Warmth || General Hux x Reader

Prologue

Cold. The Starkiller base is always so cold.

My cradle days of basking under the sun were cut short once the First Order arrived onto my home planet many moons ago, trudging nothing but frigid death and the regime along with them. Taking my  genius engineer father, my incredible inventor mother, and my newborn-self captive, they found use for their knowledge within the base -- sparing both their lives and mine.

They provided my parents and I food, generous shelter, and a stable environment in exchange for their expertise that they sought out when they first ventured onto our planet. I, of course, was already enrolled into the First Order training program.

Whilst my parents were working away, developing innovative technologies to quell the Resistance, I began my officer training. Eventually honing my craft into learning the more technical aspects to collecting data, operating, and firing artillery effectively.

I would bounce around different classrooms, learning different aspects from different specialisation programs.

I'd study, get drinks with my like-program friends, and finally come home and crash in my personal quarter.

My parents would nag me about taking my studies more seriously, but I would always reply with some sort of acknowledgement and dismissal. After all, we were kinda forced into this whole thing, right?Besides, the living space they provided wasn't so bad. They wanted what was best for me, and I was giving it my all, despite the fact that the Order essentially gave us no choice to choose a real path for ourselves. But, hey, we accepted it and made do.

It was the night before my 16 birthday... now almost 8 years ago that I lost them.

They were on a scouting trip -- searching for some sort of matter that would have provided greater insight into a new, remote mapping technology that would've given the Order an unbelievable advantage in terms of locating base information. Both of my parents collaborated on it; it was their own creation, their second child, they told me — their magnum opus. That's why they insisted on going instead of sending scouting troopers in their stead.

Until a stray Resistance jet ambushed their ship, catching them off guard, effectively exploding them and the vital tech they carried into oblivion.

I remember attending their funeral, their portraits and ship fragments on display in one of the halls of the base. No flowers, nor endearing messages. Just the consistent and familiar sterility of the Starkiller.

It was... sobering, and oddly conflicting. My parents, who have been with me aboard this base all my life, gone in a matter of moments. The news did not reach me until a few hours later, (after I have finally managed to successfully hit all my tracking quota for the day) and finally delivered to me, rather bluntly, by my firing drill supervisor who I was not fond of.

I still remember his greying, mousy hair, the crookedness of his bottom teeth, and the stale stench of morning coffee as he leant over to me over the data board with a projected holo-map where I sat.

"We've received reports that both Officers Mr & Mrs (L/N) have perished in the line of duty... you are dismissed for the day, and the next few if you require. Remember to fill in a request form..."

But grief is not entirely recognized aboard the base, and my measly bereavement "leave" I spent confined in my room; huddled in blankets; eating vending machine snacks; and scrolling mindlessly on my datapad just to keep my thoughts away.

I took down the framed photo of us from my wall, and instead brought it closer to myself, keeping it with me on my bedside table. The ethics and nuances of it all set in at last, as I lay staring at the rounded-edged ceilings. Whilst the Resistance killed my parents, the First Order is no saint either. The Stockholm syndrome aspect became very real and very observable.

Although, the real saving grace was my best friend since childhood, Phina. Without her... I'm not sure where I'd be. She brought me out of my despair, sharing fond memories of our shared youth, and reminding me of how proud my parents would be of my progress in the program. She would fill me in on the classroom gossip that she knew I'd enjoy to occupy my mind, and would read me poems she wrote about love, legends, and distant star systems. Her brown eyes would sparkle with starlight as she read them to me by the window of my chamber. Also orphaned, albeit when she was a toddler, it was the little things that brought us together.

On the day of our graduation, now as adults we stood together, and received our real officer uniforms. I tucked a small photograph of my parents within my breast pocket, keeping them with me to witness a monumental moment.

"I did it, mom, dad. Just like I said I would."

I tried my best not to cry, especially not in front of the General. I received a congratulations and a handshake, and the faintest hint of what I presumed to be a smile on his ever-cold, emotionless face.

I've always been apprehensive about him, and rightfully so. Despite him not being that much older than myself, his military accomplishments places him leagues above my own. However; that doesn't scare Phina away from making jokes about him, or mentioning how deep he has a lightsaber stuck up his ass every shift.

'General Hugs', or 'General in need of a hug' she calls him.

Since our graduation, I've been working with Phina as an officer of the First Order. Perhaps the stars align or the force is always with us, but we always somehow manage to be placed in the same or physically close department -- and of course, under the jurisdiction of General Hux.

In these past six years, I've seen his face grow more bitter and forbidding. I've begun recognizing what mood he was in every time I'd pass him by in the hall, or hear him bark orders at us and the Lieutenants. It was the little things I began noticing: the slight inclinations and subtle enunciations in his speech; the way his heavy boots would sound hitting the cold, polished tile floor; the way his green eyes would soften ever so slightly once we successfully hit a military target; or would become vacant and an icy hue if something went wrong.

When Supreme Leader Ren would enter, the General's eyes would darken to a deeper shade of green, and look upon him with disdain that only a trained eye could truly pick up on. This wasn't just a simple annoyance - no, this was pure hatred in his eyes.

I rarely spoke to him directly, since there were always higher-ups to deliver status updates and data relay from our assignments. On the off chance that it would be my responsibility, I would lower my eyes and deliver the news. I could feel his eyes on me, travelling down from my lowered head to my daily polished shoes -- searching, scanning for imperfections or something to comment on, but no such comment ever came. He would dismiss me with a nod, or simply walk away, leaving me to scurry back to my station beside Phina, who would snicker and have a snide new remark to make about him.

However... it wasn't until a few days ago that I saw something different in his eyes that I haven't seen before. An emotion that, for once, I couldn't decipher. For someone who once could be so easy to read, suddenly became a vocabulary puzzle in a foreign, distant star system language.

That day, it was once again my turn to deliver the status update of a secret Resistance convoy we've been tracking. All the higher-ups were busy, and Phina was furiously typing something away at her seat beside me. As I sat up to grab my datapad and walk over to him, my eyes suddenly met with his across the room — and something in his usually darkened green eyes flickered-

"YOOHOO! Are you still even listening?"

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Author's note:

HEY GUYS!! I finally decided to write something new for a change. I think this chapter acts somewhat like a prologue, but it is necessary to read for context. Please let me know what you think!