General Hux x Reader One-Shots

Until We Meet Again

Summary: After years of living deep in the First Order, Hux discovers your true allegiance. But when faced with the opportunity to end it, he relents when you reveal something that puts both of you in danger. 

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The frigid air ricocheted off the metal walls. Though nothing compared to the crystal chill of space, Hux shivered regardless. The thick wool fabric of his greatcoat only shielded external cold. Nothing but a steely heart and clear mind could warm an internal freeze. And at the moment, he had neither.

Deep at the base of The Finalizer, Hux sidestepped boilers and grazed his fingers over arm rails to maintain his footing over the dotted metal floor. Though the most secure location on the ship, the trials to get to this holding chamber nearly outweighed the benefits. Hux made a note to himself to inform maintenance of the lack of warmth reaching this low. If he needed to spend any amount of time in this hell-chamber, it should at least be comfortable.

A pair of Troopers kept guard at the door. The blank stares of their masks settled Hux. At least they were prime for control. Everything about them except the lilt of their voices was the same and it soothed him. Much unlike the person on the other side of the door.

Hux nodded to the Stormtroopers. The donned electrified scythes, locking in a chiasmus over the door. Sparks jumped from the weapons illuminating their masks at odd angles.

"Sir," a Stormtrooper with red shoulder plates pulled his scythe from the door. The prickles of electricity dissipated and Hux stepped through the sliding door.

The chamber was small, barely large enough for Hux and the prisoner. The sounds of the ship slipped away with the door closing. Everything was silent except you panting before him. Arms wrapped in layers of metal rings, you clung to the chair like the danger you were.

"Hello Armitage," Your neck cracked as you raised your head. Hair falling over your eyes, the dregs of braids hung limp over your shoulder, barely holding on. "You look terrible."

"Hello my lovely liar," Armitage stood over you, shoulders caging you closer to the chair, "you look positively treasonous."

You laughed and fell into a fit of grotesque coughs. Throat burning, you cleared it, feeling the tickle of dehydration. A glass of water hovered out of reach. A petty psychological tactic you'd seen Armitage use a dozen times. He wasn't anything if not predictable.

And that's what you loved about him.

"I did exactly what I set out to do," Your tongue caught against the cracking craters of your lips. "But I never lied about you."

"About me?" Armitage's fingers landed one by one on the top of the chair beside your head. The warmth of his jacket slid across your cheeks. They etched crossed red marked into your skin where the uncomfortable fabric grazed your face.

"How I feel about you," Your teeth chattered as chill found its way inside the tears of your uniform. Purple bruises and dried blood shone bright against the black of your First Order uniform. "And it's sick."

"You nearly destroyed us from the inside out, right under my nose, and you mock me about my feelings?"

"Under your body actually," You turned as Armitage pressed his forehead into your temple. The direct eye contact stung from eyes to heart. His red hair tangled in yours, forming a new kind of braid of knots and pain.

"I married you!" Armitage's voice cracked from a yell to a broken whisper. The warmth from his body felt foreign to your chilly skin.

"And I love you." You swallowed. "That hasn't changed. But there are some things that are more important than my own emotions and desires. I just hoped to drag this out a few more months."