fic

Image | | techiehux

moonwalkingcrab:

boredbyreality:

The pale morning light slides over Stensland’s face, seeping in behind his eyelids and drawing him closer to consciousness.

He blinks slowly, trying to figure out where he is. There is a head on his shoulder and warm breath against his neck. His field of vision is obscured by a mass of dark hair, soft and silky, and Stensland buries his nose in it, basking in the softness and warmth around him. At least he has woken up somewhere nice.

Memory seems to have escaped him for the time being, but, thankfully, so has the hangover, and Stensland lies back to enjoy the warm pressure of the arm that is slung across his belly. It takes a few moments before the details start to register: the soft tickle at his neck that can only be facial hair, the broad palm that lies on his stomach, and, most of all, the hot and heavy press of an erection against his thigh.

Oh, Stensland thinks. He’s in bed with a man.

“Where You Lead” by @moonwalkingcrab​ is a gift that keeps on giving ♫ 

Companion piece: x

You are spoiling me! The light in this just seems to seep into my bones, it’s so warm! The perfect antidote to my crappy mood today ❤

| techiehux

helliskylux:

A little something for the @hurtkylofest

Han rushed to home, Leia had just gone away and Ben was by himself. The kid had been sleeping when he arrived. Han can only stare at him, he’s growing up so fast. Faster than how Han can figure out how to do this.

Han sat down, he really doesn’t know what to do when he’s here. It never felt like his place. But Ben, it always feels like his home. Despite Han really not knowing what to do with his kid.

So he just sat there, watching the boy he couldn’t quite raise right.

It woke him slowly the slight whimpers that escaped his boy. Poor little bandit is having a nightmare.

Picking the boy up, Han tried his best not to wake him. Ben still stirred from his sleep and Han rubbed his back.

“Hey little bandit. Is there a monster I need to shoot?” Han didn’t understand why he’s whispering.

“Papa?” Ben looked at him unsure. “Papa!”

Han can never keep up on how happy Ben always is when he sees him. It feels like he does not deserve it

Ben hugs his neck as tight as he could and he sobs. And Han’s unsure what to do again, so he holds Ben, promising to do anything for him. Promising to kill any monsters that chases his boy.

| techiehux

h3llcat:

Like Marriage, 447 words

“When are you gonna lock that down?”

Mellie’s voice drags Clyde from his daze, an ugly blush blotching his cheeks and spreading down his neck when he realizes he’s been scrubbing the same spot on the bar for who knows how long. “Come again?”

“You’ve been starin’ at ‘im like you’re afraid he’s gonna disappear.” She inclines her head towards Stensland to punctuate her point. He’s making some attempt at cleaning the floor, his small, soft hands wrapped around a mop that is doubling as a dance partner and microphone. He’d recently learned all of Clyde’s favorite songs and has taken to choosing the same three over and over on the jukebox after closing. Clyde never minds. “When are you gonna put a ring on it?”

“Like marriage?” He asks in a higher pitch with a dumb, slow blink.

“Yes, like marriage. Jesus, Clyde.”

Clyde’s brows lift in surprise like he’s never considered the idea before, and truly he hasn’t. Stensland fast become a constant in his life, fitting as perfectly as if he’d always been there. Clyde hasn’t seen a need to change their dynamic, it never felt like they were missing any pieces— but now that she mentioned it… “Hey, Stens!” He calls across the empty bar, waiting for off key singing mimicking a country drawl in an Irish lilt to stop (though shimmying hips don’t). “Wanna get hitched?”

“Okay!” Stensland yells back as easily as if he’s agreeing to Chinese takeout for dinner, and shoots him a thumbs up. “Can I wear a breezy suit or do I have to wear a dress?”

“A suit is good!”

“Okay! Can I have a ring?”

“Yeah! Come ‘ere.”

Stensland props his mop against the wall and trots over to the bar, thrusting out his right hand. Clyde pushes it down and takes his left one instead, bracing it against his own chest as he winds a red stirring straw about his fiancé’s finger. He twists the ends to keep it in place, and Stens proudly holds it up to the light like he’s admiring a glittering gem instead of cheap plastic. He holds it out to Mellie next, and she rolls her eyes as she takes his fingers in hand to inspect Clyde’s handiwork.

“Yeah, yeah, I see it. Don’t get too big for your britches. Now get out of here, don’t you have cleaning to do?” She gives Stensland a push that somehow reads as affectionate. “Y’all are lucky you found each other,” she mumbles against the opening of her beer bottle once he cha-chas away.

Clyde goes back to cleaning the day’s stickiness from the wooden bartop, the smallest of smiles curling his lips.

Blink.

| techiehux

kyloripped:

So I saw this absolutely gorgeous piece of art by @threi, and it struck me through my little shrivelled grinch heart. I wrote a tiny little piece for it but be warned because it is Not Nice. Warnings for Major Character Deaths, sadness, planets exploding etc. Kylux, post TLJ and musing on their inevitable demise…

So this is how it ends, Hux thought numbly.

Not with victory, nor with honour. Not even with the honest steel of a ship beneath his feet, a blaster in hand and enemies at the front. It was to end with coldness. And silence. And nothing.

Keep reading

O Death – Ajaxthegreat – Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015) [Archive of Our Own]

Link | | techiehux

francisthegreat:

“Think hard before you act, Kylo Ren.” 

Ren was dying, burning to put his hands on him. His skin was crawling. He reached out and gripped Hux’s shoulder, turned him around and slammed him into the wall of the cave. Their shoes were inches from the decapitated corpse of Elijah Cook. 

“I never think,” Ren said.

Chapter 5 is up. 

O Death – Ajaxthegreat – Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015) [Archive of Our Own]

| techiehux

kesstiel:

A/N: Welp, I watched Darkest Hour and for those who haven’t seen it (spoiler alert) there’s a scene in which King George comes to Churchill’s home and offers his resources and support in a way he’d been very reluctant to before. It’s one of the most beautiful scenes in the movie and the whole thing made me want to write Kylux with a similar theme post-TLJ. I can’t “mobilize the English language and send it into battle” the way Churchill did in that film, but I’ll damn well try!

—–

When Hux comes to him, summoned at what even Ren can admit is an unreasonable hour–he can’t sleep, won’t sleep, has to make this right–he suddenly finds that he’s the one who can’t breathe for a moment.

“You wanted to see me, Supreme Leader?” Hux’s voice is raspy. He must have been woken by the summons. Kylo refuses to think of the other reason for the General’s lack of volume.

He’s not in uniform, just his leisure robes, and they do exactly nothing to hide the bruising traveling along his cheek and his neck. Kylo knows if he parted the robe, the ugly purples and blues and greens would continue down his side and hip and leg. All my fault.

“I did,” he starts, but the things he’d planned on saying die before they leave his mouth. What words would be good enough to span the breadth of the agony he feels at having hurt Hux like this? What could he possibly say to make things right again between them? They’d fought so hard for relative peace with every kiss, every violent and gentle touch.

And then Starkiller happened. And now this. Not even Hux with all his patience could put what Kylo had broken back together. Knowing that didn’t make any of it easier.

“Did, Supreme Leader?” Hux prompts, raising a brow, derision and disgust emanating so strongly from him that Ren doesn’t even need the Force to feel it. “Do you no longer require my services?”

“No, I–Hux I just–I mean I wanted–” He can’t do this. “I didn’t mean…” He can’t do this, has never been good at dealing with the consequences of his actions, especially when those actions hurt other people. He buries his face in his hands, overwhelmed and aching and so very, very sorry. “Fuck,” he chokes, trying to hold back the pain he doesn’t deserve to feel.

“Supreme Leader are you…are you crying?”

He is, he can’t help it. They’d planned this so carefully, Hux had detailed every step for their conjoined ascent to power and as always Kylo just couldn’t follow the fucking plan. Had ruined it and then ruined any chance of still having Hux’s respect, much less his affection when he’d…

When he’d…

He feels a careful hand on his own, unsure of its welcome, and Hux slowly sinks to the floor before Ren’s throne, intimately close and looking at him with something resembling fondness and bitterness and resignation all rolled into the impossibility that is his General.

“Hux, don’t–”

“Hush, Ren. You are quite aware of my proclivities and being on my knees is not one of them at times like these,” he says sardonically, and Kylo snaps his mouth shut, surprised at Hux’s vehemence. He’s angry, but not for the reasons Ren would have assumed.

It’s a long while of just listening to each other’s breathing even back out before Hux speaks again. When he does, he’s almost too quiet to hear and Kylo nearly misses it.

“You have my support.”

Kylo rears back in disbelief, almost asks Hux to repeat himself because he couldn’t–he can’t–

“Ren, look at me and stop for a moment.” Kylo is helpless to do anything but obey, even though his breathing is nothing more than a rapid, shuddery thing.

“I need for you to understand something, Ren. I am here for the Order and the peace I want to see restored in the galaxy. That has ever been my first priority.” Cold, sharp, ruthless, and Kylo nods, eyes downcast in understanding.

He really needs to get better at hearing how unwanted he is. He’d brought it on himself anyways. Why did every rejection always hurt worse than the time before?

“That being said,” Hux continues, softer now. “Much as I may wish things were different, we cannot go back. There is only forward. And the more I look ahead the more I see what you are capable of being. Lead us, Ren.” His voice is strong despite its roughness, confident in his cause and Kylo feels punch drunk when Hux reaches up to hold his face and runs his thumbs over the dark circles beneath tired, war-weary eyes

“Let me give you everything I can to help you succeed in this. You have immeasurable power, but so do I. Don’t dismiss the shape of mine because you don’t know how to wield it. Let me wield it for you. If you give me the tools to do so, I will hand you the galaxy on gilded pyres of blood and bone. I will not betray you. I could not. To do so would betray the Order and…and my heart.”

His humorless laugh guts Kylo as surely as his words do, but his heart can’t help but soar. There is still a chance for them, and he would willingly throw himself on his own lightsaber before he would even think of hurting Hux like this again. He’ll prove himself worthy of Hux’s faith. To do anything else would destroy him.

“Lucky for me, they seem to be one and the same now. I could have had everything, could have taken that shot in this very room, but victory would have been so hollow. Ren. I beg of you, as I would not beg anyone else. Do not send me away. Do not kill me or ignore me or replace me. Let me win this war for you. Let me support you.”

Kylo is shaking his head before Hux can finish, wishing he could take back every moment that led to Hux thinking he was disposable or unwanted.

He does not kiss him yet, he’ll have to earn back that privilege, but he draws Hux up to his height and presses their foreheads together, unable to stop the tears from flowing silently as he tries to understand. It will take him a long time to feel purged of his recent misdeeds, but having Hux’s hands on his face and his words surrounding him is a benediction he never thought he’d be granted.

“Anything,” he whispers, ready and willing to make any reckless promise, grant any title, give every power over if it meant he might still be allowed to hold Hux in the days to come.

“In that case, we can discuss a promotion tomorrow at your leisure, Supreme Leader,” Hux mutters, the words a salve on the wounds Ren has caused. He bats the hands on his face away and steps back. Waits until Kylo looks up after him, and then tips his head in the direction of the halls, a small smile stealing Kylo’s breath once more.

“For now, it’s late, and waging war has never been conducive for an adequate sleep cycle. Will you come to bed? I’m afraid Millicent has grown rather distraught without her personal heater to warm her. Apparently I’m simply not an adequate substitute. She’s taken to sleeping in my closet and I have yet to find a single uniform spared of her hair. The situation is really quite critical.”

Kylo nearly trips on his cape in his eagerness to comply, and he follows the sharp, pleased bark of laughter as they make their way to their rooms–theirs again–ready to face everything to come with Hux by his side.

| techiehux

glass-oceans:

@atlinmerrick asked: 

What happens when Hux gets a sunburn? Or, when Kylo gets a sunburn…

“You could at least be enjoying this less.”

“I assure you, I’m not enjoying this one bit.”

Kylo stopped for a moment, hissing as he twisted his body to look back at Hux. Hux returned his look, raising an eyebrow at his curiosity until Kylo gave in, turning back around and continuing his wide stanced walk back towards the hotel. In fairness, Hux had offered to help him walk, but even the touch of his perpetually ice-cold hands was agony. It was going to be all he could do not to cry out when Hux applied after sun to those parts he couldn’t reach himself.

Hux’s natural stride ate up the pace between them, and he stopped to wait for Kylo when he realised he’d drawn ahead again. There were no sighs, no tuts, he simply stared out to sea looking infuriatingly calm and comfortable in linen trousers and shirt, loafers, loafers of all things, and an umbrella. An umbrella on the beach. As if catching his thoughts, Hux looked back at him and this time did roll his eyes.

“It’s a parasol.”

“It’s a parasol,” Kylo repeated in a mocking tone. He glared at Hux as he waded past, arms held away from his body to prevent any chance of skin abrasion. He could see the hotel lobby ahead, with it’s promise of air conditioning, skin care and blessed shade. As Kylo stepped through the door, he could hear Hux fold up his parasol, fussing with getting it back into shape and he still managed to get to the elevator doors ahead of him, parasol swinging from his arm. Kylo rested his hands against the mirrored wall of the elevator as they ascended, glaring at the side of Hux’s head. He couldn’t even enjoy the threats he’d made to Hux every time they rode in the mirrored box, seeing as he was utterly incapable of giving into them.

Kylo groaned with relief as they finally entered their room, and without thinking, fell forward onto the bed. He shouted as his chest hit the bed, the soft, fresh cotton feeling like sandpaper against his burning skin. Moving would only make it worse now, so he lay there whimpering until he felt Hux’s weight on the bed beside him, and then his hands spreading a cooling gel over his back that numbed the pain. Hux didn’t speak as he spread the ointment, just gestured to Kylo to roll over when his back was done, and began the process again on his front.

“You’re really not enjoying this?”

“I’m really not,” Hux said, and now finally, he sighed “Kylo, you’re the worst patient I know. The weeks I’m going to have to put up with you whining about sunburn, and peeling skin-”

“My skin’s going to peel?”

“And generally being a pain in the neck,” Hux continued, his expression darkening, “is going to far outweigh any pleasure I might have gotten from your being an idiot with sun safety.”

“I was an idiot, wasn’t I?” Kylo muttered. Most of his body felt pleasantly numb now, and he could feel himself growing sleepy.

“Yes, you were,” Hux said, stretching out on the bed beside him and dabbing his nose with a blob of gel. “But you’re my idiot.”

Image | | techiehux

5ovspades:

For runrarebit’s series: Descent
More specifically, pt 2 Long Live the King and pt 3 Heavy is the Head.

He steps over his mother’s corpse. He needs to return to the bridge.

—
The imagery of young Hux giving up his mother to the waters, and of Hux on the Island both struck a chord with me.

The Island and the caretakers’ slow but peaceful lives especially made me recall a puffin watching trip. The land, the sea, the animals, and the people.

full size: pixiv