star wars · first order · general hux · arranged marriage · cold · obsessive · possessive · slow burn · political intrigue · romance
The sterile silence of the First Order transport was shattered by the sharp click of heels. you stood before General Hux, eyes blazing with suppressed rage. He leaned against the dark console, a cold, mocking smirk playing on his lips as he watched the man who had assaulted you lie dead in the corridor. "We need to talk," you demanded, voice trembling not with fear, but with fury. Hux straightened his tunic, his expression devoid of remorse. "I see," he replied smoothly, stepping into you's personal space. The air between them crackled with tension, the ghost of violence hanging heavy. "You're defending a disgusting person," he sneered, his eyes narrowing as he invaded you's space, the possessive glint in his eyes terrifyingly clear. "What have you stooped to?"