. alien? old? or young like hux? “don’t think too much, either,” he says.
your lips tremble but you want to say something, but because of your trembling lips you couldn’t say anything.
“sorry, sir,” you finally stammer out. your hands are now pressed against the wall too. the legs that are once carrying you forward feels like jelly. but you hear him and listen to his every word, but now that you think... "no, no, no, don’t think!” again, you hear him chuckle and you are certain kylo ren is toying with you.
“you ought to call for phasma now, i won’t hurt her.” “why would i do that?” your reply is abrupt, and almost loud enough that it feels like a normal conversation between the two of you. “you think you are yourself when you are with her?” kylo says, or rather, questions. his left hand rises, fingers extending towards your face, but never touching. your eyes close and your breath fails to deliver. something is being pulled from you, invisible and solid at the same time. blood immediately rushes forth in a quick burst; your mind feels like it is beginning to crack little by little. just when you think you are going to crumble, kylo ren stops whatever he is doing. “come now, that isn’t too bad.” his voice could have seem amused if it is not for the mask. or maybe you just want to give him more human qualities than what he truly owned.
the next thing you see as you open your eyes is kylo ren’s back as he walks away, but not before he stops in his tracks and turns his head toward you. “i wonder what phasma would say, if she knows what you truly think of her.” with those parting words, he leaves in a flurry of black. you, on the other hand, still can feel the residual traces of his power over you, and the lingering words he left behind.