#hux x reader

[lacycardigan]

If anyone has any Hux/Reader fanfic prompts they would like me to fill, feel free to send them my way! nsfw prompts are fine (only from adults, obviously), and I have anonymous asks on.

[goosewriting]

26. Breathless

✧ masterlist: 50 kisses ✧

prompt: a kiss that lasts for so long that they're breathless when it ends

fandom: Star Wars relationship: Armitage Hux x gn!reader | established relationship category: 🌸 fluff warnings: none word count: ~350

A/N: the amount of times a day i think about hux hmmm i’m so normal about him 🥴

You perk up from where you sit on the armchair of your quarters as your datapad pings. Picking it up from the side table you check the message; it’s Hux, telling you he’ll be back tonight. Your heartbeat picks up as you put the device away again, continuing to read your novel. The past two weeks he’s been away from the Finalizer to attend a banquet on-planet in a different system, where he met with the local diplomats in hopes to have them join the First Order. By the tone of his message, it seems everything went well. 

When he comes back later that night, the hallways of the living quarters wing is silent as most people have retired for the night. You’ve kept yourself busy by making something small to eat in case he’s hungry, since the mess hall is already closed. 

Hux looks tired but in a good mood, so you ask him how it went as you help him out of his uniform in the living room. He tells you all the details about the mission as well as some facts about the local population he picked up on, but you're not really paying full attention. Your patience runs out by the time he’s finally left in his undershirt, so you grab a fistful of the black garment and pull him towards you.

“I’ve missed you,” you barely manage to blurt out before kissing him. After getting over his initial surprise, Hux reciprocates.

Yes, you’ve missed his touch, but the kiss should be enough for now. You expect him to pull back and start his night routine so you can cuddle in bed, but to your surprise he pulls you even closer, guiding you backwards until your legs hit the couch. You sit down, leaning back onto the armrest, and he follows, holding his weight above you. All the while, his lips never left yours, and by the time he breaks the kiss, you're both panting, hearts racing.

“I missed you too,” he finally says between breaths, and you laugh airily, smiling up at him.

“I could tell.”

🐥 taglist: @alternatescififandomlover, @nocturnest, @padawan-solimar, @batboysandgirls, @braveangel777, @mmcringelordmcgee

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[goosewriting]

23. Chin kiss

✧ masterlist: 50 kisses ✧

prompt: chin kiss

fandom: Star Wars relationship: Armitage Hux x gn!reader | established relationship  category: 🌸 fluff  warnings: none word count: ~260

A/N: i love you soft Hux 🥺 i love you unintentionally smug Hux 🥺 i love you Hux period 🥺

A snowstorm rages outside, snowflakes and wind hitting Hux’s office on Ilum, but it’s so well sealed you can’t hear a thing. It’s just you and him in the office, working away in comfortable silence in the early afternoon. You often join the General here because you get a lot of work done without distractions. 

Once you’re both done with your tasks, you start gathering your things, about to go your separate ways. But before he can head out, you stand in front of him, blocking his way.

Hux raises a questioning brow. Your eyes fall down to his lips and back to his eyes; you want a goodbye kiss. His cheeks flush slightly and he clears his throat.

“Not here,” he mutters in fake annoyance; you know he keeps PDA to your shared quarters only. But since he left before you this morning, you've gone all day without a single kiss.

You quickly get on your tiptoes, aiming for his lips, but he's quicker and lifts his head. Your puckered lips miss their target and you end up placing a kiss on his chin instead.

A slight chuckle of victory leaves his throat, while you step back in mock offence with a gasp.

“Traitor,” you say, biting back your own smile. 

He leans in slightly to speak against your ear. “I’ll make it up to you tonight,” he says, then walks past you and out of the office. You know he didn't mean it like that, but you still need a moment more to calm down your burning face before you can head out yourself.

🐥 taglist: @dybynyght, @alternatescififandomlover, @nocturnest, @padawan-solimar, @batboysandgirls, @braveangel777, @mmcringelordmcgee

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[goosewriting]

1. Kiss in a dream

✧ masterlist: 50 kisses ✧

prompt: kiss in a dream

fandom: Star Wars relationship: Armitage Hux x gn!reader category: 🌸 fluff  warnings: none word count: ~720

A/N: starting off strong with the first prompt i actually wrote heh

Hux takes a moment to let his eyes wander through the large windows, darting from star to star. The view from right here, the bridge of the Finalizer, is one of his favourites.

The General turns back around to look at his crew, working. Everything seems to be in order. He barks his orders as usual, and everyone complies. The respect and slight fear everyone has of him makes him puff his chest out a little further.

Something catches his attention from the corner of his ocean eyes, and he turns to catch a glimpse of something, or rather someone, walking around the corner on the other side of the bridge. He doesn’t know why, but there’s something deep within him that beckons him to follow. So he does.

Leaving one of his officials at the helm, he strides through the room to investigate. Hux follows this mysterious figure through various hallways, always one step too far behind, always a second too late to catch a glimpse of their face. 

After taking a sharp corner, Hux bumps into someone. His mouth opens to let out a scold, telling the other person off for being reckless and impertinent. But nothing comes out when he sees it’s you, his favourite officer that he’s been harbouring a crush on for so long now.

Hux’s whole body tingles, not in a good way, at that thought. Crush. He’s a grown man, for Maker’s sake. He’s a General. He shouldn't get crushes. Yet every time you're within sight, his brain seems to freeze up and his limbs are stiffer than usual. Even when you're not in sight, he finds his thoughts often wandering, ending up with you sooner or later. He realises he still hasn't said anything while you rub the spot on your face where you walked into him. Before he can gather his thoughts and tell you to be more careful next time, you speak first.

“General,” you say with more pep than usual. “Excellent timing. Come with me.”

You take his gloved hand and guide him further down the hallway. Hux’s eyes are glued to his hand in yours, tracing to keep up with your hurried pace. He can’t believe you're holding his hand. Even through the material of the glove he feels the warmth, and his head starts spinning. No, actually everything around him twirls, the panels starting to come off the walls of the hallway, turning into colourful dust and getting swept away.

Did he hit his head? Is he hallucinating? 

The two of you continue walking, and your surroundings disappear until it’s just you and Hux, floating in the air which feels strangely warm against his skin. Not suffocating, but more like a cabin fire on a cold night.

You turn around mid-air, and take his other hand too, holding both of them now.

“I have something important to tell you,” you confess, a shy smile playing on your lips.

“What’s that?” Hux swallows a lump.

Without warning, you lean in and kiss him. His whole body freezes where it is.

For the floating and the hallway disappearing he could find an explanation eventually; now he’s certain he must be dreaming. But if his brain blessed him with this vision, why should he hold back? He might wake up any moment.

So after hesitating for only a moment, his arms wrap around your middle to hold you against him as he kisses you again, deeper this time. You whisper his first name into his skin and he thinks he might faint.

Suddenly, the warmth isn't as intense, the pressure against your lips starts to loosen. No, he can't let you go, not yet. Hux tries to hold on to you, but your body is like wisps of smoke, fading between his fingers. He calls your name, and suddenly reality crashes down on him. It feels like he just fell several feet when his whole body shakes on the bed, heart racing in his chest.

Hux’s hands curl around his blanket as his ragged breathing fills the dark room. It takes him a minute or two to calm down.

He shuffles to position himself to sleep again. But behind his closed eyes, all he can see is your smile and taste your lips.

He groans into his pillow, cheeks flushed.

How is he supposed to face you tomorrow? 

🐥 taglist: @alternatescififandomlover, @nocturnest, @padawan-solimar, @batboysandgirls, @braveangel777, @mmcringelordmcgee

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[charlottesbookclub]

taste – armitage hux x reader

summary: a new admiral joins the Finalizer's crew

warnings/tags: gn!reader, admiral!reader, set pre-tfa, drinking alcohol, mutual yearning, switches between Hux's pov and the admiral's pov; let me know if I missed anything!

words: 3810

author’s note: thank you so much to the wonderful @goosewriting for requesting some more Hux content! ☺️☺️ I actually wrote this one like a year ago, and then I was working on a little follow-up piece that I never finished, so I never posted either of them, but this one can certainly stand on its own as a little one-shot! the arc here isn't connected to any of the other Hux things I've written before, so there's really no background or context needed to enjoy it! also, the title and some of the general vibes are inspired by the song "Taste" by Sawyer. I hope you enjoy! ☺️☺️

You had tried to keep yourself from forming any preconceived notions about General Hux before you actually met him when you transferred to the Finalizer. You knew what the old Imperials at your previous assignment had said about him of course – that he was hotheaded and intemperate and unfit to lead. But you could hardly put much stock in that; they likely would have said similarly unflattering things about you. So you went in with as few set ideas about Hux as possible, even though it seemed like everyone in the Starfleet had a strong opinion on him. Even with this relative lack of fixed preconceptions though, you were still somewhat surprised by what you found.

Certainly in presentation he was as crisp and perfect as he appeared in all the holovids you had seen of him: immaculate uniform, irreproachable posture, not a hair out of place. But there was something different about him in person, something almost… magnetic that you hadn’t expected. What caught you first were his intelligent green eyes. When they first landed on you the cycle he came to greet the transferred officers, you felt as though they had fixed you in place, holding you mesmerized as you watched a thousand unreadable thoughts flicker in their depths. Since then, you felt them on you many other times – in meetings or on the bridge. He always seemed to glance away just as you looked, though. You wondered if you were as successful at averting your gaze each time he sensed you staring at him, something that happened more than you had anticipated. You found you wanted to know what was locked in the puzzle of those green eyes, to be able to carefully untangle the thoughts that you often watched flash through them in those moments when your gaze finally met his.

Then there was his hair, which was a much brighter shade of blazing red than you had expected. You half wondered if they muted it somehow in the holovids. It was vibrant against the dark walls of the Star Destroyer, easy to pick out on the bridge or in a bustling hangar. And it was always pristine, combed to complete perfection and held at rigid attention with careful layers of gel. But you couldn’t help yourself from glancing at the strands that swooped over his forehead, imagining what they might look like if you ran your fingers through them, leaving them cascading gently across his face. You tried to quash these imaginings, but they were difficult to banish, especially when you were sitting across from him in a meeting, watching the light from the projected images play over the delicate orange strands that would certainly be silky against the soft pads of your fingers. You would have to take a sip of caf to refocus yourself, hoping he hadn’t caught you staring.

And there were the contours of his face, which you had somehow memorized without even meaning to. You saw the dark smudges under his eyes that he clearly tried to cover, proof of his rumored sleeplessness and dedication to his work at the cost of his own need for rest. You noticed the little lines that formed around his mouth when it folded into a small frown, a barely-perceptible exterior expression of his inscrutable internal feelings. When you passed him on the bridge after he came to relieve you of your command for the cycle, you sometimes tried to get close enough to see the tiny freckles that you knew dotted his skin, but which were usually obscured by the dimmed lighting necessary for the bridge crew to see their data screens. And kriff you had tried to repress these feelings, but you couldn’t stop picturing gently passing your thumb over the tender skin under those sparkling green eyes, caressing away the exhaustion you knew was hidden there. You could see your knuckles passing softly over the little frown lines on his face, easing the long-held tension that had written itself into his skin. You could imagine the tips of your fingers dancing over his face, tracing the intricate constellations of freckles, reverently charting each pale orange star. Kriff, the wanting of it almost made you breathless.

And now you were looking at his lips, because you had spent too much time indulging yourself in such silly imaginings and had weakened your own self-control in the process. The meeting was a strategy session, and Hux was standing at the head of the table, presenting at the main holoprojection. You enjoyed listening when he spoke – he clearly knew was he was talking about, even if some of the things he discussed were outside your area of expertise. And yes, you were technically listening now, letting the pleasant cadence of his voice fill your ears, but you struggled to make out a word of what he was actually saying. Your eyes were fixed on his lips, wondering if you had ever noticed before what a lovely shade of pink they were, how surprisingly soft and plush they looked despite the crisp, clipped words that usually issued from them. You wondered what you would taste if you gently pressed your mouth to his. Would it be the familiar, warm taste of caf or the acidic herbal flavor of the bitter tea you knew he drank? Or would it be something else entirely, something almost as unexpected as all the rest of him? Kriff, you needed to refocus. 

You allowed yourself the minutest shake of your head as though to physically clear those thoughts from your mind, even if it wasn’t particularly successful. You were going to present your own strategy suggestions soon, and you needed to not look like a complete fool, especially when Hux would be watching.

When Hux slipped back into his own seat after yielding the floor to you, he didn’t like that his palms were sweaty. He never got nervous for these meetings, but with you looking intently on, he couldn’t help the unexpected burst of nerves that shot through him. He tried to subtly dry his hands on his breeches as he slid his chair back up to the table. Pulling up his notes on his datapad, he attempted to make himself focus as you explained potential fleet configurations. He always liked hearing your suggestions, since they were clearly well thought out and informed by your years of experience. Your presentation was as professional and meticulous as usual, but he somehow couldn’t fully get himself to tune into the words the way he wanted to.

Earlier in the cycle, after he had drifted to sleep momentarily at his desk, he had woken from a dream about you. Actually, Hux dreamed about you more than he cared to admit, but this one was different. Usually you were just there, turning toward him on the bridge with a smile or even speaking with him. This time though, you had kissed him. Frankly, he didn’t even know how his subconscious had come up with such a thing – he had never kissed anyone and hadn’t the faintest idea how to do it. But he dreamed it nonetheless, and when he woke, he thought he could still taste you on his lips. He had tried to shake himself out of it, to rattle some sense back into his mind, but he couldn’t erase the thought. His attempts at erasing thoughts of you had yet to be successful.

He certainly hadn’t expected this, when he first saw your name on a list of high-ranking officers who were transferring to the Finalizer. He had read the title “admiral” and had simply assumed that you were some ex-Imperial who would gleefully join the small cadre already aboard the ship, all of whom clearly distained him. So, when he was required to greet the new transfers, he had steeled himself to behave with all the frosty composure he was used to summoning. But then you had stepped off the transport at perfect attention, clearly a member of his own generation, eyes bright and inquisitive as they met his. Thanks to the years he had spent keeping his expression under close control, he was certain his face hadn’t betrayed it, but he was stunned. 

Immediately Hux wanted to know everything about you, an impulse he had originally attributed to his surprise at seeing you rather than the old Imperial he had expected, but it soon became clear that his interest in you had deeper roots than that. He had read through your personnel file, finding awards and accolades that spoke to your successful career, and though he had intended to stop there, assuming his curiosity would be satisfied, he quickly found that it was nowhere near enough. Soon he was ensuring that he would be early to his bridge shifts that came after yours so he could have just a few more fleeting shared moments as he greeted you and you gave him the bridge report. He was making certain he sat across from you at meetings, stealing glances at you when he thought you were absorbed in your notes or whoever was speaking, and before he could stop himself, he would become completely entranced with watching the lights from the holoprojections flicker over your features. 

And he had tried to stop himself – he really had. He was more sleepless than usual as he fought to keep you from his mind. He had come up with a thousand reasons why he shouldn’t allow himself to go further. He had constructed elaborate plans to avoid you and to prevent himself from thinking of you. But it had all come too late – he was in far too deep before he realized he had even started something, and you were everywhere. Even in his dreams.

So now he was sitting in this meeting, meant to be paying attention to what was your surely intelligent strategy for fleet organization, and all he could think about was the way you had kissed him in his dream. He watched your lips move as you spoke, the welcoming sound of your voice filling the room even as he struggled to follow your words. In the dream, your lips had tasted faintly sweet as they pressed against his, something like the kind of floral tea he knew you drank. He typically preferred bitter tarine, but he would gladly sip almost anything from your lips. Kriff. He could not be thinking like this. He shifted slightly in his seat and downed some of his caf, letting the too-hot liquid bring him back to reality. 

Whenever a group of high-ranking officers from across the Starfleet got together to discuss broad strategy plans, there was always the unspoken expectation that everyone would attend the reception afterwards. You weren’t even sure why they had receptions after these things – some holdover from the Empire that the ex-Imperials insisted upon, you supposed. But whatever the reason for their existence, you dreaded them. They were utterly useless and a complete drain on your time, not to mention your patience. 

If there was one upside, it was that the receptions allowed for the un-rationed consumption of alcohol – in moderation, of course – a substance that was otherwise tightly controlled on First Order ships. If you were going to be forced into attending these inane receptions, at least you could have a drink or two while doing it. And anyway, this time would be different – Hux was going to be there.

You lingered near the periphery as you sipped slowly on your drink, an artificially green concoction that made you feel like a foolish, love-sick cadet for yearning for the shifting grey-green of Hux’s eyes. You had yet to see him since the brief glance you had allowed yourself as everyone filed out of the meeting room. Lieutenant Malin, head of your personal staff, waited dutifully nearby, ready for you to say that you were leaving – something you usually did as early as was professionally acceptable.

“Lieutenant,” you said quietly, and Malin was at your side in an instant, awaiting whatever command you might give, “you’re welcome to have a drink if you would like one.” 

“Thank you, Admiral,” she said with a little duck of her head. “Just let me know when we’ll be departing.”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” you responded as she nodded again and made her way toward where they were serving drinks. You took a few measured steps toward the center of the reception, idly wondering if you should join a small group of other non-Imperial officers who were engaged in quiet conversation nearby. But then you caught a flash of orange.

You looked up instantly to see Hux speaking to a dark-haired lieutenant whom you had seen with the general before – Mitaka, maybe? – likely a member of Hux’s personal staff. Your feet locked in place, suddenly uncertain what to do. The glass in your hand felt quite slippery as you gripped it, a thousand imaginings that you had been too weak to resist instantly filling your mind as you watched him speak to the lieutenant. 

His posture was so correct, so upright – stars he looked good. But then you were seeing your hands on the stiff, squared shoulders of his uniform, soothing away the rigid tension that was surely buried there. KRIFF. You could not be doing this right now. You inhaled a sharp breath and squeezed your eyes closed for the briefest second – so quickly that no one else would notice – and attempted to banish that image, and all the others, from your mind. 

You forced yourself to repeat the litany you had prepared for just these moments of weakness. You had no reason to believe Hux was even the slightest bit interested in you. To your knowledge, he had never shown a particular interest in anyone before, and it was unlikely that was going to change now. He was a man dedicated to his work and to the cause, something that was admirable and worth emulating. You had a job to do – an important one at that, and one at which so many of the ex-Imperials were eager to see you fail while you were determined to prove them wrong – so there was no use getting caught up in frivolous fantasies.

You had almost convinced yourself of this and were about to join that group of other officers when you suddenly saw Hux’s gaze flicker to you. Every logical argument you had just worked through came crashing down around you as the lieutenant gestured toward you. Hux looked between him and you with an unreadable expression on his face before he seemed to sigh, straighten his already impeccable posture, and make his way toward you.

A thousand expletives filled your head as all your foolish imaginings reignited themselves. Watching Hux walk toward you with such brisk, confident strides was not helping you steady yourself. You gripped your glass tightly enough that you almost feared it would shatter, but it felt like the only thing holding you in place. You needed to not kriff this up.

Hux hated these blasted receptions. They were so completely pointless and stole him away from other things that needed his attention much more urgently. The only thing that kept him from stalking from the room at the earliest moment possible was the knowledge that you were there somewhere. Why that thought stopped him, he didn’t know. It seemed rather unlikely that you would take the same interest in him that he had in you; you were a highly-skilled and professional officer – you certainly weren’t letting yourself get lost in the same far-fetched fantasy world that he had permitted himself to slip into too many times. But yet, somehow the knowledge that you were there kept him where he was, sipping mindlessly on the amber liquid in his glass that burned slightly at the back of his throat in a way he wasn’t sure he fully enjoyed.

“When are you planning on leaving, General?” Mitaka’s question caught him off-guard, lost as he was in considerations of you, but he didn’t let his surprise show on his face.

“Shortly, Lieutenant,” he huffed in response. Surely it had not escaped Mitaka’s notice that Hux had already been at the reception longer than usual. The lieutenant simply nodded in response, casting his gaze out over the scattered groups of officers that filled the room. Then he appeared to notice something. He turned back to Hux instantly.

“Isn’t that the new admiral?” 

Hux knew he shouldn’t have looked, but he did anyway, unable to resist a glance at you. Kriff. He caught your eyes for just a moment, but it was more than enough. He took another sip of his drink, hoping the burn in his throat would drown out the heat growing in his cheeks.

“Don’t you think you should go offer a greeting?” Mitaka prompted, gesturing toward you with his glass. Against all his better instincts, Hux looked again. You did seem a bit isolated, not really a part of any of the groups that had gathered loosely in the reception space. And you looked good. Kriff, you looked really good. Your uniform and posture were perfect, but even more than that, your eyes were sparkling with a hidden depth that Hux had longed to uncover since the first time he saw you.

“I don’t think there’s any need for that, Lieutenant,” Hux replied as he looked away, fighting with the memories of his dream, struggling to keep down the thought of the sweet softness of your lips against his.

“But the admiral’s new, and this is your flagship,” Mitaka pressed. Hux gritted his teeth. As much as he wanted to berate the lieutenant for his insufferable insistence, he knew Mitaka was right.

“Fine,” he snapped at last. Sucking in a deep breath, he levelled his shoulders and began making his way toward you.

Years of training and practice kept his steps efficient and steady, but inside he was wavering considerably. You were watching him as he approached, and he was sinking into your gaze, stumbling as he tripped over himself internally even though his pace never faltered. He had to keep himself focused. This would just be a cordial, professional greeting, nothing more. 

“Admiral,” he greeted you as he came up next to you. He was certainly no closer than protocol would allow, so why did it suddenly feel like he was falling, being pulled into your orbit?

“General,” you returned with a little nod. Despite how unsteady he suddenly felt, he needed to find something to say.

“How are you enjoying the reception?” Bland and predictable. Half of him was celebrating that he might succeed at keeping this interaction strictly professional, but the other half was despairing that he might be losing his chance at something more. He took another sip of his drink, although that was probably ill-advised given the way the two warring emotions inside of him were already roiling uncomfortably in his stomach.

“To be honest, General,” you responded, also sipping from your drink, “I would hate for you to think me impertinent, but I hardly see the point in these receptions.”

Hux was stunned for a moment. Your face remained mostly placid, but he thought he could see a little glimmer of light in your eyes. Stars, how he desperately wanted to see more. But then there was something else too – hesitation maybe, or nervousness. You had no reason to believe he wouldn’t find your comment impertinent. But you had been honest with him. Did that mean something? If so, what? He pushed those questions away for the moment – he needed to respond.

“Actually, Admiral, I quite agree with you,” he replied. Your slightly raised eyebrows just barely betrayed your surprise. “These little events are something of a drain on my time.”

Stars, he hoped that was the right thing to say. It was honest at least, if nothing else. He must not have been too far from the mark, because you hummed in agreement.

“I’m glad I’ve found someone who shares my opinion on this matter, General,” you said, and Hux swore he could hear a warm smile in your voice, even if the expression didn’t make it to the carefully-professional mask of your face. His breathing was a little less even than he would have liked. “If I may inquire, what would you be doing right now if you weren’t required at this rather pointless reception?”

Hux took another sip from his drink to give himself time to measure his response. He could be honest again and rattle off a few items on his endless list of tasks, but now that he was so close to you, he was finding it difficult to think logically, and he was once again lost in a fantasy where there was a chance that you might actually take an interest in him. Would a rote repetition of all his responsibilities make him seem dull? But what else would he say? He didn’t do anything else. Could he somehow make his answer even vaguely charming? He had no confidence at all in his ability to achieve that, but blast it, he needed to try. 

“I’d likely be required at another meeting that was just as pointless, but I wouldn’t be able to have a drink.” His answer was not funny at all – or at least he didn’t think it was – but you nevertheless let out a soft breath of a laugh, and it almost seemed like you were suppressing a deeper expression of good humor. Hux was beginning to feel the warmth from his drink swirl to life in his stomach, but there was also another sensation of sparkling warmth spreading through his chest, something that felt a lot like pride. He had made you laugh. And kriff, did he want to do it again. “What tasks is this reception keeping you from?”

“Nothing particularly interesting, I fear,” you replied, a lightness lingering in your voice that Hux was aching to hear more of. “I have a briefing with my staff, and there are some ship reports that need my review. Although perhaps having had a drink mid-shift will ease the rest of the cycle somewhat.” There was laughter glimmering in your eyes when you met his gaze again, and Hux was suddenly thinking that he should have skipped the drink altogether, because he was intoxicated on that alone.

“Well, I would hate to keep you from such vital tasks.” It was a complete lie. Hux could have kept talking to you for the rest of the cycle.

“Worry not, General – you’re not keeping me from anything,” you replied, an unmistakable lilt of happiness gliding through your voice. “In fact, I’d have to say that the company at this reception has made it the most enjoyable one yet.”

[charlottesbookclub]

sweet nothing (chapter five) – a 'nothing i've ever known' story (armitage hux x wife!reader)

'sweet nothing' masterlist // 'nothing i've ever known' masterlist

summary: armitage and his wife enjoy the evening together

warnings/tags: f!reader, wife!reader, set pre-tfa, mention of food and eating, mention of drinking alcohol (wine), suggestive bit, lots of fluff

words: 4408

author’s note: so this is the last chapter of this little story, and I'm sorry it took me so long to post it for anyone who was waiting! 💜 the thing about the little universe that this story is set in is that I have tens of thousands (if not maybe a hundred thousand 😅) words written for other fics in this same universe because I worked on it all summer last year as a way of recovering from a really bad mental health spell I had last spring. I really wrote it for myself as a comfort fic both as a way to ease back into writing fic and as a little universe I could escape into when I needed it. however, because I wrote it for such personal reasons, I never know if it actually appeals to anyone else. so I guess here is the point where I'm asking y'all to let me know if you would like to read more of it! I just don't want to go through and edit and format everything to post if no one will read it, and if you're not interested, that's totally okay! ☺️ like I said, I wrote it when I seriously needed some comfort and escapism, so I thought I would put this little part of it out there to see if anyone else might find something comforting in it, but if not, no worries at all! anyway, I hope you enjoy the finale to this very fluffy little fic! ☺️💖

the suggestive bit is nothing too wild, but just to be safe, I'm marking this one 18+ – minors please do not interact

After you had declared the sauce done and everything had been set out for dinner, the two of you returned to the table on the veranda. The sun was dipping toward the horizon, and the breeze carried just the faintest chill from the coming evening. You had opened another bottle of wine to accompany the meal, and you both sipped slowly from your glasses between bites of the food and conversation with each other. It was difficult for Armitage to conceive of a lovelier way to end the cycle.

“I hate to ask,” you started, your eyes angled down toward your plate, “since your schedule is already so full, but do you have a sense of when you might be able to visit again?”

He swallowed his sip of wine, immediately picking up on the sorrow in your voice that he knew you were trying to hide. You were always so generous and understanding about everything, and it cut him deeply to not be able to devote the time to you that he truly wanted to. He knew that his leaving hurt you as much as it did him, and although you always wished him goodbye with a kiss and his favorite smile, he suspected that you cried after his ship departed. You never let him see though, certainly aware that he wouldn’t be able to leave while tears were streaming down your face. But the image of it alone was enough to make him nearly sick, and the pain in your voice that you were clearly attempting to repress was sending a web of hairline fractures through his heart.

“I’m hoping in another month,” he responded. How he desperately wished it could be sooner – or better yet, that he would never have to be parted from you – but he was too practical to think that was a possibility at the present moment. Your eyes flicked back up to his, a little spark of excitement in them.

“That’s not so long,” you remarked enthusiastically. Although the genuine joy in your voice eased the cracks that had scattered across his heart, he couldn’t help but think how pathetic of a husband it made him that his wife had to wait a month before she could see him again. 

“I wish it could be sooner.” He meant that with the utmost sincerity. For just a second, he almost asked if you wanted to come back to the Finalizer with him, but then the memory of those fading flowers stopped the words on his tongue. And anyway, the chances of someone discovering your existence on the Finalizer was so much greater than it was if you were here, and he had to balance his desire to always be close to you with the necessity of keeping you safe.

“But at least in a month everything will be in full bloom, and you’ll get to see the garden at its best rather than in those awkward in-between stages,” you offered. Stars, your positivity was undimmable; Armitage could have cried at the sweetness of it. “But let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves – we still have tonight.”

“Yes – yes, of course.” Armitage cleared his throat, trying to banish his drearier thoughts. “Did you have any after dinner plans?”

“Nothing exciting, and you can tell me if this would be a waste of our time together, but I was hoping to get your opinion on what I should wear to Val and Dellan’s engagement party.” 

“That would never be a waste of time – I would love to,” Armitage rushed to assure you. The first time you had done something of the sort was after you had gone shopping in one of the planet’s larger cities, and you had mentioned in passing that you had bought a few new things, wondering if he would ever want to see them. He had said that he would, and although he had no idea what to expect, he found he loved it. He loved that he got to share such a quiet, domestic activity with you, appraising each garment as you explained where you thought you might wear them. He loved imagining for a moment that he might go to those places with you, perhaps even helping you tie the complex laces of one or button another where you couldn’t quite reach. It was a fantasy for now, but he was working toward a day when it would be a reality.

“But do I dare to ask what an engagement party is?”

“It’s how I knew Val was going to become a menace about this whole thing,” you huffed with a little exasperated laugh. “They’ve always seemed a little excessive to me, but some people throw a party to celebrate their engagement in addition to the wedding later.” Armitage had to agree that it did seem a bit excessive, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that he wouldn’t have minded announcing his engagement to you to the whole galaxy.

When the dishes had been cleared – a process was slowed somewhat by many kisses – Armitage had seated himself on the edge of the bed with what remained in his glass of wine while you plucked items from the closet and piled them on a chair nearby. After you had assessed the stack, you nodded to yourself before beginning to remove the clothes you were wearing until you were left in just your undergarments.

Armitage’s cheeks grew incredibly warm, and he was certain his whole face was a humiliating shade of red. He coughed slightly and took a sip of his wine in an attempt to quell the sudden dryness in his mouth. You looked over at the sound, hand planted on your hip and an irresistible smile on your face.

“You better be having only the purest of thoughts over there,” you warned him teasingly, one eyebrow raised.

“Of course, my dear wife.” He pressed his hand to his heart in exaggerated earnestness. “My intentions toward you are entirely honorable.”

“Good,” you replied, good humor glimmering in your gaze, “I’m very glad to hear it.” 

With that, you pulled the first garment off its hanger and slipped it on, smoothing the skirt until the ruffles hung the way you wanted. It was a yellow dress made from a lightweight fabric. You spun in a circle, letting the wide skirt swirl around you.

“This is option one,” you informed him. “But I think I’ll only do this one if it’s particularly warm.”

It was still a strange concept to him, choosing clothing based on the unpredictability of the weather. There was no weather in the Starfleet, and he simply wore his uniform every cycle. It wasn’t until he had finally realized that he wasn’t going to be able to live without you in his life and had committed to spending time planetside with you that he had accumulated a few other pieces of clothing. They were still black and simple, but they were at least more comfortable than the stiff formality of his uniform. Regardless, he thought you looked lovely in the dress, whether or not the weather was going to be warm.

“And then option two…” you trailed off as you tugged off the first dress and changed into a pink one. The fabric on this one was shinier, although Armitage had no hope of identifying what it was. There was a cluster of fake flowers gathered near the waistband that you were carefully adjusting so that the petals folded over each other correctly. You appraised yourself in the full-length mirror by the closet for a moment before you turned back to him, your expression slightly dimmed.

“On second thought, never mind about this one,” you said as you moved to take it off.

“Why?” he asked, the question stopping your motion. He wasn’t sure what you could possibly have seen in the mirror that might make you rethink the dress. He thought it looked wonderful. You fidgeted with the fabric flowers.

“Via said— well, it doesn’t matter.” Armitage was already frowning; he did not like Via at all. From what you had told him, it sounded like she always had something to say that was just short of being outright unkind. He often wished he had the authority here that he was accustomed to on the Finalizer, because he would have happily demoted Via so far down the ranks that she never would have been able to even dream of making lieutenant before the end of her career.

“What did Via say?” he tried to make his words coaxing, even if he wanted to snarl them. But his anger was nowhere near being aimed at you, so he resisted his more reactive impulses. You hesitated again before huffing a sigh.

“She said it looked kind of like a frosted life day cake,” you said. “But I think she was just joking – I don’t think she really intended to be mean,” you hurried to add. That was a far more generous interpretation than he felt Via deserved. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and attempted to steady his breathing, working to talk himself out of ordering a civilian assassination. 

“Via doesn’t have any kriffing idea what she’s talking about,” he told you after he was fairly certain he had filed the sharpest edges off his words. “The dress looks beautiful on you.” You looked down at yourself again, spreading the skirt as though to examine it. He sincerely hoped you believed him – the idea that some idiotic comment from Via might talk you out of wearing something you liked was truly making him a bit furious.

“Well, let’s look at option three,” you suggested then, apparently still undecided about the pink dress. Armitage didn’t say anything further for the moment, but he certainly had some choice words to share about Via if the subject came up again.

The third dress was a pale green with darker green accents that appeared to be constructed of a similar shiny fabric to the pink one. It rustled faintly as you moved, spinning so he could see every angle. You gave the skirt a few more experimental swishes, the fabric shushing against itself. 

“Hmm… I think this one is maybe a little loud,” you remarked. Then you caught his gaze, your eyes sparkling. “But I like it because it reminds me of the color of your eyes.”

Armitage’s reaction was instant. Heat flared in his cheeks, that familiar hum building in his chest as most of his thoughts were scrambled beyond hope of salvaging at the idea that you would choose to wear something because it reminded you of him. He opened his mouth in an attempt to say something that might express even a part of what he was feeling, but he wasn’t able to assemble a coherent response before you had moved back to the chair to try on the next dress.

“And I have to warn you about number four,” you said as you stepped out of the green fabric and began to pull the fourth dress on. “My mother said this one was too flirtatious for a married woman, but I told her that maybe I bought it to flirt with my husband. So this one really does need your opinion on whether you feel effectively flirted with.” Armitage wondered if you knew you were the single most endearing person he had ever met.

You turned then so he could see. The fabric was a deep, rich blue, shaped and gathered in strategic locations that certainly accentuated the shape of your body. The whole top portion of the dress was form-fitting until it flared out into an elegant cascade of folds. His mouth was beginning to go a little dry again, especially at the thought that you might have bought such a dress specifically with him in mind.

“So, do you find it flirtatious?” you asked, smoothing the fabric where it hugged your hips. “Admittedly, I’m no great seductress,” you added with a light laugh.

“I might disagree,” he said quietly, catching your gaze.

“Really?” you asked excitedly. “Wait, no, sorry – really?” You amended your tone, repeating the question in an exaggeratedly sultry voice that caused a bubble of laughter to rise in his chest and float from his mouth, a sound that you soon echoed. Stars, he was so kriffing in love with you. 

He stood from the bed then and crossed the few paces to you. He let his fingers dance over your sides, lovingly tracing your form before resting his hands on your waist. 

“You’re distracting me,” you whispered as he pulled you closer. “I still have another dress to show you.”

“I believe you’re the one who’s distracting me,” he breathed, his lips just skimming over yours.

“So you do find it flirtatious?” The teasing in your voice was irresistible.

“Yes,” he murmured, already sinking his lips onto yours, savoring the way he could feel you laughing against his mouth. Then you laced your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss as he pulled you flush against him. The idea that you had been thinking of him when you bought the dress – perhaps even imagining this very moment – was causing his thoughts to go fuzzy around the edges. 

“Too flirtatious to wear without you?” you asked, pulling away just slightly. “I do always wear my wedding ring,” you added. As if he would have doubted you for even a fraction of a second. 

“I think you should wear whatever you want,” he responded. “And if anyone looks at you in a way you don’t like, just give me a list of names. I carry a blaster for a reason, you know.” He kept his tone light, but he was only half joking.

“You carry a blaster primarily for the purpose of defending your wife’s honor?” you teased.

“Of course,” he replied, this kind of light joking only coming easily to him when he was with you. “What other reason would I need?” He was rewarded with the sound of your laughter, and suddenly he had a new scenario to imagine while practicing at the officer’s range aboard the Finalizer. He could envision you looking absolutely stunning in the dress you had picked out with him in mind, and he would step slightly in front of you, his form exact and perfect, blaster aimed at some cad who had dared to stare at you with searching eyes. Maybe he liked that image a little more than he should.

“Well, I do have one more dress to show you,” you informed him. He released you from his grasp somewhat reluctantly and took up his position on the bed once more. You slipped out of the dark blue dress and reached for another garment that you adjusted carefully before turning to show him.

This dress was deep purple with the faintest shimmery sheen when you moved. A sheer capelet dusted over your shoulders, while the cut of the dress itself gently traced your form before falling into a subtle flare at your hips. His breath caught a little in his throat; you looked utterly lovely.

“And this one,” you started, swishing the skirt a little, “I got because it reminded me of what I imagined I might wear if it was ever safe enough for me to attend official events with you. It seems like something a general’s wife might wear – sedate but not boring.” 

You caught him in your warm gaze then, and Armitage was absolutely freefalling. He struggled to produce air the way he wanted, so completely overcome by the idea that you envisioned attending events with him, that you pictured yourself at his side, already imagining what you might wear. What he wouldn’t have given to have made that an instant reality, to have shown up on the Finalizer’s bridge next cycle with you beside him in the fluttering purple fabric, your arm tucked happily in his.

Uncertain how to condense the wave of emotions inside of him into words, he stood again, already reaching one hand out to cup your face, his thumb brushing along the soft skin of your cheek. You melted easily into his touch, lips folding into a sweet smile.

“I think it’s perfect,” he murmured. 

“Which one’s your favorite?” you asked. He couldn’t help a small groan in response that sent another spiral of laughter falling from your mouth.

“That’s an impossible question,” he replied, flicking back through the dresses in his mind, but unable to break the tie that was forming between the blue and purple ones.

“Alright, then which one do you think I should wear to the party?”

“Whichever one you want,” he responded, already anticipating the meaningful look you gave him as you propped your hands on your hips. A smile tugged at his lips upon seeing the affectionate exasperation on your face.

“I really would like your opinion,” you urged. Armitage stepped back slightly, taking in the sight of you as he dutifully considered your question.

“I think this one,” he said at last, catching the edge of the gauzy capelet in his fingers and carefully adjusting it. “Or the yellow one if it’s warm,” he added. Your expression was all softness when his eyes found yours again.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek that ignited a blush across his skin. “Now, would you help me take it off? The ties on the capelet are a little fiddly.” The stain on his cheeks deepened from pink to red, his breath faltering on its way out of his lungs.

“Of course,” he breathed, unable to make his words any louder in suddenly dry mouth. With a little smile, you turned, letting him see the back of the dress. He found that his fingers were trembling slightly as he reached to untie the neat bow that held the capelet in place. The only other closure was a hidden zipper expertly tucked away under the silky fabric. He grasped the little metal pull with one hand while the other pressed gently against the top of the garment, his fingers just brushing over the back of your neck, creating enough tension in the fabric that he was able to unzip the dress in one fluid motion. It was a technique he had only perfected after meeting you; the uniforms to which he was accustomed had no need for such long zippers.

“Do you want your nightdress?” he asked softly, pressing a tender kiss to the base of your neck.

“Yes, please,” you murmured as you slipped the capelet from your shoulders and began to slide out of the dress. Armitage turned to the dresser and pulled open the drawer that held your sleep clothes, the light colors and delicate trims of yours a contrast to his stark black ones that lay neatly folded in the other half of the drawer. He drew out a pale orange one and carefully gathered the fabric in his hands so that it would be easier for you to maneuver the garment over your head. You received it from him with a soft smile and pulled it on, adjusting and smoothing the silky fabric before you began hanging your dresses back in the closet. Maybe he should have made more of an effort to stop staring, but you looked so lovely in the warm lights of the bedroom, and the sweet domestic intimacy of the moment had ignited a humming in his chest that was so exquisite he felt he might actually be glowing with it. 

“Oh!” You turned from the closet as though you had just remembered something. “I need to bring the sheets in from the line.”

“I can do that,” Armitage offered quickly. Knowing you would likely protest, he began moving toward the door, allowing himself a quick kiss to your cheek as he passed. Then he was in the hallway and making his way outside at his usual brisk pace before you could insist on doing it yourself. 

Evening had gathered, casting everything in a misty blueish haze. The chill in the air was also more pronounced than it had been at dinner, though Armitage was used to the feeling since the ships in the Starfleet were only heated enough to be reasonably livable in order to conserve resources. He strode through the grass, brushing past the taller plants in the garden that you said would be in full bloom when he saw you again in a month. The thought caused his chest to seize. He had been doing surprisingly well at not thinking too far ahead, at just staying in the moment with you, but all at once reality came crashing down around him again.

As he reached the sheets, he stopped for a moment, closing his eyes and inhaling a deep breath of cool air, steadying himself. Soon he would be back on the Finalizer, doing work he was proud of, progressing steadily toward his goals. And then in a month’s time he would be back with you, luxuriating in every moment. Slowing down and thinking through things logically calmed him somewhat, though he still found himself wishing as he often did that there was a way to meld together the two most important aspects of his life: you and his work.

Refocusing on the task at hand, he blinked his eyes open in the thickening twilight. He collected the sheets from the line, trying to drape them over his arm in such a way so as to minimize wrinkles. As he made his way back to the house, a smile played around the corners of his lips when he saw you leaning against the doorframe, silhouetted by the golden light spilling out from inside. You pushed yourself off the frame as he approached, greeting him with a sleepy smile. 

“You’re going to get cold,” he told you, noticing the way the exposed skin on your arms was pricking upon contact with the chill air.

“Well, luckily I have a husband who’s willing to hold me until I warm up again,” you returned, pressing the button to send the door whizzing closed behind the two of you. Despite the coolness of the evening air that still clung to him, a glowing warmth hummed beneath his skin.

“He’s even more than willing,” Armitage responded quietly as he followed you back down the hall. “He would be delighted.”

You gave him a brilliant smile over your shoulder as the two of you reentered the bedroom. You had already drawn back the thicker covers, so he began draping the sheets over the bed, him tucking them in on one side, you doing the other. When the task was completed, your side looked more welcoming than his, with neat but gentle folds and the covers turned back invitingly at the top. His half was sharp and precise, trained as he had been by academy room inspections where an improperly made bed could result in demerits and infraction reports. 

You slipped into bed, settling yourself against the pillows. Stars, he might actually sleep if he got to do so next to you every cycle.

“I’ll be right there,” he promised, collecting his own sleeping clothes from the drawer. “I just need to change.” 

In the refresher, he pulled on the simple black garments that constituted his sleeping clothes. They were from his official clothing allotment, slim silver bands on the cuffs marking them out as belonging to a general’s wardrobe. He kept this set here with you though, and he was particularly motivated to make sure there was always a set in the drawer when he left, because he was fairly certain you slept in them while he was gone. He would sometimes pull the shirt over his head only to find that it smelled a lot like you, something that did not bother him in the slightest. In fact, he loved the thought of it, and on those rare nights when he actually collapsed into his bed on the Finalizer, he would run his fingers over the hems of his sleeping clothes and wonder if you were curled up in the set he left planetside, dreaming of him the way he was about to be dreaming of you.

He padded back into the room then, flipping off the lights as he went until the bedroom was bathed in a soft darkness. You were already under the covers, and he slid in beside you, readily pulling you into his arms. You melted happily into his embrace with a pleased sigh that Armitage echoed as he pressed a tender kiss to your hairline. As he situated himself, he realized that the sheets did indeed smell different, airy and fresh like you had propped a window open to let in the cool night air.

“You were right,” he murmured against your temple. He could feel the way you hummed in acknowledgement against his chest.

“I’m your wife, I’m always right,” you responded, drawing a small chuckle from him. The teasing glimmering in your voice was unmistakable despite the sleep he could hear creeping in around the edges. “But what was I right about specifically?”

“About the sheets,” he answered. “They do smell fresh.”

“Well, I’m very glad to hear it.” Armitage could feel the soft warmth of your lips as you shifted to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, stopping his breath in his throat for a moment. 

Then you moved again, raising yourself just enough so that your lips could meet his. He gladly adjusted his hold on you to accommodate the new position, his answering kisses fervent but gentle. He could have spent all night kissing you, but he could tell you were tired with the way your movements were slowing. Eventually you sank back down onto his chest, tucking your head just beneath his. He savored the feeling of wrapping his arms around you again, of feeling your steady breathing as you rested in his embrace.

“I love you, Armitage,” you murmured. He was certain he would never tire of hearing those glorious words from your mouth. He held you even tighter then, pressing an adoring kiss to your temple. His words were barely a breath, but he meant them more deeply than he could ever have hoped to express:

“I love you too.”

[nymphl]

‼️ 🔥

Hello there! xD ‼️ Tell us a random fun fact about, or easter egg you have hidden in one of your fics. There's a famous judge here in Brasil that when he judged our President, Lula, he said he didn't have any proof about his allegedly crimes, but he was convinced he'd committed these crimes. In Lie to Me, Pryde says that to Hux. Only my brazilian readers caught this, of course. But I had the time of my life writing this interaction between them!!!

🔥 What are your favourite three fics that you wrote and why?

I'll only consider posted fanfics.

Better Half Of course my babygirl would show up here, cause... why not? I have so much fun writing this darksoulmate that I'll probably consider this one a favorite for a long time. Besides having fun, it allows me to explore the subversion of a trope that's considered quite romantic and frame it differently, something I enjoy a lot doing a lot. And Krennic and Kleya the sexiest people in Andor together? Hell yeah... count me in.

Spellbound It's an oneshot and the pairing is Aizen x Hinamori. I don't write many oneshots because it's kinda difficult to develop an idea with so little words, but I think my best works are oneshots. He's absolutely unhinged in this and the comparisons between himself and a God and how Hinamori is just his worshipper life rent free in my heart. Poor Aizen just doesn't realize that us humans don't need a God to exist, but Gods DO need us.

Bloodbound I know Lie to Me is my most famous work on AO3, but Bloodbound has my heart. It's kinda hard to write because it's nonlinear and getting from the present to the past several times in a chapter kinda wears me out. But I love this story cause... heck, I love Hux and vampires. In retrospect, I'd have made this story a gingerrose.

Thanks for the ask, anon! I love them!

[nymphl]

SluttyArmitageHux is around the corner and I just wanted to know if you’re going back to writing Hux fics. I don’t mean to pressure you or anything, I just miss Lie to Me and how you write Hux 💕

Hello there!

Ikr!!! I think it starts today. But no, I haven’t cooked anything for it. I actually wanted to when I saw the Week (lovely Event actually 😈). Sadly, life is crazy lately (have tons of tests to grade this week).

But we got a big holiday ahead here, so who knows? I won’t promise because I haven’t been in the mood lately for writing with Hux. But like I said, who knows? I was rereading Lie to Me these days to get in the mood, because I DO want to finish this story.

That said, don’t worry. It actually warms my heart that after so many years people still read and cares about Lie to Me. It means a LOT really.

Thanks for reaching out ♥️