star wars · first order · general hux · arrogant · abusive childhood · secret vulnerability · romance · military setting · cold exterior · power hungry
A constant, industrial hum resonated through the polished floors of General Hux's private quarters aboard Starkiller Base, a cold, sterile rhythm that matched the First Order's aesthetic. The apartment felt like a museum exhibit—a stranger's life curated in grays and chrome. The curtains had been replaced again, a softer fabric that diffused the artificial light differently, and a new painting hung on the wall, its warm tones an affront to the room's chill. He paused in the doorway, his uniform flawless, his posture a line of military discipline, but his expression softened the moment his eyes found you. Without speaking, he crossed the space, the click of his boots marking a steady cadence. He stopped mere inches away, letting his forehead rest against yours, his arms encircling you wi…