The world needs more kylux outsider pov fic where Hux’s underlings deal with the consequences of their boss getting deep dicked on the regular all while tryin to figure out who, exactly, is doing the dicking.
this piece is dedicated to “ @smolrebel @saltandlimes @hollyhark @reserve @tired-techie @solohux and @jathis to name a few”
i find that some times people forget that there are human beings behind the @’s. we all need to remember that the only person who can truly validate you, is you. we all need help some times, and we all seek out inspiration and reinforcement ~ but in the end… the one who puts the light into your life, needs to be yourself. someone can show you beauty or put a spark inside your heart, but the only person who can make that light into something guiding, is you.
This is so gorgeous and warm, I love it!! PIDGY I’ve always felt like your personal sweetness and light is reflected in your art, seeing your pics on my dash always makes me feel happy <3 <3
@gefionne ´s kylux fanficiton Flyboys is one of my absolute favourites right now!
I googled raf pilots after reading and I absolutely had to draw Hux in one of those leather jackets.
I apologize that I don´t comment as regularly as I should and I hope to make up for it with this little illustration <3
So for the @verymerrykylux shindig that I’m totally late for, I got to write for @gingerbitch-hux. I’m so sorry it’s late. I have no excuses. I’m a lame dude. Anyways! I hope you like it. Thanks to @sithofren and @kyloren-sithlord for reading through this and giving it the polishing it needed!
There is something to this newfangled Facebook thing that Han is simply unable to wrap his mind around. Leia insists – in that endlessly annoying Leia way of hers – that he needs to get it in order to stay current with ‘this generation.’ Whatever that’s supposed to mean. Han’s never met a computer he couldn’t work his way around, but this god damned, imbecilic blue-and-white website of death is testing him in new and inspired ways.
So for the @verymerrykylux shindig that I’m totally late for, I got to write for @gingerbitch-hux. I’m so sorry it’s late. I have no excuses. I’m a lame dude. Anyways! I hope you like it. Thanks to @sithofren and @kyloren-sithlord for reading through this and giving it the polishing it needed!
There is something to this newfangled Facebook thing that Han is simply unable to wrap his mind around. Leia insists -- in that endlessly annoying Leia way of hers -- that he needs to get it in order to stay current with ‘this generation.’ Whatever that's supposed to mean. Han’s never met a computer he couldn't work his way around, but this god damned, imbecilic blue-and-white website of death is testing him in new and inspired ways.
He hates it.
His first friend, surprisingly, is Luke. He didn't even realize Tibetan monasteries had wifi, but proof to the contrary is staring him right in the face. Lando and Leia tie for second, because he can't find the little button that looks like a horribly mutilated and bleached upper body for a solid ten minutes while Leia sends him a series of increasingly concerned and illegible texts, using literally anything on the keyboard save actual letters, until he finally cedes defeat and calls her to ask for help.
She rolls her eyes at him but helps all the same. She's sweet like that -- burn and salve all in one.
It takes him a month to realize that he's missing something, or perhaps more accurately, someone. Han had simply assumed -- evidently wrongly -- that Ben would search up his name, click the little white face and their relationship would repair itself. The accident smoothed over, or perhaps even ignored; Ben’s attempts at running from the guilt that Han had no small part in exacerbating, resolved.
Searching ‘Ben Solo’ comes up with frustratingly little -- ‘Ben Organa’ produces even less. The internet is supposed to connect people, and all it’s left him with is the taste of palpable bitterness.
Leia gives him a knowing look over what could generously be considered spaghetti and spinach salad that night. She’s never been much of a cook, and Han himself can’t do much in the kitchen beyond opening the wrapper of a granola bar. The house feels empty with just the two of them, and Han can’t even fathom how much emptier it must feel when he can’t take anymore of acting domestic, when it’s just Leia.
“He’s not on there, you know,” she starts, apropos of nothing after too many minutes of uncomfortable silence.
Han grunts in response, digging into his pasta with renewed vigour. Perhaps if he just doesn’t respond, this conversation can simply stop. Of course, Han knows that’s a losing battle.
“I try looking, every few months. Perhaps I’m just not cut out for this internet crap. But -- I happen to know someone. He’s rather good with technology, always getting me out of a bind when I need it.” She smiles at him -- it’s small, but significant. Like everything about her. Han can’t remember the last time he saw her smile like that.
“Is that so?” he asks, the beginnings of a smirk playing about his mouth. “I suppose I could take another look for you, princess.”
“My hero,” she says, rolling her eyes with something he hopes is fondness.
The next days are spent in a fevered state, scrolling through the blue-and-white screen of death. He’s always worked best when he has some sort of task to complete, some goal to reach for.
It seems unlikely that Ben simply isn’t on the internet — he’s a young man, after all. Or at least, that’s how Han remembers him. It’s been close to ten years. Things can change.
Still, no matter how hard he works, there’s no tangible results to give to Leia. no gold medal to award for a job well done. Google refuses to cooperate with him — all of the results pulled up relate back to the accident. One particular news site has the gall to refer to it as a tragedy, which is frankly absurd.
Han resorts to means he never thought he’d use — calling Luke’s daughter and praying that she doesn’t tell Leia. Rey insists that she hasn’t heard from her cousin in at least five years, which is still somehow better than Han himself.
But, she does give him a name, someone he was apparently seeing when they last ran into each other (in a coffee shop of all confounded places). Hucks. Which can hardly be the real name of a human being, but Han supposes that if Rey can be married to someone named Finn, then who is he to judge?
Hucks turns up...nothing. Well, not nothing exactly, but unless Hucks lives in the Bahamas and is a very busty sixty year old retiree whose given name is Pamela, Han probably has the wrong person. Still, he’s not here to judge Ben or his life choices (much), so he sends a link to Rey via email and waits for confirmation.
What he gets in response is a series of -- what are they? Emogicons? -- that indicate someone crying from laughter. Or at least, Han thinks that’s what it is. Rey sends another email to follow up, informing him that he’s spelt Hucks wrong, which is hardly his fault. Who the hell assumes it’s spelt ‘Hux’?
Idiots, that’s who.
Hux is apparently a very well-off lawyer with a strange fixation with ginger cats and a child that Han assumes is his own, given the bright shock of red hair and what Han can only consider to be most morose pout he’s ever seen on a toddler. He apparently doesn’t have a first name, and might be the most boring person Han could have ever conceived of.
His relationship status isn’t publically listed, and as he scrolls through pages and pages of Hux’s very tame Facebook history, he can’t help but be disappointed that there’s nothing on his wall from Ben Solo-Organa-whatever.
There is, however, a lot from a person named Kylo Ren, whose profile picture looks like a hunk of metal garbage in a white room. Leave it to uppity rich folks like Hux to be friends with modern artists. At the very least, this Kylo Ren character has good taste in animal pictures -- Han is a particular fan of the one with the cat holding onto a railing with the caption ‘Hang In There!’.
Han debates, for the better part of fifteen minutes, when is the appropriate time to send a friend request to someone you’ve never met before. He texts Leia for a second opinion and she replies with a series of thumbs up and the weird hands that look like they’re straight out of a televangelist gathering. Which probably means something like ‘go for it’, but Han has never been very good at figuring out what Leia’s trying to say without making a giant mess of everything.
At 3:02, which is probably a very respectable time for lawyers to get tired of working and go on their phones, Han sends his request.
It takes a week and three days for him to get a response from Hux, during which time Han alternately frets that this entire thing is a waste of time and curses Hux’s name for making him wait for so long.
<< Who the hell is this?
There’s a moment of clarity when Han realizes that yes, of course Facebook has a private messaging system. No wonder Leia kept teasing him about posting things onto Luke’s wall. Damn stupid website.
<< Hello? I’m very busy and I don’t have all day to sit here and wait for decrepit old men to figure out how to use the internet. I don’t want whatever it is you’re selling.
>> hi no dont go my name is han
>> i think u knew my son
>> ben
<< Jesus fucking Christ.
>> thats not my name but ill take the compliment
>> i just want to talk to ben
<< We’re all very happy without you and your miscreant ways, thank you very much.
>> wat does that even mean
<< “Ben” has told me all about you. We aren’t interested.
Han is...puzzled, to say the least. He knows he wasn’t the ideal father, knows the accident was his fault, but he doesn’t think that that qualifies him to be treated like the literal scum of the earth. But still. Ben knows this man.
>> wat do you mean “ben”
>> his name is ben
<< Perhaps it used to be, yes. That’s no longer what he goes by.
>> y not?
>> ben is a perfectly good name
>> its a family name
<< Yippee for that. It’s still not his name.
<< Look, I could spend all day arguing about what name my incredibly asinine husband prefers to go by, but that would be a) pointless, and b) a waste of everyone’s time, but most importantly mine.
>> i just want to make sure hes ok
>> wait
>> husband???!?!?!?!??!?!
<< Fuck.
<< Fine.
<< If I answer all your questions, will you promise not to try to contact “Ben”? He’s very . . . delicate, about things like this.
>> but i want to see him
<< Good for you. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.
>> ok
There’s a brief negotiation, mostly steamrolled by Hux, where they discuss where to meet. They settle on a coffee shop in downtown which Han assumes must be close to Hux’s office. He’s never heard of it before, but -- it’s something.
Han hates the downtown core with all of his being. Where the hell is everyone supposed to park? It’s damn ridiculous. He circles around the block where Hux’s chosen coffee shop is for the better part of twenty minutes before finally finding a spot, squeezed in between two cars that independently are probably worth at least five times what the Falcon is.
He’s wearing his finest jacket — the one with only one grease stain — and a pair of probably clean brown corduroys. Definitely not because he wants to impress his...son-in-law? He’s still not fully able to wrap his head around the concept, no matter how hard he tries. He has a son-in-law, and that son-in-law has a child. Does that make him a grandfather? Does he even want to be a grandfather?
He hasn’t told Leia about this meeting, mostly because he doesn’t want to get her hopes up. Han has spent the better part of twenty years disappointing her, and there’s something about how tenuous their relationship is at the moment that tells him that if he well and truly fucks this up, there might not be any going back.
Hux is easy to spot — he’s the only one with ginger hair and a frown in the whole damn place. He’s sipping fancy coffee, which is to say, coffee that didn’t come from the McDonald's drive through around the corner from his garage.
He claps Hux on the back as he comes around, sliding into the seat opposite with a gruff “Hello.” Hux gives the watch on his hand a cursory glance before glaring up at Han.
“You’re seven minutes late.” His voice is clipped, accented in a way Han wasn’t expecting. It reminds him of Luke’s Uncle Ben, of the Arizona desert and his old smuggling routes.
“Yeah, well, you try parking around here and see if you can get anywhere on time, son.” Hux rolls his eyes, seemingly unimpressed.
From what Han can gleam, Hux is always seemingly unimpressed.
“Yes, well, that’s all well and good but I have a meeting I need to be at in thirty-three minutes, so if we could simply cut to the proverbial chase, I would be most appreciative.” Hux taps a finger on the cup of his fancy coffee, which seems to be more white fluff than actual coffee. The motion draws Han’s attention down, towards the ring gleaming on his hand.
“So — you really — you and Ben?”
“Me and Kylo, yes. If you want to have this conversation, the least you could do is make an attempt to call him by his preferred name.”
“Wait — you mean the Kylo Ren who posts all the cat pictures on your Facebook?”
“Oh my fucking — yes. Of course. Obviously. That Kylo. Your spawn, Kylo.”
“Oh.” Han stares down at the table, at Hux’s hand again. The ring is gold, plain and unadorned but clearly polished regularly and meticulously. There’s something about it that makes Han wish he’d worn his own wedding ring, if only to prove that he’s not a bad husband as well as a bad father. “Are you — happy?”
The question contorts Hux’s face into something more closely resembling a sneer -- it’s clearly not often that he considers happiness as something important, a metric to be closely observed. “I — yes. I suppose we are.”
“That’s good.”
“Indeed.”
They sit in silence — awkward, uncomfortable silence — for what feels like an eternity but is more likely only a minute or two. “He’s an artist, you know,” Hux starts, clearly trying to reach for any topic of conversation that the two of them might have in common. “He has his own studio, and — well, I suppose he doesn’t do as much now because of Cillian, but still. He’s very well known within art circles, if you go in for that sort of thing.”
“Cillian?” Han asks, desperate for anything to cling to in the hopes of continuing the conversation.
“Yes, Cillian. He’s rather brilliant, for a four year old. Kylo is — well, he’s much better with him than I am, but that’s perhaps because Kylo still has the mind of a child locked inside the body of a giant.” The words are harsh, but they’re said with the barest hint of affection — the first actual sign of emotion Hux has displayed throughout the entire conversation.
“And he’s — yours?”
“Ours,” Hux corrects quickly. It’s evidently a conversation he’s had before, if the rapid way he replies is any indication. “He’s ours, no matter who’s biology he’s got in him.”
“Right, yeah.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of Leia or me getting to spend some time with Be-Kylo?” Han knows what the answer is most likely going to be, but he can’t help but ask anyways. For Leia’s sake, if not his own.
“I -— look. You seem like a nice guy, sort of. Kylo’s told me all sorts of absurd things about you that might be true, but given his proclivity towards grandiose exaggeration, probably aren’t.” Han nods along, waiting for the definitive ‘no’ that he’s expecting. “But I can’t speak for Kylo personally. It’s not my place.”
Hux reaches into his breast pocket, pulls out a business card in matte black with the name ‘Kylo Ren’ emblazoned in plain white font. “Send him an email. Don’t bother calling because he doesn’t answer his work phone and he has no idea how to check voicemail, no matter what he says to the contrary.”
“Thanks, kid,” Han says, taking the card and putting it in his pocket like it’s a winning lotto ticket. In some ways, it is.
“Don’t mention it,” Hux says, standing up and straightening his suit. “Really, don’t. I sleep on the couch enough as it is.”
Han chuckles, sliding out of his chair. “Yeah, his mom’s the same way. They’re always making you think they hate you when it’s the damn opposite.”
Hux makes a face, something between pained and affectionate, before looking down at his watch. “Well, this has been — something. I ought to —”
“Yeah, yeah. Go on, kid.” Hux glares, but offers his hand to Han anyways. The shake is firm — surprising, given Hux’s relatively willowy figure.
“Have a good day,” Hux says, by way of closing remarks. Han smiles and thinks that, for the first time in the better part of a decade, he actually might.
(Baby, we both know)
That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day (X)
For @reserve who asked for Emperor!Hux and Knight/Hound/Enforcer!Kylo or benarmie. HAPPY HOLIDAYS! :D I hope your new year if full of happiness with loved ones\o/\o/ <33333
thank you for organising this event @verymerrykylux!
So it’s the end of another year and I keep seeing everyone do these, so I thought I’d do a quick and dirty end of the year/Christmas follow forever bc oops mobile
I want to say thank you to all of you for making my dash so wonderful this year, despite how shit it’s kind of been!
A very very very special thank you so much, I don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re my other half shoutout to @magpieminx, because she may not see this till the 26th, but I love her so much and I know she deserves this shoutout 🍑
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