#Armitage Hux X Me

[iwmflbb]

[artistotel]

shes handsome shes pretty shes the belle of the belfast cityyy

ych / commissions / store / patreon

[lostmonsterposts]

Flushed and Caught

Back at it again, lmk if you got any suggestions. I got the Kylux bug.

Face close up ->

[flydinom]

they could never make me hate you gingerpilot

[enaelyork]

A first date with Armitage Hux - Aesthetic

✨Imperial ask are open ✨

✨MASTERLIST ✨

[henclair]

pushing my fall out boy kylux agenda publicly!!!

[practically-an-x-man]

The Working of My Hands (Indigo x Hux)

Summary: When a storm rolls in and a drought is on the horizon, it takes a bit of hard labor to get things prepared

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: established relationship, domestic fluff, mild physical and emotional hurt/comfort, completely self-indulgent (I may have watched the De Selby pt. 2 music video a few too many times...)

Crossposted on AO3

____

“Hm.”

“What is it?” Indie asked, twisting around from her spot on the sofa. Armitage was peering at his holopad, frowning at what he saw on the screen.

“Local notice.” he answered, waving a hand at the device, “Just went out. They’re expecting a drought after the storm tonight. They’ve got some recommendations.”

“What does it say?”

“‘Locals are advised to take shorter showers and keep water usage to a minimum’,” he read, “‘Any land-owning residents are also encouraged to dig holes at regular intervals to collect rainfall and reduce the risk of desertification’. And then there’s a diagram.”

He turned the screen in her direction, offering her a glimpse at the notice, then shut down his holopad and set it down on the table beside him. He spared a brief glance out the window, taking in the storm clouds brewing on the horizon, then tugged at his sleeves and took a few brisk strides towards the back bedroom.

“We have a shovel in the garage, don’t we?” he asked, “Would you find it for me while I get changed?”

“Right now?”

“Figure it’s better to get started before the rain comes in.” Armitage said, though she knew he’d done his share of working through the rain all the same. He always got the same look on his face, whenever the clouds broke or thunder echoed across the fields, a strange blend of nostalgia and something far more painful. And he always strayed a little closer to her on those days, always seemed a little more candid about his affections, like the rain reminded him of everything he’d left in his wake. She was never sure if he was imagining Arkanis or Ajan Kloss. Perhaps it was a hybrid of both.

“I think we’ve got one,” Indie agreed, gently shooing Zero off her lap and popping up to her feet, “And maybe the neighbors have a second one I could borrow. I’ll give you a hand.”

“Pacemaker.” he reminded her, an infuriatingly good point, “And it’s humid out. I’ll take care of it.”

“C’mon, I want to help. I’ll take it easy. It’ll get done faster with both of us.”

“Indie.” he said, and set his hand on her shoulder as she brushed past him, “My love. Let me handle this one. You do enough housework as it is. I can handle a shovel.”

She caved. Of course she did. He’d always been so damn good at that, and it had only grown easier since he had her heart to use as leverage. So Indigo nodded, and placed her hand over his to give it a brief squeeze. 

“Alright. I’ll go find it for you.”

Gratefulness crested across his face - she wondered, again, how she’d once found him so hard to read - and Armitage ran his fingers over her hair, her face, her throat, before drawing away. It made sparks dance through her, bright and hot and pleasant. She’d never get tired of that. It still astounded her, sometimes, that he’d chosen to spend his life with her, and without so much as a word of complaint towards all her needs and eccentricities. 

Indie ducked into the garage and skirted past the souped-up speeder she’d been working on. Another out-of-towner with a big custom rig: flashy, sloppily-built, and completely impractical, but it brought in good money. She’d take what she got. 

The shovel was easy enough to find, propped up against the far corner amid a cluster of other tools. When she slipped back into the house, Armitage was there waiting for her. He’d changed into looser clothes, ones that would be easier to move in and that he wouldn’t mind getting dirty, and was busy rolling the sleeves back to the elbows when she stepped inside.

“Thank you, Indie,” he said, taking the shovel from her and briefly leaning over to kiss her temple. It was the storm on the horizon, she thought, the rain bringing out his affections like it so often did. She wouldn’t complain, of course, not ever, but it was interesting enough to have noticed the pattern.

He spared one more glance at his holopad, memorizing the diagram on the screen, then nodded and stepped out the door.

She watched him for a while, seated on the couch with Zero curled up on her lap. It was almost entrancing to watch him work, turning shovelful after shovelful of the fine, dry earth. There was a certain grace to his movements, the same grace as when he piloted a ship or fired a blaster. He’d done his share of manual work in his life, she knew that much, been trained in tools and machines for years before he entered the Order proper. And perhaps even more than most - he’d told her before of his father’s disdain of his slender frame, the way he’d wanted a strong military man to carry on his name. She could imagine Armitage as a young man in the academy, always the one sent to chop firewood or dig the latrines in an effort to put a little more muscle on his frame.

She figured this sort of work was a lot easier to palate than what he was used to. She wondered if he thought of it the same way she did, an effort to keep the earth alive so new greenery could grow, or if he only saw it as work. She hoped, now two years spent living here planetside, having escaped the militaristic nature of their prior lives, that it was the former.

But whatever his thoughts, his rhythm didn’t slow. The dirt became pockmarked with shallow holes, one after another in evenly-spaced intervals, and his hands and forearms became streaked with dirt. A few times she saw him pause, to catch his breath or push the hair out of his face, sometimes to turn his face up towards the sky as if savoring the breeze. These little breaks only lasted a moment or two, and then he’d roll his shoulders and tighten his grip on the shovel, right back to work with the same rigid discipline she knew so well. 

After a while, these little breaks got more frequent, and she could see his form beginning to falter. He was tiring, and very clearly pushing himself past it. Old habits.

Indigo sighed to herself - funny how both of them could have the same bad habit, pushing themselves past what they could rightfully take - and stood up from her seat. She stopped in the kitchen, long enough to grab a tall drinking glass and fill it with cool water, then made her way towards the door. She had to nudge Millicent out of the way before she could bolt for it, and managed a tricky sort of spin to get the door closed before the cat could get out.

Humidity hit her like a slap to the face. The air was thick with it, thick and hot, and she expected the storm to break any moment. Only a few minutes outdoors, and she’d already welcome the rain as an old friend. She imagined that even with so many tumultuous memories souring his mind to it, after this much work, Armitage would be quick to do the same. 

He was still absorbed in his work, thin cords of muscle flexing in his forearms as he turned another shovelful of soil. With him standing in the hole, almost a foot below her, Indie had the rare perspective of being taller than him. His face was shining with sweat, his breathing labored, and yet he still moved with an almost mechanical diligence. 

Although his job itself was somewhat sedentary, managing import and export records for this particular hemisphere of the planet, it wasn't as if it was rare to see him performing manual labor. The two of them owned a bit of land to tend, after all, and there were always duties around the house to manage at that. Indie did much of the mechanical work, of course, fixed what needed fixing, but Armitage certainly pulled his weight and more. He was no stranger to hard work.

But this… this was something else. It was almost carnal, she thought, seeing him move the earth in strong and confident motions. As much as she loved the sight of him clean and put-together as he normally was, the sight of him hard at work, covered in dirt with his hair fallen in rough red waves around his face, sent a different sort of thrill through her.

He’d taken on this role in an effort to keep her from straining her heart. The sight of him here, now, easily negated all that effort. If anything, she found herself a little dizzy.

“How’s it going?” Indigo asked, succeeding in drawing his eyes up to her. At first Hux just shrugged and leaned against the shaft of the shovel, panting faintly from the exertion. He swiped one hand across his forehead but only succeeded in smudging dirt across his face.

“Getting there.” he finally replied, gesturing at the rows of shallow, even holes now scattered across their back lot. Armitage brushed at the hair hanging loose into his face, trying to coax it away from his eyes, and let out another sharp breath. “This humidity is killing me, though.”

“Here.” she said, and held out the glass to him, “Water.”

He took it and shot her a grateful look, then drained the glass in just a few swallows. Even just that much seemed to refresh him a bit, though he was still breathing hard from all the work.

“Wanna come back inside?” Indie asked, “Take a break for a few minutes?”

Armitage tilted his head, taking in the storm clouds gathering overhead with a scrutinizing expression on his face. Then he dropped his eyes and gave her a low shrug. 

“Storm’ll break any moment now. I’d like to get a little more done before it does.”

“Alright,” she agreed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise. He was the type to fulfill a job to completion, and she knew it would bother him if he didn’t. That level of discipline had been wired into him, and she didn’t imagine it would ever leave. By now, she figured she knew him almost as well as she knew herself. Her heart was linked with his own, now and forever.

So Indie just reached out and took the empty glass from him, and leaned over enough to kiss his cheek. Her feet slid on loose soil and she nearly fell right into the hole, but one of his hands caught her waist and held her in place - like it was simple, unconscious, easy despite how tired he had to be. It sent the same little thrill through her, so much that she nearly shivered despite the sweltering temperature around her. 

Her heart was never going to recover from this. 

She didn’t mind a bit.

“Don’t stay out too long, okay?”

“I’ll be in as soon as the rain hits.” he promised, his hand remaining steady on her waist until he was sure she’d recovered her footing. 

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Armitage just nodded (weary but not dismissive, merely a reflection of his growing exhaustion) and readjusted his grip on his shovel. Indie found herself lingering a moment longer, drinking in the sight of him, then finally managed to pull herself away and slip back into the house. 

She watched him for a while longer, a shorter while, then eventually decided that was a little odd and picked herself up from the couch. She fed the animals and pored over the contents of the kitchen - then proceeded to take a mental step back, and thought of how lucky she was to be in a place where Zero could have two good meals every day and the fridge held real vegetables instead of only dehydrated space-grade food. She’d never really had this kind of security before. Even two years in, it still came as a bit of a shock. 

Thunder rolled in just as she’d made a decision on what to cook, and Indie heard rain battering the metal roof of the house only a few moments later. This was going to be a big one, she could tell. It made her think of Ajan Kloss. 

The back door slid open after only a moment or two of rain, and she watched Armitage attempt to shoo Millicent away from the door so he could step inside. It seemed he’d mostly outrun the rain - the dirt streaked across his face and arms had not yet become mud, at least - though he left his shoes at the door to avoid soiling the floor as he walked through the house.

“Finished.” he said, though he seemed more preoccupied with keeping the cat from brushing up against his trousers and getting dirt smudged across her fur. Finally Millicent lost interest and padded away, and Hux straightened up. “I’m going to go wash up.”

He crossed the room in just a few long strides, frowning at the dirt caked under his fingernails, but Indigo held up a hand just before he passed her. 

“Wait.”

He paused mid-stride and turned to face her, as Indie refilled the same tall glass of water and held it out to him. Like before, he took it without any hesitation or argument, and downed the liquid like a man lost in the desert.

“Thanks, love.” he murmured, setting the glass down on the counter beside him. Almost before Indie could react, his fingers caught the back of her neck and pulled her in against him. In just one brisk, confident motion, he pressed his lips firmly to her forehead, and then he let her go and strode down the hall before she’d even fully processed what he’d done. 

Then it hit her like a bolt of lightning, prickling along every nerve. Her heart thundered in her chest so fervently that she had to sit down for a moment. The sight of it, the sight of him all rugged and covered in dirt, and the feel of that confident hand against the back of her neck, was carved into her memory.

Armitage emerged a brief while later, looking much more refreshed and put-together now that he’d had a chance to properly cool down. Indigo watched him finish with the buttons on his shirt as he made his way down the hall. His hair was damp, and his skin was clean of dirt - though his face and forearms were crimson with a rather uncomfortable-looking sunburn. 

“Oh, you’re all red.” Indie mumbled, more to herself than anything, and crouched to pull open the cabinet under the sink. That was where they kept the first aid kit: equidistant from the house proper and her garage, positioned for both mundane needs and any work injuries she might stumble into. It took her a minute of rifling through it before she found what she was looking for. 

“Leave it to me to burn on a cloudy day,” he muttered, half a joke and half a sigh, “Do we have aloe? Or bacta?”

“Right here,” she said, finding it almost at the same moment he mentioned it. Hux held out his hand for the little tube of gel, but Indigo just gestured at the couch across the room. “Sit down.”

Confusion flickered across his face, but he crossed the room without hesitation and took a seat on the end of the sofa. Indie joined him after only a moment, aloe in hand. 

She stood in front of him, not even a full arm’s-length away, and poured a bit of the gel out into her fingers. Armitage was still, expectant, though his pale eyes tracked every motion she made.

Indie shot him a faint smile, then reached out and gently took hold of his forearm, working the aloe into his skin. She took her time with it, perhaps a little longer than was really necessary, but she didn’t want this to feel rushed- least of all like a chore, when it was just the opposite. When she reached his wrist, though, Armitage flipped his palm and closed his fingers loosely around her hand. 

“You don’t have to-”

“I know,” she said, “I want to.”

He still looked a little fidgety at first - not uncomfortable, just that he wasn’t used to having someone else take care of these little tasks for him - and his fingers twitched as he released his grip on her hand. That, too, was a frequent thing for both of them. Having sparked their relationship in the midst of war, the gentler life was still foreign in many ways. One of those, and one of the most difficult to soak in, was learning to accept this sort of attention for things beyond simple necessity. Perhaps it came from how much of their lives they’d each spent alone, only able to rely on themselves.

He’d taken on the yard work because he knew her heart wouldn’t manage it. That much was easy; easy for him to suggest, and easy for her to accept, because it was tethered to something as tangible as her health. But this, caring for him in this way that she knew he could easily do himself, just for the fact that she wanted to… that was new. That was trickier.

“Hey,” Indie murmured, and set her hand gently on his sunburned face, “Relax.”

Armitage nodded against her palm, and she could see the tension trickle out of his body with what looked like a palpable effort. It made her heart hurt a little, just knowing how difficult it was for him to be vulnerable even here. But all the same, it warmed her heart that he was willing to try.

She let her hand fall away from his face, and instead busied herself with applying the aloe to his other forearm and wrist. After a minute of this, Zero hopped up onto the couch to investigate, his nose twitching as he attempted to weasel his way under Hux’s arm. Armitage lifted his hand out of the way, letting out a breathy halfway-laugh at the animal.

“Move, buddy,” Indigo told her pet, promptly rerouting him with the hand not slathered in aloe. Zero let out a low chirp, almost indignant, but hopped off the couch and immediately prowled over to steal Millicent’s spot by the window. 

“He was fine.” 

“Medicinal aloe is toxic if it’s ingested. I didn’t want him getting it on his feathers and then grooming himself.”

“Hm.” 

Thunder crackled above the house, sharp and sudden. Indigo jumped, startled by the noise. Hux did not. He’d lived in storms all his life, after all.

“Seems like the wells are helping, though,” Indie said once the thunder died down, stretching to peer out the window, “They’re catching the rainwater.”

“Be surprised if they didn’t.” Armitage mumbled, hardly loud enough to be heard. Indie just scoffed and shoved lightly at his shoulder. 

“You know what I mean.”

She poured out a little more of the aloe gel into her palm, eyeing the drawn and distant look on her partner’s face. He was still looking out the window, watching the rain come down in sheets. Oh yes, this would be quite the storm, a supercell like the ones of his youth.

Armitage shut his eyes as her fingers reached his face, and she felt the last of his tension finally ebb away under her touch. Her fingertips skated over his forehead, his cheekbones, the harsh splash of crimson across the bridge of his nose- and then, on a whim, she ducked down and kissed him. 

That earned her a smile, bright and real and surprised, and his hands caught her hips to pull her a step closer. Indie staggered and nearly fell straight into his lap, brought so close she could feel the heat from his skin. A harsh but steady rain drummed on the roof over their heads.

A flash of sudden lightning lit up the whole house, accompanied by the deafening and near-instantaneous boom of thunder. Across the room, Millicent yowled and sprinted underneath the cupboard in the hallway. Indigo flinched again despite herself. These storms weren’t often as bad for her as they were for him, with his history, but witnessing lightning so close had grown to make her shudder. All she could see was Exegol.

Clearly Armitage had the same thought. He didn’t flinch, but his hands moved from her waist to her wrists, thumbs tracing the paths of those branching scars down her skin. The touch was comforting on a level she couldn’t quite describe - a reminder of what those scars had been worth, in the end. That made things a little better, though she still couldn’t bear to look out the window as the skies flashed bright again.

His fingers slid down to her hands and squeezed them tight. When she managed to meet his eyes, she found a striking degree of seriousness in them. 

“Indie, I-” he began, refusing to break her gaze for even a moment, “I’m so lucky to have you.”

The rain brought out his affections. It always did. And in a storm like this, how could there be anything else? Lightning was the flash of a blaster, thunder was the snap of a belt. His arduous past rolled in with the storm clouds.

And though the rain was cold, he refused to let it chill him. Not anymore.

[goose-nest]

i discovered this one a couple of days ago and i was planning to save it for later, for after the full 'time after time' story was published, as a lil treat. but the latest chapter was so angsty (and good!) that i felt like i needed some fluff after it lmao

all i have to say about this one is: screaming crying throwing upp giggling kicking my feet ALL OF IT SDFHJSFDJKH<33

this line: “Perhaps I found the process of being convinced… enjoyable.” absolutely TOOK ME OUT 🙈😩😳♥ 10/10 can't wait for the main story to come to the point where hux has this level of confidence and sass 😩🙌🙌

rest (armitage hux x reader) 🧡🧡

Summary: hux is working late, but you try to convince him to get some rest

Warnings/Tags: gn!reader; established relationship; mentions of a prior injury; a little bit suggestive at times but nothing too wild; very soft hux in this one; I fear we shall all need to go to the dentist after this on account of the tooth-rotting levels of fluff 🥰; as always, let me know if I've missed anything!

Words: 3146

Author’s Note: so this is a little outtake from 'time after time' that I'm actually posting before that story goes live, as a little treat ☺️ in the longer story, it's situated somewhere between chapters 29 and 30! ultimately, I really liked this scene, but I just couldn't get it to meld into the narrative of the longer story, so I'm posting it separately instead! I think it should still read totally fine as a little drabble – there are a few moments where I reference events from the larger story, so if you feel like there's a little detail that lacks context, that's probably why 😅 also, this scene takes place very late in the timeline of 'time after time,' so the relationship between hux and the reader is very well established by this point. I really hope y'all enjoy and I would lovelovelove to hear your thoughts! 🥰🥰

Armitage barely noticed the buzz at the door as he leaned over his desk, eyesight beginning to go a little fuzzy as he attempted to focus on the forms and diagrams on his data screens. Then he came back to himself. You were sleeping. Kriff, he hoped the noise hadn’t woken you. He pushed himself from the chair and stumbled a little unsteadily to the door, muscles stiff after hours of not remembering to move. He peered at the tiny screen for the cam that was trained to the exterior of the door. It was just a transport droid, no doubt delivering a freshly pressed set of uniforms. Pushing the button and sending door sliding open before the droid could buzz again, he collected the clothing and dismissed the droid.

He pivoted on his heel back into the room, uniforms in hand. It never failed to send a little thrill through him when both his and yours were delivered to what used to be only his quarters. Maybe it was silly, but it was another treasured reminder that you really were together. With that pleasant thought in mind, he set the crisply folded general’s and captain’s uniforms on the low table in the living area. He didn’t want to risk waking you by placing them in their proper location in the bedroom closet.

He had settled back down at his desk, mind already puzzling through the problems in front of him when he heard a soft sound from the direction of the bedroom. Then he heard you speak.

“Armitage…” Your voice was still thick with sleep, but the sound of his name on your lips was always impossibly sweet. He turned toward you instantly to find you leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, attempting to rub the sleep from your eyes. He was about to try and convince you to go back to bed when he noticed something that caused a faint heat to begin rising in his body. You were wearing his sleep clothes. He had gotten back frustratingly late from a meeting that went far longer than necessary, and you had already been asleep when he quietly entered your shared quarters, so he wouldn’t have seen. But the tiny silver bands near the edges of the short sleeves and the hems of the shorts marked the otherwise unassuming black garments as unmistakably belonging to part of a general’s clothing allotment. Armitage swallowed thickly.

“Are… are you wearing my sleeping clothes?” he asked quietly, feeling the internal heat in his body begin to externalize itself in the form of an embarrassing blush. You nodded sleepily, beginning to make your way to him. He still watched your footsteps carefully in case you might become unstable, but you crossed the floor without incident, even if he could tell that you still favored your uninjured leg slightly. 

“Mmhmm…” you confirmed as you reached him, resting your hands on the back of his chair. “You weren’t there to hold me, so I had to opt for the next best thing.” Your fingers wandered to his shoulders. Armitage’s blush had increased to a veritable blaze, and with the way the warmth of your hands was soaking into his skin, he was beginning to find it very difficult to breathe. “Although I must admit,” you whispered, lips at the shell of his now very reddened ear, “they’re a very poor replacement.” 

Armitage was feeling quite faint indeed. Even if he had wanted to say something, he doubted any words would have made it past his lips. Your fingers pressed into his shoulders, finding all the places where his stress was tied in tense knots and slowly massaging them away. He suppressed a small groan at the heavenly feeling.

“You never wear the short ones anyway,” you murmured. It was true; Armitage had spent too much of his life feeling cold, first on rainy Arkanis and then on the desolate ships of the Imperial remnant. His wiry frame had never held onto heat well. Now that he had the choice to be warm, he wasn’t going to waste the privilege. You helped with that too, he mused as the places where your hands met his shoulders radiated with liquid warmth that was seeping into the rest of his body. “You don’t mind, do you?” There was maybe just the barest hint of hesitation in your question, like you weren’t perfectly certain. He reached one hand up to clasp over yours, momentarily stilling your rhythmic movement on his strained muscles. 

“Not at all,” he assured you. He was so far past not minding. In fact, the thought of it was causing very… distracting images to begin to form in his mind. You hummed lightly in response to his answer, and he could feel the gentle press of your lips against his disheveled hair. Your fingers began kneading at his shoulders again, and he let himself relax more fully into your tender touch. Then he caught a glimpse of the time on his data screen.

“Love,” he said softly, reveling in the way the term of endearment could fall so easily from his lips now. “It’s late – you should go back to bed.” As much as he wanted you to stay, he was determined not to let his own bad habits affect you, especially not while you were still healing.

“Not without you,” came the soft but stubborn reply. A small smile pulled at his lips. Your sleepiness seemed to have made you more endearingly uninhibited.

“You need your rest,” he reminded you, gently pulling one of your hands from his shoulder and placing a warm kiss on your knuckles. 

“So do you,” you responded, your other hand now carding through his hair, sending a pleasant humming sensation along his scalp as you freed the last of the orderly orange strands from their gelled attention. He realized his resolve was weakening.

“I have work to do…” he said softly, trying to convince himself as much as you. Reluctantly, he dropped your hand, placing his arm back on the armrest of his chair as he once again pulled himself toward the desk. He hoped that the action of returning to work would shake the tiredness he could feel steadily growing in his body. It seemed you weren’t having any of that though.

You trailed your hand over his shoulder and down the length of his arm, your touch setting off sparks on his skin even through the rumpled fabric of his uniform top. He struggled to regulate his breathing. You came into view then as you moved between him and his data screens, letting your fingers linger on the back of his wrist as you leaned back against the edge of his desk. The sight of you still soft and languid from sleep, clad in his sleep clothes, was almost more than he could bear. He bit down hard as he struggled with both the exhaustion and sudden heat that were steadily rising in his body. 

“Armitage, you can work next cycle,” you told him gently as you leaned toward him. His breath stuttered in his lungs.

“I— I really should try to get this finished,” he stammered out, even though everything in him wanted to give into you. You seemed to search his face for a moment before coming to some kind of conclusion. What you had decided Armitage could not guess.

“Alright,” you whispered, but there was less defeat in your voice than he would have expected. He watched as you pushed yourself from his desk, hoping to steal a kiss as you passed back behind his chair to return to the bedroom. But that was not the motion you made.

Armitage had to grip the armrests of his chair in surprise as you instead moved forward and slid onto his lap, easily slotting yourself against him. Your head was tucked into his neck, your hands curled up against his chest, legs swung sideways across him. It was a long moment before he could breathe again. The warm, comforting weight of your body against him was such a familiar, welcome feeling that he instinctively began to melt into you. 

“What are you doing?” he asked breathlessly, his lips against your forehead.

“You said you needed to work and that I needed to rest,” you murmured back. He could feel your quiet words vibrating against his chest. “But I sleep better when you hold me. So I’m compromising.” Even through the sleepiness in your voice, Armitage could hear the light teasing that threaded through your words. Kriff, he was so in love with you.

“You’re not going to be able to sleep like this,” he told you, unable to keep the smile from his voice. You shrugged against him.

“How do you know?” you responded, adjusting your position on his lap and snuggling closer to him. He gritted his teeth, only too aware that he was losing this battle. When he remained still for a moment, you spoke again: “You can work. I’ll just be here.”

Armitage let out a huff of affectionate amusement at your words. Nevertheless, he pulled himself back toward his desk, trying to train his attention on the data screens. He was not particularly successful in that endeavor. Every instinct in his body was telling him to wrap his arms around you, to pull you closer. You were literally in his lap, pressed against his chest, and he was focused on work that was seeming less and less important by the minute as he became more and more aware of your body against his. He was struggling mightily to read over a diagram when he felt you move.

Your hands had found their way to his uniform collar and were slowly loosening the dark fabric from around his throat, undoing some of the topmost fastenings. His skin flushed, reacting immediately to the soft brush of your fingers.

“I thought you were supposed to be sleeping,” he reminded you, his lightly scolding tone no doubt getting lost in the rush of affection that he couldn’t suppress from his voice.

“You seemed uncomfortable,” you offered by way of explanation as you pulled the high collar away from his neck. “I was just trying to help.” Before he could respond, he was suddenly frozen in place by the feeling of your warm lips pressed tenderly to the revealed skin of his neck. He gripped the armrest as his breathing became fevered and uneven. He knew the battle was lost.

When your lips fell from his skin, he pulled back, letting you lean slightly into the support of his arms so that he could see your face.

“What?” you asked with a bright smile, the question suffused with false innocence. 

“You are incorrigible,” he responded, tilting forward to press his forehead against yours, brushing your noses together. The action caused a spiral of sleepy giggles to bubble from your lips. Despite his attempt to affect mock disapproval, Armitage couldn’t help the way his face pulled into a smile at your reaction.

“I learned from the best,” you retorted happily, planting a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose. There was no way to hide the way his whole face went pink.

“Well, now I see why you were so good at your work, Captain,” he teased, still surprised at how easily such a response came to him when he was around you, “you can be very convincing indeed.”

“I’m not sure how good it made me at my work,” you replied, and Armitage could hear the laughter in your voice, “since this manner of persuasion is saved for you alone, General.” Your eyes were glittering and so, so soft as you looked at him. If he hadn’t already admitted defeat, this would have been the moment he would have happily given in. There was something about knowing that there was a side of you reserved solely for him that never failed to make warmth bloom in his chest.

“Hmmm… a brilliant tactician then,” he mused as he brought your head to where he could press a kiss to your temple. You hummed happily in response. 

“Does this mean you’ll come to bed then?” you asked with a small yawn. Armitage was all too aware of the way your fingers had found his collar again and were slowly opening more and more of his uniform top, revealing the black shirt beneath. The skin of his chest was no doubt a humiliating shade of pink under the thin fabric as his body reacted to your gentle touch.

“Fine,” he acquiesced with an exaggerated sigh of mock-resignment. From the way you laughed, it was clear you heard the affectionate joking in his voice.

“Thank you for your sacrifice, General,” you teased back. The way your fingers were idly tracing patterns across his chest was making him feel quite dizzy.

“Far from a sacrifice,” he whispered against your temple, the joking gone from his voice, “I consider it a privilege.” You ducked your head in slight embarrassment at his words as he pressed another kiss to your hairline.

“Then why did it take so much convincing?” you murmured against his chest. There were a hundred ways Armitage could have answered that question, most of them coming down to the fact that he had gotten good at denying himself the things he wanted. This was not the time to delve into that particular subject; he wanted to keep the conversation light, aware of the fact that you seemed to be growing sleepier by the minute as you curled against him.

“Well, your methods of persuasion were perfectly attuned to your intended target,” he mused, tracing a finger along your cheek. “Perhaps I found the process of being convinced… enjoyable.” He could feel the way your skin warmed at his words. 

“Now who’s being incorrigible?” you rejoined, unable to keep a smile from blooming on your face despite the teasing mock-accusation in your voice.

“You did say you learned from the best,” he reminded you, eliciting a small laugh as you tucked your head against his neck again. Kriff, you made everything in him feel so light. He could have stayed there all rest period, but he was too practical to think that the current position was a viable long-term sleeping option for either of you.

“Love, I hate to say this, but you are going to need to get up so that I can keep my promise,” he whispered against your ear. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your small whine of annoyance. Nevertheless, you crawled from his lap as his hands hovered over you, still anxious that you might become unsteady. He missed the feeling of your body against his immediately.

He stood from his chair as soon as he was certain that you were able to stand without incident. You leaned back against his desk slightly, arms wrapped around yourself as though to ward off the chill in the air that was more apparent on your bared skin now that you weren’t curled against him. Armitage placed his hands on your shoulders as you gazed at him with tired eyes.

“Go to bed,” he urged you softly. “I need to change, but I’ll be right there.”

“You promise?” you asked. Kriff, he couldn’t say no to you when you were looking at him like that – not that he was planning on denying you anything.

“I promise,” he assured you, planting a kiss on your forehead. You hummed lightly as his lips found your skin and offered him a soft smile as you vanished back toward the bedroom. Watching for just a moment to make sure your injured leg didn’t fail you, Armitage then slid into the refresher and finished the work you had been doing to loosen his uniform, the memory of your fingers still lingering against his skin. He pulled on his sleeping clothes – garments he used significantly more now that he was with you. Then he padded through the darkened rooms, turning off his data screens as he made for the bedroom. You were right: his work could wait until next cycle.

He stepped softly into the room, taking a moment to notice the way the starlight streaming in through the window cascaded over your form, bathing you in a silvery glow. His breath skipped a little in his lungs. He crawled under the covers with you, and he could tell that you were already half asleep by the way your breathing had deepened. You blinked your eyes open slightly as he slid onto the mattress next to you, a tired but genuine smile forming on your lips.

“This is so much better than just wearing your sleep clothes,” you murmured as he pulled you into his arms.

“And this is so much better than working,” Armitage sighed. “But you can wear my sleep clothes any time,” he added, the words barely above a whisper. Something about the soft darkness in the room and the way you were folded so happily against him was making him feel a little brave.

“Oh yeah?” He could tell from the hazy quality of your voice that you were on the verge of sleep. “Why?” He stroked a hand down your back, considering his reply. If he confessed now, with you already barely conscious, maybe you would wake up thinking you had dreamed it.

“I find it quite… attractive.” The word was a paltry one for the way heat had suffused his body at the sight, but it conveyed his meaning well enough for the moment. Perhaps there would be another time for him to be more explicit about his feelings on the subject. He blushed deeply in the dark.

“Then… I guess… I’ll have to wear them more often…” It was clear you were struggling to stay awake with the way your stumbling words kept trailing off. Armitage continued the gentle motion of his hand moving lightly up and down your back.

“I find you quite… appealing… no matter what you wear.” Again, the word paled in comparison to the way he felt about you. But the sentiment was true, the proof only too clear on his very reddened cheeks that he was grateful you couldn’t see.

“Armitage… are you saying…?” Your question faded from your lips as your breathing deepened. Armitage was relieved. He wasn’t sure that was a conversation he could have with you without it resulting in you getting far less sleep than you needed. Heat still spread throughout his body at the thought though. He closed his eyes, working to match his breathing to yours. There would be time for that on other nights.

“Sleep well, love,” he murmured, his lips pressed to your forehead in a reverent kiss as he wrapped you even tighter in his embrace. “You need your rest.”

[starlightsearches]

Just a Matter of Time

Armitage Hux x wife! reader

AN: We've got even more marriage AU, my friends!! We're going a bit out of order now—I'm working on a different piece about Hux's first time with his wife, but it's giving me a little bit of trouble. I wrote this one for funsies because I'm obsessed with the idea of these two exploring sex and intimacy together. Let me know what you think, please! Comments, likes and reblogs are my favorites!!

Warnings: 18+ only (no minors), piv sex, unprotected sex (raw. next question), brief discussion of protection, partially-clothed sex, pulling out, cum, semi-public sex, titty sucking, language, and I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything!

Armitage checks his reflection in the gleaming surface of a tie fighter and cringes internally. Just as he suspected. The shame is clear on his face.

Luckily there’s not many around to see it. It’s late in the night cycle, and this hangar receives less traffic than the others—usually reserved for small ships on diplomatic missions, or officers choosing to take their leave planet-side.

That’s why Armitage is here now.

Hux can’t imagine what would possess someone to willingly attend any of those noxious nightclubs on Canto Bight, and yet you had been endlessly thrilled when you received the invitation from a group of officers you had tentatively befriended. The prospect was exciting to you, and, regardless of his own opinions, Armitage was grateful for anything that allowed him to bask in the warmth of your delight.

Even if the thought of your going had his stomach tied in knots.

You had spent the evening getting ready, and Armitage had hung around in your shared quarters, making poor attempts to look busy: tapping away stupidly on his data pad as you rushed from your closet to the refresher, slipping in and out of every pair of shoes you own, covering yourself with glitters and fine-smelling perfumes.

He should have expected it, of course. The dresses you wear daily, while beautiful and elegant, would look out of place where you were going. And still, his heart had stuttered in his chest at the sight of so much skin—your legs stretching long from the hem of a very short skirt, hugging tight to the curve of your hips, the neckline that dipped low over the center of your breasts, held up by the flimsiest of straps.

Oh, fuck.

“How do I look?” you had asked, and it was clear to Armitage that you were in need of reassurance, shifting from foot to foot, fingers twisting together. 

His dry-mouthed response to your question had left much to be desired, and yet you had hardly noticed, so preoccupied with your own nerves that you couldn’t see the ways your husband had lost himself—about to drop to his knees in desperation and bury his face against your thighs.

Armitage caught you by the arm, instead, your skin bare and warm beneath his hand. Despite all the ways he’s held and felt you, touching you like this—so casually—still had his heart beating at a strenuous pace. 

“Per- perhaps,”Armitage had stuttered out the word, and regretted it, starting again, “perhaps I should accompany you, as well.”

That had made you laugh, which at least made his idiocy worth it. Your nose had wrinkled pleasantly, your feet carrying you a step closer, bringing him nearer to the magnetic field of you as you looked up at him with soft eyes.

“Why?”

A fair question—and one Armitage had no answer for. It would cause all kinds of discomfort and embarrassment, and yet the need was there, the desire. Armitage wanted to be there with you, not only so he could deal with anyone who glanced in your direction with less-than-chaste intentions, but so they could see him beside you. Could watch the way you wanted him, reached for him over anyone else. 

“For your . . . protection.”

You had rolled your eyes, pressing your fingers playfully against his chest. “It’s not an active war zone, general. Besides, Phasma will be there.”

Ah, yes. That had been his one concession, although he never mentioned it to you, letting her presence on your little excursion appear as natural as possible. Phasma would certainly keep you safe, and his reasonable ground was slipping. If it had continued, he would have ended up begging you to stay with him with the hopes you might call him general like that again.

And now he’s puttering around an empty hangar, making more work for himself and waiting for your return like a love-sick pup. 

Armitage’s patience, or desperation, is rewarded, though. His mental pacing is interrupted before too long by the whir of an approaching ship.

He watches the landing from a distance, straightening his posture and keeping his brow stern as the others unload from the transport, waiting for you to emerge.

His eyes catch on a glimmer of rich fabric, and a breath punches from his lungs when he sees the rest of you—a little more disheveled from the journey, but alive and in one piece. How is it possible you look even lovelier now than you did in his feeble memory?

Armitage’s heart crumples in his chest when you meet his eyes and smile.

There’s a few slurred goodbyes as you part from the group—and a cloud of noise following the officers as they stumble down the hallway in pairs or groups of three, arms slung around each other to keep the most inebriated from falling. 

You seem clear-eyed, though, as you approach Armitage, and steady on your feet. The even tempo of your heels against the floor echoes through the hangar, and his chest.

“Hello, general,” you greet him, meeting his eyes through your lashes, “were you waiting for me?”

Of course he had been, but it seems shameful to admit it, and so he stumbles into a lie, instead. 

“Only to make sure you arrived back safely,” Armitage claims, “are you feeling . . . well?”

Your laugh is quiet, but the melody of it rings in his ears when you press a hand against his chest. Armitage resists the urge to glance around, to check for some disapproving glare or whispered conversation outside his line of sight. There’s no one around, really—a few technicians working on a busted tie-fighter on the other side of the hangar out of sight, some mouse droids zipping past, but no audience to this contact that seems wholly inappropriate in public.

And still you’re smiling that same secret smile. “I haven’t been drinking, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Ah,” Armitage replies, rather stupidly, but it can’t be helped with the way your fingers shift, circling around his bicep, stroking over the fabric of his greatcoat, “that’s—why?”

There’s a gentle frown on your lips. Armitage resists the urge to brush it away with a kiss. 

“Because you won’t touch me if I’ve been drinking.”

Oh. 

There’s so much in that statement that Armitage will need to parse through later—the pouty tone in your voice and the way it stokes the fire in his chest, your strange exasperation with his concern for your unhindered consent.

But in this moment, there’s only one realization on your husband’s mind: you want him to touch you. 

Fuck. If only he had known. Armitage would have used his time more wisely, wouldn’t have spent so much of it pining for your return, dreaming of the sight of your legs in that skirt again, hoping he might feel the swell of your breast through his sleeve as you clung to his arm on the walk back to your quarters. He would have used it to his greatest advantage: fulfilling deadlines, creating plans, responding to missives, and he would have done the work happily—all with the motivation of your weight in his lap and your lips at his neck for as long as he could convince you to stay.

Armitage mentally tabulates the time it would take to return with you to his quarters, to lay you down on his bed and touch you the way you had asked, the way he craves. And there’s simply not enough for that and for the tasks he was supposed to already have completed before he must return to the bridge. 

“I— I don’t think,” Armitage begins, even with all the ways you make his refusal difficult—the sensual warmth of you through his uniform, your teeth absentmindedly gnawing on your plush lower lip, “there’s so much to— it’s . . . unavoidable.” 

He finishes the smattering of words with a pathetic little gasp as you bring your body even closer, his blood thrumming through his veins at the contact, cock growing stiff in his trousers. 

There are no words at your lips, no hit of a frown. Armitage watches as your gaze shifts, landing deliberately on the transport you had just vacated. 

Your eyes meet his again. The message is clear. 

Oh. No. 

“We couldn’t.”

That’s what Armitage tells you, but the voice in his head speaks much louder. He could. He wants to. He’s not sure if he can resist. 

“No one will know,” you whisper through a smile.

Technically true—but Armitage is aware of the security cams, positioned around the large hangar and monitored always. He had watched the footage himself only a few hours ago as you left, and so he knows exactly what would be seen: his hand in yours, the look of incredulous panic on his face as you led him into the mouth of the transport before you both disappeared from view. That is, if the heat of his blush didn’t scramble the feeds. 

Maybe no one would know, but someone might assume. And given the number of incorrigible gossips on this ship, they would certainly tell, and that message would spread, uncontained.

But Armitage finds he is not as opposed to the idea as he thought he would be.

“Yes, but . . .” it’s so like Armitage, arguing against his own interests, denying himself something he wants so desperately for reasons even he can’t understand, “what if someone were to . . .”

You interrupt before he can finish the thought, your other hand sneaking it’s way up to the back of his neck, your warm skin pressed to his. “The entrances all lock.”

How long had you been considering something like this? That alone could break down his resolve. Armitage might be able to keep himself from those distant pleasures, but not you. Never you.

And yet his hesitation has sent a different message. There’s an almost imperceptible shift in your demeanor—a half step you take away from him, the uncertain tremor in all those points of contact he had been enjoying only moments ago.

“But you have work to do, of course,” you concede, “if you don’t want—”

Fear strikes Armitage in the chest at the way you turn from him. He’s disappointed you, and worse, he’s made you feel unwanted. The shame floods through him, momentarily overwhelming his desire.

He might be too eager when he reaches for your hand, fingers circling around your wrist to keep you in place.

 “I do,” he tells you. Armitage wants. He hopes you can feel it, past all his failures and idiosyncrasies. You must know how desperately he wants you, in every moment. Always. 

His thumb traces over the veins in the back of your hand, relishes the way you tremble. Your lips part with a pop, expression unsure, and your eyes search his face the same way Armitage watches yours. 

“Really?” 

Against any better judgement, your husband nods. 

And it’s all a blur for the next few moments—just your hushed laughter and the blood flooding his cheeks taking up all his thoughts. He imagines the scene from someone else’s perspective: an onlooker, brimming with skepticism as you pull him eagerly across the hangar. He’s sure they would find the situation as unbelievable as Armitage does.

Once you are alone—the mechanical whir of the locks assuring it—Armitage regains some command of himself, pulling into you. Your body is soft against his, your touch eager as you push the heavy fabric of his greatcoat off his shoulders. Armitage lets it fall to the ground with a thud, then reaches for you as soon as it's gone—tracing the slope of your hips, pressing you further against the durasteel until your spine bows and the only thing he can feel between the two of you is your heartbeat. 

You kiss him, messily, eager, little giggles slipping out with each breath you take at this moment of rebellion and Armitage drinks your laughter in heavy gulps, kissing you back with fervor. Each encounter has brought him additional confidence, and seems to have given you more of the same—no longer hesitant in asking for what you want.  

One of your hands snakes down the length of his chest; Armitage burns in its wake, unable to take any air in when your fingers trace over the outline of his aching cock.

“Fuck.”

The expletive slips out before Hux can stop it. He shouldn’t speak so coarsely in front of you—in front of his wife—and yet you don’t pull away, your hand cupping his length more fully as you slide your tongue between his lips. 

Armitage will finish right now if he’s not careful. It takes so little from you—your hot breath and curious touches—to have him right on the edge, ready to spill into his trousers. He can’t have that.

And so, with one swift movement, he pins your hands out of the way, pressing his knuckles against the wall as he grips at your wrists like a vise.

He doesn’t have any time to waste. Not if he wants to feel you coming around him in the next few minutes. 

Armitage takes in the heady scent of you as he traces the length of your jaw with his nose, parts his lips around the stretched expanse of your neck. His tongue follows, picking up the taste of your skin. There’s the tang of salt and the chemical flavor of perfume, and beneath that, something lighter, more refined.

He travels lower, kissing at the juncture just above your collarbone, feels your pulse jump against his tongue, and sinks his teeth into your plush skin until he hears you whine, your hot breath feathering through his hair. 

Perfect. 

Armitage continues to taste you as he shifts his grip, trapping both of your wrists in the grasp of one hand. He lets the other explore as it traverses over the dips and curves of your body before brushing the strap from off your shoulder, slipping the neckline down until he can cup at your exposed breast. 

Your nipple pebbles pleasantly in the cool air of the transport. Armitage watches, transfixed for a moment, and then takes the bud into the warmth of his mouth.

The transport echoes with the sound of your high-pitched breaths, a few moans when Hux lets the flat of his tongue travel over the stiff peak while his hand slips up between your thighs, petting at the swollen ridge of your clit.

You gasp his name, pulling at his hold on you with desperation that still surprises him, despite everything. 

There’s a part of him—a little cruel, incredibly curious—that wants to keep you like this. Wants to see how close he can bring you to the edge when you have no chance to retaliate. The thought ignites something in him. Armitage would like to hear you, tear-soaked, begging for him until his resolve finally broke. 

Pity there’s so little time.

So he relents, loosening his grip, and you’re on him again before he can recover his bearings—your nails carding through his hair and your mouth fierce against his own and the press of your warm, soft body. Armitage lets his weight cage you in, holding you tighter against the wall behind you, his hands cupping at the swell of your ass until your body is flush with his, the hot press of his cock jutting against your stomach. 

You groan, needy, and you once again drop one of your hands, slipping the fastening of his trousers out of the way, fingers just barely dipping past the band at his waist, nails dragging against his skin. 

Armitage feels his desire in the backs of his thighs, coiling at the base of his spine, flooding his lungs—that strange singing sting that has his teeth bared, chest shuddering with rapid breaths. He wants to give into it, to fuck into you with rabid strokes, wants to feel you unravel around him as you spill moan after moan into his gloved palm.

Just as your fingertips meet the head of his dick, he’s interrupted by a frustrating oversight.

“I don’t,” he grunts out the words, pulling away from you, despite the pain it causes, “I don’t have any . . . protection.”

Armitage digs his knuckles into the durasteel behind you, lets his irritation manifest itself in the ache that blooms through his hand. He never would have assumed something like this would happen, but he should have been prepared, regardless. He’d been so careful elsewhere—quietly maintaining the stock in his quarters and, shamefully, his office, although the need for it had felt like a distant fantasy at the time. 

You meet his eyes, and he knows that the full meaning of what he’s said is beyond your understanding—something he, once again, is to blame for. Conversations around his insistence on protection had been limited, and Armitage considered it his sole responsibility for moments like these.

“Oh,” you respond, and there’s a tinge of heartbreak in your voice, “should we . . .”

Stop? Armitage knows what you’re going to say, and can’t bear to hear it. He won’t even let the word broach your lips, kissing you deeper, more fully than he had previously allowed. You accept this answer without question, like you had accepted so many others—things about Armitage you had never even considered could be denied. 

He lets rationality take over for just a moment, lets it ground him. Armitage pulls away slightly, breathing deeply and doing his best to ignore the wet shine of your lips, the strings of your spit that tremble and break in the space between you.

He won’t last long, not if he’s looking at you. Watching your eyes roll back, feeling your lips tremble against his with unrestrained moans—it would have him spilling inside you before the moment had truly begun. So Armitage takes your hips in both his hands, guides you gently to face away from him.

Armitage can’t remember a time where he’s felt like this—so desperate for gratification, his vision blurry and lungs heaving, on the edge of tears for the need of it. Your head lolls back against his shoulder as he takes the hem of your skirt in both hands, pulling it up over the swell of your ass. There’s a soft sound, like seams popping, but it’s barely audible over the groan that escapes him at the sight of your soft skin, the way it indents against the harsh press of his hips. 

He frees his cock, gives his length a preliminary stroke. It’s not necessary—he’s more than hard enough for you, blood throbbing at the feeling of your wet folds against his leather-covered fingers as his other hand peels back the sticky lace.

Your husband breathes, steeling himself as he slips his cock between your thighs, wetting his length as it brushes against your slick and eager folds. A moan breaks through your lips when the head of him nudges against your clit, and he repeats the movement again just to soak in the sound.

“Are you ready for me?”  Armitage asks, his whispered breath hot against the shell of your ear. You nod in response, and he feels your lips against his neck, forming the word yes.

He slips the tip of his cock back toward your entrance, presses gently until your body opens for him, head buried inside the inviting heat. The grip of your walls tightens around him, and Armitage grunts, pressing forward—slowly as he can manage before wrapping one arm around your waist. He braces the other against the durasteel to mitigate the press of his weight as he begins to thrust. 

Your body welcomes him, as it always has, taking him so perfectly for every inch he gives you. It feels different, without the thin barrier Armitage had become accustomed to. The already intense sensation is multiplied to a dangerous degree—the warmth, the soft grip of your cunt. He pauses once he’s fully seated, breathing in the scent of your hair and perfume, soaking in the feeling of you, of your presence, of your want.

Wants he’s not fulfilling. Your hips press back against his in desperation, breathing out his name. 

“Armitage, please.”

The movements are automatic—Armitage is so adverse to denying you anything in this moment that his body responds without thought, his hips shifting against yours immediately. He starts slowly, but that tempo only lasts so long, and the transport fills with the measured beat of his hips against yours, and the wet squelch of your cunt and those soft, alluring moans. 

One of your hands reaches back, cupping at his neck, fingers grazing through the soft hairs there. Armitage feels your head tip against his shoulder, feels your damp breath against his flushed skin. 

And under normal circumstances, your husband would hate to rush you, would let you find your release gently and on your own terms. But Armitage is too close, and has to be careful his end doesn’t sneak up on him. So he drops his grip from your waist, slipping two fingers against your clit. The pressure of his hand has you shaking in his grasp, but he doesn’t relent, circling the little bud with an even tempo, matching the pace of his thrusts until he feels the tell-tale clench of your cunt around his cock, the flood of heat and the weakness in your legs that has your husband supporting most of your weight as you let the pleasure take you.

Armitage barely has the sense about him to slip out of you before the shocks find him, his cock throbbing and his mind a dizzying mess as he spills his seed . . . right onto the magnificent skirt bunched up around your waist.

Your gaze finds his over your shoulder before you’ve even caught your breath, slipping the garment back down over your hips, assessing the damage before leveling him with an accusatory stare.

“This was new.”

Your admonishment only serves to make him laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a prideful smirk as he admires the slow drip of his cum down the fabric. Armitage presses his forehead to yours, and your demeanor changes, brows pleading, your lips searching for his.

“I’ll get you another,” he promises. Armitage would buy you a thousand just like it, if he could mar some of them in the same way. He hears no protest from you when he presses a kiss to your waiting mouth. 

There’s a gentle shuffle as Armitage rights his uniform, erases any trace of this little dalliance from his appearance. There’s no such ease for you though. 

“I can’t make it back to our quarters like this,” you whisper against his mouth, a hint of a smile at the corners. 

That is certainly true. If he had thought people would talk before—with only the security footage of your path to the transport—the sight of you now would cause a riot.

But the transport is frustratingly low on supplies that might help in this situation. Armitage searches the space with an analytical eye, and finds only one solution: his greatcoat, in a heap on the floor.

Armitage lifts the heavy garment, holds it out for you, and finds his cheeks heating with a blush when you slide your arms inside the sleeves.

Oh. It doesn’t fit you well—the coat was made for him, and it shows in the gaps at the shoulders, the way the hem rests a little too close to the ground. And still, Armitage’s heart races when you pull the front of it closed around your body like a blanket, finding comfort in something that is so ostensibly his.

“How do I look?” you ask the question for the second time that night, and once again, Armitage is at a loss for words. There’s no need for it, though, not when he can hold you in his arms, assure you with a few gentle kisses. 

Your goodbyes are short, but no less full of longing. Armitage watches your form as it disappears into the distance and feels his heart as it thuds heavily in his chest with each sway of your hips. The desire to follow you almost overwhelms him.

Well. At least he has plenty of motivation to finish his work now.

[blue-sadie]

Blinded By Feelings

Armitage Hux, Cal Kestis, Poe Dameron, Din Djarin, Anakin Skywalker

They have feelings for you their enemy

Armitage Hux

He hated you even through he's never met you, he loathed your very being and it only increased when he met you, you were another general that to fought to be the best.

And when you two were together in a meeting or just in passing in the corridors you two would bicker like children over plans or random things that was annoying one of you that day.

He would only realize his feelings when a storm trooper would ask him but he would tell them to shut up and threaten them saying he would throw him into space if he ever spoke something so ridiculous again, but it would cloud his mind days after that.

He would feel disgusted by himself and avoid you by all cost but his efforts went to waste when you come back injured from a mission and he would make it his personal mission to take you to the med bay and scold you at the same time.

"You are stupid as the rebellion if you think you would not get scolded for your actions you could've gotten yourself killed next time at least tell me first so I can get you better storm troopers"

Cal Kestis

You joined the crew way before he did and had a stronger bond with greez and cere he was kinda jealous it wasn't much of a hatred thing he just found you kinda annoying to be around and would avoid being with you.

Every time you tried talking to him he would ignore you or when you saved him countless times he would just give you a forced thank you but nothing more.

The thing that made him notice is that you would start showing up in his dreams more or when he meditates, he'd find it annoying at first but he'd start thinking about you more and more.

He'd start listening and paying more attention to you which not only freaked you out but the other crew members to, during one of the missions he'd actually listen to your ideas instead of shutting you up.

"You have some really good ideas I should've started listening to you sooner, I'm sorry about that by the way I guess I was just jealous of you"

Poe Dameron

You were the rebellions best mechanic and the person that would work on his x-wing without his consent he'd hate it even though it needed to be done, he hates it more when you'd leave sticky notes telling him about the up grades you've done to his ship.

He would complain to Leia about you but she'd just laugh and tell him off because your just doing your job so then he'd come complain directly to you but you'd just ignore him continuing on his next up grade.

He'd have a few people tell him that he probably has a crush on you because of him talking about you so much but what really makes him realize is when he sees you talking to others guys and the jealousy he feels.

When returning from one of his missions his x-wing battered and needing repairs he'd actually come straight to you to ask you to repair it for him.

"I know I found it annoying but I've come to realize your up grades are kinda.... helpful after saving me a few times so what I'm trying to say is I'd like you to continue working on my ship"

Din Djarin

Your were an assassin, killing off the high end people most bounty hunters were afraid to kill, you've also killed a few of his bountys making him pissed.

He's only ever layed eyes on you a few times in crowed bars or a desolate street he doesn't really care about knowing you because why would he get to know his enemy a thief.

He'd only start looking out for you more when you saved him from an ambush you shot his captures in the head and threw him a gun before disappearing again.

He'd be against the idea of ever actually falling for you because of his past experiences but after some more encounters with you he'd would stop you before you vanish again.

"You can reject this offer but I'm still putting it out there, I want you to join me us, it would be alot easier we work together then you stealing my bountys so what do you say"

Anakin Skywalker

You are master windus padowan and the person he's always compared to why can't you be like yn why can't you take after her, it was something he heard almost everyday which makes him hate you.

He hates how kind you are even through his hateful words he spits your way or when you'd sometimes take the fall for one of his stupid plans he never even thanks you.

He like hux only got the realization when you got hurt, you'd taken a hit that was ment for him, the panic he felt as he watched you fall made him snap and kill whoever did it.

He'd spend day and night by your bedside in the medbay pacing back and forth as he tried thinking about his feelings, they'd only calm down when he sees you awake.

"Don't do that ever again do you hear me, you don't deserve to be here especially because of me I should be in this bed instead of you, do you know what you put me through I thought I lost you"

[bakerstreethound]

Oh my gosh thank you!!! I feel like Hux deserves a little angst and a tad bit of comfort. Thank you so much for reading! 🫶💕

What Doesn’t Kill You

Requested by @livy1391: Hello there!! I seen that you are interested in writing for Star Wars! Would you mind if I asked for a General Armitage Hux x Reader? After Hux is shot the reader is told to get rid of his body, however, she knows that Hux is still alive because he specifically wore stronger armor because he predicted what Pryde would do. 

Pairing: General Armitage Hux x reader

Warnings: TROS Spoilers, violence, swearing

Summary: reader gets rid of Hux’s supposed “dead” body but has other plans. 

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound

Word Count: 786

A/N: this is my first time writing Hux and I really enjoyed it! If you haven’t seen TROS and want to avoid some spoilers read at your own discretion! Thank you for the request! Let’s write those wrongs (:

General Armitage Hux had a bad feeling about a summons he received. He knew letting the fugitives escape was a bad idea, but he had to help the Resistance and bring down Kylo Ren. It did nothing to calm his nerves as he paced up and down the corridors of our shared quarters. 

“You have to trust me, darling. Pryde is going to kill me. When he finds out I’m the spy all hell will break loose. I only have one choice!”

You held up a hand silencing him. “Let me speak,” your voice was laced with authority demanding to be heard. “You have to trust me on this.”

He continued pacing, rustling his hands through his red locks.

“Hux.”

When he turned towards you this time, he didn’t try to hide the tears from falling. “I’m not ready for this. I can’t live a life without you in it.”

Keep reading

[girl-next-door-writes]

Fake it til you fall

Characters: Armitage Hux x reader

Summary: Anxiety spikes at a holiday party until an unexpected ally, Armitage Hux, helps you fake-date your way to triumph—but is your evening as fake as you first thought?

Word Count: 1274 words

Prompts: Crowded party. Fake dating.

A/N: A sweet anon requested this one, and I hope they see it.

The clamor of the holiday party swirled around you like a chaotic symphony. Laughter, the soft hum of music, the clinking of glasses—sounds that should have been comforting felt anything but as you scanned the room for a familiar face. The sprawling penthouse, draped in tasteful holiday decor—gold and white lights twinkling against polished wood and sparkling glass—felt more like a museum than a place for merriment.

You had one mission tonight: survive this.

Across the room, you caught sight of your co-worker, Lila, and she wasn’t alone. She was surrounded by her usual gaggle of friends, none of whom you could stand. They'd zero in on you the moment they spotted you alone, hurling the same passive-aggressive questions as always: "Oh, you're here alone again this year? How independent of you!"

The air caught in your throat at the thought. Not again. Not tonight.

You edged closer to the refreshment table, trying to look busy by fussing with a glass of eggnog. The bubbling anxiety gnawed at the edges of your mind, but then, as if summoned by some miracle—or maybe just sheer desperation—you saw him.

Armitage Hux, the last person you expected to be at a party like this.

He wasn’t mingling. Of course he wasn’t mingling. The man looked as out of place as a cat in a dog park. His tailored suit was immaculate, the dark fabric setting off his ginger hair and sharp features. His arms were crossed, his expression one of thinly veiled disdain as he surveyed the room with the air of someone who would rather be anywhere else.

But he was here, and more importantly, he was alone.

You’d worked with him tangentially—sort of. He was a consultant for a neighboring department at your firm, and while you’d only exchanged a handful of words, you knew one thing for certain: he was someone who commanded respect.

Or fear.

Either way, the idea struck like a bolt of lightning.

You could ask him to fake date you. Just for tonight.

You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it, but then you caught sight of Lila again, her eyes narrowing as they landed on you. Time was running out.

You squared your shoulders, grabbed two champagne flutes, and approached Hux.

“Hi,” you greeted, forcing a smile and holding out the extra glass like a peace offering.

He raised one perfectly arched eyebrow, looking at you as if you’d just interrupted a very important thought.

“Yes?”

You resisted the urge to wither under his gaze. “I… I need your help.”

His other eyebrow joined the first. “My help?”

“Look,” you said, glancing over your shoulder toward Lila, who was now whispering to her friends and shooting pointed looks your way. “There’s this group of people here who always make my life miserable at these events, and I just—well, if I could pretend I wasn’t alone tonight, they’d leave me alone.”

Hux blinked slowly. “You want me to pretend to be your date?”

“Just for tonight,” you said quickly. “No strings, no weird expectations. Just stand near me, maybe talk to me every now and then, and let people assume we’re together. Please.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his green eyes piercing. You braced yourself for rejection, for mockery, for him to laugh in your face and leave you to fend for yourself.

But then he said, “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes,” he said curtly, taking the champagne flute from your hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

It didn’t take long for the ruse to kick into effect.

Hux, to his credit, was an exceptional fake boyfriend. He stood close enough to you that no one would question your supposed relationship, but not so close as to make it uncomfortable. He offered you his arm when you moved through the room, and his sharp, dry wit kept even the most insistent small talkers at bay.

You found yourself relaxing in his presence, the initial awkwardness giving way to something almost… fun.

Lila, of course, made her move.

“Oh, wow,” she said, sidling up to you with an exaggerated smile. “I didn’t know you were bringing someone. Who’s this?”

“This is Armitage,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “My boyfriend.”

Her eyes flicked over to him, and for the first time in your life, you were grateful for Hux’s intimidating demeanor. Lila’s smile faltered for just a fraction of a second before she recovered.

“Boyfriend?” she repeated, her voice a shade too sweet. “How… unexpected.”

Hux, who had been sipping his champagne, gave her a cold, thin smile. “The best things in life often are.”

You almost choked on your drink.

Lila, flustered, made some excuse and quickly retreated, leaving you and Hux standing together in victorious silence.

“Thank you,” you said, your shoulders dropping as the tension left you.

Hux shrugged. “It was nothing. People like that are… predictable.”

“Still, I appreciate it. You’ve made this party a lot less miserable.”

He glanced at you then, his sharp features softening just slightly. “You’re welcome.”

As the evening wore on, you found yourself talking to Hux more than you’d anticipated.

It turned out that he had a dry sense of humor, one that matched your own. He wasn’t as cold and unapproachable as you’d once thought; he was just guarded. But beneath that icy exterior was someone who was intelligent, quick-witted, and—dare you say it—kind.

You told yourself not to read into it too much. This was just a favor, after all.

But as the party wound down and the crowd began to thin, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of the night ending.

“You’ve done more than enough,” you said as you both stood near the exit, coats in hand. “You’re free to go. I mean, you were always free to go, but—”

“I’ll walk you home,” he interrupted, his tone brooking no argument.

“Oh. You don’t have to—”

“It’s late,” he said firmly. “And cold. I insist.”

You didn’t argue.

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, the snow falling softly around you. The city lights reflected off the white blanket covering the streets, casting everything in a golden glow.

“Thank you,” you said again, breaking the silence. “For tonight. Really.”

Hux looked at you, his expression unreadable. “You’ve already said that.”

“I know, but I mean it. You didn’t have to help me, but you did. That means a lot.”

He was silent for a moment, his breath visible in the frosty air. Then, he said, “You’re not as insufferable as most people. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.”

You laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet night. “High praise coming from you.”

His lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile you’d seen all night.

When you reached your building, you turned to face him, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“Well,” you began awkwardly, “this is me.”

“So it is.”

“Thanks again. I guess I’ll see you around?”

He hesitated, his green eyes searching yours. Then, to your surprise, he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Perhaps we should try this again sometime,” he said, his voice soft.

“Try what?”

“Pretending,” he said, though there was a hint of something in his tone that suggested he wasn’t entirely pretending anymore.

You felt your cheeks flush, the cold forgotten as you nodded. “I’d like that.”

And as he walked away, his coat billowing behind him, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, fake dating Armitage Hux wasn’t such a ridiculous idea after all.

[pinkykats-place]

Armitage Hux x Reader

AO3 Star Wars Fic Recs

Disclaimers!

None of the stories below are mine.

Some contain mature content.

Read tags. Check Ratings.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

Beautiful by orphan_account

Summary: Armitage Hux has taken a wife. Unfortunately for you, you're his new bride. You're trying to battle your fast growing feelings for your husband, but your apprehension is fading faster and faster.

Contains Smut

Complete | 7 Chapters

safety by moonlitcavern

Summary: A two-part hux x reader in which hux shows up at your quarters bleeding and exhausted and perhaps on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

Complete | 2 Chapters | Fluff

Fragile Trust, Fragile Love by KiaraKohana

Summary: Armitage Hux had grown up in a world where he was told not to trust anyone, so why did he seem to let his guard down around you? He felt safe for the first time in decades- perhaps in his entire life. He trusted you. But little did he know there's a lot more to you than what meets the eye.

Complete | 13 Chapters

Cats and Commands by TheJediCode

Summary: You are in training as a communications officer aboard the Finalizer. When you are an assigned an unusual task by your superior officer, you find yourself face to face with one of the most formidable officers in the First Order, who isn't at all what you expect.

Complete | 8 Chapters

Rated - General Audiences

Good Samaritan by CatchYouInTheRye

Summary: Your superior Armitage Hux seems to be having a bad day and you suddenly have the urge to fix that.

Complete | 2 Chapters

Rated - Explicit

That Kind of Love by Irma7x

Summary: Trying to break free of the control that ruled his everyday life, Hux asks for you to try something different together in the bedroom. You carry it through on his birthday.

{One Shot}

Rated - Explicit

Nova Girls by LostLaureate

Summary: An unauthorized transmission from inside the ship.

DATA BREACH: holo-feed.novagirls/cstream/7786-5548283404

“Oh Kriff! I’m so close!”

Had he been in worse health, the sudden 62 inches of ass that filled the entirety of his holo display would have been enough to give him a coronary.

Hux x Cam-Girl Reader

WIP | 5/? Chapters

Rated - Mature

Let Me Take Care Of You by selfinserttrash

Summary: You were a Hall Girl. A glorified errand monkey, you deliver datapads and fetch sandwiches for the most important men in the First Order. You've been reassigned to General Hux's sector, and you quickly find out that he's not as easily impressed as most of the men aboard the Finalizer. One day, you see something you're not meant to, and it ignites something entirely new within you.

After all, you know what they say, the fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Incomplete | 5/? Chapters

Last Updated 2018

Rated - Mature

The Crown by bananakin

Summary: "Chin up, darling," your mother had bitten out with her dying breath, "or the crown will slip."

OR in which a female reader ends up bound to General Hux (and in turn, the First Order) in matrimony.

Incomplete | 26/? Chapters

Last updated 2019

The Temptations of a Kitchen Woman by nelliespector (ilmv)

Summary: Kylo Ren has made a sport out of bothering General Hux. The Supreme Leader is sure Armitage shares Brendol's weaknesses. To prove it, Ren takes away the protocol droid that normally prepares Hux's meals and replaces it with an irresistible Arkanisian kitchen woman who is also required to share the General's bed every night. How long can a sexually frustrated Hux hold out? Can his desire to prove Kylo wrong prevail over... plain ol' desire?

Incomplete | 15/? CH | Contains Smut

Last updated March 2022

[brawlite]

some horror fic recs for october 👻

i wanted to put together a rec list of my favorite horror fics for the spookiest month. there are a bunch of different flavors of horror in here as well as a number of different fandoms, so hopefully you can find something that tickles your fancy (though ngl i would still rec reading these bad boys even if you don't know the fandoms at all).

i tried to tag tumblrs when/where i could find them, but if i couldn't, the author name links to ao3.

a reminder as always: this is horror—please read all the tags.

thanks for reading and i hope you find something to enjoy!

also, pretty please feel free to reblog and add your favorite horror fic recs.

👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪

the ghost apple tree by @thefearofcod

10k words, rated m song lan/xue yang/xiao xingchen (the untamed/mdzs) summary:

Fixing up a decaying house in the woods is the same as addressing your problems. (sxx is haunted)

brawls' notes: i think about this fic a lot; i'm haunted by it. this is by far one of my favorite horror stories i've ever read—the vibes are off-the-charts and horrific in a very visceral, tense way. made me feel weird (positive). i hope it makes you feel weird too (this is a threat).

—

convergence by @astrophyllitely

33k words, rated e lan zhan/lan xichen, lan zhan/jiang cheng (the untamed/mdzs) summary:

Lan Wangji regains consciousness in a crashed spaceship on an unfamiliar planet. He is not alone; Lan Xichen is there. He is not alone; Jiang Wanyin is there. But never both at once.

brawls' notes: space horror? check. psychological horror? check. uneasy and tense alien vibes? also check. beautiful push and pull of the narrative, paired with an an intense feeling of claustrophobia. there's a particular moment that had my heart right in my throat. stunning.

—

mockingbird by MarInk

82k words, rated e stiles stillinski/peter hale (teen wolf) summary:

Stiles works tirelessly to keep the roof over his heads and longs for a proper challenge for his brains. Peter chafes under his sister's authority and nurses big, bloody dreams. One day, the two are connected by a mistaken text message. One never knows who is on the other end of a wrong number. Sometimes it's somebody one will come to cherish and adore. Sometimes it's a ruthless, unapologetic monster. Sometimes it's both.

brawls' notes: sometimes you read something and are just blown away by it, forever altered. that's what this was for me. want a type of monster-au you've never seen before? this is it. also: ostensibly a wrong-number au, but don't be fooled. (i was.)

—

never meant by nonhicsumus

3k words, rated m alex krycek & dana scully (the x-files) summary:

Sometimes the past isn't worth digging into.

brawls' notes: whump and psychological horror? plus alex krycek?? my favorite. every word of this is perfection—i instantly wanted to read it again for the first time. you can.

—

fais do-do by @moku-youbi

18k words, rated e will graham/hannibal lecter (hannibal)

summary:

“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.” ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (this fic does not have a summary, but begins with this quote)

brawls' notes: a different-meeting au packed with everything you need for the perfect horror story: violence, blood, a chase scene, and an unreliable narrator. delightful.

—

blackbird, fly by @acroamatica

19k words, rated m kylo ren/armitage hux (star wars: tfa)

summary:

One sunny afternoon in the mountains of Washington state, Ben Organa-Solo walked out into the woods. He never came home. Six years later, a journalist specialising in missing-persons cold cases decides to follow his footsteps and see where they might lead.

brawls' notes: a masterpiece of vibes. this reads so much like a spooky mystery novel, but with a creeping, anxious dread. perfect for the season if you want that true autumnal sort of chill. i've carried this fic in my heart for nearly a decade now—it has inspired me in my own writing so much over the years.

—

grey stars on the rise by @iodhadh

4k words, rated e song lan/xue yang/xiao xingchen (the untamed/mdzs) summary:

Xiao Xingchen comes back. Xiao Xingchen comes back wrong. It takes too long, maybe, for Xue Yang to realize something is wrong with Song Lan too.

brawls' notes: the exact embodiment of: be careful what you wish for. brutal and crushing and so deeply, utterly satisfying. absolute yi-city perfection: the vibes are wretched but strangely romantic (chefs kiss).

—

half your life you've been hooked on death by @whatever-you-can-give-me

4k words, rated m vash the stampede/nicholas d. wolfwood (trigun) summary:

Wolfwood is cornered in an alleyway. Things get worse before they get better.

brawls' notes: and what's a horror rec list without a little bit of gore? whump and blood and near-death-experiences—oh my. this is brutal and feverish and exactly the right flavor.

—

black rock mountain by @bokuno-jinsei

24k words, rated e will graham/hannibal lecter (hannibal) summary:

Will is a hitchhiker with questionable hobbies. Hannibal is a man who has questionable motives. When Hannibal drives by Will who just so happens to need a ride, things quickly take a turn from the questionable to the downright depraved.

brawls' notes: you know That Fic that is really the epitome of that pairing for you? yeah, this is it for me. perfect alternate first-meeting fic. lives rent-free in my head.

👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪

and hey, why not be a little self-indulgent: i can't help but rec a few of my own horror fics here, too:

old growth

21k, rated m song lan/xue yang/xiao xingchen (the untamed/mdzs) summary:

There’s something in the woods outside of their hometown. Xue Yang and Song Lan are going to find it.

brawls' notes: i tried something new with the formatting on this one and i think it panned out solidly and was a desperately fun way to tell the story. this is full of spooky, sleepless forest vibes.

—

what's real or isn't

57k, rated e kylo ren/armitage hux (star wars: tfa) summary:

Hux's new house is not haunted. It isn't.

brawls' notes: i honestly love playing favorites and this is one of mine. this was a load of fun to write—it's chock-full of vibes, personal experiences, local history, and love notes to my favorite horror stories.

—

acquiesce

16k, rated e original luo binghe/original shen qingqiu (svsss) summary:

After seeing the gentle and loving Shen Qingqiu of the other world, Luo Binghe returns to his own with a hunger that can only be satisfied by one thing—a Shizun of his very own.

brawls' notes: this isn't spooky or haunted, but it is psychological horror—packed with nightmares, flashbacks, dread, and manipulation. enjoy!

👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪👻👁️🎃🔪

and that's it! hope you find something fun to read for this october 🖤

and again—please reblog and add your own horror recs if you are feeling so inclined!

[enaelyork]

I'm back so i post this again. I hope everyone are fine !

Hey sweetie -

I'm feel a little better and i need to change my mind so i decide to ask your help.

✨My request is open for Imperial and First Order Character ✨

💫What i can do...

Write headcanon

Write short fanfics (Max 3 parts. Long fics is for my plot)

Write smut/Nfsw

Write humor, angst, fluff and many others things

Do Moodboard/Aesthetic (because i love it).

Take a little time for answer

Say no to a request that makes me uncomfortable.

💫What i can't ...

Write something that makes me uncomfortable.

Write something about minor and/or asking by minor.

So please feel free to ask me anything in my box. It's a safe place here for imperial stuff.

⭐Don't forget that I'm also helping to impoctober !⭐

[noiriarti]

fanfic masterlist!! ╰(*°▽°*)╯

Find me @noiriarti on tumblr and AO3!

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Just Practice: (NSFW, modern best-friends-to-lovers kissing practice AU) Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Bonus Chapter / AO3 Link

Winner Takes It All: (NSFW, academic rivals to lovers modern AU) Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8, Ch. 9, Ch. 10 / AO3 Link

Trying New Things (NSFW)

Armitage Hux x Reader

Inappropriate: (NSFW) Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4 / AO3 Link

The Arrangement: (NSFW, modern roommates/cuddle-buddies AU) Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6 / AO3 Link

Born At Night: (NSFW, modern cam girl and cafe AU) Ch. 1 / AO3 Link