#damn he really wants to be a lawyer again look at him yes he forged evidence but still

[turnaboutstar]

get his ass phoenix

[solohux]

We’re almost halfway through the year so I felt in the mood to make a rec list, and what better fics to rec than the ones which have possibly been overlooked in 2020!

Please remember that this is my own rec list and not being on here does not reflect skill, enjoyment or anything else. It’s just my opinion!

Enjoy! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

• Pretty Little Bunny by funnylookinfella (2.2k, E) Kylo makes the 'mistake' of telling Hux he thinks bunnies are cute. Just a silly little smut fic for springtime!

• Kitten by koi_boi (3k, M) Hux sleeps in an orange cat onesie (which happens to match Millicent). Kylo catches him snoozing in said onesie. They cuddle.

•  Paintball Warriors by @rudbeckiasun​ (2k, E) Supreme Leader Kylo Ren decrees that all officers must have shore leave. Then someone suggests teambuilding activities. Hux isn’t convinced, but paintballing turns out to be far more entertaining than he ever imagined.

• You're My Fucked Up Remedy by @nonsensicalsoliloquy​ (15.7k, E) For years now, Hux had plans. For so many long, arduous years he’d schemed in the shadows, waging a silent war with the men who’d taken his life and diligently strived to have it suit their every desire. He thought himself prepared for anything. However, what Hux hadn’t planned for, what took over his messed up existence like it suddenly had any other meaning beyond vengeance…was Ren.

• Revenge is Best Served with Hesitation by @heresetrash (4.6k, E) Hux had never been one to do his own dirty work. He preferred to send others to perform those tasks for him. Not because he couldn't do them himself - he was more than capable - but such work was time-consuming and messy, and he had better things to do. Kylo, however, was different. This was personal. Hux didn't just want to kill him himself, he needed to.

• Matters of Efficiency by mundanecactus (4.3k, T) A diplomatic mission goes awry, and General Hux is forced to admit that maybe he doesn't have a protocol for everything...

• Sick Day by newh0pe (2.3k, T) Kylo Ren has killed Supreme Leader Snoke and become one of the most powerful men in the galaxy... but his boyfriend still has to drag him out of bed when he isn't feeling well and baby him.

• We Remain by @drxcomxlfoys​ (1.1k, G) Kylo finds Hux in the holding cell after Pryde shot him. They both decide to leave the First Order.

• Smirks and Cigarettes by @ashenpages​ (1.8k, T) The first time Hux has Ren light his cigarette, it isn’t planned or discussed, or even a sensible time to be smoking.

•  ghosts from the past by morlawny (<1k, T) It was the same nightmare he had been having for the past few months, and it was haunting him. His father’s voice, the look he gave him… The way his hand touched his face... Kylo released a deep, heavy sigh, causing the body next to him to stir.

• Regeneration by DaisyChainz (3.8k, E) Hux discovers Kylo Ren out in the woods practicing a local ritual to welcome their current planet's Vernal Equinox. Somehow he gets drawn into the rites and finds that, while he objects to the mess, there might be something to the idea of 'renewal'.

• You're Making Fun of Me by DeviantDarkBelle (<1k, M) Kissing something that shouldn't be kissed.

• A Murder on Starscatter Isle by @theweddingofthefoxes​ (WIP, 8.2k, M) Detective Armitage Hux has volunteered for the case of a lifetime -- solving the murder of Snoke, the leader of a mysterious and isolated commune. If he succeeds, he's sure to get promoted. But if he fails, he could be in for more than he ever expected. Is the new leader, Kylo Ren, a friend, a foe, or something else entirely?

• By the Grace of the Fire and the Flames by Mothwing (11.1k, E) The sight of the pale, sunken chest lifting, pausing, falling again as the valve released. Air escaped the slack mouth with a little huff. Hux’s eyes were sunken and closed. He looked so much smaller than Ben remembered, vulnerable, almost soft around the edges, all his wiry strength gone. Ben had strangled him with both the force and his bare hands before, in anger and in a lust that felt very much like anger. And even though it could have never been easier to end his life, something stopped Ben just as it had always stopped Kylo. Something about the dry patches on his hands. Something about the blue shadows under his eyes. It felt odd to say this, but there was simply no honour in killing this man. Nothing good would come from ending this life, even though, and Ben knew that, they both deserved to die. A little balance. A little justice. And you could not tell a corpse that it’d lost. Ben dismissed the thought. No one was even keeping score any more.

• Whole Worlds Fade by boomsherlocka (34.5k, M) Their first meeting was not noteworthy. Hux was not yet General, and Ren was not yet what he would eventually become.

• Watch This by DaisyChainz (2k, E) Hux had never had a lover like Kylo before: someone that wants Hux, and not just a random warm body. So Hux Really wants to give Kylo what he's asking for, but he's just so damn exhausted. Luckily, Kylo has a stimulating solution.

• Aural by @kyluxtrashpit​ (2.7k, E) Hux fucks Kylo's ear.

• let go by DarthKyloRen (1.8k, G) “You’re in pain,” Ben’s small voice broke the silence. Kylo nodded in agreement. “I am.” “You don’t have to be.” “Yes I do.”

•  The Bidding by tsar_saltans_swan (3.4k, T) "Going once, going twice, won't these gentlemen suffice?" Armitage, a young lawyer, is suddenly thrown into an auction house to atone for the crime of not finding a wife by 25. It's a living hell... until he meets Ben.

• My Jolly Sailor Bold by @ellalba​ (<1k, G) A ship wonders into the Knight’s of Ren territory and get taken down by Kylo and his knights. Kylo has always been fascinated by humans but never really gotten the opportunity to actually interact with one in a way that doesn’t end with bloody murder. So he spots his opportunity to keep one when he sees a survivor getting away in a rowboat. A survivor with red hair.

• Take A Jump And Pray, May The Force Guide You by @ggerisminth​ (5.5k, M) The Resistance won, there is peace, well their version of peace. It isn't peace, it isn't even stability. It's just as worse as it was if not worse. But the far greater tragedy is the death of her family, and she will do everything in her power to get them back, even if that means using a technology created by the Sith to take her back in time. Even if it means that it might not work, or that she can never come back. She will never stop fighting to get them back, that is a promise. A promise to the Force, the Stars, and the Moon.

• Stay or Go? by Lokisbestgirl (5k, M) Hux enters into an arranged marriage with General Pryde for power and protection, but he's not getting any satisfaction in the bedroom. When Kylo comes around, they start sleeping together behind Enric's back and Hux finds out he is expecting. The trick is to get Pryde to sleep with Armitage again before suspicion arises. Will Pryde find out or will they get away with it all?            

• Fixed by Offing (<1k, T) There was a small bottle sitting on the side table. It was clear, filled with a yellow liquid, and labeled simply, “Happiness”. A hypodermic needle sat next to it.    

• I Really Wish I Hated You by inquisitor_tohru (1.5k, T) In another galaxy far, far away, Kylo Ren becomes aware that the voices he's hearing may not be aIl that they seem and comes to the unfortunate conclusion that Hux may be his only hope.              

• Caim by Eiramma (20k, T) Hux is stolen from his academy bunk late one night and is dumped on the frozen waste land that is Ilum along with a small handful of his other classmates. Despite never having dreamed a night of his life, on his first night on this frozen planet, Hux finds himself in the body of an angry padawan, Ben Solo. As his stay on Ilum continues, it becomes apparent that pair of them share some sort of deep connection forged through mysticism of the Force, that permits them spend their dreams in one another's waking lives, and Hux has no idea why. But with danger lurking around every snow covered tree, Hux begins to wonder if he will be able to live long enough to understand the mystery of their bond, never mind deal with the growing fondness for the other boy that has begun to bloom in his heart.

• A War of Wages by R_Quarion (2.9k, M) When Kylo Ren kills Palpatine and the power is passed onto him, the Rebellion becomes a story of the past. With the First and Final Order in control of the galaxy, Hux cannot believe that he doesn't even have control over his own paychecks. Phasma is stubborn.

• Wookie Wash by @bostarsky​ & @sunnywritesstuff​ (5.6k, E) There had been posters, propaganda on the minuscule level. Nobody had been bold enough to do anything directly, but Hux could tell the decision had not been taken well by his men. That was when he had prompted the head of morale on base to do something about the insurrection, and she had told him she would fix it. Hoping he had finally washed his hands of the matter, Hux had gone back about his day as normal. That had been three days ago, before all the racket. The issue with the campaign was that the model who had been shown in the ad was... Incredibly attractive, to say the least, and apparently the morale officer said that that man was none other than Kylo Ren. Now, nobody had ever seen his face before, but everyone always assumed he was ugly. Hux loathed drama and gossip of all kinds, it distracted his officers from their important duties... But even he couldn't get over the ridiculousness of the new advertisement. There was no way in the galaxy that such an attractive man could be under that mask, and Hux wanted to get to the bottom of it.

• To be Licked, Topped and Loved by hexgoldyloins (2.1k, E) Ren wants to be licked, topped and loved. Hux is willing to explore that.

• For This One Night by Lady_Faulkner (<1k, T) As Starkiller Base nears its completion, Supreme Leader Snoke orders General Hux to go on vacation. The general isn’t pleased. At least he has Kylo Ren in a speedo to look at.

• Halloween Candles by @paperprinc3​ (1.3k, M) Ben convinces his friend Hux to help him with a ritual so that Ben can try and talk to his dead grandfather Anakin. The ritual requires a virgin host to take the spirit however Hux didn't think that it was meant literally.

• Fate Is A Cruel Thing by shinogi (<1k, T) What would happen if Kylo was on the steadfast during the events that took place to Hux?    

• An Eros Festival Gift by Lady_Faulkner (<1k, T) Hux has been away for two weeks, but he’s due back on the start the Eros Festival, a galaxy wide festival of love, and Kylo has the perfect gift for him. That is, he hopes he does.

• An Earned Reward by PrincessDesire (5.2k, E) Hux rewards his sub Ren for a successful mission.

• Snow Powered by IsaiahVirus (<1k, G) Kylo finds comfort in the snow and in Hux.

• Calligraphy by @emperorsvornskr​ (1.1k, T) Kylo goes back to an old form of meditation assistance, and asks Hux to participate to give them both some stress relief.

• He's Got the Whole World in his Hands by undernightlight  (<1k, G)   Finally, he is the Supreme Leader. He has the power he’s always deserved, the power that was promised to him, so then, why does he still feel hollow?    

• Twin Crowns by kylux_nonsense (<1k, G) Twin thrones, one black marble on white floor, one white marble on black floor. Twin crowns, one rests amongst long, dark hair, one sits atop fiery red. There is but one galaxy, and in all its infinite variety every corner owes its allegiance to one or the other.

• Eh, it's love by @abboh​ (<1k, G) Hux was never one to show love of any degree but then there was Kylo, who showed his love in his own little ways.

• Castles in the Sand by orphan_account (2.4k, T)   A depressed General Hux and his secretive obsessive pining for Kylo Ren.      

• The Duel of the Fates by mheb (31.2k, E) Hux’s datapad chimed again, a call from Kuat this time, and he sighed aloud at it, exasperated. “What?” Hux leaned back in his chair, eyeing the holographic figure seated across from him, the shadowy form of their TIE cockpit barely visible around their body, the entire image emitted from the steel inlay in the far wall that Hux used to transmit his speeches. Hux carelessly knocked over a good half of the physical chess pieces in front of him, putting his bare feet up on his desk. His projected guest scowled at him. But Hux paled at the words that met his ears through his datapad. 'Jedi are with the rebel group that bombed the fueling station...the girl is here.' He ended the call without a goodbye, returning to the other conversation he’d been having, up until this point quite pleasant. “Ren.”

• And They Were Bottoms! (~oh my God, they were bottoms~) by   Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi (<1k, T) Kylo and Hux both had very similar -and yet very different- plans for how their first night of intimacy was going to go.

• Tough Games by ouigeneral (4k, E) Kylo Ren and Armitage Hux have been participating in a secret relationship for a while. Both men love power play and experimenting with bondage. One night Hux organises a surprise for Kylo. Kylo certainly is surprised.  

• Hate until you love by SuperEllen (<1k, T) Can you hate someone so much that you actually love them?            

• Mark Me, Burn Me (the sun is nothing compared to you) by                 DiamondCrystalInk (1.7k, T) Enjoying a morning on Coruscant, Hux gives Ren a proposition. It's time Hux leaves his mark.

• Put Your Money on Me by Asrael_Valtiri (2.5k, E, WIP) He felt Ren press against his back, wrap his arms around his waist. He couldn’t help himself; he leaned back into Ren’s broad chest. Hux was glad their full-length mirror was behind them; he didn’t want Ren to see his face. So Hux closed his eyes a moment, let himself pretend he possessed all he’d ever wanted. Power, security, order, galactic peace--and above all, Ren.

• deep by g4t1t0 (2.9k, T) snoke dies and kylo ren is lost. hux hates to see him this way, but for a reason he cant name/hux prefers to see ren enraged, violent, hungry/he gets what he wants

• Heads Will Roll by @pizzzazlut​ (2.3k, M) Hux and Kylo decide to venture into the notoriously haunted Arkanis Asylum one night to try and see if they can get actual evidence in their ongoing investigation into the question, are ghosts real?

• Grandfather of the Century by ashangel101010 (<1k, T) The Emperor of the Seven Sith Hells does his best to protect his grandson.

• Love and Fear by @abboh​ (<1k, G) Sometimes it is better to be feared than loved by your people. But, gazing down from above, love can be found amdist all that fear.

• Take A Moment To Ask Yourself, Is This How We Fall Apart? by @bumblebae8​ (1k, T) Take a moment to ask yourself… if this is how we fall apart?

• You Ruined It by ravenlights (1.1k, T) Kylo Ren is serious about home-baked muffins, and Hux, well. Hux ruins it.          

• Crevices Of Sanity by WynneWritesHQ (<1k, T) How late the hour was, or how ramshackle the small room in which General Hux had decided he would spend the night, did not matter anymore. Not when everything he could think about was the man kissing his neck, carrying him aloft and onto some crates that, miraculously, withstood the general disorder better than the dusty residues beneath his always-well-polished boots.

• Pygmalion by orphan_account (17.4k, T) This is a story inspired by the theme of artificial intelligence and explores Armitage Hux's feelings of loneliness and isolation in the First Order. Unable or unwilling to seek out human connections and relationships, Hux turns to a company which provides custom built androids as personal companions to satisfy his need for intimacy.

Adjacent Ship Recs

• Home for Dinner by DaisyChainz (2.9k, E) Matt is always so sweet and attentive to Techie. When he's having a bad day, Techie tries to be brave enough to make things better for him.

 • Icing on the (Strawberry) Cake by Luxuria_Ira (3.6k, G) On a rainy night in June, Clyde takes Stensland up into the rolling hills of West Virginia and asks him a question that's been on the tip of his tongue since they met.

• Better, Ren? by DeviantDarkBelle (1.5k, E) Before Hux and Kylo have to return from leave, Hux hopes he can treat Kylo to something nice. Of course, Thomas and Charlie are more than willing to help out.

• Someone could see us by DeviantDarkBelle (<1k, E) Thomas McGregor is on vacation in NYC. He runs into Charlie Barber. Somewhere along the way, feelings are caught.     

• Horny Hearts by Rattlesnake (9.5k, E, WIP) Techie has a new flatmate called Matt and all he can really think about is doing it with him.

• Leaving It Up to You by undernightlight (8k, E) Henry Beard had been staring at him all day - Flip wasn't blind. Once it was just the two of them in the office, Flip decided to casually confront him about why. He had a mild suspicion, but he wanted to know for sure. He likes to be proven right.

• The Might and Measure of Love by @atlinmerrick (1.2k, E) A clearer invitation to go poking around inside Mr Cheung's house was never made, so a minute later and sure enough Clyde found Stens in the bathroom making weird little frantic noises. Clyde knew those noises. They were 'trying desperately to get off because of awkwardly-timed stiffy' noises.

[iammarylastar]

9. FAREWELL

"So, you're leaving without saying goodbye?"

She said, her voice like a ghost.

Shit.

Cal leaned his hand on the door frame, his forehead followed and he closed his eyes. He could feel Jess trembling behind his back, he could foresee her face soaked in tears, her sobs stuck in her chest.

Shit.

Leaving her was the hardest thing he had ever done, he doubted he could gather the strength to walk out the door, but now she was awake, crying, he knew it would be impossible.

Yet, he had to.

"Chris?" She begged.

He had planned everything, every little detail, like he already had, to break Oyster out.

He got all his stuff ready: a car fueled up, the maps with all the secondary roads highlighted, 4 different options to cross the Canadian border. His backpack, enough military rations to survive for 2 weeks, in case he'd have to ditch the car and cover the distance by foot. A compass. An extra pair of trekking shoes, just in case. Water. Lighter. Headlamp. Emergency kit. US dollars. Canadian dollars.

No phone. 

No pics, not even one of Jessica. He wouldn't risk to get caught and have her involved. Beside it would be too painful to look at her beautiful face. Dealing with her memory would be hard enough.

But he had no choice. More than 3 years he hadn't see his brother. 3 fucking long years he hadn't heard his voice. Teddy, his little brother, the reason he had kept living after their mom died, the one he had fought for. And kept fighting for.

He'd all planned in his head, playing every scenario again and again at night, all those sleepless nights, Jess cuddled against his chest. Looking blankly at the ceiling, on the hunt for what could happen, what could turn wrong, and come what may: keep walking.

Until he reaches Lac-Sainte-Marie, Quebec, 260 miles from here. Until he meets his brother again.

"Chris!" She yelped, like she was drowning.

For a millisecond, he thought he could just give up: forget his little ass of a brother, forget his oath to his mother, forget his responsibilities, drop on his knees and beg Jess to marry him, give her 3 kids, get a pet and live happily ever after. Why not? He deserved a little of happiness, didn't he?

"What is happening?" she whispered, her voice torn by sobs, like stabs in his back.

What the fuck was happening, good question. He was happening. That fucking deceiving Cal was freaking out and ruining everything again. Like it was meant to be.

Like he was meant to screw up every chance of happiness.

"I have to see him. Jess, he got back in touch with me. Those postcards. There must be a reason." He said under his breath, not daring to glance at her.

"Chris, you're still in probation! A single step out of the State and you're in parole violation! You're going to get caught and thrown into jail again!" She knew this argument wouldn't work with him, but she was a lawyer, well almost, she had to plead for her case.

"I know..." Chris whispered. The next words would be excruciating to pronounce.

"That's why I won't come back..."

"Noooo!" She totally broke down.

As he listened to her heart shattering into pieces, taking his own heart down, he couldn't help thinking about time.

It took her days to tame his fears, weeks to heal him for his trauma, months to forge deep, trustful ties between their hearts.

Ties they both thought were unbreakable.

And as it took a heartbeat to fall in love with her, he'd been quick to break her heart.

Now he was running out of time. With her. For Oyster. Fuck.

"At least wait for your probation period to be over! You'll be a free man and you could go wherever you want!" She begged.

Like he didn't know. Like he hadn't spent the last days counting how many days it would take to be reunited. Like he hadn't thought of it from top to bottom. Like he hadn't been obsessed and torn about that fucking choice he had to make.

"Three more years! Jess, I can't leave him alone for 3 more fucking years! He needs me!" He let his anger flow out of his chest.

"What about me????" She thundered, gripping her nightie where her heart ached, then pointing a furious index finger out.

"He's not a kid anymore! He made his choice! You don't owe him anything anymore! When are you going to start thinking about yourself? About us?"

Touché.

Cal wavered at her words. The more she spoke, the more his determination weakened. He had no choice but cling to his same old song.

"I'm his legal guardian, I promised mom I'd take care of him. I can't break my oath. Not again..."

It would have been easier if Chris was the selfish type. But he didn't choose Marine corps and law enforcement by mistake. He was a man of principle, loyal, honest, trustful. A man with Semper Fidelis inked in his flesh forever.

"Chris!!" Jess was burning with rage and desperation. She was fed up with his sempiternal lame excuses.

She would have slapped his face full force if she could have moved, again and again until he got it, but violence never fixed anything, she was dead certain of this.

Chris’ childhood to adulthood, his former job in the Marine corps, his time in jail, his whole damn life had been nothing but violence, he deserved better from her.

She breathed in and out slowly to calm her nerves down and regain control of her thoughts.

Give him what he needs, that's the only way...

"You're strong Chris. You're a good man! Why can't you see it?"

Cal shook his head, tears threatening again behind his lids.

"I failed. I failed to keep my mom alive. I failed to protect my brother. To serve my country... To make you happy. I don't deserve you..."

"When are you going to stop punishing yourself for things, you're not responsible for? Jesus, your mom died, who's to blame? Not you! You struggled to provide for your brother though you were barely an adult, Chris, you did your best! Oyster made some bad choices, his choices, he fucked up but it was not your fault!"

Gone his sweetheart of a girlfriend, he was facing a new, fierce, unstoppable soldier ready for anything for her love.

Anything. Maybe, even ready to throw everything away for him.

Cal slowly extended his hand to a trembling Jess. This gesture was a dangerous step back, he had promised himself not to touch her, not to smell her nor to get too close. No way he could leave this place without her if their hands were linked.

Jess nearly jumped forward to take it, intertwined her fingers so tightly with his, their knuckles turned white. She closed her other hand over their clasped ones, then pulled them against her cheek, nuzzling against the slightest piece of his skin she could.

The contact of her skin against his made him jolt. His plea slipped through his lips before his brain realized their impact.

"Come with me. I hate to put that on you but... Jess, come with me. I don't want to lose you..."

His words were like slaps in her face. Her jaw dropped down and the look she threw at him slapped him back.

Shit.

She thought she had won. She thought he had heard her words. She thought he would stay. Why would he have offered his hand otherwise?

"Wh..? But... Cal, what are you doing?"

"Come with me Jessica. Let's start a new life in Canada. I love you. I love you!"

His turn to wrap his hand around hers and pull her closer, so his gaze pierced hers, his taut body hovering over her. This could fix everything.

Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!!

Jessica froze in shock, her pupils widened. She would have left all she had behind to follow him. The solution was easy: just go with him!

Just go with him, and become an outlaw. Say goodbye to your family, your career, your dreams, your life. On the run forever with the man she loved. With no future but hiding and lying.

"And you saved your first 'I love you' for the day you leave me..." Jess whispered under her breath, defeated. He killed her hope the second before, and kept doing an excellent job to trample on her heart.

Her whole body slumped down; Cal had to tighten his grip on her hands to get her upright.

Her pale complexion and her trembling voice made her look like a ghost.

"No. I can't. You can't... do that. You can't drag me into a runaway and make me a fugitive. I... I'm... My family is here, my career is here, my life is here... with you!

If you really love me, STAY!"

Chris wobbled, his knees weak under him. She was right, he knew it. He was wrong, doing all wrong, as he always had done. Jessica saw her chance in his hesitation, and played her last card. Faithfulness, Chris' obsession.

"That's not what you promised me. Chris, you promised me..." she burst into tears again, clinging onto him like he was a lifeline. Their love was like the Titanic, they thought it beautiful and in submersible, but it was irremediably sinking in the middle of nowhere and will end up broken shipwreck.

Hold on Rose, you have a chance.

Sorry Jack, you're screwed.

Shit.

He promised her, that day he talked his heart out, in the wee hours of a beautiful day, lying in bed, slowly brushing her delicate face with his fingertips. That day he told her about his plans for the future, their future. Openly daydreaming of his will to marry her, build her a house, have kids with her, three he said, if she agreed. Plus, a dog. One day, he promised, when she would graduate and he would have a better job.

He solemnly promised her to make her happy, happy ever after.

"You deserve to be happy, Chris. We've been so happy together. For fuck sake, why couldn't we just be happy?"

Because happiness is not meant for me.

"Jess, I miss him so much... I have no choice."

"There's always a choice... Let me help!" She begged a last time, squeezing his hands even tightly.

Chris closed his eyes, his sigh shaky through his tight throat. Just do it. Say it.

Now.

"No. Not this time... Let me go, Jess, please..." Chris grudgingly untied their fingers but Jess kept gripping at him, his wrists, his arms, his hoodie. He patiently unhooked each of her attempt, gently but firmly holding her wrists together.

It was so hard, Jesus, to see her face, desperate and drowned in tears, to hear a plea, to hurt her so deeply. But it had to be done. Like ripping off a band-aid. Just do it.

"No, no, no, no, Chris, please, nooo!" She begged, she would have given anything, everything to have him think, find another way, change his fucking mind. To have him stay. Choose her.

All her expectations vanished when Cal took her hands in his large palms, bent to kiss them but just leant his forehead on them, shaken by both their sobs and cries. He knew he couldn't leave if his lips touched her skin again. She knew it too.

Slowly, too slowly, he extended his arms until her fists laid on her chest, her fingers writhing in pain, and stepped back. Unable to look a last time in her eyes, Cal turned his heels and grabbed the doorknob.

"What if I'm pregnant?"

He froze, like punched in his guts.

"What?" His world collapsed. He had all the scenarios figured out, even the worst, but not this one.

He had made love to her earlier that night, knowing it'd be the last time. He made it last long, savoring each second with her, kissing each piece of her body, learning each of her curves by heart with his fingertips. He made it sensual, passionate, beautiful. He had given her all, all of him.

He had laid on his back for hours, his love cuddled on his side, her arms around his chest, like to keep him from running away. Like she felt it.

He had stayed like this forever, staring at the ceiling, listening to her deep breathing, feeling her, smelling her, until he was drunk from her.

"I said, what if I'm pregnant." She stated again, interrupting his thoughts.

"Are you?" He blankly asked.

She might be. From tonight.

She could be. They've been careless for a couple of weeks, their desire so strong they skipped to put a condom on. They both silently agreed, since they had a talk about it: they wanted to spend their lives together and grow a family, one day or another...

Jess had tried the pill, but it hadn't fit her. She tried 3 different brands but every time something went wrong. Cal hated seeing her with cramps or moody and IUD was a big no no due to her young age, so he decided to take the responsibility of the birth control, and simply pulled out at the right time.

Which was, according to Jess, like a firework without the final. Several times, half of the time in fact, she trapped Cal between her legs so he came inside of her. She found it so sexy and powerful.

Sexy but likely give rise to a baby.

Their baby. His.

"You won't stay for me. Would you stay for your child?"

Bitch. She knew how push his button, where it hurt the most. Given what he was doing to her, it was fair.

His guts twisted painfully and nausea invaded his throat at the thought. His deepest nightmare resurfaced: a kid with no father to take care of them, ruffle their hair, tickle them until they're breathless from laughing, play football with them, hug them tight when they're scared or sad. A kid with no dad to love them. A kid like he'd been, grown up before his childhood even had started.

A missing father. That was what he would become if he left now. The worst of the worst. A man he promised himself to never be. Fucking never hurt someone like he'd been hurt.

He unsuccessfully was trying to clear his mind from sadness and anger to redo his math and remember when was her last period. Calculate the odds of a pregnancy. Rate his chance to stay.

Zero.

He sucked. He wasn’t worth anything.

Maybe living was the best he could do to save this child from himself. He was no better father than his own, unable to make a good decision.

Chris dropped his head, his hands tightened in fists, his eyes closed in a frown. He stopped breathing for a long time, until he made his decision.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, grabbing the doorknob.

That was it. She couldn't go, he couldn't stay. I guess that's just the way the story goes.

Such a waste.

Chris pushed the door open, wiped his tears with his sleeve and walked out, without a last glance at her.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Nocturne (19/30) - Ao3 Link

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairings: Mostly Gen (variety later to come)

Summary: In which Cor Leonis loses his temper, accidentally acquires a kid, and tries to single-handedly dismantle the Lucian immigration system – and that’s before he and his lawyers find out about this Prophecy business. If the Astrals think Cor’s going to let his kid’s best friend die without a fight, they’ve gotten the wrong cheetah ‘taur.

(a young adult novel set in @kickingshoes’ ‘taur AU)

—————————————————————————————— ——————————————————————————————

“I’m fine, Mom!” Gladio shouts up from the bottom of the pit, trying valiantly to get the dust off his fur but mostly managing to spread it.

His mother’s worried face appears over the edge of the cliff and he waves, gesturing to show that he and Noctis are okay. Sure, it was a bit closer than he would’ve liked – Noctis was about to go head over hindquarters into the fiery lava pit behind them, but luckily Gladio was skidding down the steep hill next to him, getting some nasty friction marks on his (now aching) hindquarters but controlling his descent, and he got down to the bottom in time to grab Noctis by the tail and hoist him back up to the ledge before he fell in.

“There’s a path down here,” Noctis says, pointing. He's clearly recovered from the whole falling-down-a-cliff thing, though Gladio admits that it's true that Noctis has had more experience with it recently. Maybe you get used to it? “We should go down it.”

“That’s an awful idea,” Gladio says firmly. “We should wait and get rescued.”

“You need to keep going!” Luna shouts down at them, picking the most inopportune moment for that suggestion. “Titan is waiting for you! We’ll go around and try to find another way down!” She pauses and looks behind her. “And Cor’s going to try to get an alternative means of transportation, too.”

“See?” Noctis says, grinning.

Gladio rolls his eyes at him, but in a fond way. Noctis is a brat prince, but he's Gladio's brat prince. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Be careful!” Gladio’s mom shouts down to them. “Gladio, you lose a limb and I’ll skin you for a rug!”

“My mom has the best threats,” Gladio says happily.

“She really does,” Noctis laughs, already heading towards the path. Gladio rushes to catch up.

The path is winding and leads through some hot areas, but it’s easy enough to avoid the fire-pits after they figure out what to look for.

And at the end of the path –

“Titan,” Noctis says, sounding impressed. "The Cretan Bull."

Gladio can’t blame him. The Archean stands before them, his bull half buried beneath the earth, his human torso hunched over from the weight of the Meteor. One of his eyes has been pierced through by the meteor’s spikes, and there’s a spike digging into his breast as well. His flesh is dark grey, almost rock-like in texture, but for a white stripe that twists around his torso. His eyes appear closed, but there’s a glimmer of red lining the bottom of them –

He’s awake.

“Be careful, Noct,” Gladio mutters. He doesn’t like the look of those spikes. If he’d been trapped holding that giant meteor for centuries and centuries, he’d be pretty pissed off.

Noctis nods and approaches Titan. “Uh, hi, there!” he shouts.

Gladio closes his eyes briefly. He knows Noctis got all the same etiquette training he did, plus all of Iggy's extra lectures on the subject, and yet…and yet…

“Hello there!” Noctis calls. “Um. I’m not sure if you know who I am –”

Gladio groans.

Titan lifts his mighty head and opens his eyes. He speaks, but his words are garbled and incoherent.

Noctis staggers, grabbing his skull and moaning in agony.

Gladio rushes forward to support him. “What’s wrong? Noctis!”

“My head,” Noctis pants. “It hurts…! I think he’s trying to talk telepathically or something, but it’s gone wrong…!”

And then Titan rears back and lifts one of his mighty hands and –

“Oh, crap,” Gladio says, and tackles Noctis out of the way.

“He just tried to squash us!” Noctis yelps. He sounds more offended than scared, but then again, he's always been kind of an idiot. “Like a bug!”

“Yeah, he did,” Gladio says grimly, seeing Titan pull back his hand for another blow. “And it looks like he’s gonna keep trying till we’re squashed flat. Get up, Noctis!”

They get up, and they run.

Gladio has a sword, now – he’s eleven, he’s finally allowed to carry a bladed weapon – but he’s pretty sure it won’t do anything against freaking Titan.

Titan’s hand comes crashing down just a short distance behind them, close enough for the force of the blow to send them stumbling a little.

“Titan! Stop it!” Noctis shouts. “Talk to me! Tell me what you want so that you'll forge the Covenant with me!”

This time, Titan rears fully back, one giant cloven fore-hoof going up and then coming down on them.

They dodge again.

This time, the explosion of dirt and dust from beneath the blow is powerful enough to send them both head-over-hindquarters. Noctis is coughing, hard; his lungs have been weaker since the accident last year. He’s still not all the way better, but he’s here anyway, and he’s trying, trying to save the stupid world, and these stupid Astrals which should be helping are trying to kill them –

“You stupid overgrown cow!” Gladio shouts at Titan. “You buggy piece of crap programming! Can’t you see that we’re trying to help?!”

“Gladio!” Noctis coughs. His hands are on his chest.

Gladio might only be eleven, but he knows his duty, darn it. He’s an Amicitia. He’s a Shield.

Shields are meant to protect –

– even at the cost of themselves.

He puts himself between Noctis and Titan, drawing his sword. “You’re not getting Noctis!”

“No! Gladio!” Noctis lunges forward, grabbing his arm. “This is my Prophecy! My responsibility! I won’t let you get hurt!”

“This might be your Prophecy, Noctis, but this is my job! Protecting you is my responsibility!”

“But –”

Enough, a voice booms, so loud that they both fall down shaking and clutching their heads. Noctis’ nose starts to bleed.

They both look up at Titan.

You – he says, but then his mental voice descends back into garbled nonsense. – spoiled..! – but then it’s just more crackling and incomprehensive sounds not unlike the sound of a collapsing pile of rocks.

“Gladio,” Noctis says, staring at Titan. “I think – I think there is something wrong with him. I mean. With his, uh, programming, or whatever. I think…I think it’s the meteor. I think it’s interfering with him, somehow.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Gladio asks, frowning.

“I think that’s why he can’t talk to us clearly. Something’s gone wrong.” Noctis bites his lip. “I mean, I’m not the computer expert –”

“That would be me,” Gladio says dryly. He’s been taking programming classes for a few years now – he rather likes the idea of designing little programs and games online. “What do you mean?”

“I mean – I think – something in him, some part of him that makes him think and act, kind of like his brain – it’s gone wrong somehow, it’s warping him somehow –”

“You mean that his code got corrupted? By like a virus or something?” Gladio says, frowning. “And you think it’s the meteor?”

“Yeah,” Noctis says, then frowns and grabs Gladio’s arm. “Gladio – try to see if your phone works. We need Luna.”

“Luna?” Gladio asks, but he’s pulling out his phone already, keeping an eye on Titan as he does. Titan seems to be struggling with himself, a twisted grimace marring his face. “How will she help..?”

The phone rings only once before it’s answered.

“Gladiolus, what’s going on?” his mother demands.

Gladio double-checks, but he definitely called Luna. “Uh, hi, Mom,” he says a little awkwardly. It’s kind of hard to come off as badass when talking to your mom. “We’re down by Titan now and he’s, uh, trying to squish us –”

“I can see that,” she hisses. She doesn't sound any too pleased with it, either; Titan had better start preparing his apologies now. “We’re making our way down now.”

“Luna, too?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Noctis says we need her help.”

“We’re on our way. Love you, and don’t you dare get squished.”

She hangs up.

“They’ll be here soon,” Gladio reports.

“Good,” Noctis says. He’s staring up at Titan. “We need her help to heal him.”

“To heal..?” Gladio frowns. “But Noct, she’s the Oracle. She mainly heals Starscourge –”

He goes quiet and stares up at Titan.

No.

It can't be.

From the meteor...?

“You don’t think…?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Noctis says grimly, watching Titan toss his head from side to side as if he was in pain, or was trying to stop himself from doing something he didn't want to do. “I do think. And,” he adds, watching Titan start to lift his head again, eyes glowing red again, “I think that he’s losing the fight against it. Gladio, duck!”

On one hand, Nyx wouldn't want to be anywhere but where he is now: personally guarding the King and Queen from danger now that the first day festivities of the treaty conference is over and they have retired for the evening. It's a vulnerable time for them – if any Niflheim assassin were to strike, now would be time – and so an important time to be alert and on guard.

On the other hand, Nyx really wishes they'd retired somewhere secure, like their bedrooms, instead of the Six-damned library to discuss ancestry, of all irrelevant things. Scientia had been helping out for the first few hours, but she sensibly retired for bed after a while; Queen Aulea, however, continued onwards, and after a while King Regis joined her, sitting on one of the other couches and reciting old family stories on command for her, smiling fondly at his wife as he did.

Nyx hopes he finds a mate that he's as in love with as King Regis is with Queen Aulea, one day. Of course, he also hopes that said future mate has a better idea of entertainment than digging through family archives in the middle of the night...

"Ulric, report your status," Luche says through the comms.

"All quiet here," Nyx reports, looking glumly at the giant pile of books yet to go. "No chance of anyone moving anytime soon."

"Good. Stand your ground. For hearth and home."

Luche clicks off before Nyx can even confirm receipt of the message, so instead he's left to think about the familiar slogan he's uttered a thousand time over without thinking about it. For hearth and home – what does that really mean, anyway? He thinks of Galahd each time he says it, of course, because living in Insomnia doesn't make it his home – not as long as Galahd still stands, and he’s pretty sure it wouldn’t even if it didn't. And the few times he didn't think of Galahd, it was because the motto sat so familiar on his tongue, meaningless, a collection of syllables that the Kingsglaive now utters by rote. So really, what is the point of a motto like that? In a city of immigrants, in a military order staffed almost entirely by refugees...

The Crownsguard has no motto, he recalls Cor saying. It seemed inappropriate.

"– even if we do find him in here, I'm not sure what you hope to achieve with it, my dear," King Regis is saying to Queen Aulea.

"Some advantage, perhaps?" she says with a shrug. "Truth be told, I'm more interested in why he's here, not at the Disc trying to stop Noctis from making the Covenant with the Archean, but that mystery I'm not likely to solve with resort to books, so here I am, trying to solve the one that can be."

"Have you considered an alternative?"

Queen Aulea arches her eyebrows at him.

"Sleep has also been found to be beneficial in negotiations such as these, you know," he says, smiling when she laughs. "No, really – I've heard tell of such interesting benefits: more energy, clearer thinking, a feeling of well-being –"

"You're welcome to go to bed, old man," she teases. "Or are you implying that I'm too old to be pulling all-nighters?"

"You're as young as you were when I first met you –"

"What was that again? Six or so? I should hope not!"

"When I first married you, then!" he laughs.

Nyx hides a smile. Yeah, he'd like a mate like that, one day. Someone his selena would like, of course; that's a requirement. He doesn't want to end up like one of the characters in the awful soap operas Libertus lies and says he doesn't watch, torn between loyalties to mate and to sister –

There's a massive explosion somewhere in the palace.

Nyx leaps to his paws and puts himself between the King and Queen and the door.

He touches his comm. "What's going on?" he demands. "Luche! Libertus!"

Hemera, he dares not say. Tell me my sister's okay!

She’s on watch tonight, too - she'd been stationed by the Crystal.

"Stay where you are, Ulric," Luche snaps over the comms. "We have this handled. Don't let the King and Queen leave their bedrooms. Don’t be a hero!"

Nyx grits his teeth. “Understood,” he says. “For hearth and home.”

“For hearth and home.”

Luche clicks off again, right before Nyx remembers to tell him that they’re in the library, not the bedrooms.

“Do you think..?” Queen Aulea is asking King Regis, who looks – tired, suddenly. Very tired, and sad.

“Yes,” he says. “I rather think so. There was always a chance. Help me up, beloved?”

She stands and gives him a hand up to stand, and then they both start heading towards the door.

Nyx turns to look at them. “Uh, your Majesties? I have orders to keep you here –”

“Overruled,” King Regis says. “We’re going to the Crystal. Remain on radio silence from now on.”

Nyx should tell them that orders are orders, and his orders are to keep them safe, and something like that – but Hemera’s at the Crystal, too, so he really doesn’t want to.

And, well, King Regis is the ultimate commander-in-chief.

That means he has the right to override orders. Right?

“Are you sure?” Nyx asks.

“Quite sure,” King Regis says. “Now – quickly.”

There’s a secret elevator in the Citadel.

There's a secret elevator in the Citadel.

Ugh, Nyx is so offended. Why did no one tell him about the secret elevator? Life would be so much easier with an elevator. The Citadel has so many steps.

He doesn’t say that, though. Seems rude.

A few minutes later, they hurry out into the Crystal chamber, where Hemera and Pelna are still standing sedately on guard, and they turn to look at them with questions in their eyes, probably wondering what they're doing there –

And that’s when Axis and Tredd warp into appearance right behind them and bring down their daggers.

It's not like Prompto didn't already know that his Cor was the best, most awesome, badass dad you could possibly have, but there's something to be said for watching your dad walk straight up to an MT squadron, politely ask to borrow one of their ships, and then cut them all down when they attack him.

And all that without getting a speck of oil or miasma on his fur.

"Will I be able to fight like you when I'm grown up?" Prompto asks, trotting up to Cor now that the fighting's done.

"Probably not the same way," Cor says, looking around for additional enemies. Not seeing any, he relaxes and starts walking towards one of the ships. "You'll be better with a gun than a sword – your muscle tone is still low, so focusing on technology is the best way to focus your energies to maximize your talents."

Prompto considers this. "I don't know," he says doubtfully, trotting along to catch up. "Fighting with a sword looks pretty cool. Gladio fights with a sword, and he's only two years older than me."

"Gladio is always going to be taller and stronger than you," Cor replies. "But you can already outshoot him."

"Really?"

"You do in every paintball game."

"But that's paintball, it's not real!"

"It's a pretty decent equivalent, actually," Cor says. "Don't let video games mislead you."

"Huh."

"Besides, guns are versatile and flexible when used correctly," Cor continues. "By the time I get done training you, you'll be capable of close-quarter combat, medium range, long-distance..."

Prompto beams. He likes the sound of Cor training him, even if he's smart enough to know that actually being trained will be like the daily exercise regimen that Cor makes him do, only so much worse.

It’s okay. He’ll get to hang out with Cor all day, and that’s worth even – ugh – exercising.

Cor does something to three of the Niflheim ships, probably sabotaging them, then pops open a hatch on the fourth one and walks on.

Prompto follows. "What're you doing?"

"Borrowing a ride," Cor says, settling in front of the control console, his tail flicking behind him like he's on a hunt. "Search the ship for anything useful or problematic, will you?"

Prompto salutes him and dashes off, his own tail wagging furiously, even as the Niflheim ship starts creaking and lurching up off the ground in flight.

He doesn't find much that would be useful – mostly seats to hold MTs in, and not much else – but he does find an officer's room and returns wearing what he considers to be a very dashing air-pilot hat.

Sure, it's a bit too big and falls down over his face a bit, but whatever. It's still cool!

He reports his findings to Cor, who nods. "This is a transport drop ship," he says, still focused on the console ahead of him. Prompto's pretty sure he's flying the ship, which is just more evidence of how cool Cor is. "It's to be expected that we wouldn't find much here. Go sit in that window seat over there and see if you can turn on the controls."

Prompto hops up, his tail wagging again. Cor trusts him!

At first, his best attempts to activate the console fail, the buttons refusing to respond, but then he sees a scanner and gets the bright idea of shoving his wrist-barcode over it, and it works.

"Hey, I got it to work!" he exclaims, grinning.

A moment later his smile fades and his tail droops as he looks down on the console. "Uh, Cor?"

"Yes?"

"Does this – does me getting it to work mean that I'm really meant to be a Niff?"

He doesn’t think so – Cor’s always been very firm about Prompto being a proper Lucian citizen – but sometimes, those old insecurities come bubbling right up…

"No," Cor says, absolutely certain. "Being from Niflheim is a matter of nationality, not a state of being. What it means is that Niflheim engineers are stupid enough not to change their locks nearly a decade after they gave a key to a literal baby."

Prompto giggles, because Cor sounds so offended by Niflheim stupidity.

"I'm like a skeleton key!" he exclaims, grinning.

Cor smiles at him. "Good job, Prompto."

Prompto waits to hear if there will be some qualification – 'you're only as good as your last battle' is one of Cor's favorites – and when there isn't, his tail starts wagging like crazy. He did a good job. He's made Cor proud.

"What's this console for, anyhow?" he asks.

Cor's smile turns into a smirk. "Oh, that? That's the guns."

Cor. Is. The. Best.

Prompto sits down and starts trying to learn everything he can about the console. He doesn't want to accidentally shoot their friends, after all.

"I see them," Cor says, and Prompto turns to look.

They're all pretty low down in the cavern, standing right in front of Titan. Luna has her hands on one of Titan's gigantic hands, much larger than she is, and her hands are glowing like she's doing the Starscourge-healing business that she started doing in not-so-secret about a year ago, which is more or less when everyone stopped getting in her way and started pointedly not noticing what she was up doing.

"What's Luna doing?" Prompto asks.

"Healing, by the looks of it. Prom, I'm going to open a side door; go let them know that it's us."

Prompto nods and trots off, finding the side door. He can see through the window that Gladio's spotted them, and that he's telling the others, and that they're all tensing up because they think the ship is full of Niffs.

And then the door opens and Prompto pokes his head out, waving. "Hey there!" he calls, beaming at them. "Want a ride?"

They all break out into smiles.

Cor doesn't quite land the ship, but he gets it pretty close to the ground, close enough that Cyrella can help Noct and Gladio onto the ship and she and Luna can jump up themselves.

"You're all dusty," Prompto tells Noct and Gladio, trying to dust Noct off with his hands. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Noct says, beaming. "I got Titan's blessing! He said that after watching me and Gladio, he knew that we understood the importance of responsibility and valued sacrifice!"

"And he was really happy to be healed, even if it was only a bit," Gladio adds. "Luna's the best."

"I just wish I could do more," Luna says with a sigh. "I just got so tired – my mother could do more, I'm sure, but Titan said it was enough. And we've come so far with the Covenants – if we can get rid of the Starscourge in its entirety, that would be the best –"

"You did your best," Cyrella says firmly. "And we accomplished this Covenant in record time. We can rest."

"Not yet," Cor says.

They all turn to look at him, and his face is grim.

"This ship is flying towards Insomnia," he says.

"I should hope so," Cyrella says.

Cor releases the controls and stands up. "No," he says, and points to one of the screens, which is reeling off phrases in Niflheim code – code that Prompto knows Cor understands, but which he definitely does not. "The ship is flying there automatically. The Wall has fallen."

And then everyone is shouting.

[t0rschlusspan1k]

He nodded, but doubtfully, as if he wasn't sure what the radio was. I later found out that was true, in a way; Coffey knew things when he encountered them again, but in between he forgot. He knew the characters on Our Gal Sunday, but had only the haziest memory of what they'd been up to the last time.  "If you behave, you'll eat on time, you'll never see the solitary cell down at the far end, or have to wear one of those canvas coats that buttons up the back. You'll have two hours in the yard afternoons from four until six, except on Saturdays when the rest of the prison population has their flag football games. You'll have your visitors on Sunday afternoons, if you have someone who wants to visit you. Do you, Coffey?"  He shook his head. "Got none, boss," he said.  "Well, your lawyer, then."  "I believe I've seen the back end of him," he said. "He was give to me on loan. Don't believe he could find his way up here in the mountains."

 I looked at him closely to see if he might be trying a little joke, but he didn't seem to be. And I really hadn't expected any different. Appeals weren't for the likes of John Coffey, not back then; they had their day in court and then the world forgot them until they saw a squib in the paper saying a certain fellow had taken a little electricity along about midnight. But a man with a wife, children, or friends to look forward to on Sunday afternoons was easier to control, if control looked to be a problem. Here it didn't, and that was good. Because he was so damned big.

 I shifted a little on the bunk, then decided I might feel a little more comfortable in my nether parts if I stood up, and so I did. He backed away from me respectfully, and clasped his hands in front of him.  "Your time here can be easy or hard, big boy, it all depends on you. I'm here to say you might as well make it easy on all of us, because it comes to the same in the end. We'll treat you as right as you deserve. Do you have any questions?"  "Do you leave a light on after bedtime?" he asked right away, as if he had only been waiting for the chance.  I blinked at him. I had been asked a lot of strange questions by newcomers to E Block–once about the size of my wife's tits–but never that one.  Coffey was smiling a trifle uneasily, as if he knew we would think him foolish but couldn't help himself. "Because I get a little scared in the dark sometimes," he said. "If it's a strange place."  I looked at him–the pure size of him–and felt strangely touched. They did touch you, you know; you didn't see them at their worst, hammering out their horrors like demons at a forge.  "Yes, it's pretty bright in here all night long," I said. "Half the lights along the Mile burn from nine until five every morning." Then I realized he wouldn't have any idea of what I was talking about–he didn't know the Green Mile from Mississippi mud–and so I pointed. "In the corridor."  He nodded, relieved. I'm not sure he knew what a corridor was, either, but he could see the 200-watt bulbs in their wire cages.  I did something I'd never done to a prisoner before, then–I offered him my hand. Even now I don't know why. Him asking about the lights, maybe. It made Harry Terwilliger blink, I can tell you that. Coffey took my hand with surprising gentleness, my hand all but disappearing into his, and that was all of it. I had another moth in my killing bottle. We were done.  I stepped out of the cell. Harry pulled the door shut on its track and ran both locks. Coffey stood where he was a moment or two longer, as if he didn't know what to do next, and then he sat down on his bunk, clasped his giant's hands between his knees, and lowered his head like a man who grieves or prays. He said something then in his strange, almost-Southern voice. I heard it with perfect clarity, and although I didn't know much about what he'd done then–you don't need to know about what a man's done in order to feed him and groom him until it's time for him to pay off what he owes–it still gave me a chill.  "I couldn't help it, boss," he said. "I tried to take it back, but it was too late."

Stephen King, The Green Mile (1996), ch. 2

[sunaddicted]

It’s 3 am so, happy Nygmobblepot Week? I’m putting just an excerpt under the cut because this is a 8k long monster lol

“I’ve heard you’re looking for me”

Crash .

Oswald turned around on his heels to briefly glare at the man who had let himself in his office without any kind of warning, hand slowly clenching closed around the emptiness where once a rather expensive glass of wine had been - red wine that was slowly seeping into the carpet and irreparably staining it “How many times did I tell you not to do that?”

Edward rolled his eyes at the hissed question and sprawled on one of the visitors chairs, grimacing at the way his long limbs were forced into an uncomfortable position; he didn’t know it for sure, but Edward suspected that the Penguin had intentionally furnished his office with the most beautiful and cramped chairs he could find in order to cut his meetings short “So jumpy" 

“I’m not jumpy!” 

Edward just arched an eyebrow in response. 

Oswald huffed and raked one hand through his hair in a rather uncharacteristic nervous gesture “Alright, maybe I am a little jumpy”

“And I assume the reason why also has to do with the fact that you’ve had your men combing my hideouts for days" Edward’s eyes narrowed “I dislike being chased all around the city” he reminded the other man, voice low and threatening: they might have agreed on a truce once they had both realised that neither of them truly wanted to kill the other, but that didn’t make them friends - the Penguin was going to pay for any service he requested, like any other criminal in town

And the Riddler was everything but cheap - quite the opposite, in fact.  

“I need a favour”

“I gathered as much”

Oswald sighed heavily at the belligerent tone in Edward’s voice and sat down behind his desk, fingers briefly going to his temples in order to try and get rid of the painful tension he could slowly feel pooling there “Must you always be so obnoxious?” 

“Do you really want to antagonize the man you need a favour from?“ 

Damn, but Edward was right - as always, much to Oswald’s chagrin: if there was something he loathed, it was being wrong and having his face rubbed in it. He retrieved a thick envelope from the tower of paperwork, balanced on the corner of his desk, and tossed it at Edward so that the other man could have a look at its contents; he was sure that once Edward read the documents in it, he wouldn’t have much explaining left to do.

Oswald still couldn’t believe that someone had had the guts to actually pull his records and had the brilliant idea of sending him a deportation order.  

To the goddamned kingpin of Gotham’s underworld.

To the Penguin.

“I knew your mother was an immigrant, but I thought you were born here” Edward hummed, putting the papers down so that he could focus on Oswald “I fail to understand why this has you so shaken: you’re a criminal, resisting deportation can hardly make your record look worse than it already is"

It was times like those that Oswald wondered how it was possible for someone as clever as Edward, who took every chance he could to remind everyone about how smart he was, could also be such an obtuse person; it was a question that tormented him, especially when he had had a little too much to drink and there wasn’t enough work for him to focus on and keep the morose thoughts at bay.  Oswald took a deep breath and laced his fingers together to keep them in check in case the temptation to hit Edward overcame him: it wasn’t such a rare impulse for him to feel around the other and his mother had taught him that prevention was better than the cure “In case you have forgotten, I have plenty of legal businesses too”

Edward shrugged “Well, you’ve been balancing on the edge of the knife long enough: time to come and live in the dark like the rest of us"

Oswald gritted his teeth: God, but Edward made it so hard sometimes “My unique ability to operate in the grey zone between law and crime is the reason why you and the rest of the Rogues have plenty of benefits, such as actually qualified doctors and lawyers who don’t turn on you just because of who you are"

And that wasn’t something Edward could call out as a lie, considering that just the week before he had had a very good surgeon extract a bullet from his calf and had even stitched him up rather decently - not that he particularly cared about scars, but still “Do you want me to forge you papers, then?” Oswald certainly had people in his employ who were better qualified for the job, but maybe he was just trying to keep the situation under wraps - typical Penguin behaviour.

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

Well, yes. But Oswald had money: how much would it cost to buy a couple of immigration officials “I must admit that I’m out of ideas” Edward answered with a grimace, disliking even the thought of having to admit that he couldn’t see the solution to a puzzle: was he really growing that slow and old? He had never liked not having answers but since his brief stint as a stupid person, almost a decade prior when he had been freed from the prison of ice Oswald had put him into, Edward had become even more sensitive and easily irritable whenever his brain stuttered - especially when just simple reasoning was required: after all, Oswald must already have had a proposal if he had called him there.

Why couldn’t he see the answer too?

“Marry me"

Edward blinked slowly as the two words sank in his brain “Marry you?”

“You’re American, aren’t you?” Oswald snapped “I don’t like this idea better than you do but after I get American citizenship through our marriage, we’ll divorce as soon as it stops being suspicious”

“Why me?” Edward raised a finger to briefly stop Oswald from answering “I mean, despite our truce, everyone knows we’re enemies: I tried to kill you countless times, you froze me and put me on display in the middle of your club - nobody would fall for the charade” there, he had found a fallacy in Oswald’s plan.

Crisis averted.  

“Nobody else knows me like you do, Edward - and these people ask loads of questions” Oswald pointed out “And we have history: for us to shack up and tie the knot wouldn’t be too weird, especially considered Gotham’s standards” stranger things had happened: the Penguin and the Riddler getting married after a decade of enmity wouldn’t even make the top ten “Look, I’d love to ask anyone else but I can’t afford this going wrong, Edward - for my sake and for yours too" there was a reason why the Rogues had stopped challenging his position of power and it was that having the Penguin on the throne was more convenient for everyone involved.  

Edward grimaced as he tried to keep his breathing under control: Oswald had just put him in a rather difficult position and his choice could possibly endanger those few friends he had; the Rogues were the closest thing he had ever had to a family and the man in front of him knew that and he had no qualms about using that piece of knowledge against him.  Edward had never had the pleasure of playing chess against Oswald but if the other man was as ruthless on the board as he was when it came to moving people around and manipulating them into doing his bidding, Edward wasn’t so sure he would win “It still is quite the risky plan" he observed, biding for time “Can we pull such a thing off?”

Part of Oswald - a rather bitter one, admittedly - wanted to remind Edward that he had no problems lying through his teeth without Oswald suspecting a thing, while the other man was planning his downfall. Instead, Oswald took a deep breath - he felt like he had been going that a lot lately - and squared his shoulders “We’re both known for our cunning: we can persuade some government official that our marriage is genuine" 

Plus, if he had to be honest, Oswald had already gathered the necessary paperwork and started filling it in: he had long given up on ever finding someone who would love him enough to stay by his side for the rest of their lives; if he had to enter the sham of a marriage to avoid being kicked out of his home, he wanted the other person to be someone he respected at least.

The fact that his heart still ached for Edward even after all those years and the ugly words between them, well… it was a problem that Oswald had been dealing with for the last decade: how much worse than that could it get?

Edward’s silence had started to grow a little too long for Oswald’s tastes and his stomach felt heavy, as if his guts had tangled themselves into a knot that nothing short of a well-sharpened knife could undo: was Edward really so repulsed by the thought of being his husband for a set amount of time, that he would endanger his friends’ lives?

It hurt, but Oswald was used to soldering through pain “I know it’s a lot to ask for” he started, lips pressed into a thin line as he mulled over the best words to use to reach the other man and establish a connection with him; once upon a time, it had been so easy - they had been able to talk to one another with just their eyes, their bond so strong that Oswald believed it would last through the hardest and most testing situations.

How wrong he had been.  

How foolish.  

How hopelessly in love.  

Oswald swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying to dislodge it so that he wouldn’t sound too choked up when he started speaking again; it didn’t help - if anything, his esophagus felt even more closed up than before - and Oswald rubbed the skin over his upper lip in an attempt at appearing like he was busy thinking, rather than suffocating on air.   

“I’ll do it”

And just like that, the lump dissolved “Thank you.  Of course, I’ll reward you handsomely: whatever you ask, it’s yours”

“I’ll hold you to that”

 Oswald nodded “I expect nothing less: I’m not a charity case, this is a business transaction” 

Put it like that, it sounded better than thinking about the whole ordeal in more practical terms. Edward slumped against the back of the chair, one hand hovering over his lips as if to hold a scream in: they were getting married “I’ll have a glass of what you’re having” he murmured when Oswald shuffled away from the desk.

God, they were getting married. 

(Continues on ao3)

[crazedlunatic]

Money, money, money

“Are you sure you want to do this? We don’t have to do this, Blaine.”

“I know.” Blaine shut his car off and got out of the driver’s seat. He made sure he looked presentable (he always did on work days anyway) and then closed the door.

Kurt, who had been in the parking lot in his own car and waiting for Blaine, pulled him into a hug.

“I’m fine. I want to get this done as quickly and smoothly as possible. I have to be back at the office with Bob in…” Blaine looked at his watch. “An hour and eight minutes.”

“We can talk.” Kurt said gently, looking around. “This is big. You haven’t seen your dad in eight years. Seven if you count the funeral.”

“Kurt, I’m fine.” Blaine looked him in the eyes.

“I’m worried you’re saying that and after you see him…” Kurt trailed off as Bob walked up.

“We ready for this?” Bob asked cheerfully, clapping Blaine on the back and smiling brightly at Kurt.

“Ready for it to be over.” Blaine handed a thick stack of papers to Bob.

“And it went smoothly with your brother?”

“A lot smoother than it’ll go for me.”

“Well, yeah. Your brother got money and you’re getting a million-dollar home in Harbor Springs, Michigan.”

Kurt’s mouth dropped open. He didn’t know that—he thought this was just about money.

“And money.” Blaine added.

“Yes. And money.” Bob put the folder the papers were in on the hood of Blaine’s car and glanced through them. “It looks like your grandfather’s signatures match the records that were on your brother’s papers. They can’t dispute it’s not his signature if they were willing to give your brother everything without a hitch.”

“Yeah. My grandfather’s attorney’s office has the originals still, too. They were both done at the same time.” Blaine said, looking over Bob’s shoulder.

“What fifteen-year-old tells his grandfather he doesn’t want a summer house?” Bob shook his head. “My son wouldn’t have turned something like that down for anything.”

“The consensus seems to be nobody really wanted to be around my parents a moment longer than they had to.”

“Right well, within the hour you’ll have the money in your name and a nice summer house that you can invite me to.” Bob looked at Kurt. “You look nervous.”

“Nothing with his parents is what it seems.” Kurt grabbed Blaine’s hand.

For as calm as Blaine claimed to be, his hand was pretty sweaty.

“Kurt, I’ve been doing this for nearly forty years. His brother’s paperwork and Blaine’s paperwork is near identical. If they try to contest Blaine getting what’s rightfully is, I’ll get Blaine twice as much as these papers say he deserves and that’s a promise.” Bob looked Kurt in the eyes. “This sad excuse of a human being won’t say another word to Blaine after today and if he does, he’ll be sorry. Fraud, trying to hide these papers when the original attorney’s office has original copies. There’s sworn statements. He’s lucky I’m not having him thrown in jail. Blaine is winning this today.”

Blaine swallowed and took a deep breath.

“After all, you kids have a wedding down payment to make next week, right?”

Kurt smiled at Blaine, feeling much better after hearing Bob’s words. Bob had always taken care of Blaine when it came to anything regarding his family since Blaine had moved to New York and the whole thing blew up. “We do.”

Blaine smiled although it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Take your deep breath, take another one, and then you walk into the room behind me.” Bob said as they made it into the hallway that the meeting was taking place in. He locked eyes with Blaine. “You’re better, you’re smarter, and we’ve got this in the bag.”

“Right.” Blaine nodded.

“You okay?” Bob asked.

“Yes.” Blaine nodded again.

“It’ll be over soon.” Kurt added, giving Blaine’s hand a huge squeeze. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Blaine looked at Kurt with the eyes Wes would describe as dopey.

Bob stepped in, the stern and serious expression on his face that scared at least 70% of the lawyers he competed against. There was a reason he was at the top of every office he’d ever worked for since he was thirty.

Kurt kissed Blaine’s cheek quickly and then followed him into the room.

“I heard about the case you closed on yesterday.” A woman, who appeared to be his father’s lawyer, gave him a bright smile and reached over to shake his hand. “Did you have help with that? It was ten years before I closed a case that big.”

“He’s one of the best we’ve got, Cheryl.” Bob said after glancing at Blaine—he figured the less Blaine said, the better it would be for everyone involved.

“The young ones catch on so much earlier than we did at their age, don’t they?” Cheryl asked, sitting down next to Blaine’s parents.

“Blaine, honey, how are you?” His mother rushed over to him, arms clearly opening for a hug.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Bob cleared his throat. “But we’ve asked that your clients not directly interact with my client. Given why he even has to have representation with him at a simple exchange of funds in itself should explain why this was requested. Your clients tried to hide the fact that Blaine was owed 5.8 million dollars and a home estimating at 1.4 million dollars now. Your clients also implied that my client and his brother forged the documents signing the before mention to Blaine’s name at the completion of high school which, should I point out, was nine years ago.”

Blaine sat down as Bob spoke, reaching for Kurt’s hand as soon as Kurt had sat as well. He felt a jolt of satisfaction at the look of disgust in his father’s face.

That’s right. Blaine was still happy after everything he’d been put through—and was still gay. Happily gay and happily engaged to his gay boyfriend… well, fiancé.

Blaine’s father cleared his throat. “Those documents were not completed at the time of my other son’s papers.”

“You were there when your other son’s papers were completed. Your signature is listed as a witness on both the paperwork for Blaine and Alex’s. If you want to keep trying, Mr. Anderson, we will leave and you’ll receive a summons tomorrow. And a warrant for both of your doctor’s offices and both of your homes.”

“What fraud?” Blaine’s father scoffed. “Fraud?”

Bob stared at him as thought he was the scum of the earth. “Your mother embezzled money while she was a judge. She then donated the amount to your doctor’s offices and your private accounts. Within days, you wrote checks to her for the same amounts. I have the proof and I am prepared to show anyone who asks.”

“You little shit!” Blaine’s father stood. “You good for nothing little shit. I should have drowned you when—.”

On instinct, Blaine flinched and his chair scooted back.

Bob stood, a very scary look on his face. “Sign the papers or we go walk. I don’t think you want that.”

“This is fucking bullshit. You’ll never amount to anything, Blaine. Just like your brother getting involved in stuff that isn’t even his fucking business. You’re dead to us, you know? Your mother and me. If you died right now I wouldn’t pay a goddamn penny towards your funeral.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got 5.8 million dollars to pay for my own.” Blaine’s voice was calm and steady.

Kurt squeezed his hand, possibly tighter than he ever had.

Bob slammed the papers back down on the table. “We’re walking if you don’t sign these papers right now. I’ve already got a warrant waiting for me outside and I would love to send the NYPD to your hotel to start the search off right.”

Blaine’s dad kicked the chair he’d been sitting in and grabbed the papers.

“There…” His lawyer pointed. “There… initial there… and there.”

Blaine took a deep breath, his shaking hand going still when Kurt squeezed his hand again.

“Let’s get away from these faggots.” Blaine’s dad sneered not even a minute later, all but dragging his wife out.

“Thank you, Cheryl.” Bob said, still looking pissed. “We appreciate you working with us on this.”

“I’m not here to help dirty clients.” The woman, Cheryl, shook her head. “Blaine, so nice to meet you. Hopefully I’ll get to see you in action sometime. You’ve got an awesome career ahead of you.”

“Thanks.” Blaine smiled and stood, going to shake her hand. “And thanks for this.”

“We help our own.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Don’t let him out of your sight, Bob. There’s more than a few firms interested in him.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Blaine’s smile grew.

“Damn right.” Bob grinned. “Hey, you’ve got a meeting with another kid of mine—Adrian. He’s pretty enjoyable to watch too.”

“We’re meeting for lunch tomorrow, actually. Going to see if we can do a plea deal and be done with it.”

Kurt stood.

“It’s always a pleasure but we’ve got to get out of here. We need to be across town in thirty minutes which isn’t exactly an easy feat. Blaine knows the drill though—money will be wired over once processed and you and I will do the home paperwork exchange if it can’t be done electronically.”

“Thank you again!” Blaine shook her hand again. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Next time it’ll be under better circumstances hopefully, but you too.”

Bob ushered Kurt and Blaine out.

“You did so good. You did so good!” Kurt whispered as soon as the door shut behind them.

“Thanks. I was having a low-key anxiety attack.” Blaine admitted. “For a second I thought he was going to jump over the table Hulk style and strangle me.”

“You weren’t in any danger.” Bob shook his head. “Your dad is a piece of work but everything is going to come back on him one day. It always does.”

“Yeah. I hope so.” Blaine nodded.

“Listen, I’m going to head back. I’ll put this paperwork on your desk so you can look through it, make copies, what have you. You two take a few minutes. Kurt, help him decompress. I need him at his best when he’s back at the office.” Bob put his hand on Blaine’s shoulder and squeezed. “Take as long as you need… It’s over now, okay?”

“Thank you, Bob. Really. I can’t even thank you enough for this.” Blaine looked him in the eyes.

“Don’t even mention it, Blaine. I’ll see you back at the office in a bit, alright?” Bob smiled. “Kurt, we’ve invited him to dinner on Wednesday. My wife insists you come too. She’s goes on about you any time I mention Blaine’s name.”

“I’ll be there.” Kurt promised. “Thank you.”

Bob headed towards his car, waving when he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Kurt… Kurt, it’s over.” Blaine gasped.

“It’s over.” Kurt nodded, pulling Blaine into a bear hug. “It’s over and you got the house in Harbor Springs. You love the house in Harbor Springs.”

“I do.” Blaine nodded, eyes teary. “I r-really do.”

“Are you okay?” Kurt asked, wiping under his eyes.

“I’m just tense and relieved and in shock that it’s over. I’ll never have to see them again after this. Never. I always knew this was going to come, the money stuff, but it’s over and… and it’s like this huge weight is lifted off my shoulders but sometimes I didn’t even realize the weight was there if that makes sense.”

“It does. It makes perfect sense.” Kurt touched his cheek.

“Thanks for leaving work and coming. I appreciate it so much.” Blaine sniffled. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much too.” Kurt kissed him. “Guess what?”

“What?” Blaine asked, wiping under his eyes again and taking one final deep breath.

“Tonight we’re going to put down the rest of the money on our tuxes and the wedding planner. Because soon you’re going to be a multimillionaire.” Kurt grinned. “Which makes me one very lucky guy.”

Blaine laughed loudly. “Technically I already am. It’s just not in the bank yet.”

“We’ve never been one for technicalities, Blaine.” Kurt kissed him again.

“True.” Blaine leaned forward kissing him. “Very true.”

[mafia-cuddles-blog]

Antonio’s first kindness in the business of forgery, and the will that really got him started down that slippery slope, was his own brother’s.

Giovanni Mariano had died without a will – apparently, he hadn’t had the time to write one.

Antonio stepped in; he knew his brother well enough.  He left pages, pages of poignant poetry to Sorin Florescu, his beloved spy.  He left comforting words for Mama and Mother.  Included a few kind words to himself so as not to seem suspicious.  

The hand writing had been perfect, he swore he could hear Giovanni whispering the words himself – everything screamed his little brother.  Antonio was rather proud of his work – it had been painstaking, love and anguish going into each stroke of the quill, each word purposeful and helping to dull the ache in his chest, because Giovanni was dead.  Murdered.

And he hadn’t gotten his brother out in time to prevent this.  It was all his fault.

He sucked it up as best as he could, and looked to the future.

He began talking to his older relatives a lot more after that – so it came as no surprise when all those he talked to left their rather sizable inheritances to him.  He had taken such good care of them after all, kept them company in their final weeks.

He was such a kind boy, yes…such a hard worker!  First in the family to go to college, to get a law degree no less!  He was going to be successful, he was going to go places!

…

Except, his mothers and his brother, they were dead, and he was all alone.

He moved into the house that his parents had left him without much of a fuss.  It was a quiet little town, perfect for a little break from his job as a prosecutor in the big city.  He had amassed a fair amount of wealth at this point, but he wasn’t reckless with it. He didn’t have a fancy car, there was nothing incredibly frivolous…just lots of photographs on the walls, all framed with immense care.

Things went well for Antonio, for quite some time.

Then he met Richard.

Richard, fast talking, good looking, only a few years older; he took Antonio under his wing, took him out to dinner, made him feel special.

And Mr. Mariano didn’t think too much of it, really…sure, maybe he had a crush on Richard but he’d never dream of saying anything.  He was just glad to have made a new friend in this odd little town.

Then Richard approached him about needed something…rather…unscrupulous. A will of a neighbor forged, to get some extra cash, and “please, Toni, just this once. I’m running low on cash!”

And Antonio had given in, penned the false will – he didn’t know that he was funding a mafia operation, how could he have known?

And how could he have known, when Richard asked him on a date after a year, that he was dating a godfather?

…

Finally, the crime boss came clean.  Admitted what the forgeries were for.  Antonio wanted to feel angry, he was angry – but of course, Richard was good. Cunning, charming – he calmed his feisty little ‘boyfriend’ down, and that night they made sweet love after a glass of wine.  Mr. Mariano was officially made a part of the family, and continued getting them plenty of money to continue illicit activities.

Then it all came crashing down, because Richard was marrying a beautiful woman (reportedly an ‘escort’), and Antonio found out he was just a boy toy. His money was gone, stolen by that damn godfather because Toni had trusted him, trusted him, and the heartbreak, the tears, the vow of ‘never again’ as he packed his bags, determined to never look back – they changed the lawyer, embittered him.  

Of course, the godfather wouldn’t let him get off that easy.  He was a danger to the whole family, now…hit men at every hotel, around every corner –

Finally, finally, Antonio found a secluded town, and he settled down again.  He changed his demeanor, his appearance – he’d been quite demure before, really.  Now he was all charm, bright colors, a changed man, but not a happy one.  

No sign of hitmen anywhere here – though he fell into his old habits, and offered up his services as a forger again.  He was awfully glad he had in the end; otherwise he wouldn’t have met his dearest Edythe.

She was a light in the dark, as cheesy at that sounded.  She gave him a purpose again, brought him life and he was drunk with her, this beautiful woman with the dark hair and the ivory skin, the sly smile, the ability to wrap him around her little finger. He was happy again, minus the fact that his brother’s murderer was in town, of course.

He’d joined a new family – hell, this godfather had been the godfather that Giovanni had served under!  After months of joy with Edythe, he’d started tucking a ring in his pocket, preparing –

But of course, as we know, plans tend not to pan out in Salem.

…

The engagement ring ended up on Edythe’s desk, along with a tiny little note, simply stating, “live on, amore.”