An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 26/26 (Teen And Up Audiences)
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Armitage Hux & Millicent the Cat, Armitage Hux & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey & Rose Tico, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Armitage Hux & Knights of Ren, Armitage Hux & Knights of Ren & Kylo Ren, Leia Organa & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rose Tico & Millicent the Cat, Knights of Ren & Rey
Characters: Armitage Hux, Rose Tico, Millicent the Cat (Star Wars), Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Supreme Council, Rey (Star Wars), Leia Organa, Knights of Ren, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s)
Additional Tags: Gingerrose - Freeform, Gingerflower, Enemies to Lovers, spy hux, Resistence contact Rose, Falling In Love, secret meeting, confession of love, First Kiss, Biting, Light Smut, post-TJL, Pre TROS, Huxrose, Fluff and Angst, POV Rose Tico, POV Armitage Hux, Angst, Enemies to Allies, Force Choking, minor stormpilot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Force Bond (Star Wars), glimpses of Reylo, Minor Reylo, allies bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Assassination Attempt(s), Minor Character Death, BAMF Rey, The KoR are in love with Rey, GingerRose Babies - Freeform, Reylo babies, Complete
Summary: Rose is the person Leia has placed in charge of staying in touch and receiving the intel provided by the spy in the First Order. Over time, they end up becoming friends and, when they decide to meet in person, she ends up meeting the person she least expected.
On her way to a family reunion, Skywalker Airlines First Officer Rose Tico has a problem.
She is the only member of her family not in a committed relationship.
Combine that fact with her aunt, her grand-aunts, and the bane of her existence, her cousin Clarisse, asking, in varying degrees of kindness (or in some cases, the lack thereof) why she is dreadfully single, she is not looking forward to the reunion.
But one act of kindness (or insanity) from fellow Skywalker Airlines employee, Purser Armitage Hux, changes everything.
“Ah, is that it? Did you think I was some romantic hero, a poor, misguided soul trapped on the other side who could be guided to the light with just the right words and affection?” Hux spits.
A dangerous thought enters Rose’s mind. Why shouldn’t she be the one to take what she needs, for once?
—-
Set during TROS. Rose and Hux are trapped in an escape pod for two hours. Rose has a lot of feelings. Hux has a lot of issues. Hate sex ensues. And excessive bickering.
Explicit, Hate Sex, Angst, Secret Messages, Porn with Feelings
READ ON A03
I got bit by the crackship bug again. Basically just an excuse to write two characters bickering and having hate sex, if we’re being honest.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Day six of GingerRose Week 2020 - the topic is “After the War”. I wrote a little addition to my fic “Tied on the End of a String”, it’s my first time ever writing smut, so please have mercy…
Characters: Armitage Hux, Rose Tico, Original Characters, Brendol Hux, Armitage Hux's Mother, Dopheld Mitaka, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren, Kaydel Ko Connix, Poe Dameron, Leia Organa, Harter Kalonia
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Glove Kink, Sex Work, The First Order Sucks, Rose Tico Deserved Better, Brothels, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Armitage Hux Has Issues, Eventual Smut, Gratuitous Smut, First Time, Bargaining, Relationship of Convenience, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eventual threats of non-consensual sexual contact
Summary: General Armitage Hux didn’t just want her for one night. He wanted her forever.
Rose Tico works as a repair woman at a bordello frequented by members of The First Order. But despite the fact that she's never taken a client in her entire life, when General Armitage Hux comes in search of a mistress, she's the only one he wants.
Okay, under the advice of the lovely and wonderful @welsharcher, who created the amazing moodboard above, I am posting this oneshot, which I am trying to wrangle into a full length story.
Keep an eye out for that, though no guarantees that I’ll post it any time soon!
🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀
They were both lying in bed, awake. Neither acknowledged that the other was awake, but they both knew that the other was not asleep.
She kissed him back. No matter how she looked at it, she had kissed him back. It wasn’t cheating though, she reasoned. It wasn’t. She was just trying to do her part in not getting her and Armitage kicked out of the only place to stay for miles, she reasoned. That was it.
It was just a kiss. It was just… the best kiss she had ever had. Ever. Her traitorous heart relentlessly played back that moment for her in startling and stunning clarity. So much for memories being flawed and unclear like all the doctors and scientists said.
She was spiraling, she knew. It wasn’t going to stop until and unless she managed, by some miracle, to throw herself from the speeding train that was this direction of thought.
Finally breaking her from her thoughts, Armitage moved, rubbing a hand over his eyes.
The movement drew her attention to the tattoo on his right forearm that she had caught a glimpse of earlier as he brazenly stripped off his shirt and sweater on his way to the tiny en suite, thankfully distracting her. It was a black hexagon and the outline of a many-pointed-star inside a smaller black hexagon.
Her voice was barely audible in the still of the night. “What does it mean? Your tattoo?”
His gaze shifted to her, eyes glinting like jade in the moonlight. “I was in the army. It’s the insignia of my unit, the 1st Infantry Battalion. We were the pride of the Irish Army—they called us the First Order, because we would be the first ones sent in.”
“What was your rank?”
“I was a Ceannfort, a Commandant, which is, I believe, equivalent to a Major in America, but everyone called me General, because I was the one who got the rowdy soldiers into shape and order.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who’d join the military,” she softly said.
He laughed quietly into the silence of the night. “And what exactly do I strike you as?”
“I don’t know,” Rose replied, turning on her side to face him. “Someone who’d take English or the Humanities in college.”
His expression shifted to one of almost-incredulous amusement.
“No. Don’t tell me I got it right,” she smiled.
“Bachelor of the Arts in Humanities from Trinity College Dublin.”
“Oh my goodness, I got it right!”
He only shook his head in reply.
“What on earth made you join the military then?” She asked, now more awake than ever, her curiosity wanting to be appeased.
“As soon as I was eighteen, I enlisted. It was… expected of me.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed, turning on his side to face her, as if he were drawn in to her. “My father, Brendol, was a Maor-Ghinearál—a Major General. He… was an unkind man, and I was his illegitimate child to boot.”
Rose gasped at the revelation, but he continued, as if he couldn’t bear to stop now that he had started. “My father was chronically unfaithful to his wife, and he had a string of women. One of those women was my mother, and I’m pretty sure I still have brothers and sisters out there.
When she found out she was pregnant with me, my mother went to him, because she was young, just out of University, with no hope to fully support a child. At first, he refused to give her a cent, but when he found out his French society wife, Maratelle, couldn’t have children, he immediately took custody of me.
He would… regularly beat me, and Maratelle wouldn’t lift a finger, not wanting the reminder that the child in her house wasn’t hers, a reminder that her husband regularly warmed the beds of women who weren’t her. I think most days, she hoped that I’d die from my injuries.
His favorite thing was to call me weak-willed—things like that—said that I would never be an officer, let alone anything successful. In a way I proved him wrong, making my way up to Ceannfort quickly, but in others, I… I suppose I proved him right.”
His mouth twisted bitterly, but Rose asked, “How did you get to own The Kitchen Woman?”
Here, he smiled brightly. “One day, I got a letter from Arkanis, and it was from a woman named Orla Campbell. She was my mother. I couldn’t believe it, she had to send me a copy of my birth certificate for me to get over my incredulity.
What happened to her was, after my dear old Da took me from her, she moved back to her hometown, but there wasn’t much call in a place like Arkanis for someone with a History degree—other than occasional substitute teaching at the local secondary school. What she had, however, was a knack for cooking, and the local pub was just dying to have someone come in and shake things up.
Eventually, Mr McConnell, the owner, sold the pub to her, and she renamed it The Kitchen Woman.
Anyway, we began exchanging letters, and soon, I started visiting when I had leave. But she was getting older, her health wasn’t the best; she’d began smoking after I was taken from her—though she stopped three years before writing to me—by the time we got to know each other, she had pretty bad emphysema. So she taught me everything she knew, so I could help her in the kitchen, when I would come over.
Eventually, it got to the point where I was the one doing all the cooking, while she took care of the bar. So I asked for a discharge, so I could take care of her.
My father was apoplectic—no son of his would disgrace him by abandoning the military. I told him, ‘Well then, I’m not your son. I never was anyway. But I’m Orla’s son, and I’m going to take care of her.’
The look on her face when I showed up at her door, I’ll never forget it. It was like the sun shone on her for the first time. And she hugged me tightly, even as she was castigating me for leaving what was a promising military career. I told her I didn’t care, that I wanted to take care of her, make her life easier. We ran the pub together for two more years. She died peacefully with me at her side five years ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” Rose breathed.
“Thanks,” he replied before continuing, “Mum left The Kitchen Woman to me in her will, and I took up running it, but soon, it began to be a little overwhelming. I was having a busy day when two of my old mates from the First walked in, Gwen Phasma and Dopheld Mitaka. I was glad to see them, but I was so overwhelmed. Gwen said, ‘Tell us what to do, General, we’ll do it.’
They helped me that day, and the day after, and eventually it became so many days after, that we just ended up running it together. But we… had a falling apart three years ago. They left, and it just became me again.”
His closed off expression indicated that if she continued down that path, it wouldn’t be a good idea, so she changed the subject. “The day we left Arkanis, I didn’t mean to… but I couldn’t help but overhear. The man I saw outside. You owe him—that’s why you agreed to take me to Dublin.”
His jaw clenched. “Enric fookin’ Pryde. Arkanis’ own bloody bastard—” here he chuckled, before continuing, “of a loan shark. I… made the stupid decision to ask him for money for the pub.”
“How much do you need?” Rose was deeply touched—she had judged Armitage Hux at first impression. Yes, he was prickly, gruff, and sarcastic as all hell, but he was also kind, sensitive, and held a good heart that had been through so much, that it was no wonder that he was the way he was at first interaction.
His mouth parted in shock. “Ten thousand Euros—no.”
“I want to help you, Armitage. You shouldn’t have to lose what your mother gave to you.”
“Rose, you—I can’t ask that of you.”
“You’re not,” she replied, moving her hand across the no-man’s-land that was the middle of the mattress to place her hand on top of his. “I’m offering. I’ll write you a check—heck, I’ll even do it right now—” she moved to get up for her purse, but his hand on hers halted her motion.
“Rose. I’ll tell you what. You let me get you to Dublin. If at the end of our… little trip you still want to write that check, I’ll let you.”
“Let me?” She scoffed slightly, but continued, “You know I’ll still write you that check no matter what, right?” Knowing that there was a determined set to her features.
“It doesn’t harm to take time to think about it a little, Rose. That’s a lot of money.”
“I want to help. Please let me help you. Let me help you save what you love.”
“You’re something else, Rose Tico,” he smiled widely, and for a second, she swore her heart skipped a beat, thudding against her chest, imbuing a warm feeling into her whole being.
She looked down at the faded floral pattern of the bedsheets, praying that the irrational blush spreading across her cheeks couldn’t be seen.
“I’m flattered,” Rose breathed, determined to find the faded purple hydrangea print the most interesting thing in the world, suddenly all too aware of their proximity—when had the enormous gulf between them become virtually nonexistent? She could feel the warmth radiating from his slender form, and all of it, his gentle, admiring gaze, the touch of his paradoxically calloused-yet-soft hand on hers, their closeness, his warmth, and the veil of peace that had settled over this tiny room in a small bed-and-breakfast in the middle-of-nowhere Ireland made it feel as if anything could happen, that anything could be said.
She pulled her gaze back up to his, which was not a good idea at all, she realized, as she took in the restrained intent behind his expression. It was an altogether foreign sensation for her. It… made her feel seen.
No. She couldn’t go down that road. Somehow, she had managed to leap back onto that metaphorical train. She was on her way to Dublin to propose to her longtime-boyfriend on Bachelor’s Day, she reminded herself. She loved Beaumont. She did. He was everything her family had told her she should look for in a man.
She had to make herself get off this ride. So she fake-yawned and said, “I’m sorry—I’m just so tired, I’m—going to—”
“Oh,” he said, his voice quiet, “alright, don’t—don’t let me stop you, erm… goodnight then.”
She flashed a quick smile, muttering a quick “Goodnight,” before she could do anything more stupid than blush, turning to face the window.
But she still stayed awake even long after she heard Armitage’s breathing even out.
Since I don't do anything by half-measures, I ended up writing you a fic with a word count of 3,329 words.
At first, I was wondering how on earth I was going to pull off mixing an Airport/Travel AU with the Marriage of Convenience trope, but then, like a ray of sunshine bursting through the clouds, inspiration struck.
Your ask actually could not have come at a better time—I am in the middle of an aviation hyperfixation, and while I had always had a passing love for aviation (my dad used to fly Cessnas as a hobby, and young me was always fascinated by his old maps and old-fashioned navigation devices), I never really got into it until, while in the midst of a lovely bout of sinusitis, I somehow started watching episodes of Mayday: Air Disaster on YouTube (which is about yep, airliner crashes), which subsequently led to a spiral, and now I watch an amazing planespotting channel on YouTube called LA Flights, based out of, you guessed it, LAX, on a regular basis.
Now, I even have favorite planes (which will be reflected in the story), and favorite liveries (EVA Air's Hello Kitty livery, ANA's Star Wars liveries, Qantas' Yayani Dreaming, Nalanji Dreaming, and Wunala Dreaming).
*Sighs Eternally*
Before we get into it, there's going to be pilot-y and Air Traffic Control terms used here, which, if you are as interested as I am, feel free to ask me or Google what it means.
I have also done my best to represent aviation protocol insofar as someone with a lot of time on their hands and with a hyperfixation can do, though I know that there will be a lot of inconsistencies and things which will make aviation geeks/people in the industry who might read this, cringe.
I sincerely hope they can bear to overlook those mistakes, and enjoy this little fic despite them.
Now, before this Author's Note becomes longer than the story, I apologize sincerely for the infodump, and without further ado, I give you this (shoddily titled) Gingerrose fic...
Destination: Love
It was a calm day at John F. Kennedy International Airport, and aboard Skywalker Airlines’ nonstop Airbus A380 service to Hanoi, First Officer Rose Tico was going over the pre-flight checklists with her Captain, Ben Solo.
She had exchanged flights with fellow First Officer Jessika Pava, because there was a Tico family reunion at the Tico Compound which was in a quiet area just outside of Hanoi, in a suburb called Hays Minor.
She’d been Second Officer on very many, many A380 flights, and First Officer on many other occasions, which was good for her, since this was the last flight to Hanoi by her airline before the start of the reunion.
The pre-flight checklists completed, they soon commenced pushback after receiving their departure clearance and prepared to taxi.
It took a while for ATC to clear the taxiways and the runways for the necessary space the A380 required, but they eventually got the long-awaited “Skyguy nine-seven-seven Super, taxi to runway three-one right via hotel and zeta. Cross runway two-two right. Line up and wait.”
As the Pilot Monitoring, Rose read the instructions back, before Ben deftly moved the massive aircraft to their designated runway as they waited for takeoff clearance.
Soon after they lined up, ATC said, “Skyguy nine-seven-seven Super, cleared for takeoff, runway three-one right.”
Excitement in her voice, Rose replied, “Cleared for takeoff, runway three-one right, Skyguy nine-seven-seven Super,” then cued the intercom system, saying, “Cabin Crew, please prepare for takeoff, thank you.”
Takeoff had always been her favorite part of flying, the feeling like nothing else, and she was especially excited—the A380 was one of her favorite aircraft to pilot, along with the B787 “Dreamliner” and the B747.
Having given the cabin crew time to reach their seats, the engines spooled up, and soon they were moving down the runway.
Rose kept a careful eye on the speed readouts, just as she knew Ben was doing.
She soon called out, “V1,” signifying they’d reached the speed at which takeoff could no longer be halted, Ben calling out “Rotate,” after several beats, his deep baritone rumbling through the cockpit and her headphones, the two of them pulling up on the sidestick.
The massive aircraft lifted off, heading towards Hanoi.
Once they reached cruising altitude, sterile cockpit stickler Ben began, “So, family reunion,” Rose having told him earlier about why she was his First today, instead of Jess.
“Yeah, it’s a big affair, my grandmother Hanh is the one who organized it, so all of us tried to make it.”
“That’s good,” he smiled. “I can’t imagine what a family reunion would be like—if my family tried, we’d all end up drunk or decked before dinner.”
She knew Ben’s family was complicated to say the least.
His mother, Leia Skywalker-Solo, beloved daughter of the late Anakin Skywalker, founder of Skywalker Airlines, was the current CEO of the company, his father, Captain Nathan “Han” Solo, the Airline’s former Chief Pilot, now its EVP, while his estranged uncle, Luke, was another former Chief Pilot and Assistant CEO for the airline who just up and left one day with no announcement, to start a commune of some sort in Ireland.
Needless to say, Mrs. Skywalker-Solo was pissed.
Everyone in the business knew of the debacle (despite the fact that this whole thing happened almost twenty years ago), and rumors had even swirled of a potential lawsuit.
Then there was the fact that in Ben’s own words, his Uncle Luke had “sort of abducted” twelve-year-old him.
His other “uncles”, Edward “Wedge” Antilles and Orlando “Lando” Calrissian, retired pilots for British Airways and United respectively, still kept in touch with Luke, so Leia wasn’t really fond of them.
“Ohh, believe me, the Tico family has plenty of drama, you’re not the only one with crazy relatives.”
She could name a couple off the top of her head whom she wouldn’t mind not seeing until hell froze over and pigs flew.
Ben chuckled.
Here, the cockpit door chime buzzing drew the attention of the two pilots.
Rose cued the monitor, checking who it was, before pressing the button to let them in.
The tall, red-haired figure opened the door, ducking his head slightly as he stepped through, shutting it firmly behind him.
“Armitage,” Ben grinned, “what can we lowly pilots do for you, oh Purser Most Magnificent?”
“You can give me your lunch orders, that’s what you can do,” he sniped back, rolling his jade-green eyes good-naturedly.
“What’s on the menu?”
“We have the roast herbed chicken, the vegetarian lasagna and the Vietnamese-style braised cod fillet,” he prompted.
“I’ll have the chicken, unless Rose wants it,” Ben replied, following protocol that pilots could not eat the same thing for safety purposes.
“No, you can have that, I’ll have the fish, Armitage, thank you.”
“And your drinks?”
“Coke for me,” Ben said.
“Ginger ale, please,” Rose beamed.
“I’ll have that in for you shortly,” Armitage smiled gently, nodding at her.
He then turned to Ben, snarking, “And do try to keep the plane level, Solo, at least during my lunch service. None of your flyboy antics.”
Ben shot off a nonchalant salute, which made Armitage sigh, and cast a long-suffering look at her as he went to the door, which made her snicker quietly as she pressed the button to unlock it.
Once the door clicked shut, she amusedly shook her head, her thoughts turning to the man who’d just left.
UK native Armitage Hux was the flight’s Purser for the first shift, and he’d already been rising in the ranks by the time she joined Skywalker Airlines.
He was highly competent, and he ran a tight ship, prompting some members of the cabin crew who’d worked with him to call him “General”.
Rose herself had flown with him as Purser many, many times over the years, and she had grown to appreciate the man’s snarky and whip-sharp sense of humor.
True to his word, Armitage soon had their meals ready, delivering them to the cockpit, both trays balanced on one arm.
After double-checking that the autopilot was on, the two pilots pulled up their tray tables, Armitage serving Ben first.
“For our Supreme Leader,” Armitage drawled, “we have the roast herbed chicken, with a regular coke.”
And turning to her, he continued, “And last but not least, for our lovely First Officer, we have the Cá Kho Tộ, with a ginger ale.”
It took a second for Rose to realize that he’d pronounced the Vietnamese name of the dish with perfect intonation.
“How—how do you know how to pronounce that?” Rose incredulously asked.
“I—well,” he uncharacteristically stammered, “I can speak Vietnamese.”
“What?!” She cried in amazement.
“Er,” he said, idly scratching the back of his neck, “it—it helps, as a Flight Attendant, to speak multiple languages… y—yes, that’s why.”
“Well, your intonation is really good, I dare say it’s even better than mine.”
“Thank you—coming from you, that—that means everything,” he replied, a rare, true, wide smile on his lips.
“You’re welcome, Armitage, and thank you for serving our lunch,” she grinned.
For a split second, he looked almost frozen as he looked at her, the smile still lingering on the edges of his mouth, before he nodded, and turned to Ben, saying, “See, Solo? Officer Tico has manners, unlike some others I know.”
“I prefer to call myself ruggedly dispositioned,” Ben solemnly remarked.
“Tomato, tomahto.”
And with that, Armitage left the cockpit, Rose again pressing the button to let him out.
After several uneventful hours, Ben and Rose came to the end of their shift, handing control of the aircraft to their relief crew, Edgar “Poe” Dameron and Finnegan “Finn” Trooper.
Ben and Rose settled into their allotted seats at the front of the first-class cabin for the dinner service, Ben taking the pork chop and Rose the beef phở, being served this time by the second shift’s Purser, Ben’s wife, Reyna “Rey” Solo.
Rose, lost in thought, led to Ben finishing before she did, the latter wishing her goodnight before ostensibly heading to the flight crew rest area just outside the cockpit, though she knew he was in reality lingering in the galley, talking to Rey.
Her thoughts wandered to her family as she pensively gazed at the bulkhead.
She was the only one left in her family above twenty-one who had no children, no husband, let alone a boyfriend.
Even her older sister, who had a successful career in the Navy, was married with one child.
She didn’t regret pursuing her career—not at all, flying had always been her dream—but as she got older, she was beginning to feel something almost like regret that there wasn’t anyone waiting for her back at her tiny New York City apartment.
Oh, what did it harm to admit it, she was a little bit lonely.
But the problem with her chosen career vis à vis dating, was that because of her schedule, the occasional date she went on, they typically fizzled out, the combination of Rose never staying in one city for long, the men not patient enough to wait for her to pass through again, and her vacations never lasting long enough for a relationship to truly develop, creating the perfect storm.
And even those few within the industry she’d gone out with… oof.
The less said about them, the better.
She had hope though, her prime example being Ben and Rey—somehow, they made it work.
Surely there were men in the industry who weren’t misogynistic creeps or fuckboys.
Those were the worst.
At least, for her constant, she had the open skies, and that was more than consolation enough.
As she sipped the surprisingly decent beef broth, she felt a presence sink into the seat next to her which Ben had vacated.
She turned, and to her surprise, Armitage was seated next to her, having discarded the black uniform jacket, leaving him in the matching black waistcoat, diagonally-striped blue, gold and red tie, white shirt, black trousers, and special black dress shoes with rubber soles, polished to an inch of their life, far shinier than most other members of the flight crew bothered to do.
“Armitage. This is a pleasant surprise. What’s keeping you up? I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
He pointed an unfairly elegant hand towards the galley, through which she could hear Ben and Rey’s hushed voices.
“Someone has to make sure that the cabin is running smoothly, what with Solo monopolizing his wife’s time,” he sighed.
Rose laughed quietly, “You can’t blame him, he loves spending time with her, and this is the first time he’s seen her in nearly a week.”
“He’s lucky he’s an old friend, otherwise I’d tell him to get his arse to the rest cabin.”
Rose laughed at the plight of the exasperated Purser.
“But off the topic of Solo, what was it that had you looking so pensive?” He asked, leaning an elbow on the armrest, a concerned look on his face.
“That obvious, huh?” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I swapped flights with Jessika Pava because I have to be in Vietnam for a family reunion—everyone’s going to be there, and there’s family members with whom I have… a complicated relationship, to varying degrees, for various reasons.
I…” She trailed off, something in her wanting to open up to him. “I’m the only one in my family not in a committed relationship.
My mother and my grandmother, they’re worried about me, that I’ll be alone forever, and I’m glad that they care, I love that they care, but you combine that with my Aunt Giang, who’s always telling me through my grandmother, horror stories from her friends of spinsterhood, my grand-aunts, Thu and Xuân, who see me as a disappointment, and last but not least, the bane of my existence, my cousin Clarisse with her perfect marriage, perfect kids, perfect career, perfect house, perfect everything, who does not miss an opportunity to lord all that over me?
Well.
So, uh, I’m a little… yeah,” she finished on a sigh.
“Wow,” Armitage frowned, “that’s… intense.”
“Tell me about it,” Rose scoffed.
“I myself am no stranger to family drama, but my own is of a rather different flavor,” he said with the distinct air of someone who had a story.
“Oh?”
“Chronically unfaithful father—couldn’t keep it in his pants to save his life, and an illegitimate child. Me,” he replied, with no small amount of bitterness in his tone.
“Oh.”
“Hmm. Yes, oh.”
“I, um, no offense, but uh, I’ll take my flavor any day over yours, come to think of it,” she sheepishly replied.
“None taken,” he chuckled, “I wouldn’t wish my family’s drama on anyone.”
“That’s horrible—I’m so sorry your family life was that bad,” she sympathetically said.
“It’s the past, but I thank you for your… sympathy.”
“Do… do you still talk to your father?”
“No, and thank God I don’t have to, because he’s dead—shot by the husband of a woman he slept with.”
“What about your mother?”
Armitage sighed, “She’s doing well, I try to take a Dublin route every month or so, so I can see her.”
“Dublin?”
“My mother’s Irish, lives in a small town near the coast, called Arkanis.”
“That explains the um,” she breathed, gesturing to his hair.
“The hair?” He chuckled, “Yes, it does, doesn’t it?”
They soon lapsed into a peaceful silence.
Armitage soon broke it, asking, “I don’t mean to rush you, but are you done? Your phở might be cold.”
“Oh, yeah—let me just—” Rose made short work of the little that was left in the bowl before saying, “I can take it to the galley myself, you don’t have to—”
“None of that, it’s my pleasure. Hand that tray over.”
Rose sighed, saying, “Alright, but, I just—just wanted to thank you.”
“For what? Doing something that’s literally part of my job description?” He smiled slightly.
“No, for listening to me. It was nice to tell someone about my family stuff, and… thank you for sharing your stuff too, I can’t imagine that was easy.”
“Well, when someone… someone’s like you, it makes it… easy, I suppose. But you’re welcome, all the same. Now hand over that tray.”
She wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she saucily replied, leaning in, “Or what, you’ll take it?”
He likewise leaned in, breathing, “I just might, Officer Tico,” his voice caressing the syllables of her title and last name in a way that sent a shiver down her spine.
He then inhaled sharply, leaning back once more, shattering the odd moment, holding out a hand. “Tray.”
Rose promptly handed it over, placing a slightly strained smile on her face as she tried to figure out what just happened, as he stood.
“Now go and rest, you’ll need it to deal with the family members you dislike. And do let me know if you need any liquid courage, I’m pretty sure I can snitch you a few of the small bottles from first class. Lord knows I could have used the same when my father was alive.”
She laughed, her smile turning genuine at his offer. “I just might take you up on it.”
“Goodnight, Officer Tico.”
“Night, Armitage.”
And with that, he retreated to the galley, where she heard his voice snap, “Honestly, Solo?
You have been talking for… twenty minutes, and if I’m not mistaken, your wife is the second shift Purser, not me.
Let your wife do her job, while you go and sleep, as you’re supposed to.”
Rey softly spoke, a smile in her voice, “Armitage is right, sweetheart, go and rest, I’ll see you soon.”
After a beat, Ben’s voice murmured, “Let the record show that I’m going because Rey asked me to, not you, Armitage.”
“I don’t care why you’re going, just go.”
“You’re lucky you’re my friend, Armie, though I don’t know why.”
“Neither do I, and don’t call me Armie.”
“Whatever you say… Armie.”
With that, she heard retreating footsteps, accompanied by a growl of irritation.
“Whatever do you see in that berk, Rey?”
Rey’s musical laugh quietly sang out. “Probably the same thing that makes you stay his friend no matter how much you get on each other’s nerves.”
A pause. “Probably, dammit. I’m going to rest now, Rey, you call me if you need me.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” she cheekily replied, before Rose heard a sigh, and another set of retreating footsteps, Rose finally letting out the quiet laugh she had wanted to laugh throughout the whole exchange.
The next day, after a smooth landing at Noi Bai International from Poe, the cabin crews and the flight crews disembarked, some departing to go to their next flight, Ben, Rey, Poe, and Finn included, the rest quickly clearing customs, and making their way to the arrivals.
Rose straightened her uniform, pulling her suitcase to a stop as she glanced at her cellphone—her family was late picking her up.
“Waiting for your family?” A familiar voice sounded from her left.
She jumped, spinning on her heel.
Armitage was standing there, in full uniform, an embarrassed smile on his face. “My apologies for startling you, Officer Tico.”
Collecting herself, she replied, “I—uh—no apology necessary, but um, w—what are you doing here? I thought you had another flight?” She could have sworn she saw him with the others heading to other flights.
“I… actually have a layover of a week here in Vietnam, I just got notice, and when I saw you here, I… I figured I’d wait with you until your family comes, for moral support.”
A wide, touched smile burst out on her face.
“Thank you so much, you don’t have to do that,” she whispered.
“It’s the least I can do for a—for a friend.”
Her jaw dropped, and she would have hugged him right there if not for the voice which stopped her heart.
“Oh my gosh, look, it’s Rosie-Posy!!” The unfortunately familiar high-pitched voice screeched through the arrivals area, prompting several people to turn and look at the swiftly approaching woman, with an obvious bottle-blonde hair color, wearing uncomfortably bright-colored designer clothes.
“Oh, God in Heaven, help me, it’s Clarisse,” Rose whispered through a patently fake smile.
“The one with no concept of social decency?” He murmured through an equally fake smile.
“Yep.”
Clarisse had now reached hugging distance and she cried, arms extended, “Oh my Dior, Chanel, and Saint Laurent, it’s so good to see you, Rosie, it’s been forever and a day since I’ve seen you, come here and hug your favorite cousin!”
With a pained smile on her face, she hugged Clarisse, the thought that forever and a day wasn’t long enough, flitting through her mind.
When Clarisse pulled back, she noticed Armitage, remarking, “And who is this? You had me worried for a while that you’d show up alone, you know, just like every other time.”
The fake concern grated on Rose’s nerves, as she braced herself for the fake pity. “This is Armitage, he’s—”
To her everlasting and eternal shock, he smoothly stepped forward and extended his hand, saying, “I’m Rose’s husband.”
Clarisse’s jaw dropped, and honestly? So did Rose’s, as Clarisse managed a, “What?”
Rose looked at Armitage, trying to convey “What the literal hell,” through her gaze alone.
He looked at her encouragingly, conveying, “Just go with it,” through his expression.
She paused for a second more, stewing in the uncertainty, the veritable insanity of this hare-brained scheme, before the thought, “In for a penny, in for a pound,” murmured through the processes of her mind that were still functioning.
And Rose spoke the fateful, “Yes, Clarisse, this is Armitage, my husband.”
Additional Tags: Alternative Universe-Princess, alternative universe, Rose Tico is a Princess, Princess Rose Tico - Freeform, hays minor, Boardroom meetings, handjob, Flirting, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Bodyguard, Princess/bodyguard - Freeform, Bodyguard Hux, bodyguard Phasma, Minor Paige Tico/Phasma
Summary: Rose is Princess of Hays Minor, stuck in another boring meeting about ruling and diplomatic policy that she couldn't care about. Her companion besides her shifts in his seat, his orange air striking in the Haysian Sun. Now, Armitage Hux, her bodyguard, she cares about him. With his attention fully on the speakers, she hopes he won't notice the hand sneaking under the table....
