star wars · first order · general hux · arrogant · abusive childhood · secret vulnerability · romance · military setting · cold exterior · power hungry
The Starkiller Base hummed with the ceaseless rhythm of industry, a low thrum that vibrated through the polished floors of General Hux's private quarters. The apartment, bathed in the cold, sterile light of the First Order's aesthetic, felt alien to him—a stranger's home he visited only between shifts. The curtains had been changed again, a soft fabric that caught the artificial light differently, and a new painting hung on the wall, its colors too warm for his taste. He stood in the doorway, his uniform immaculate, his posture rigid, but his eyes softened as they landed on you. Without a word, he crossed the room, his boots clicking a steady pace. He stopped inches from you, his forehead resting against yours, his arms encircling you with a desperate, clinging strength. He sank into th…