Is it ok to give you my old prompt that once filled by another? Cause I still love the idea and I'm curious how you will put it. It takes place in ABO verse when o!Hux and a!Kylo have to mate for strengthen the FO. But when a child's born. Hux shuts Kylo down and raises the child himself. So Kylo sneaks into Hux's bedroom after he sleeps to spend times with his child, wishing they could be a real family. And he gets caught, at last.
I hope you like this! I’ve never written for this kind of verse before. I don’t think I’ve seen the original fill of this prompt, either, so I hope it’s not too similar.
Hux has been having odd dreams, he thinks. Small odd snippets of things, things he thinks he hears. Voices.
He sleeps poorly these days, but he attributes it to his hypervigilance, to the fact that his child is only a few yards away and that if he so much as coughs, Hux is sitting bolt upright, listening like a prey animal for a rustling in the forest, snapping twigs. Besides the faint and vast hum of the ship’s engines and the closer, tighter ambient sounds of his quarters–the chirp and vibration of his datapad, the faint sounds of the autoclean in his refresher–there is nothing. The baby is so quiet that Hux starts again, panicking–something is wrong? Something is wrong? Nothing is wrong. He is simply sleeping hard, utterly loose with sleep.
The child is a sweet one, which seems impossible with the genetic makeup he’s been cursed with. Hux had not wanted this child, in the beginning, had to be cajoled and scolded and worn down. His whiplash-fast change of heart had stunned Ren. If this was requisite, then this project would be his alone. No one had ever taught him how to share. If Ren had to have his way, then so did Hux. As always, Hux had done all the work, and damn it, he would reap the rewards, too. He would raise the child, without Ren’s influence, without Ren taking credit for everything, without Ren outshining him again–
The child. He smiles much more than he cries. He seems curious, follows things with his eyes, crosses his eyes and blows outward with his tongue–which is smaller than a button–sticking out. He looks (unbearably) like Ren already. As is the custom on Arkanis, he will not have a name until he’s three months old, so that a personality might be detected before an unsuitable name is chosen.
(Perhaps his own father had chosen Brendol II for him, it was common if a child looked like his father, but a bastard was lucky to get anything at all. Hux refuses to consider the possibility of naming this child for the parents he better resembles.)
He rubs his eyes, listening too hard, again. Nothing. Just the sounds of the ship.
No. He’s wrong. He was not imagining the voices. He holds himself fully still because he recognizes it, and he knows it is not a threat, it is something worse. Ren has slipped in, sneaky, unstoppable as sunset. If he wants something he will have it, the child himself is proof of that.
“Are you happy to see me? Did you miss me?”
Hux knows he should move, or shout, snarl, but his immediate thought is that it will upset the child. To feel Hux’s staticky resentment of Ren, Ren’s haughty acquiescence, it would surely make him cry. And he is curious. He wants to listen.
“I have seen you in the Force, you know…did you know?”
The child does not answer, maybe he is asleep. The question is rhetorical in any case. Ren just wants the child to know his voice, so he will not flinch away from it in the future.
Ren jolts, clutching the child closer, instantly protective. “I grew sloppy,” he said, a simple statement of fact. “I’ve never woken you before.”
“As far as you know.” Even though Ren is right.
“I thought you would be angrier.”
“You would have said no.”
“What did you see?” Hux asks again.
Ren’s eyes are odd and inky in the low light.
“He will be greater than either of us.”
“Who will make him that way?”
Hux takes a breath, offers his olive branch, one with no specific words of apology, he doesn’t work that way.
“Perhaps both of us, then.”