Star Wars sideblog so I don't keep spamming everywhere else. 95% The Force Awakens. Hux trash, Finn biased. Header by Murat Gül, Icon by Ottenebrare.
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WHOA, is anybody still here? It’s been ages, I’m almost afraid to look at the dashboard. Life got real intense real fast for a bit there, but I basically served my apprenticeship and became a licensed mortician, which has crazy ass hours. This is the first time in forever I’ve signed into tumblr!! HOW YA’LL BE?
I’ve been re-reading the 700 kylux drafts I have lately, trying to get that write on again - don’t suppose anyone is still on here and interested? EVEN THOUGH I’M THE WORST and shamelessly refused to watch the last movie because I was so annoyed at the second, so I’m operating under willful ignorance and living circa 2015
Hope everyone is doing well, shout out to all the bots and dead accounts, i feel u on a spiritual level
anyone got new fandoms or are we all just ride or die
Pls have this silly Halloween drabble. Work has been intense but I couldn't resist this bit of nonsense (late tho it is! orz). Tbh I just wanted an excuse to write sth quick and fun, and what better excuse than Halloween!!
The one where Hux dresses like a sailor, Kylo takes his little sister trick or treating, and Finn is Indiana Jones.
(warning: brief mention of past krennic/hux in a student/professor relationship, bc I shamelessly dig it)
‘You’re going.’
“No.”
‘Yes. Get there around ten, the party should be in full swing by then.’
“I’m not-”
‘Wear the sailor costume.’
Standing in his kitchen, Hux rolls his eyes, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. They’ve been having this argument on and off for days now and it’s beginning to wear. He sighs, casting a glance around for help. The microwave stares back at him, unsympathetic, and through the other line, Phasma continues to shuffle about.
‘You know, the pin-up boy one.’
Flushing, Hux shoves a tin of popcorn onto the stove, “It’s not that bad” True, the suit might be a little more tailored than strictly necessary, but still.
Phasma snorts.
‘Tell that to your ass.’
Unable to help it, Hux smirks, leaning against the counter, “Been checking it out?”
‘Always.’ This time, Phasma’s grin is audible, and for a moment, he’s filled with a warm wash of affection. It’s quickly doused by her next words, delivered with careful nonchalance.
‘That friend of mine’s going to be there.’
Hux frowns, shaking the tin a little harder than necessary, “We’ve talked about this.”
‘I really think you’d hit it off.’
“Phasma.”
‘It’s been three months, Hux. When are you going to move on?’
At the reminder, his mood plummets even further. Unconsciously, he crosses his arms, seeking to protect himself from the conversation. Months later and his emotions are still tender. No matter how many times he relives it, no matter how often he goes over his memories for any sign of trouble, he still feels stupid for not seeing it sooner. It’s a familiar shame, one he knows shouldn’t matter but does. For someone who prides himself on being astute, he’d still been the last to know it was over.
‘Krennic is an ass.’
“He isn’t.” It’s a tired argument, but the loyalty makes him smile anyway.
‘A pretentious ass.’
That, at least, is inarguable. The man had been arrogant to a fault, filled with the pomposity of early tenure and academic authority. At the time, Hux had found it charming - impressed by the well of knowledge and flattered by the attention he had received despite his age. Orson had had a way of making him feel wise beyond his years and utterly naive all at once. He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Admittedly, dating one of his professors hadn’t been his proudest moment.
‘Besides, I still say if you were going to bang one of your teachers, it should’ve been that silver fox from the math department. What was his name again?’
His smile, fleeting in the face of his regrets, creeps back out, “Erso.”
‘That’s the one.’ A contemplative silence falls between them, broken only by the snapping of his popcorn and Phasma’s unspoken concern. Finally, Hux sighs, toying with a loose thread on his shirt.
“This friend of yours,” He begins, reluctant and embarrassingly earnest, “Do you really think we’ll get on?”
‘Hell no.’
Startled into a laugh, Hux rubs a hand down his face, “Oh well, in that case.”
‘He’s going to piss you off and you’re going to bicker like fishwives, but-’ Phasma bulldozes on before he can protest, ignoring his scoff, ‘I also think you’d get along, too. He’d be good for you.’
Sobering at the gentle tone, Hux pulls his newly finished popcorn from the heat, anxiety cramping his stomach. Still, he chews his lower lip, glancing at the Halloween decorations scattered across his apartment. They’d been a gift from Phasma the week before, an obvious bid to lift his spirits he’s man enough to admit might have worked. Gusting out a breath, he reaches over to flick one of the paper bats hanging in the doorway.
“I’ll think about it.’
‘Good. If nothing else, at least it’s a night out. Plus,” Her voice turns sly, “He’s hung like a-’
“Bye!” He hangs up on the bray of Phasma’s cackling, a grin tugging at his mouth. Maybe a party isn’t such a bad idea, after all.
---
The apartment complex is old but well maintained, with six different buildings connected by a warren of parking lots. His doorbell sounds before the sun has even set, revealing a gaggle of preschoolers in colorful face paints. In the distance, he can see even more dotting the sidewalks, preparing to lay siege.
Bracing himself, Hux pastes on a smile as his doorbell rings.
It’s going to be a long night.
---
Superheroes and miniature monsters. Devils and witches and tinfoil knights. A parade of characters march by his door, thundering through the hallway with shrieks loud enough to wake the dead.
By the time curfew arrives, he’s nearly out of candy and patience, and Millicent has taken to the bedroom in protest. Stretched out on the couch, with the latest slasher film muted on his TV, Hux groans, pressing the heel of his hands against his eyes. His head is throbbing and his face aches from smiling. The last leg is always the longest, filled with mouthy preteens and their rowdy friends.
But he’s survived. Perhaps not without casualties, but he has.
The sound of his buzzer threatens to change all that. Hux ignores it, the promise of egg yolk on his door be damned, and scowls when it only prompts them to do it again. And again. Forced into action, he drags himself to his feet, stomping to the door under a particularly hard buzz.
He yanks it open with more force than necessary and nearly gets bowled over for his effort.
“What-”
“Sorry, but I really gotta go!”
A blur of green and brown shoves past him, making him stumble, and quickly beelines toward his hallway. Dumbfounded, Hux gapes at the ninja turtle shifting from foot to foot in his apartment, her expression strained.
“Where’s the loo??”
“Excuse me?”
“Your bathroom!”
“Rey!” Her companion, a young boy dressed like Indiana Jones, motions for the girl, visibly mortified. Catching sight of Hux, he dunks his head, his cheeks flushed red. He, at least, has the sense not to cross the threshold.
The girl rolls her eyes, folding her arms. At her hip, a pillowcase laden with candy sways with the motion, clacking against a set of plastic swords, “I can’t hold it anymore!”
“Jesus Christ, Rey.”
This time, the voice that cuts in is noticeably older, a deep baritone that reverberates down Hux’s spine. Stranded in the doorway, he glances to the new arrival, his mouth suddenly dry. The man is Hux’s age, clearly their chaperone, with dark hair and shoulders that strain a well-loved teeshirt. His arms are crossed and he’s directing a glare at what Hux assumes is his younger sister, “Did you even ask?”
“It’s an emergency!”
Snorting, the man turns an apologetic look to Hux, whose horrified to realize he’s still frozen in place, staring at the stranger’s biceps, “Uh-”
“- orry about this.”
Pulled from his stupor by a desperate huff, the redhead drops his gaze away, clearing his throat, “Right. Sorry. First door on the left.”
Watching the girl dart off, Hux swallows, his face unnaturally warm. The heat only grows when he turns back and discovers two expectant gazes on him. Unsure of what else to do, he recovers enough to step back, motioning inside, “Come in.”
They do, shuffling by with murmured thanks. Up close, the man is intimidatingly attractive, shadowing his apartment with broad shoulders and long legs. His stomach flutters when a hand is offered to him, engulfing his own.
“Thanks for this.”
“Sure,” Shrugging, his palm tingles when they let go, “Though she didn’t give me much choice.”
The grin he gets is all teeth, “That’s Rey.”
For a heartbeat they merely stare at each other, awareness playing havoc on Hux’s nerves. He tries to keep it from his expression, arms tight across his own chest, but knows he’s failed when the man smirks, watching him with dark eyes.
He’s grateful when a sudden meow gives him an excuse to look away, shooting a wry glance to where Millicent has abandoned her sulk in order to receive attention. He feels jittery and warm, pleasantly flushed beneath the other’s focus. Clearing his throat, Hux slinks deeper into the haven of his apartment, his eyes cast unseeingly to the movie on his tv.
True to her word, it only takes a few minutes for the girl to return. She thanks Hux, offering him a handful of candy, and just like that, the trio is gone, trudging back out to finish their route.
Staring at their backs, Hux tells himself it was merely a strange end to a long evening, and not to read anything into the parting grin he gets. He still spends ten minutes after they leave with butterflies in his stomach, trying not to think about strong hands and deep voices.
---
Despite his best intentions, Hux finds himself in yet another kitchen as Halloween comes to a close, this time with a cup that needs refilling. From the other room, the thrum of music and chattering party goers is blessedly muted, giving him a moment to catch his breath. There’s a smattering of guests at the counter and around the table full of drinks, clad in a comical array of costumes. Taking his place among them, Hux is in the middle of adding vodka to his orange juice when a familiar arm hooks across his shoulders.
“There you are!” Obviously buzzed, Phasma grins through a flush, giving him a squeeze, “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Have you?” With a playful arm around her waist, Hux lets himself be ushered away from the bar. Too late, Hux realizes he’s being led to a small group standing near the door.
“There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Bazine is there, dressed in the matching prison stripes to Phasma’s warden, and greets them with a small smile. Beside her, a figure swathed in dark robes looks up. Hux falters, eyes widening in a rush of surprised embarrassment. He can see the exact second the man spots them, his surprise quickly morphing into a teasing smirk.
“Hux, this is Kylo. He’s the friend I’ve been telling you about.”
Stomach swooping, Hux is saved from replying by a rumbling laugh, torn between willing the ground to open up and wanting to climb the bastard like a tree. As if sensing his dilemma, Kylo grins, passing a heated glance down his figure.
“We’ve met.”
The sound of Phasma’s surprise is lost to the giddy thrill shivering through him. Of all the tricks of the season, he decides, allowing Ren to lead him off a short while later, this might be his favorite.
At least until Kylo crowds him against the wall, his mouth hot and demanding. Then he stops thinking altogether.
Leaning close, his breath hot and his eyes devouring, the Knight purrs, “When I’m done with you, General,” He promises, his voice velvet soft, “You will never again question that you are mine.”
Kylo takes the General’s virginity.
Words: 4217, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars - All Media Types
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Additional Tags: Kylux - Freeform, Kylux Positivity Week, Anal Sex, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Bottom Armitage Hux, Top Kylo Ren, 4k of filth tbh, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Size Kink, Dominant Kylo Ren, First Time, Barebacking
Once upon a time, @gaylo-ben did this groovy piece for kyluxpositivityweek and gave me permission to write something for it. It’s taken me ages bUT LO AND BEHOLD, I finally buckled down and finished it!
Since it’s a bit longer than usual, I decided to forgo a separate tumblr post, so here’s a link to it on AO3 instead c:
Leaning close, his breath hot and his eyes devouring, the Knight purrs, “When I’m done with you, General,” He promises, his voice velvet soft, “You will never again question that you are mine.”
Kylo takes the General’s virginity.
Words: 4217, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars - All Media Types
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Additional Tags: Kylux - Freeform, Kylux Positivity Week, Anal Sex, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Bottom Armitage Hux, Top Kylo Ren, 4k of filth tbh, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Size Kink, Dominant Kylo Ren, First Time, Barebacking
Once upon a time, @gaylo-ben did this groovy piece for kyluxpositivityweek and gave me permission to write something for it. It's taken me ages bUT LO AND BEHOLD, I finally buckled down and finished it!
Since it's a bit longer than usual, I decided to forgo a separate tumblr post, so here's a link to it on AO3 instead c:
there’s been lots of love going around today so I’d like to give shoutouts to my favourite writers! you’re all amazing and bright people who inspired not only me but an entire fandom!! keep doing what you’re doing because what you’re doing is incredible (in no particular order!) ❤️
You're amazing! The notifications on my phone are so sporadic, I didn't get this until recently! It came in at the end of a super long work shift and was such a boost omg - I couldn't stop smiling. You're lovely! I know I haven't been active lately but this was so nice to receive. Thank you so much for the shout out. You're one of the people I see consistently on my notes and it makes me so happy you enjoy my kylux stuff.
Even though I've been in the fandom for a long time, I operate so far below the sphere of influence that it always takes me by surprise when someone knows my work or says that it's added to their experience of the ship. It might sound silly, but I'm really touched that you included me in the list of your favorites and that I may have contributed to your fandom time. I'd like to say I'm impervious to the negativity and social politics of fandom, but the truth is sometimes it's easy to get overwhelmed and find the whole thing disheartening. You and the others who take the time to talk kylux with me or let me know they enjoy something are why I'm still here and why I still post things I write. You brighten my experience of fandom and remind me why I haven't stopped – both with encouragement and for your own contributions to the ship. Thank you! (Sending lots of love and support your way!)
Figment, the recently closed writing website, has just launched (after a long delay) their long-awaited successor to figment known as Underlined, where users can post their work and receive feedback, supposedly.
DO NOT USE UNDERLINED. DO NOT POST YOUR WORK ON UNDERLINED.
Underlined’s terms and conditions contains a clause stating that the rights to all your work that you post on their website belongs to them!!!!
Underlined belongs to Penguin Random House. This is an extremely dirty trick for them to play on writers, especially young writers and children, who come to the internet to get feedback and will lose the rights to their work. Please boost!!!
For my writing friends looking for an online writing community, DO NOT USE Underlined.
I went to confirm @greater-than-the-sword‘s post, because seriously publishers are still pulling this garbage? And yes, they are. If you want to check out the full terms and conditions, have at it. They are full of writers’ nightmares, a few of which I’ll highlight under the cut.
Hey ! : ) I am storyboarding like crazy atm and I don´t see myself drawing much else in the next 2 weeks, so I decided to share another panel from my little comic. One of my favorite panels *w*
Hope you´re all having a nice sunday! <3
THIS IS SO LOVELYAEKNSFNSKNSD The way the colors merge in the background is perfect, are there even words
and hux and kylo look so good //dies I lOVE that you included the metallic paint on hux’s face and the jewelry and ohh my goddddddddd their clothes are amazing. I’m so touched that you enjoyed the piece enough to do art for it, your work is so lovely and brought a whole new life to the verse - it’s incredible!!! thank you so much!! i’m dead *n*SDKFNsdf
everyone go check out pangolin’s art!! it’s fantastic and so are they!
Do you have an AO3 account where I can find and read everything you write? I love your fics and I'd love to read them all.
I do!! It’s right here! I also have a small index here, with a few pieces that aren’t on AO3 yet including the corrupt senator au and ben solo au. If I post from a verse but haven’t finished it or if I post out of order (like the senator au), I tend to wait until I have the beginning pieces done before putting them on AO3. You can also check the #words tag here for little fills and random kylux I’ve done. I’m so glad you enjoy the kylux I write!
also holy shitting fuck is that kiyoharu?? i almost died when I saw your username and icon, A++++
ABO with possessive/jealous alpha!Kylo and feisty!omega Hux
THE LEVEL OF MY EXCITEMENT AT GETTING AN ABO PROMPT *A* OMGi freakin love a/b/o verses and have been dying to do some for kylux, so this prompt rocked my world. bless u and the other anon who requested some (your fill is coming soon!)
prompt fills / send a prompt
The one where Kylo claims Hux right there on the bridge.
It’s an automatic habit, employing the use of certain traits. Hux does it without much thought, slipping into the easy motions of manipulating the situation to his advantage. The changes are subtle; a faint shifting of his posture, a miniscule lowering of his voice. He looks at the Admiral, an overly stubborn Alpha prone to giving him trouble, and makes a quick calculation on the most efficient way to get the matter handled. His stance remains the same assertive, militant pose it always is, his expression a cool, professional mask, but for the softness of his mouth, and the almost cajoling tilt of his head. He draws on his second genetics, presenting barely there cues, and is pleased when the man responds, subconsciously trying to please him. A little show of neck kicks in the other’s drive to appeal to an unbonded Omega. His stance widens in an attempt to present himself as a suitable caretaker, his stubbornness easing to prove his aptitude to provide.
It’s a simple, satisfying method of control, and Hux feels the familiar thrum of satisfaction at a job made more efficient. Alphas are laughably easy. He’s done it a number of times before, his posturing so minute as to be unnoticeable, playing on subconscious instinct without giving himself away. At least, until Ren startles them all with a harsh, vicious growl that splits through the air. They both tense, their skin prickling at the Alpha aggression that all but oppresses the room. The Knight’s hackles are raised, his teeth bared in a warning snarl.
Hux’s stomach jumps, even as the Admiral takes a confused step back, creating space between them. Until then, Hux hadn’t realized how close the other had gotten, nearly crowding him. Not that it matters. The situation had been well in hand before Ren’s interruption and Hux combats an annoyed huff at the blatant impediment. It’s better to be annoyed than to acknowledge the frisson of something darker blooming in his stomach at the show of possessive behavior.
To his horror, Ren is still growling, a low rumble that makes the seam of his pants unexpectedly damp. Panicking, Hux stiffens his posture, grappling to gain control over a deteriorating situation. Already the Admiral is eyeing him curiously, gaze sharp with consideration that threatens to expose Hux. He lifts his chin, returning the look with a cool one of his own. He tries to school his expression to reflect the unflappable Beta he’s supposed to be, refusing to submit. Rather than calm anything, Ren’s ire only grows at the unintentional challenge, and Hux grits his teeth.
“Ren.” He warns, a low hiss to try to recall the other to his senses. Instead the Alpha storms over, the air charged with barely contained temper. The understanding dawning on the Admiral’s face makes his stomach hurt, cooling his blood with dread. Hux bares his teeth unconsciously at the new interest seeping into man’s regard, a subtle warning to back off. He needn’t have worried.
Survival outweighs the need to breed and Ren is the stronger Alpha. The Admiral scrambles another foot backward, hands up placatingly. For a brief, tense moment Hux worries Ren has finally lost it, and that he’s about to witness a saber through the chest.
He should have known better.
Kylo stalks past the other Alpha, intimidating in his dark fury, and Hux barely has time to tense before a large palm clamps onto the back of his neck. Immediately his body responds, going soft and pliant in the hold, even as he snarls his own protest. Ren squeezes and Hux’s knees buckle, his anger muted by the way he sinks against the Knight.
Pressed against Ren’s chest, he can feel the vibration of his purr, resonating deeply where they touch. For a few minutes, the world fades, blanketed in a white noise of hormones that leave him dizzy. When he comes back to himself he’s wet and throbbing, his face is pressed into Kylo’s neck. It’s a brazen hold, sheltering him possessively against the Knight’s body in a display of ownership impossible to ignore.
Hux hisses, nerves on fire, skin too sensitive beneath his clothes. The heat only builds the longer they stand there, Ren’s hand strong and firm on his throat. He’s almost afraid the Knight is going to take him right there on the bridge, in front of the stunned crew - is almost afraid he’s going to let him.
Each breath in brings with it a rush of pheromones, potent and thick, the musk of Ren’s arousal and the warm spice of his scent ripping through his brain like a drug. He’s only barely aware that he should be protesting when long fingers tangle in his hair, bearing his throat with a hard tug.
The bite isn’t a surprise but he cries out anyway, clutching the Knight for balance, pleasure and pain ebbing out from the teeth clamped into his skin. He can feel blood sliding down his neck and slick wetting his thighs, Ren’s grip creating bruises on his hip. Rather than disgust at the blood on the Alpha’s mouth, a thrum of need begins in his pelvis, leaving him hot and shivery, curling closer to Kylo.
When the Alpha begins hauling him off the bridge, the scent of rut heavy in the air, Hux can’t help but follow.
If you’re still taking these. Kylux and 36 please?
I sure am! This prompt was really fun, thank you for sending it! I kind of ran wild with it and got way too into everything orz but I hope you enjoy it anyway! lmao
(p.s. the Howlrunner mentioned is an actual creature from the sw verse - check it out!)
AU #36 Living in a society where their love is tabooau fills / send a prompt
In the beginning, the Night and Day were one. It was only after the great Liberator struck his sword through their chains that they separated, drawing apart.
Or so the legends claim.
Hux has his own theories on the matter - ones backed heavily by the texts he’s spent years reading, locked away in dusty archives. It’s not a subject his people favor, their beginning, especially as it pertains to those they’ve sworn to avoid.“It’s not natural,” His father had hissed, upon discovering his interest. Standing in Hux’s grotto, where star charts and night scrolls litter every surface, he had watched his son with thinly veiled disdain. The Nocturnal are not to be talked about. They are not to be admired.
He brings the night, vast and dark. It spreads across the land with creeping shadows, devouring the sky with starlit teeth and a cratered jaw. Hidden on the edge of day, Hux watches the chariot race along its path, dragging behind a velvet tide of black. Its rider is one of the Nocturnal, clad in silver armor and dark robes. His skin is pale, making the harsh slant of his brows all the more prominent as he scowls. With a tight fist, he pulls on the reins attached to his steed, calling out a short command that’s lost to the wind. Fascinated, Hux leans closer to the border between them, ignoring the danger to be had should he accidentally cross. He’s never seen a Howlrunner in person before and the urge to see all he can outweighs his caution. The beast covers the distance in great strides, its lupine body blanketed in sleek muscle and glossy fur. Although the man himself is large and strong, the chariot heavily built, it doesn’t seem to notice the extra weight, pulling them both with fluid ease. As the moon begins to climb, casting down pools of light, the skulled helm on its face becomes an eerie flash, bone white in the gloom.
Without warning, the beast opens its muzzle, letting out a shriek that echoes throughout the tundra. Hux jerks back, a chill racing down his spine. His own steed is nervous at his side, snorting uncomfortably. He stands to soothe her, running a palm down her neck. By the time she settles, the air is still, and the rider has disappeared behind the horizon.
—
In the beginning, the Night and Day were one. Chained together, they were two sides of the same coin, setting and rising in a careful dance. Then, the people were united, coexisting without strife. Light and dark, passion and logic, they came together and created balance. It was only after the great Liberator struck his sword through their tethers that Night and Day separated, drawing apart.
Or so the legends claim.
Hux has his own theories on the matter - ones backed heavily by the texts he’s spent years reading, locked away in dusty archives. It’s not a subject his people favor, their beginning, especially as it pertains to those they’ve sworn to avoid.
“It’s not natural,” His father had hissed, upon discovering his interest. Standing in Hux’s grotto, where star charts and nocturnal scrolls litter every surface, he had watched his son with thinly veiled disdain. The Nocturnal are not to be talked about. They are not to be admired.
Stubborn, Hux ignores the rule. He had always been a curious child and that hadn’t changed when he had become an adult. It only got worse when he began his runs, leading his mare across golden fields to herald the day. Unlike his peers, who avoid the crossing, he thrives on his route by the border. Most afternoons he can be found there, watching the dark just beyond his reach.
Drowsing in the sunlight, torn between the world he was born into and the one that attracts him, it never occurs to him that the dark might be watching back.
—
The day is warm and golden, filled with the languid hum of summer. In the winter, the lands grow harsh, battered by cold light, but so near to the Solstice, it flourishes with life. Savoring the breeze, Hux meanders the familiar trails of his territory, slowing his mare into a gentle canter. This far out it’s quiet, no one brave enough to wander so near the cut off without reason. The solitude suits Hux, who has never found kinship among his peers, and who prefers the chance to explore without witness.
A glimpse of brown catches his eye.
Tugging on his leads, he turns the chariot towards it, easing them upon the fringe of daylight. He dismounts, edging closer to where the sun extinguishes, his fingertips tingling with an innate thrill. Perched near the border, a feather flutters in the grass, and even without getting closer, Hux knows it’s come from across the way. He kneels down, running a fingertip along its edge. The plume is long and sturdy, its body broken up by bands of darker pigment. He tucks it into his satchel, placing it among his other finds, and pulls out a leather bound journal to jot down the details.
Caught in anticipation, it isn’t until he’s standing that he registers the prickle on his skin. Someone is observing him. The weight of their attention sits on his shoulders, tensing his muscles and swooping in his stomach. Stilling, Hux stares at his bag, trying to control the pace of his breath. Even without looking, he knows his sudden audience isn’t a wayward herald or lost wanderer. They’re not his father looking to berate him or one of the council seeking a report. His back is to the field, exposed and vulnerable, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t reach for his arrows or try to dart for his steed.
Instead, rallying himself, Hux looks into the nightscape.
Crouched on his haunches just beyond the border, a man is staring back at him. It’s the rider from before, clad his shadowy robes and accompanied by his beast. Beneath Hux’s stunned gaze, he extends a hand to the Howlrunner, stroking pale fingers down her brow. A slow smirk breaks Hux from his trance.
Flushing at his own slack-jawed wonder, the redhead stumbles back, pulling his shoulders straight in an attempt to regain some dignity. The mirth curling at the rider’s mouth tells him its a lost cause but he clears his throat anyway, crossing his arms self-consciously.
Curiosity and disbelief, elation and annoyance, all color the moment. Before he can control it, a gust of laughter escapes him, short and breathless. Goddess above.
Now that the shock has passed, he catalogs the other, from his broad shoulders and solid build to the prominence of his nose and amused gaze. The rider is handsome, with a warrior’s edge that fiercens his countenance. For a quiet moment, they watch each other, each lost in their own observation.
As suddenly as he appeared, the rider nods to him, oddly chivalrous, and rises. Then, as Hux watches, he beckons his hound, turning on his heel, and disappears into the dark.
Hux spends the rest of the afternoon in the same spot, admiring the way the moonlight dances in the sky beyond.
—
He lasts a week before he goes back.
Again and again, Hux finds himself drawn to the borders, pulled there by an invisible force. East, south, north, west: the lines of his territory are ever changing, waxing and waning in a synchronized dance of dark and light.
Although he never sees the rider again, he stumbles upon more than a few discoveries. Bits and pieces of nature, rocks and bones and animal teeth. They’re brilliant specimens, intact and whole, nothing like the broken debris of his past finds. He collects them all, a trail of gifts that follow the route of his rides, waiting for him innocently on the border.
Soon, a touch of civilization begins to creep in. It starts with a simple piece of parchment, smooth and opaline, pressed from bark he’s never seen. He spends hours smoothing his fingertips over it, comparing its grain to illegal field guides. A pen follows, with ink so thick it bleeds across the page, and a silver pendant delicately crafted with the sigils of the moon. The thrill of each offering is inescapable, filling him with a warmth he’s only ever felt in the sun.
Still, he never sees the other. With each new item, the longing to do so only grows; a restless ache that leaves him searching the dark for any sign of life. He wants to talk to the other - wants to hear his voice and ask him about his gifts. About his life in the lunar fields and what wonders it might hold.
Fingering the latest token, Hux stares into the blue-black curtain just beyond his reach. This time, the rider has left him a small icon, an unfamiliar entity carved in glittering rock. Its face is worn as if a thumb has taken to worrying its contours, and as Hux brushes his own over it, he can’t help imagine the rider doing the same.
For a long time he waits in the amber afternoon, hoping that today will be the day they’ll finally meet again. He’s disappointed but not surprised when he remains alone. Biting his lip, the redhead casts one last glance to the night. Before he can talk himself out of it, he removes his journal from his bag - a battered tome of observations and thoughts he’s kept with him for as long as he can remember. It’s not the first of its kind, but it is his latest, and perhaps the most honest.
He tosses it gently over the boundary line, heart thumping as it’s swallowed in shadow. Quickly, before he can talk himself into trying to retrieve it, Hux leaves, chest tight and palms damp. When he returns the next day, the journal is gone and his smile unstoppable.
—
They gather for the Solstice, calling on the solar gods in celebration and merriment. The temple has been decorated for the occasion, draped in shimmering fabric and crystals that catch the light. It’s beautiful, a glowing relic among a field of lavender. Music fills the air and people sweep around in dance, their jewelry chiming softly.
Hux keeps to the outskirts of the crowd, watching his clan with distant amusement. His own arms are cuffed in gold bands, his eyes smeared with the metallic markings that are custom for the occasion. There is revelry all around, food and drink and joy.
It all seems oddly hollow.
The feeling only grows when Hux catches sight of his father, locked in conversation with a group of elders. Lately, their arguments have escalated, leaving a bitter taste in Hux’s mouth with each angry word. Out of control, his father says. In need of someone to take him in hand.
Scowling, Hux tries not to linger on the friendly way Brendol grips the shoulder of one of the council. He’s not been subtle in hinting at a match between Hux and the man’s son, as if a marriage is all Hux needs to learn his place. It makes his stomach turn, disdain rising up to clog his throat.
Suddenly, the clearing is too small, packed with too many people and too many sounds. Struggling to draw a breath, Hux clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palm for an anchor. The restless itch that’s birthed beneath his skin only grows the longer he stands there, overwhelming him in cold chills.
No one notices when he slips away, leaving the flutter of music behind him.
—
He finds solace walking the trails, those worn down paths he’s ridden over more times than he can count. The wilderness calms him, blunting the sharp edge of his panic into dull agitation. He’s waiting for something, searching the golden expanse for an answer to the question he has yet to ask. Following the drum of his pulse, Hux enters the clearing where he first saw his rider, all those cycles ago. His breath is stuck in his lungs, his mouth dry with anticipation.
He’s not surprised to see the familiar figure standing a few yards away. Flushing, body hit with trembling adrenaline, Hux slows to a stop in front of him. Even separated by their lands, they’re close enough to touch should they want to, and once more Hux is overwhelmed by the other’s presence. He’s even larger up close, tall and broad and so very real.
Drinking in the details he hadn’t been able to last time, Hux exhales softly, suddenly calm.
“Hello.”
The man smiles, his dark eyes bearing down on Hux with an intensity that’s almost shocking. When he speaks, his voice is deep and smooth.
“Hello.”
Silence falls between them. It’s familiar, intimate, rife with unspoken understanding. Emboldened by it, Hux takes another step forward, gaze sweeping curiously over his companion, “What’s your name?”
He feels like he’s won something important when the smile deepens, impossibly handsome.
“Kylo.”
“I’m Hux.”
Kylo watches him for a long moment, leaving Hux raw and exposed beneath his gaze. Finally, he inclines his head.
“I know.” He murmurs, and surprise flutters in Hux’s stomach, accompanied by pleasure. His lips part lashes sweeping down in quiet delight.
“Oh.”
He should ask how Kylo knows who he is. Should demand what his reasons are for leaving the gifts or tell him to stop. Even more, he should report him to the elders - return to the safety and sanctity of the feast and let them deal with the breach.
Instead, Hux looks down at the large hand being held out to him. It’s an invitation, bold and daring, and it makes his heart spasm in excitement.
He reaches for it, breath hitching as his fingers slide through the cool barrier into the night. He almost can’t believe he’s done it, that he’s crossed the border so easily and so readily, breaking sacred law for a man he barely knows.
A warm palm catches his own, long fingers curling around him. Kylo’s hand is strong and dry, his expression burning bright, fixed on Hux’s face with a banked fire that sends a tingle up the redhead’s spine. Their fingers interlock, fit together perfectly, and an unnameable emotion spreads through Hux’s chest.
Between their hands, rose-gold light spills out, coloring the places they touch in bruised purples and soft oranges. It pools around them, ebbing away the dark in dusky blues and gentle gray, deep pink and blood reds. Awed, they both watch the transformation, night and day spun into one, made of both yet belonging to none.
With a deep breath Hux looks at Kylo, bathed in twilight, and crosses the threshold.
I LOVE THIS TROPE SO MUCH. It was hard not to write 24203423490324 things for it.
#59 MISTAKEN IDENTITY kink fills / send a prompt: kink + au
Kylo attempts to ask Hux out.(ft another one of my favorite otps matt the radar technician/aerobics hux)
There’s a man staring at him. He’s been doing so for the last half hour, pacing up and down the sidewalk in front of the shop. Every time he passes, he casts a furtive glance inside, muttering to himself and frowning at different intervals.
Armistice is beginning to wonder if he should be worried.
Sat behind the till, he turns the page of his magazine, humming along to the radio. Subtly, he watches as the man runs a frustrated hand through his hair, tugging on it with an obvious curse. He looks vaguely familiar - tall and broad, with a nondescript face set in a grimace. Tapping his finger against the counter, Armistice tries to place where he knows the other from with little success.
Clearly, he’s trying to work up the nerve to enter the shop. Why Armistice doesn’t know. Nor can he figure out why anyone would have any anxiety about doing so, especially as the man doesn’t seem to lack confidence otherwise. He’s just running through a list of people he’s met at various functions when the bell jingles, signaling a customer.
It’s the man, and he’s marching towards Armistice with a frightful amount of force, his jaw set stubbornly.
“Hux.”
His voice is pleasantly deep, even if his expression looks like he’s bitten into something foul. Blinking, Armistice opens his mouth to reply, but the other cuts him off, holding up a large palm.
“No, wait, let me finish.”
It seems the man has prepared his words. Amused, Armistice allows him to continue, watching as he once more pulls his fingers through his hair in a nervous tic. After a moment, he straightens his shoulders, visibly bracing himself.
“Look, I know we don’t always get along. You’re a stubborn ass and you refuse to listen to anyone. You make being a pretentious dick into an art form and aren’t nearly as clever as you think you are -”
Armistice can feel his brows jumping to his hairline, even as they furrow in confusion. The more the other talks, the more familiar he sounds. Vaguely, he recalls a figure loitering around his cousin, a brooding counterpart to Armitage’s sharp tongue. Just as it clicks, the man breaks off his tirade, startled as if he’s actually finally taken a good look at him.
“ - what the hell are you wearing? No, nevermind. Look-”
Bewildered, Armistice glances down at himself, at the white button up and red bow tie he’s sporting over equally red pants. Personally, he thought the braces were a nice touch.
“I like you. A lot. And I think you like me, too.”
As quickly as he looked away he returns his attention to the figure before him, lips parting in surprise. Well, well. Someone has a crush on his cousin. Come to think of it, he’s probably not the only one. Not if Armitage’s constant complaining about the man is anything to go on. His cousin has always been a little stunted in the emotion department.
“Kylo?” Armistice thinks that’s his name. Something with a K. Or maybe an R.
“Go out with me.”
Blinking, the redhead mulls his options. On the one hand, he should probably explain to Kylo that he has the wrong Hux. It would be the kind thing to do, especially considering the amount of pep-talk the other gave himself to even get here. On the other, Armitage is stubborn and prone to making things harder than they have to be, especially when he’s in denial.
Truth be told, he’s a little surprised he hasn’t figured out his mistake yet. There might be a strong resemblance between he and his cousin, but there are also noticeable differences. Armistice is shorter, for one, and lacks the customary scowl on his face.
Still, seeing how much Kylo has obviously had to work himself up to this, maybe it isn’t so hard to believe. Although his expression is stubborn, it’s tinged with anxiety. He almost looks like rejection is a given.
That settles it.
“I’d love to go out with you.”
The way Kylo’s jaw drops is priceless, his face slack in disbelief. Armistice smirks, chuffed with himself for catching the other off guard. Hux will thank him for this. Probably. If he ever gets his head out of his ass long enough to figure out his emotions.
“Right…” Without the argument he expected, Kylo seems at a loss. A flush spreads across his face and he fidgets, clearing his throat, “Okay.”
Taking pity on him, Armistice smiles, “Saturday?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be great.”
They spend the next few minutes setting up the details and when they’re done, Kylo awkwardly takes his leave, his expression slightly shell-shocked. Armistice waits until he’s left the shop before picking up his phone to text his cousin.
Armistice Hux: world-class matchmaker. Maybe he should start a business.
It’s only a few moments later that the bell chimes again. At the sight of the figure shuffling into the shop, Armistice smiles, warm with affection, “Matthew.”
Still dressed in his coveralls from work, Matt lumbers his way behind the counter, his shoulders stooped and hair a choppy mess. Seeing the familiar features, dour beneath oversized glasses, Armistice can’t help but lean up for a kiss. To his delight, Matt responds by hunching even closer.
“What was that all about?”
Even as he tilts his head to the door, where Kylo has just vacated, he reaches down to straighten Hux’s bowtie. He always manages to make it more crooked, but the gesture sends a wave of fondness through Armistice anyway.
“I’m the best cousin ever.”
Matt raises two dark brows, before shaking his head with a small smile. Sometimes it’s better not to ask.
can you do 38. cop/person getting a speeding ticket au? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Ofc bby! It took all of my willpower not to turn this into a frisk-and-search x)
AU #38, cop/person getting a speeding ticket au au fills / send a prompt
In which Ren is a smarmy bastard who can’t resist pulling Hux’s pigtails.
Hux is nearly at the end of his shift when a familiar car speeds by, ripping through the empty stretch of highway. Scowling, he flicks on his lights, pulling out from his post with a heavy press to the accelerator. Even going twenty above the speed limit, it still takes him a few minutes to catch the other, who doesn’t bother slowing down until they pass another mile.
Typical.
With a fortifying breath, Hux rolls to a stop, willing his blood pressure to calm. For both of their sakes, he makes sure his gun is holstered by the time he gets out. The sight before him is one he’s become well acquainted with - the sleek, sporty car that probably cost more than his annual salary, its vanity plates proudly proclaiming ‘flyboy’. The well-heeled jackass smirking at him from the driver’s seat.
Gritting his teeth, Hux raps his knuckles on the window, waiting as it rolls down slowly.
“Officer,” Ren drawls, smug beneath his thousand dollar sunglasses. Hux just barely refrains from throwing his hands up.
“I’m beginning to suspect you have a vision problem.”
Even hidden by tinted lenses, Hux can see the way dark eyes rake over his body. He straightens before the other can comment, ignoring the flush that heats his face.
“License and registration, please.” By this point, it’s a wonder he doesn’t have the numbers memorized. Ren, the cheeky fuck, doesn’t even blink. With a smirk, he reaches over for the papers in question, and Hux doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or snarl when it becomes apparent the man hasn’t even bothered putting them away from the last time.
“Is there a problem, Officer?”
Hux levels him a stare, refusing to rise to the bait. Mostly. “Speeding. Again.”
“Oh dear,” The purr is patronizing and unapologetic, as is the expression on Ren’s face when he surrenders the documents, “It seems I have a lead foot.”
He doesn’t. He really really doesn’t.
Hux knows. He looked it up.
Scowling, he plucks the papers from a large hand, returning to his car to write the ticket.
This route is the only one Ren ever seems to have trouble on. Four tickets in the last month alone on an otherwise spotless record. All during Hux’s shift. Bearing down harder than he means with his pen, Hux curses, forced to start a new draft. Hyper-aware of the stare burning into him from just ahead, he dunks down, forcing himself to concentrate.
A short while later, handing over the ticket, Hux purses his lips, returning Ren’s gaze with a thoughtful one of his own, “You know…” He begins, stomach fluttering at the other’s visible delight, “If you keep this up they’re going to suspend your license.”
The smile he gets is slow and pleased, igniting warmth low in his chest, “Duly noted.”
Later, from the safety of his cruiser, Hux watches Ren peel off, disappearing down the highway in a stir of dust. Despite the vehement scolding and impending fines, he knows that come next week, Ren will be back. He always is.
Huffing, the redhead follows at a slower pace, appalled to find himself fighting off a grin.
vaporwave
kianamaiart
ellievsbear
titsay
origamiaround
