#hux fanfiction

[children-of-the-force]

In a galaxy far, far away... on an alternate timeline. Following the events of Episode: VIII The Last Jedi

Coming... uhm. Good question.

[tomatette]

Squadron Leader Hux from the amazing Flyboys by @gefionne - re-posted with permission by the artist TanyaE on Bluesky. Check them out, their art is incredible and they have far too few followers!

[charlottesbookclub]

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.”

[noiriarti]

who is going to hurt/comfort this man if not me

[starlightsearches]

Heloooos! I've been sober from using tumblr for almost two years but your recent Hux post has me relapsing and its all your doing in the best ways possible. If it gives you any inspo, could you mayhaps write a modern!hux who has reader as their personal guard? My current job has me babysitting a higher up as punishment (the guy makes my life miserable but if was The Armitage Hux I would bark if he asked). Like an enemies to lovers and refusing to just be his friend due to too many feelings ?????

Sleepless Nights

Thanks for the request, my love! Sorry if it's not "enemies" enough for you, I have this insane fear of people being angry with me so I've never been good at the whole enemies to lovers thing. Anyways, let me know if you like what you see :0) Comments, likes, and reblogs are very cool!

Warnings: Kind of slutty, kind of rambly, hux is kind of toxic, language. I think that's it!

You're about three bites into your wilty Caesar salad when the alarm on your phone chimes.

You fiddle with the volume buttons for a second before silencing the noise completely, steeling yourself in preparation for the look you just know Veronica is sending your way.

It's worse than you'd anticipated. You actually flinch a little when you meet her eyes.

She stabs at her own food ferociously, but doesn't take a bite of the pad thai she ordered, bringing the fork level with her gaze. Being on the business end of those tines makes your heart beat a little faster.

"I thought you had twenty minutes for lunch."

You sneak the lid of your Tupperware in between your fingers, slipping it back over the top what's left of your food.

"No . . . I said the meeting would be twenty minutes. I have to be back at my desk before he's done."

Veronica chews at her bottom lip, and you just know that—if you were sitting anywhere that wasn't right outside her boss's office—she'd be cussing you out for, once again, letting Hux take advantage of your truly incredible work ethic.

Lucky for you, if there's one thing your friend likes more than violent outbursts, it's office gossip. The urge overtakes her, and Veronica leans in closer with a passing glance at Phasma's open door, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

"What's his deal lately, anyway?"

Interesting. You thought you were the only one who had noticed a change in Hux's temperament.

He had a reputation, of course—there was a reason he'd had five different executive assistants in the past year—and everybody checked over their shoulders before they bitched about him in the break room.

It hit you hardest—always in the blast radius, so to speak—with your desk just outside his door. You'd spent plenty of time rolling your eyes behind his back, or muttering curses under your breath when you heard his door latch.

But you'd put up with a lot more for a lot less, and you found you were able to take most of your boss's asshole-ish tendencies in stride.

So what if the hours are long? Sitting at your desk late into the night, filing memos and typing up emails between coffee runs was lonely, but your nights before the job were, too. At least now you were getting paid.

The past few weeks had been strange, though. Longer hours, later nights. His presence hovering over your shoulder or watching you through the crack in his door, that nervous energy always focused on you, waiting for you to misstep.

Then there were the calls during the few moments you were outside of the office, filled with reminders for routines you'd never once forgotten. Hux had been fidgety and restless during those morning debriefs and stumbling over his words half the time he passed your desk with some new directive.

"What's his deal ever?" you counter, and she snorts—then when that feels too mean, "he said he hasn't been sleeping."

Veronica purses her lips, smiling around the next word.

"Oh."

You really don't have the time to wait around for an explanation—the elevator up to the top floor already takes three minutes on its own—but, god, the way she says that word stops you like an ice pick to the heart.

"What?"

"Come on," she rolls her eyes, wondering how you could be so obtuse, "everybody knows that when a guy says he can't sleep it's because . . ."

She waits for you to fill in the rest.

"Uhhhhh . . ."

"It means," Veronica sighs, yanking you closer by the arm so nobody will overhear, "that he's been thinking about you. You know, like—" she mimics the beat of some cheesy porn intro, with the bwops and the chicka-waahs.

As if you didn't already get the message.

Your stomach rolls, and not with hunger—although you're wasting valuable time you could have to shovel the rest of your lunch into your mouth on the way back to your desk.

It takes a moment, but you manage a weak laugh, shaking yourself out of your stupor.

Hux didn't think about you like that. He didn't think about you at all unless he was reading his dictations over your shoulder while you were still writing them, just in case he needed to preemptively correct your mistakes.

"Uh, okay, you're insane."

Veronica's brows come together at the challenge—you know she won't stand for that. She scans the immediate area until she narrows in on a victim.

"Hey, Stephen."

The new intern's on his third trip past her desk since you got here, turning so quick to the side you're surprised his head stays attached to his neck.

He's been waiting for this moment all day.

Stephen's cute—dark, fluffy hair and big eyes—eager like a puppy with his clumsy, loping walk . . . and he's got no fucking chance. Veronica would chew him into pieces.

He runs over to her desk, totally clueless to that.

"What's up?"

Veronica smiles, leaning over her desk so the top of her button-down starts to split open. Stephen develops a twitch in his eye trying to keep his gaze level with hers.

"What does it mean when a guy tells a girl that he's having trouble sleeping?"

He relaxes visibly, like someone just asked him the color of the sky.

"Oh, yeah. It means he wants to fuck her."

Stephen gives the answer to you—well aware of his role—then looks to Veronica, waiting for a good boy and a dog treat and a pat on the head.

You feel like you've stepped into the twilight dimension. When the fuck did that become common knowledge?

"Okay, you're both insane, and now I'm running late."

Your steps are harried on the way back to the elevator, begging the engine to move faster or the second-hand on your watch to tick slower. Trying not to think about your boss, thinking about you every night, twisted up in his sheets.

Because, yeah, you had your daydreams. Everybody needs something to distract from the drudgery of all those fucking emails. It never mattered much to you who had you pinned against the shelves in the supply closet of your mind.

Just a little entertainment to wake you up during the afternoon slump—feverish hands and desperation and the crisp smell of copy paper.

But you've always had a thing for a well-cut suit. And Hux had plenty of those.

So what if you were kind of into him and his weird little hard-ass routine? You never believed it would go any further than your daydreams.

But was he going further? And what did that look like?

Your palms are sweating when you get back to your desk, and you can't get the image out of your head—Hux with sweat beading down the taut skin of his neck, with his arms caging you against a wall, with his hips pinning yours against the hard edge of his desk.

You hardly have time to plant your ass in your chair before you hear the tell-tale footsteps around the corner.

Speak of the devil—or, you know, daydream about fucking him.

"Any calls?"

Hux barely glances in your direction—always on the move lately—no room in his schedule to actually stop at your desk and speak to you. You'd guess he's only got time for three directives before he's out of earshot.

Good news. Maybe you could make it out of here before midnight.

"I'm still working through them, sir, but I'll let you know if anything important has come through."

Total lie. You haven't even looked at the phone. And you can't look him in the eye either, feeling flushed and frantic.

Oh god. Do you look flushed and frantic?

Hux doesn't notice either way. Maybe Veronica was wrong and decided to ruin your entire life on a whim.

"Make sure you have a car prepared for the event on Friday. I won't stay longer than twenty minutes."

"Of course, sir. I'll call and let him know."

You had already made that call, but you'd have to update Mitaka, still. That's ten minutes less than the original time you gave him.

He's half-way into his office when he turns back for his last demand, "and I'll need you late, again, tonight."

Fuck. So close. You'd have to reschedule that date with your vibrator.

"Of course, sir. Whatever you need."

I'll need you late, again, tonight?

Could he make it any more fucking obvious?

Hux feels like slamming his head against the wall. He would, maybe, if he wasn't sure you'd hear the rattling window and come to see what his problem was. And that would only present more opportunities for him to make a fool of himself.

He certainly doesn't need any more of those.

It seemed like good advice when it was first given to him—"spending more time together" would be an easy first step, if it didn't also involve time-and-a-half for you. The paychecks he was signing were starting to look as ridiculous as the little infatuation he's been carrying.

Not that it mattered. If money was what you wanted, he'd give it. Anything to endear himself to you.

But the extra time—and the money—aren't helping. You're as distant as ever, maybe moreso, with the fog of sleeplessness and your inevitable irritability at his constant demands.

It's his own damn feelings that get in the way. He can't concentrate, not with the shape of your legs in those pencil skirts. He spends most meetings in wondering how to find out the name of the perfume you wear.

And where he can find a bottle of it for personal use.

Nights, still, are worse.

That's where this all started. Hux hardly ever had dreams, and the few dreams he did have in those short, unconscious hours were never memorable.

Then he woke with the feeling soft skin enveloping his cheeks, tasting you on his lips. And god, those noises you were making for him, your fingers through his hair, begging for him to come closer, to give you more.

It flipped the switch. You went from a passive—albeit attractive—body in a chair to a person. A someone.

A need.

He knew it was wrong. He knew, even with his sweat soaking the sheets and his heavy hand resting on his abdomen that this would ruin so much for him.

The mind can be reasoned with, if the body is hungry enough. And Armitage is so, so hungry for you.

On the nights he manages to resist, he imagines, wonders. Are you alone? Do you think of him? Or are you warming someone else's bed, rolling from their sheets with a heavy sigh every time Armitage's contact pops up on your phone screen?

That worry has him sick to his stomach.

So it's best to keep you close. Keep an eye on you.

Hux looks up from the stack of reports he's been reviewing, shifts in his chair just right until he can see you through the window outside his office without you noticing him.

It puts a god-awful crick in his neck if he sits like this too long. His chiropractor commented on it during his last appointment.

Normally there's not much to see—a Solitare window pulled up when you think he won't notice, the shape of your back curved gracefully. Sometimes your bra visible through the fabric of your thin, white shirts.

Not today, though. You're sitting ram-rod straight, one hand brushing some loose hair behind your ear. All your attention focused on the towering man in front of you, his arms propped against the top edge of your desk and a leering grin on his face.

Ren.

Armitage almost falls with the force of his shock, and then settles along with an empty rage in the pit of his stomach.

Of course Ren would have noticed Hux's preoccupation. And of course he would wield Hux's feelings against him.

There's an animal inside his chest, clawing to get out, giving him half a mind to stomp out there, chase Ren away with some biting remark and a hand on the back of your chair.

But there's a fear that runs deeper. Maybe you'd prefer someone like Ren.

A man who is in every way Hux's opposite. Volatile. Domineering. Powerfully built.

Could Armitage compete?

His inadequacy floods him with a distasteful anger. Armitage will put an end to it immediately. Call you into his office and berate you for socializing during working hours, shame you for inappropriate and obvious mooning over a superior.

He'll make you feel small, ashamed. The way he feels right now.

Too late for all his bravado. Ren steps away from your desk with one glance back, a knowing smirk on his face. Hux almost feels like it's a look meant for him, like Ren can find his gaze through the wall.

Armitage stands from the chair, unsure what his purpose is and knowing he'll defer to anger, as always. Knowing it will make you hate him more than you probably already do.

You don't start immediately when the door opens, and he can't tell from his view of the back of your head what you're thinking.

How many times had he wished he could delve into your mind, pull out gauzy strings of your memories, any thought or emotional tug you'd had in his vicinity? How many times had he hoped you might give him a hint or a sign that you felt anything for him at all?

Armitage coughs, and you jump, turning in your chair until you meet his eyes.

"My office," he tells you, and turns back without waiting to see if you'll follow.

Your steps are quiet in the already quiet office. Everyone else has gone home by now, leaving the two of you alone, and the lights buzz menacingly over the sound of your heels rustling against the carpet. You take your usual seat across from his desk. Armitage stays on his feet, hoping to channel his anxious energy somewhere, liking the way it feels to tower over you.

"Did you need something, sir?"

He knows you're nervous. You don't try to hide it, fidgeting with your fingers, chewing at your lip, avoiding his eyes. Armitage wishes that it was him that made you feel that way, not his position, not his reputation for anger.

"What did Ren want?" he asks.

Your lips part, and then come back together in hesitation, planning an appropriate answer, wondering how he'll react.

"His assistant put in her two weeks notice today," you tell him.

He hums, waiting for more. Your lips flush a lighter shade when you press them more tightly together, and he knows you'll acquiesce.

"He offered me the position, sir."

Armitage sees red, feels his hands curl into fists where they rest behind his back. That arrogant, underhanded, low-life bastard. Hux would . . .

He keeps a cool tone, arches a brow. "And?"

"I told him I appreciated the offer but I'd prefer keep my current position."

And that gives him pause. Has the strange, effervescent hope alight in his chest, but something else snuffs it out.

"Why?"

Hux can't hide the skepticism in his voice, the aching disbelief that you would choose him in any context, but especially this.

Everyone knew working under Armitage was . . . trying. He saw the looks of pity you received from other secretaries as they packed their bags for the night, knew they were taking some solace at your misery while sipping on their happy-hour cocktails. He's well aware that he is demanding, and stubborn, and so exacting.

He's like that in his personal life, too. Which is why he is always alone.

Your brows come together in an obvious but uncharacteristic sign of anger.

"I'm not afraid of hard work, sir."

"I am aware of that, but—"

Why is he so desirous to argue against himself? You are the best assistant he's ever had. Unfortunately, pushing people away is a skill he's mastered over and over and over again.

"Do you want me to leave?" you interrupt him, arms crossing defensively over your chest.

Part of him wants to say yes. To rid himself of this weakness you've blossomed in him, to keep everything under his control and eliminate all other variables.

Your lips press tighter together—Hux would assume he's hurt you, if he thought he had that kind of power.

He's been silent too long. You stand from your chair, brush your hands over your skirt to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Alright, then." You speak without meeting his eyes, heading for the door.

Armitage isn't sure what makes you stop, not until you glance down at your wrist, and he mirrors the movement, sees his own hand circling it.

A perfect fit.

"Sir?"

Your voice is hazy, blurred out by the warmth of your skin and the smell of your perfume and the way your eyes go wide when Armitage makes his approach.

Without saying a word or offering a hint of an apology, Hux is kissing you.

[not-so-allegiant-general]

Kylo had an annoying habit of choking people as a warning. Hux could understand that to an extent. He himself would often like to choke some people without consequences. Kylo Ren for example.

There was a problem though. Hux had a thing for choking. It made his mind blank, knees weak and blood travel to wrong places. And trying to compose himself so Ren wouldn't get wrong ideas about him was difficult. The wrong ideas that would have been actually right but Hux didn't want him to know.

But this one time... They were arguing. They just won a battle. Hux was over the top and the pressure was just right. And a moan escaped his mouth. And Ren just froze. And Hux flushed with embarrassment. He cleared his throat. They were standing on the corridor in awkward silence.

"Shall we proceed or.... "

"I am not sure what are we doing any more" Kylo answered, still not recovering completely. Hux tilted his head a little.

"Do you want to find out?" He pressed the panel and opened the door to his quarters. And felt his heart skip a beat when Ren actually moved forward.

[loudlittledemon]

Thinking of writing a kylux au where Kylo was a classically trained ballet dancer who was groomed by Snoke at 17 and is now 24 and an exotic dancer (free of Snoke) and Hux (26) is on the run from an abusive relationship (hitaka) after suffering his domineering father before that. they become roomates. Slowburn hurt/comfort angsty. Would anyone be interested in me writing out this 3am brain thought???

[jaynesilver]

My Kylux Big Bang is here! It is complete, and I will be posting a chapter a week! It includes lovely art from the fantastic @katiesghosts! Thank you a million times to the wonderful @fridayincarnate for betaing!

Chapters: 1/9 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux & Phasma, Knights of Ren & Kylo Ren Characters: Armitage Hux, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Phasma (Star Wars), Brendol Hux, Armitage Hux's Mother, Knights of Ren Members (Star Wars), Dopheld Mitaka, Cardinal | Archex (Star Wars), Enric Pryde Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Implied Mpreg, Alpha Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Omega Armitage Hux, Pack Dynamics, Protective Kylo Ren, Virgin Armitage Hux, Strangers to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Mutual Pining, Possessive Behavior, Banter, Flirting, Touch-Starved, Slow Burn, Past Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, Fanart

Summary:

Young Alpha Prince Ben Solo abandoned his kingdom in the dark of night and fled. He did not want to be bonded to a strange omega and inherit the mantle of ruling the kingdom of Alderaan.

He's been thought dead for years.

As the mysterious Knight Kylo Ren for the Kingdom of Arkanis, he has been tasked with delivering the royal Omega Armitage Hux to his prospective Alpha on an arduous journey across the kingdom. Every day, the distance from Arkanis grows, and the Knight and the Prince step dangerously closer. Will Kylo choose to stay lost...or be found?

[queen-of-elves]

Getting caught cuddling with General Hux and taking the blame saying you were the one being clingy but really it was him lol the man is like a needy cat and the purring (smooching noises) gave you away

you can honestly go in any direction you want with this. i just thought it'd be a fun lil idea to base off

Getting caught

A/ N: I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH THANK YOOU!! I am telling you Hux is always going to be this soft and touch starved man that I adore plus I am in my Hux era obsession so this request was soooo sooooooo perfect

A/N 2.0: I also made it so that their relationship was not official yet hopefully that’s no problem

Word count: over 1.8K

Warning: affection?? Lol and cursing as always, also not proofread

*********

General Armitage Hux was a man of strict discipline and undeniable loyalty to the First Order, you have admired these qualities of his since the first day you had the luck to be under his command. There was just something so interesting about him which exceeded even beyond him becoming one of the youngest generals in the First Order history. So it made you a one lucky individual when he set his eyes on you.

You really hoped his secretive glances were interpreted by others as an angry stare at a subordinate or just his regular cold and stern glare because today was awfully full of these glances. It was a miracle that no one has yet figured out this weird arrangement between the two of you. No, you were not dating, at least none of you verbally stated it. But by the time the two of you had already made out in a random maintenance room or closet for the second time that week it was obvious. Something was cooking between the two of you and obviously keeping it secret as much as was humanly possible was an unsaid rule.

It would be a lie to say you knew exactly how it all started. You just knew that one thing led to another and you and the handsome general Hux ended up passionately kissing in one of the empty corridors of the Finalizer. But this all is a tale for another day.

This time it wouldn’t be any different, you were following the commanding officer throughout the left part of the flagship’s corridor and discussing the next plans after the last mission. Nothing out of ordinary, just a normal conversation in the middle of the day, you were afterall one of the main strategists on the flagship in the command of Armitage Hux so it was expected of you to have frequent interactions with him. However, today felt very different to you, if you didn’t count the stares throughout the day, Armitage was still acting jittery and unconcentrated which was highly unlike him. 

Did something happen?

You couldn’t help but feel concern for the wellbeing of your general. In fact you were so lost in your thoughts over it, you haven’t even realized that you have just confirmed a false statement about one of the missions from last week. And then it happened again and again, discussion containing false information soon turned into one about even nonexistent missions planned for the next few days. A confusion slowly crept on your face, did you prepare data for the wrong missions? 

What is he talking about?

And then it hit you. He was furiously looking behind you, checking the corridor before spinning on his heel and glancing down the other side of the hall. You two were the only one or so it seemed since you couldn’t hear any steps or talking except for Hux who was still going on about the fake mission. When his inspection of the hall was done and he seemed fairly satisfied, snatching your hand and dragging you to the door of what you deemed to be some sort of maintenance room was the next step in his plan. 

So before you could react properly he smashed the lock on the side of the door causing the door to open widely and pushed you in. You had no time to even recognize what the room actually contained before the door closed behind the both of you, plugging you into a darkness. It took a bit for your eyes to adjust and it also got worse when he placed his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him. You couldn’t make out any specific details of his face but he still looked so handsome to you. 

Armitage truly was a being above all in your eyes, handsome, disciplined and incredibly smart, too smart for his own good sometimes and this man, this stupidly handsome man was now kissing you. His hands rested on your cheeks and lips on yours and you felt once again as in ecstasy, just like you were drug to him, he was to you.

He slowly backed you to the nearest wall until your back hit it and then it all really started. His kisses went across your whole face, starting at a temple on one side, stopping momentarily to kiss you furiously and ending at the jaw across before he gave himself the time to properly breathe. This was what you loved about kissing with him, how out of breath he would get, it was as if he couldn’t get enough of you and it made you feel eternal.

There was nothing explicitly sexual about this, nothing beyond simple makeout, no great sinful desire at least this time. And if there was anything in it, it was all about comfort, the comfort you brought to him and you could feel it radiate from him. He needed the comfort you provided, that only you could provide.

This time he nudged his face into the croak of your neck and inhaled slowly while squeezing you in a tight hug as if he was afraid you would turn into mist and disappear from his arms.

With Hux it wasn’t just about the kissing, the cuddling was also very prominent and you were pretty sure oftentimes Armitage enjoyed the cuddling much more than he would ever admit. At this point in his life this man was just beyond touch starved and if he would let you, you would give him hugs any time he wanted. It made you so happy to see him smile after every quick kiss or just slight touch of hands that got unnoticed by others. You truly loved making him happy and it felt like he was on the same note with you. 

Armitage was also decently vocal, actually he was the most vocal guy you have ever been with, you noticed it the first time the two of you made out in his office. The little moans that escaped his mouth and oh my, you would be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t enjoy every second of the sound he would make. Whenever it was caused by you hugging him or kissing the hell out of him.

His mouth felt like it was everywhere, that HE was everywhere and you couldn’t get enough of it. Armitage’s hand moved from your shoulder to your hip while the other sneaked on the small of your back, gripping the hip and bringing you again so close you could hardly breathe. Both of your chests were now touching but even without his mouth touching you, you felt the excitement accumulating between your bodies. 

You have now noticed his vibrant red hair all out of place, you quite liked the disheveled look on him, and the buttons of his uniform sat loose, he must have unfasten some of them while he dragged you to this room and in between the kisses. But instead of kissing you again he nuzzled his face into your neck again while humming slowly. He was contend, purring like a cat onto your neck and chest. You hope for this moment to never end, to just simply cuddle him until you die.

However, the whole moment shattered with the heavy door sliding open with a long whoosh sound. The both of you stood frozen for agonizingly long, hoping whoever opened the door would either not notice you, which was very unlikely considering you were an eyesore in the now lit room, or pretend to not notice you. In those excruciatingly drawn-out seconds you have noticed a blush creeping on Armitage's face but even that image ripped out of your mind by a stammering voice of a much more embarrassed officer.

“I-I am so sor-rry, SIR. I d-din’t know that- I heard a we-weird sound and I thought-” Oh god, the two of you must have been really loud if they could hear you through the door. And on top of that you were pretty sure that officer wouldn’t keep his tongue behind their teeth after what they saw.

“Get OUT!” Armitage's voice echoed through the room silencing the officer. 

You couldn’t see his face, his silhouette was illuminated by the hall's light still present in the room after the officer just ran for his life, leaving the door open. And there was a certainty the officer wouldn’t escape the punishment Armitage was already making in that smart head of his.

When he finally turned to you, you could see his face seeping red, the tips of his ears caressed with blush just like his cheeks and neck. He wasn’t looking at you, instead his wide eyes rested a few meters before your feet on the metal floor. Half of his face was obscured by his left hand which was holding his mouth in a tight grip. If it weren’t for the blush you would have thought he was contemplating his life choices or maybe he really was and maybe this was it. You knew Armitage was a man of a great reputation and to taint it with a flirt with one of his subordinates was unforgivable.

“I hoped it wouldn’t get out so soon.” A stoic mask was placed again on his face, the one he sported when he commanded on the bridge, when he was back in his role, unforgiving and with no mercy for failure. You did enjoy seeing him like that, full of pride and in his element but you also enjoyed how he would hold your hand while kissing your cheeks softly. The duality of this man surely would be the death of you one day and maybe this was the day.

“It seems it’s official then-” Your voice interrupted him.“What’s official?” Your heart was pounding so hard against your rib cage you were afraid it might leave bruises, you were too nervous to care for formalities now. This could be either exciting news or a soul crushing one.

“Us, obviously.” He stated, while he still hasn't noticed your nervous expression and your eyes following his every move before the realization came crashing down on you.

Oh.

This time you could hear the heavy steps, it obviously wasn’t an officer, probably a stormtrooper but you still didn’t expect Phasma, the stormtrooper captain, to appear in the still open door, her stare unrecognized by you thanks to her helmet, causing Armitage to turn his back on you again.

“Captain Phasma, I apologize it’s my fault I-” This time it was your general interrupting you.

“Yes, your choice of location to inform me of classified information is-,” Armitage turned back to you, shooting you an unidentifiable look,“ maybe next time choose my office. People could get the wrong idea, officer.” It seemed to be the end of the conversation or at least Phasma deemed it as one since she turned ready to leave while informing general Hux of new details about her mission. However, before both of them could exit the room you caught Armitage shooting you a smirk.

“Yes, sir.” You whispered with a small smile painted on your lips.

Oh god, that man was truly going to be the death of you.

[pirate-of-the-southern-isles]

Me with General Hux: Yiissss, yuusssss, give me more Feral Space Ginger, that one glimpse in a really small bit in a kid's comic book? ICONIC, canon 100%, loving it. Slay, my Emperor, you are doing amazing at destroying the galaxy, sweetie, I can't wait to see you committing more atrocities, say hi to Millicent for me

Me with prince Hans: <looking anxiously at Disney> pls leave him alone. Forget his existence. Forget he was ever there. He is invisible, literally, forever. No I don't want more Hans content, I am good, just don't make it worse pls

[paganprankster]

Chance Encounters (Kylo Ren x GN!reader) (SFW)

Summary:

(Y/N) is one of the highest-ranking officials employed for the overseeing of the Death Star construction- a plan ordered by Kylo Ren. They stayed clear of him but could no longer as a sudden breach of an Imperial force supply base was reported- resulting in their paths crossing for the first time.

In the distant future, humanity has expanded its reach across the galaxy, eventually forming a vast alliance known as the Imperial Forces. This alliance occupies a variety of planets, with their influence reaching the farthest edges of the galaxy. Each planet was accompanied by its unique cultures, technologies, and species. However, the Imperial Forces rule was threatened when a military force- known as the Rebellion- began to rise in (population). They were in direct opposition to the Imperial forces, often trying to (ruin) technological research in response to the rumor that they were attempting to recreate the infamous Death Star. Should they succeed through their trials and tribulations, it would be the end of the Rebellion. Wherever the resistance has influence, the planet would be eradicated immediately without remorse- simultaneously serving as a reminder for the rest of the galaxy to never show resistance against the Imperial Forces.

 (Y/N) took another glance at the holographic map in front of them, slowly circling and analyzing the data concerning a recent attack on the Imdaar galactic supply base. To hide progress made on the Death Star, the blueprints were stored safely on the Finalizer under guard of thousands of imperial employees- making it near impossible for spies to find and successfully steal. The supplies used in the construction were scattered throughout most Imperial bases to hide them. The most valuable of which, the near indestructible Quandanium Steel and its alloys, were concealed within the confines of the Imdaar base; and now, they were destroyed. (Y/N)’s face conformed into a scowl. “Who knows how much money we lost in this attack,” they quickly used their fingers to zoom out of the base’s location and onto the nearby regions, “Do we know where they attacked from?” General Hux appeared beside them. “The stormtroopers on site didn't give any information that was useful,” he began, “After the bombing after the battle of Yavin, you would expect that our defenses there would be near impenetrable after it was rebuilt. But here we are-” Hux let out a halfhearted chuckle. (Y/N)’s eyes did not leave the map. They could feel the sensation of Hux’s eyes on them- following their movements- but they paid no mind. Being one of the highest-ranking officials employed for the overseeing of the Death Star construction, it was your job to help recoup after this loss. “General Hux, we are going to need a team to get together and survey the area- see where the infiltration may have occurred and see what may remain. The material there is essential to our project- and if nothing remains in the rubble, we will need proper funding to build from scratch. Another Imperial officer, part of (Y/N)’s operation team, nervously cleared his throat to garner attention.

“We will need to inform Master Ren about this-” he said, and immediately General Hux turned to face him, striking a fear into your poor coworker's body, and silencing him. “You’re overstepping your authority- and by informing Ren,” informally using his name, “Will only create a larger problem than we already have.”

“With all due respect, General,” (Y/N)’s voice cut through the growing tensions in the room, “Not informing him would warrant a bigger problem. We need a team, and funding- It will be impossible without the support of Master Ren.”

General Hux turned to face you, focusing his eyes onto yours. You watched as your coworker gave a small sigh of relief and returned to documenting the net loss of the attack with the rest of his group a safe distance away from Hux. General Hux is notorious for the need to be in control; Rarely anyone defies his orders, and if they do, they suffer the consequences. (Y/N) confidently stood their ground, maintaining their unwavering eye contact. (Y/N) straightened their posture, challengingly. Hux’s eyes searched theirs, not used any show of defiance.

“Ren-”

“Listen to them, if you know what’s good for you.���  

All heads swiveled towards the location of the robotic-like voice- a voice unmistakable. At the door to the meeting room stood Kylo Ren, donning his black mask and matching robes. Quickly, everyone in the room lowered their heads as a show of respect. Only Hux, and (Y/N) raised their heads again. (Y/N) smirked upon noticing the red look creeping its way onto Hux’s face. Whether it be from embarrassment, or anger, they were unsure. The smirk quickly left as they gazed back at Kylo Ren and met where his eyes would be- obscured by his mask. A chill went down their spine, simultaneously breaking eye contact upon noticing the closed fists of Kylo Ren shaking in anger. ‘Shit,’ they thought, ‘Hux has him pissed.’  If Hux’s comments had not pissed him off enough, the news about the attack on Imdaar would surely be his last straw. (Y/N) was the first to break this silence. “Master Ren, there’s been an attack on the supplies base on Imdaar-” nearly immediately, Kylo Rens murderous aura filled the room. He briskly walked to the holo-map that displayed the areas of damage.

“What did we lose?” he asked, turning towards one of the officers on your squad. Terrified, the officer began anxiously scanning the data on his holo-pad. “N-nearly 5.6 million credits worth of damage to the base. Certain areas of the base remain... but all the Quandanium steel has been destroyed. If there are any that remains in the rubble,” He shook his head, “It would be severely damaged and unusable.”

The silence filled the room, save for the increasingly heavy breathing emanating from Kylo Ren. In a rage, he wielded his lightsaber, illuminating the room with a blinding red glow. He angrily brought it down on the meeting room table, quickly splitting it in half, causing the table to collapse on itself and the holo-map to shut down. Everyone recoiled in fear and shuffled closer to the door leading to the halls of the Finalizer- their escape. Sweat began to drip down General Hux’s face as he readjusted his uniform out of nervousness.

“Get out.” Ren commanded. (Y/N)’s squad quickly left the room, hastily handing them the holo-pad displaying the analyzed data of the supply base attack. They would not need to be told twice- observing the anger of Ren was terrifying enough; delaying a response to his orders would be a death sentence. “Including you, general,” He hissed. General Hux held a scowl, before bowing his head and leaving the room. You followed behind, only for the door to be slammed shut before you could pass through. Was that the use of the force?

“Not you- I need you to debrief this attack.”  he said while re-holstering his saber.

(Y/N) took a sharp inhale due to their growing anxiety. Alone with the leader infamous for his anger, they thought, and I must disclose the carelessness behind our defenses that day. (Y/N) cleared their throats before making their way to the (now broken) meeting table. “Well,” they began, placing their teams holo-pad onto a nearby chair and displaying the map of the base that day, “when asking the stormtroopers deployed there, they were unable to give any information about things that may have seemed amiss.” (Y/N) pressed a few buttons to reveal the entirety of the base and pointed to three locations. “When this base was rebuilt, it was rebuilt with strengthened building materials with the previously flawed architectural decisions kept in mind. These locations were considered more vulnerable to attacks,” (Y/N) slightly shook their head, “but surveillance of the area pre-breach didn't show anything out of the ordinary-”

Ren approached and stood directly in front of (Y/N), looking down at them due to their height difference.

“If you can maintain eye contact with Hux,” Kylo ren nearly spat, “Then I expect the same for me.”

Shit, they thought, was my avoidance that noticeable? (Y/N)’s eyes shifted before locking eyes onto Kylo Ren’s mask- where his eyes (assumedly) would be. In an instant, a cold chill traversed through their spine, hairs on the back of their neck standing on edge. A few moments of silence brought the room to a standstill, before (Y/N) cleared their throat before responding, “Y-Yes, sir.” They cringed internally upon hearing the crack in their voice- a betrayal of their body.

Kylo Ren tilted his head slightly- analyzing the person before him. Upon hearing their response, he let out a gruff “Good ... and what have you deduced from this attack?”

(Y/N) maintained their eye contact and nervously fidgeted. No matter the performance, their anxiety would always show through. “...It means there must have been an internal breach. There are spies within our ranks and informed the resistance- at least about the materials. I am unsure if more classified information was leaked.”

Kylo Ren tensed before them, infuriation growing by the second. “Spies?”  His hands closed into fists again, with increasing shaking. He furiously turned, gesturing towards the holo-pad with his hand and used the force to fling it into the wall, causing it to shatter upon impact. (Y/N) jolted in response.

“Get out.” he murmured, back now turned to them. He re-ignited his saber.

I live to see another day, (Y/N) thought, and quickly stumbled over to the meeting room door and opened it via fingerprint. Before exiting the room, they gave a quick bow to Ren, and stammered: “We can discuss further plans at a later time.” (Y/N) hesitated for a moment. “Look after yourself,”

(Y/N) quickly left the room, hesitating no longer without waiting for a response. The door shut behind them, and they could hear the muffled sounds of breaking equipment and furniture from within. (Y/N) began to briskly walk away from the room, heart racing as the anxiety began to overflow.

(Y/N) cursed aloud and began biting their nails. Look after yourself, they mocked themselves in their subconscious.  What overcame me? They let out a heavy sigh. This was the first-time meeting Kylo Ren. And it was certainly not the last.

[children-of-the-force]

The opening scroll disappears in the distance. PAN DOWN on planet Crait through the splinters of Snoke's ship....

...sketches and thumbnails from a year ago...

[charlottesbookclub]

'time after time' (armitage hux x reader) masterlist and info post

summary

when General Armitage Hux finally meets someone who could change his life for the better, it takes him a few times to get things right

general tags/warnings (please check individual chapters for more specific tags and warnings)

gender neutral reader; hux pov (third person); set before The Force Awakens; time loop (for a little bit); discussions of mental illness (depression, anxiety); implications of self-harm; suicidal ideation; memories of child abuse; canon-typical violence and injuries; medical settings and procedures; self-loathing; body image issues

total words: 112k

masterlist and posting schedule

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six (part one)

chapter six (part two)

chapter seven (part one)

chapter seven (part two)

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

chapter eleven

chapter twelve (part one)

chapter twelve (part two)

chapter thirteen (part one)

chapter thirteen (part two)

chapter thirteen (part three) (wed feb 5)

chapter fourteen (thurs feb 6)

chapter fifteen (fri feb 7)

chapter sixteen (sat feb 8)

chapter seventeen (sun feb 9)

chapter eighteen (mon feb 10)

chapter nineteen (tues feb 11)

chapter twenty (wed feb 12)

chapter twenty-one (part one) (thurs feb 13)

chapter twenty-one (part two) (fri feb 14)

chapter twenty-two (sat feb 15)

chapter twenty-three (sun feb 16)

chapter twenty-four (mon feb 17)

chapter twenty-five (tues feb 18)

chapter twenty-six (wed feb 19)

chapter twenty-seven (thurs feb 20)

chapter twenty-eight (fri feb 21)

chapter twenty-nine (sat feb 22)

chapter thirty (sun feb 23)

bonus chapters/outtakes: Rest

note: the whole story is from Hux's pov (in third person) but I would be very happy to potentially re-write certain scenes from the reader's pov (or that of another character) if anyone was interested in that!

author's notes

the idea for this whole thing was sparked when I re-watched this hallmark-esque holiday rom-com from 2011 called the twelve dates of christmas. it works on the same principle as groundhog day; the main character must re-live the same day until she gets everything right with her blind date. it's very silly and fluffy and fun and idk what it was about it, but I was like "damn you know who could really fuck up twelve dates before he finally got things right? armitage hux." and thus the concept for this story was born!

so this started out as a silly little thing where I would send hux on a number of dates with the reader until he figured his shit out, but as often happens, the characters had a different idea for the story. it starts out with that same time loop premise, but after a few chapters it kinda morphs into its own thing, and it got much longer than I originally anticipated. I actually really liked that this long-form piece gave me the time and space to try and develop the way I think hux would haltingly stumble his way into a genuine relationship, and I hope that I was able to stay true to his character along the way!

one of the challenges of writing such a long x reader story was making the reader character still relatable enough to a large number of people. for the story to work, I did really need to give the reader character a personality and some distinctive character traits (something that's more easily avoidable for me in shorter pieces). regardless, I hope the character and story can still appeal to a wide range of people! I never use any physical descriptions aside from the reader being able-bodied for much of the story, nor do I use any pronouns except you/yours. I think there's a few places where the lack of those pronouns might come across as a little stilted, but I tried to do my best to make it feel natural!

I genuinely had such an incredible time writing this, and it has been so fun to really dive into my long-time love for hux, who was my very first Special Little Guy. I hope you all enjoy the story, and I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on it!! happy reading! 🥰

[noiriarti]

Inappropriate: Armitage Hux x Reader - Ch. 1

TW: nsfw stuff, mentions of Brendol Hux being an abusive father, mentions of canon-typical violence, mentions of masturbation and sex.

Summary: Hux has to travel to Starkiller Base to check on construction. His favorite lieutenant comes with him, but these horrible, terribly inappropriate thoughts just won't stop.

[Ch. 1], Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4

Hux knew he had chosen the wrong career when he packed for the transport. Maybe if he was a radar technician, or a trooper, or some kind of farmer, this wouldn't be happening. He would be trapped on a transport with that stupid child, Ren, for over a full day. As if he wasn't capable enough to check in on the progress of Starkiller Base's construction on his own. As if Ren could do anything but swing a lightsaber. But, when Snoke said to go, what was he supposed to do? Complain like a child that he couldn't stand that long near Ren? Tell Snoke the idea of bringing a liability like Ren to the barely-wired Base was a bad idea? So, he went. But he didn't have to be happy about it.

Fuming, he finished packing two more crisp uniforms, his datapad, and a coat for the journey. He also counted the rotations until his retirement--12,045, to be exact, if he managed to survive that long--and wondered if there was any way he could kill Ren in his sleep, if the bastard even slept. By the time he had gotten to the Finalizer's hangar, he had decided poison would be best, and that he'd move to some penthouse in Coruscant, get 5 cats, and become some miserly old curmudgeon once he was done working.

The hangar was one of his favorite places, following the bridge, because it housed so much controlled chaos. Just like his precious bridge, it was carefully managed, teeming with droids and techs, always working, always awake. He liked the brightness of the lights in both places, keeping him up through the night cycles, always working away at his datapad. At least Mitaka would be on the mission, he figured, and he was tolerable. And punctual, he noted as he walked around their transport, given that he could see a pair of boots under the nose of the ship. As he rounded the front, he came face-to-face not with Mitaka, but with you.

Oh, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. As was usual when it came to you, he was done for. You had served under him for two years as a Lieutenant, his best strategist even with his rose-colored glasses off. You two worked closely together, which had been just about killing him. These feelings, these stupid stupid thoughts, would nestle in his brain every time he let his guard down. What if he just brushed your hands together, working late one night on the bridge? What would it be like to kiss you? What would it feel like to have your nails down his-- he stopped himself. That was completely inappropriate. And something he would think about a lot more later. With that thought firmly lodged in his head, he just had to act like a human being long enough for Mitaka to arrive, then he could wash it away in the refresher.

"General!" You broke the silence with a smile and a wave. He had asked you to stop saluting when you saw him, partially because you saw each other so often, but mainly because it reminded him of the fact that he was your commanding officer, and that his little crush was inappropriate. So, so, inappropriate.

"Lieutenant," he said, pausing. Small talk. Small talk. Right. "What brings you to the hangar?" he asked. Real smooth, dumbass.

"I'm coming with you on the mission to Starkiller, sir. You requested a Lieutenant come along, and Mitaka is in the medbay for...injuries, so I'm filling in," you replied. It didn't need to be said that the injuries were caused by Kylo Ren. That was the only cause of injuries in the bridge, anyway.

Normally, he would be thrilled to have you replace Mitaka. You were much more enjoyable to be around, and you weren't one of the people who regularly faced Ren's wrath, so it worked out for him. Except for the fact that he would be spending twenty-four hours, there and back, with you. He could feel the blush climbing up his neck, and he tried to defuse it. You had been a couple of years below him in the Academy, you had been on plenty of missions with him, and you had worked late into the night right beside him plenty of times. He knew you. He wouldn't do anything stupid, like thinking about your time in the Academy, when he helped you study for exams in the library and he imagined what it would be like to make out against one of the shelves--he stopped himself again. This was really getting out of hand, and if he kept going down that road he'd get hard in the middle of the hangar.

"I hope Mitaka recovers well, and that his injuries are not severe. He is a good Lieutenant," he said, mentally kicking himself. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Yeah, Dopheld is pretty okay, just some scrapes. It was... avoidable." Despite your careful language, he knew what you were telling him. You had both harbored a dislike of Ren ever since he joined the Order, but, since he entered your orbits, both of you took issue with him. You, more because he hurt your colleagues. Hux, for obvious reasons. Regardless, you were both united in your general dislike of the Commander. 

The pilot stepped out of the ship, telling both of you that you could get on. He gestured for you to go first, out of some semblance of politeness. He kept his eyes pointedly on the back of your head and not your ass as he walked. Back. Of. The. Head. Your hair--he thought about your hair when it was loose, back in social events at the Academy or during balls, and how he had wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through it, or tuck it behind your ear, or pull it--stars, he definitely needed a shower at this point.

As you entered the ship, he was unpleasantly surprised by how cramped it was, and the pilot showed you to your rooms. His was pretty standard fare: a bed, a refresher, a nightstand. At least it's not shared, he thought. He nodded at the pilot and set his bag down, taking off his coat and unceremoniously flopping it onto a nearby chair. He fished out his datapad and sent you a brief comm.

"Shall we meet in the lounge at 1800 for a briefing on the Base? We can also get dinner, if you would like." He typed the last part hurriedly, sending it before he could think better of it. That was normal, right? For work, right? He had 45 minutes to go cool off before he saw you again. Or, stars forbid, Ren.

Ren still hadn't made it onto the ship, and takeoff was in five minutes. Hux smiled to himself. Maybe there was hope that this mission could be fun after all. He was still, rather embarrassingly, flustered from your previous encounter. He shed his uniform quickly, getting to the refresher and turning on the water as cold as it would go. The ship started under his feet, engines whirring and coming to life as it prepared for takeoff. Hux braced himself against the walls of the shower, smiling even wider. 

Ren hadn't made it. There was just you and him, working on the ship for a full rotation. His brain immediately thought of ways to spend the time that were less than savory. Against the wall, for one. On the floor, on the bed. Maybe in the refresher? He leaned his forehead against the shower wall, willing those thoughts away as he felt himself harden. His hand instinctively went to his cock, and he drew in a halting breath. Not now.

This was going to be a hard, hard twenty-four hours.

AN: this has been banging around in my head for a while. man i love my armitage nice and awkward and pining. let me know what you think!!

[starlightsearches]

Hello~ congrats on 2k~ I'm absolutely delighted you're including writing for Hux to celebrate, I've read absolutely all of your Hux works a million times and I love them so much still!!! I'd love if you could write Track 7 for Hux please~ thank you ^-^

Track 7: Kiss on My List by Hall & Oates  - Give me a character and a fluff prompt (or give me free rein) and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons about it.

Together

AN: This is a second part after this request for those of us who can't handle angst 😬 and thank you for the request, pookie! I hope you all enjoy!! Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated tee hee

Warnings: Mainly hurt/comfort whoops, language, heavy embarrassment for the reader, lots of talk about gossip, Hux is an awkward little freak, I made up a bunch of stuff about First Order bureaucracy, some brief mentions of sex but nothing too raunchy, and fluff at the end!

There are a lot of rules—both written and implied—when you're working for the First Order.

You're not sure where you'd find don't cry when you're on duty on either of those lists. But you know how dangerous the sting in the back of your throat is, either way.

You've never felt like crying on the bridge before, except for maybe from boredom. While there were tense moments, those were few and far between—like the stretch of empty space between stars.

And still, no battle or pursuit has come close to the horrible feeling that's smothering you as you stare down the back of the general's great coat.

He refuses to look at you, addressing all your orders to the viewport or the space above your head, his back to you whenever he can manage it.

There had been a senseless, simmering thrill that used to rush through you, before you had ruined everything—all those times you had caught the general staring, when you had watched the pink flush of blood crawl over his skin and imagined what the heat from him would feel like echoing from his hands, the press of his body, his wet, flushed mouth.

Stupid. Wanting him. Wanting anything, but especially this—to feel cared for, held, desired, by a man like the general. A man so single-minded, so dedicated to the cause his name was practically synonymous with the First Order itself, the unmitigated power that formed weapons and machines and the ruthless people who wielded them.

And why wouldn't he be ruthless with you? Maybe you were just one of many for the general—another subordinate, something to be used, designed to be discarded in the end.

You've made yourself thoroughly miserable following this trail of evidence to this conclusion, but it's difficult to find an alternative. Why else had he sent you away so soon after you had been together, had banished you from his quarters with the marks he'd left on your skin still stinging?

A voice you recognize too well interrupts your thoughts.

"Fall in. Uniform inspection."

Speaking of misery. Captain Cardall has arrived on the bridge, sharp eyes wandering, gaze always stained with a shade of loathing he saved just for you.

But you fell in to line, regardless, doing your best to school your expression into something neutral, if not a little resigned. You had given up long ago, trying to find some way to meet Cardall's impossible standards. No matter how much time you spent reading over the uniform regulations, he'd manage to find something you missed—or make up a new rule on the spot, couched in official language as an excuse to redress you, to take you down a peg.

Something he found necessary, although you couldn't imagine why.

You're near the end of the line, and so you're forced to wait, watching as the rest of your team is excused without comment, even Tawani, whose boots are so scuffed they're starting to look gray.

Whatever. Cardall and his pettiness and his stupid demerits were the least of your concerns.

It's your turn now, and you can smell the captain's breath as he nears—day old caff and the rotting stink of his soul. You snap to attention, eyes forward, doing your best to keep your expression still and stony.

The man circles, looking for a loose stitch, a wrinkle, a crooked cuff. You don't dare breathe, but you can't miss his deepening frown as he scans each and every inch of you, desperation practically oozing out of him.

Fuck. Had you actually managed this time? It's a small consolation prize on the shittiest of days, but you'd take the wins you were offered, even if they couldn't possibly make up for your losses.

You've celebrated too soon. Cardall's face juts toward yours, only inches from pressing against your skin and your stomach rolls with nausea. You can't stop yourself from flinching, from turning away from him and his glacial gaze.

It's hardly a millimeter that you've moved, but you've given the captain everything he needs. A pit forms in your stomach as the joy returns to Cardall's features, marked by the slow curve of his wicked smile.

And you know you've irreparably fucked up.

"Officer," he addresses you, two of his gloved fingers slipping into the space between your collar and skin. His touch is sickening, even through the leather, makes you want to run, but you're stuck, glued in place with fear. "What is this?"

Gods, if you had any luck left in you, any good-will from some unseen power, you'd drop dead right now.

It doesn't happen, though. You stay on your feet, even with the way your knees go numb. Everyone on the bridge has turned to watch. You think, although you may be imagining it, that the general's eyes are turned your way as well, the burn of his attention tracing up and down your spine.

"It's . . ." fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, "a hickey, sir."

You're half surprised Cardall doesn't start doing a little jig with the way he preens, brimming with excitement at this new and wonderful opportunity to humiliate you.

"A hickey?" he asks loud enough for everyone to hear—as if they weren't already engrossed in your torment—and you nod, his thumb just brushing the edge of the bruise you had tried to cover.

The general had done a number on you, truly. And left the galaxy's worst souvenir.

"Well," Cardall continues, finally pulling away from you to clasp his hands in front of his chest, "this is a serious infraction, isn't it?"

He takes his data pad from his assistant, a mousy young cadet who never utters a word. Cardall makes a big show of bringing up the uniform regulations, making a note on your personnel file that spares no details, narrating the description of the mark and its location in such graphic terms it brings heat to your cheeks.

You're immobile, in flames, your own personal funeral pyre lit with shame. And still, you can only think of the general, of the way he must be feeling, watching this display. Did his shame mirror your own, his cheeks pinked as he remembered the feel of your skin between his teeth? Or was he disgusted by you, by this connection he wished so desperately to sever?

"Now," Cardall says in a voice normally revered for executioners, "to whom shall I send the fine for damage to First Order personnel?"

There's a nasty snicker from somewhere outside your line of sight. Everybody was familiar with the rule about visible marks left on other officers—meant to keep younger and more volatile cadets from fighting, the threat of a fine pulled from their pitiful service stipends enough to curb most tempers.

Or to convince the cutthroat ones to be cunning enough not to get caught.

But there was a secondary consequence—officers strutting into work, bruises painting their necks and a smirk on their lips when they announced the responsible party. For the reckless among you, it had become a particularly bold way to announce a serious relationship, a sign of commitment.

Not an option for you, of course.

"I take responsibility for the damage, sir," you state, feigning confidence and hoping no one will notice the way your voice shakes, "I'll cover the fine."

A hum of disappointment, a rush of whispers. It's allowed, certainly, but will only increase the intrigue, the rumors that will follow you around for weeks, or even longer, if all other wells of drama stay dry.

Captain Cardall sneers, but he's left impotent in this, at least. He makes another note on his data pad and stalks away to the next officer in line, but he must be at least a little satisfied with his torment, given the hop in his step and the proud set of his shoulders.

You breathe, in and out, in and out, but just barely—too aware of your still-captive audience to allow yourself anything like relief. Instead, you blank your mind of everything that's just happened and turn back to your station, becoming a machine, emotionless and unblinking.

You spend the rest of your shift ignoring the unmistakable burn of the general's gaze.

Your time on the bridge comes to an end, and your replacement materializes at your side, finally releasing you. It's a quick walk back to your quarters, one you manage without tearing up or screaming in the halls, relishing the way your door sounds as it falls closed, sealing you safely from the shitstorm outside.

Finally alone, you fall back against the wall and take your first real breath.

Now you could break down in peace.

"Are you alright?"

It's mortifying, the way you jump at the whisper, the way your eyes—blown wide with fear—find him in the center of the room, watching you.

The general looks achingly handsome; you can't help but recognize it. High spots of color in his cheeks, his dark eyes flashing, and it breaks your heart all over again to have him here in front of you.

"General," you force the word out, then try for some semblance of decorum, straightening your posture like it could ground you in such strange circumstances.

He only nods, and though you'd never truly trust your ability to read him ever again, there is something about the expression he wears—brows furrowed and meeting in the center, eyes turned down at the corners.

The general is worried, and the expression is not at home on his face.

He must not want you to see it, because he's swift to glance away from you, eyeing the walls without seeing much, the fingers on one hand tapping at the palm of the other.

It's so different from the last time you were alone. Any awkwardness had been swallowed up by the heat of the moment—his arms wrapped tight around your waist, those hungry and desperate kisses that still made your knees grow weak.

You can't speak, and even if you could, you're not sure what you would say. Why had he come here? To berate you? To thank you for letting all the embarrassment fall squarely on your shoulders?

"I—" the general starts, then pauses, flashing his eyes to yours, "I would have waited for your return, but given the circumstances—"

The circumstances. That's one way to put it.

"Of course," you mumble, and you do understand. If anyone had seen him waiting for you outside your quarters, it would have only offered greater fuel to the blazing stories that were undoubtedly already traveling the ship, red-hot and sparking from one person to the next.

"Are you alright?" The general repeats his question, still watching, still unreadable, but there's a softness to his voice that's entirely unfamiliar.

You nod, barely, throat tight and sore, eyes ready to well with tears at this small sign of concern—that he had sought you out, despite everything.

The general presses his lips into a tight line, and there's something in the cant of his body, tense with forward energy like this small distance pains him.

"I've taken care of the fine," he tells you, "discretely. And the notes in your file."

You open your mouth to speak, to thank him, but no sound makes it out. There are tears now, pooling at the bottom of your lashes, but you won't blink, won't let them fall.

General Hux does step forward at the sight of them, the space between you shrinking, close enough he could reach out and touch you, if he wanted.

"And I'll take care of Captain Cardall, as well."

The words, and the severity behind them, drain the blood from your face.

"No, please," you caution him with a shake of your head, "it will only make people talk more."

Cardall would certainly not react well to any kind of criticism—especially not where you were concerned—and the well of bitterness inside him was deeper than any other you had known. He'd spread the story himself, no doubt, and the connections were easy enough to make.

But the general is undisturbed.

"I don't care if people talk."

Spoken with all the authority in the galaxy. You should have known a man like the him couldn't be cowed by a little gossip.

The general's eyes drop from your own, tracing the collar of your uniform, and he reaches out a hand, pausing just before his gloved fingers meet the skin of your neck.

"May I?" he asks, and you nod in confirmation, breath catching in your throat as he pulls your uniform out of the way, eyes the mark he had left on your skin.

He goes pink, cheeks rosy when he sees how he had stained you, sees it with the eyes of all the others who had witnessed the spectacle.

"I'm-" he flushes deeper, eyes bewildered, "You must know how very sorry I am for— for this."

"Don't be."

It's the polite thing to say, you think, in a moment like this one, but you mean it. Being with him had been worth all the pain.

His eyes flash, wide with surprise now, and you don't miss the way his fingers brush at the column of your throat, reaching for more of you.

"Really?"

His tone incredulous, so different from what you're used to that you breathe out a laugh, letting your own hand reach up to rest on his outstretched arm, just brushing at the bare stretch of skin between his glove and the cuff of his sleeve.

He takes another half-step forward, his hand moving to cup at the curve of your neck.

"I had thought—" he starts, but he can't get the words out, expression so wide and open, marveling at the touch of your hand.

He doesn't need to say it. You know what he had been thinking because those same fears had been yours.

How delightful it is to have been proved wrong.

You pull him closer, stroking your hand down the sleeve of his uniform and there's only a little hesitation in his touch when his other hand meets your waist.

General Hux smiles at you, really, and the expression is miraculous, has him glowing. Your heart stops beating.

He kisses you, slow, so very unlike the last time, and you feel that miraculous smile pressed against your own.

Nothing could be better.

[not-so-allegiant-general]

Hey

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren forcing Hux into taking a break and rest by giving him an order, taking away his datapad and putting someone else in command for few weeks bc Hux was literally on the brink of collaps and Kylo knows it's the only way he can make Hux rest.

And Hux thinking it's a punishment for something and getting seriously offended for the first week. After two he starts begging Kylo for his datapad asking what he did wrong, absolutely desperate, after four Kylo finds him sleeping in Supreme Leader's quarters.

Hux had a whole speech prepared, about how irresponsible Kylo is and how dare he act like that, but he fell asleep on Ren's bed when he was waiting for Kylo to come back from meeting.