charlottesbookclub

[charlottesbookclub]

which plants each of the greens would get from the plant shop where i work 🪴🌱🌿🍃

y'all i am so sorry for my sporadic activity on this blog and also for the chaotic jumble of fandoms i keep posting about with no warning 😭

so i was kinda into hotd last season, and with the new trailers coming out i was thinking about it again and this idea came to me like a revelation from on high so i decided to curse you all with these headcanons as well

for context, i work at a houseplant shop and was watering my own plants today when i was seized by the vision of which plant(s) each of the greens would get from the shop

i guess this is kind of modern au but not really?? like i guess i sort of envisioned it as the characters walking out of the world/canon of the show and into the plant store and so that's the characterization i went with idk

anyway sorry this is so chaotic – here are the headcanons:

alicent – def something pretty basic but classic like a pothos or a philodendron. a marble queen pothos would be especially appropriate, so honestly that's what i would probably recommend if she asked. is able to keep it alive just fine but i'm just not sure i would recommend anything too much more demanding – i just feel like losing a plant would be too demoralizing for her. also i feel like she would be one of those people who would come in and be like "i need a plant that filters air bc i need clean air in my living space" and i'd have to put on my best customer service voice/smile and be like "well actually ma'am that's all of them – that's kind of like one of their main things" lmaoooo

criston – i truly do not believe that my mans could keep a plant alive; i'm just not convinced of it. i think he'd get a funky spiky little succulent or cactus and it would be dead within a week and he'd come back in and i'd recommend a snake plant (very hard to kill) and then he'd kill that too 💀 but also i think he'd be sooooooooo in denial about it and always come up with a bunch of other things that must've happened to it

aegon – also cannot keep a plant alive but is painfully self-aware about this fact. would def be one of those people who comes in, walks right up to the counter and instantly says "i need a plant i can't kill." so i'd point him to the snakes and zz's and he'd get either a nice black coral or golden hahnii snake plant. the funniest thing about this is that i'm convinced that aegon's snake plant would actually survive and criston would be sooooo pissed about it. like he wouldn't water it for weeks, and then when he finally remembered to, he accidentally (drunkenly) watered it with wine and it still lived and criston was fucking livid about it

aemond – would for sure have more success keeping plants alive than aegon or criston. i feel like he'd try to start with something cool but tricky, like a complicated carnivorous plant, and after excruciating months of going back and forth with it, it kinda just gives up because he tries to do everything precisely by the book rather than reading the signs of the actual living plant in front of him. he admits defeat only personally – he tells everyone else that he gave to plant to helaena. he comes back for something a little easier and goes for a nice dracaena marginata (yes, he did buy it mostly because the name sounds like "dragon" and also because it was spiky and cool). he's definitely able to keep that one alive and it lives in the corner of his chambers and he's secretly very proud of his success with it. also he does not even let criston or aegon so much as look at it lmao

helaena – my girl could buy anything in the whole store and keep it alive 😌😌 she for sure likes the "weirder" plants and has a whole bog garden situation of carnivorous plants aemond is insanely jealous of this but never admits it out loud. she's very drawn to strange-looking cacti and succulents, and also fun little novelty plants like goldfish plants, string of turtles/bananas/hearts/pearls, starfish snake plants, etc. also, whenever she comes in she always buys all of the scraggly discount plants because she feels bad for them and nurses them all back to health. she has not lost a single plant yet regardless of the state it was in when she got it, and she doesn't intend to start any time soon 😌

#please excuse the absolute chaos of whatever these are 😅 #charlotte rambles #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon headcanon #hotd headcanon #alicent hightower #alicent hightower headcanon #criston cole #criston cole headcanon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen headcanon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen headcanon #helaena targaryen #helaena targaryen headcanon

[charlottesbookclub]

like real people do (alistair x reader) 💜💜

Summary: honestly there's no real plot, just pure fluff. Alistair tries to adjust to having a human mate, and he's trying really hard 🥹

Warnings/Tags: gn!reader, mention of skipping a meal (not intentionally), mentions of eating, Alistair being awkward and a bit rude lol, basically just pure tooth-rotting fluff, but as always, let me know if I've missed anything!

Words: 1,634

Author’s Note: me, writing a twilight fanfic in the year of our lord 2024? it's more likely than you think. uhhh yeah I have no real explanation for this except that I have stumbled back into my Alistair obsession and I just wanted to write a cute little something for him. I don't think this is my best work, but at least it made me smile, so that's something. honestly I have no idea if there's anyone else out here reading fanfic for an incredibly minor twilight character, but if there is, I hope you enjoy whatever this is! I was thinking of making this a little series of Alistair trying his damndest to figure out human stuff, so do let me know if you have any interest in that. but okay I'll stop rambling now - enjoy! 💖

            A message pinged through on your computer, and you looked away from your work for a moment, pulling up the chatbox. It was Lucy from the front desk: 

hey – someone’s here to see you

who?

hard to describe – and i’m having a hard time getting his name

You chuckled softly to yourself, having a sneaking suspicion you knew exactly who it was. Odd that he would willingly put himself in a situation that forced him to speak with other people though. Your laughter turned into a small frown as you considered the fact that something might be wrong. You and Alistair hadn’t been together long, but you knew about his aversion to others well enough to wonder what could bring him into proximity of the possibility of needing to engage in small talk.

be right there

You pushed back from your desk and hurried down to the lobby. Lucy was obviously waiting for you to arrive, and she met you with a mildly panicked look, gesturing with her head toward the tall man standing awkwardly in the corner of the lobby. Thanks to his heightened senses, he had noticed your arrival long before Lucy, and was already striding across the floor toward you at a pace that was just barely slow enough to be considered human. You made a mental note to ask Carlisle to gently review normal human behaviors with him. You just managed to give Lucy a quick thumbs-up to indicate that you knew the tousled man before he bustled the two of you back toward your office.

“Alistair, what the hell?” you asked as he ushered you inside and closed the door behind him.

“What a truly awful system,” he muttered to himself, clearly continuing a rant he was already halfway through rather than answering your question. “I mean really, how many idiots should I have to go through to see my partner?” You just crossed your arms and leaned back against the edge of your desk, a bemused smile starting to fight its way onto your face. You knew it was no use interrupting him until he had gotten everything out. “’Would you like something do drink?’” He parroted Lucy’s question mockingly. “No I bloody well would not – unless you’ve got a few bags of blood stored away back there,” he retorted to this fictional Lucy sarcastically. “Zounds, how hard is it to just point me in the right direction and leave me in peace?” His words faded into muttering and soft curses in a version of English that hadn’t been spoken for hundreds of years.

“Alistair,” you said quietly, breaking him out of his monologue. His talking to himself had seemed strange at first, but the more you learned about his life before meeting you, the more it made sense. He had been his only company for so long and was only now slowly adjusting to speaking with other people again. You, however, found it incredibly endearing and hoped he didn’t break himself of the habit completely. 

His focus snapped to you instantly when he heard your voice, and he started murmuring apologies that you quickly brushed off.

“Alistair, it’s fine,” you assured him, sending him a warm smile and softly placing your hand on his forearm. Touch was another thing that was coming back to him only slowly. You had learned to proceed cautiously, gently, making sure he knew that you were about to touch him before making contact. The words stilled on his lips as his eyes focused in on the place where your warm palm met his cold skin.

“Alistair,” you said quietly after a moment of letting him adjust to the contact. His eyes traveled back up to your face at the sound of his name on your lips. “Is something wrong?”

“I—no,” the words tumbled out awkwardly, and you could almost see him trying to say three different sentences at the same time. If he still had blood under his skin, you were certain he would be blushing. Knowing that eye contact made conversation even more difficult for him, you flicked your eyes down toward your hand still on his arm, gently pulling it from where it hung limply at his side. You cradled his large hand in both of yours and began tracing mindless patterns on his skin, hoping this would give him enough of a reprieve to gather his thoughts. He took a deep breath and tried again. 

“Nothing is seriously wrong, but I— well I… worried about you.” This instantly caught your attention, and you looked up again almost without thinking, only to find his ruby eyes gazing back down at you with a softness you were just beginning to recognize.

“Alistair, I promise, I’m just fine,” you assure him.

“But… well… I noticed you didn’t eat breakfast this morning.” You tilted your head, wondering why that was such a cause for concern that he would willingly subject himself to the horror of checking in at your work.

“I was just running a little late and didn’t have time to make myself anything,” you explained, hoping that would ease his mind, “there’s always snacks in the break room, so I figured I’d have something when I got here.”

“I understand, but humans in your age group are supposed to eat three balanced meals per day, with the addition of one to three snacks. Lack of nutrients can result in many deficiencies, which in turn can lead to side effects like headache, dizziness, and trouble concentrating.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that was growing on your face as you listened to him recite this knowledge as though he had memorized it straight from a Wikipedia article. However, you seriously doubted Alistair’s ability to navigate the internet, since Carlisle had only recently convinced him to try using a flip phone.

“Where did you hear about this?” you asked, trying to remain serious and stifling the giggles that were rising in your throat.

“I’ve been reading Carlisle’s medical texts,” he responded with a furrowed brow, “I want to make sure I understand all the risks and ensure that I am prepared for every eventuality.”

If you hadn’t been completely in love with him yet, this would have undoubtably sealed the deal. He may be awkward and eccentric and even difficult at times, but he was trying so so hard to care for you in the best way he knew how. Although the whole situation was still incredibly amusing, you simply couldn’t bring yourself to laugh at him, even if it was all in affection. Instead, you raised yourself slowly to your tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you for thinking of me,” you said as you lowered yourself back onto your heels. Your chaste kiss seemed to have frozen him for a moment, as he stood there completely still, his soft squeeze of your hand the only indicator that he was still present in the room. You let him recalibrate, and as he came back himself, he made a soft exclamation as though he had just remembered something. Reluctantly releasing your hand, he swung a small backpack off his shoulder. 

“I brought you some breakfast,” he explained as he pulled a jumble of containers out of the bag and placed them on your desk, “I tried to make sure I balanced all the proper nutrients to ensure you wouldn’t suffer any adverse effects from not having eaten this morning.”

You busied yourself with looking at all the containers of food to hide the tears that were welling in your eyes. You had never had someone care for you so completely like this before. Unfortunately, your plan didn’t work, since the awkwardly yet earnestly prepared food only brought more tears to your eyes. You had never expected that strangely cut fruit, mangled pancakes, and soggy cereal sitting in its own milk would make you cry with joy, but the amount of thought and care that had clearly gone into each piece of the meal was about to reduce you to ugly sobs.

You could feel Alistair watching you intently as you opened each of the containers, seemingly trying to gauge your response. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he finally broke the silence. 

“If you don’t like it, I—I’m happy to go out and buy you something. I haven’t had human food in so long and even—even then I didn’t actually prepare it so I tried reading some of Carlisle’s recipe books but I think I still didn’t get it right—” 

“Alistair,” you didn’t normally like to cut him off, but you refused to let his anxious rambling sew any seeds of doubt in his mind. “It’s absolutely perfect – I can’t wait to taste it all!”

Alistair beamed at you then, a rare sight, but a welcome one.

“I just have one question though,” you said, and he looked at you quizzically, waiting for your inquiry. “Can I give you a hug?”

Confusion turned to elation on his face, and he spread his arms in assent and anticipation. You threw yourself on him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you wiped away a few escaped tears. His arms closed around your back hesitantly, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them, but his uncertainty seemed to fade as you melted into his grasp, and he wrapped you even more tightly in his embrace. 

Both of you were smiling when you finally pulled away. You settled into your desk chair and motioned to Alistair to pull up another. He sat just close enough that your knees could touch as you surveyed the feast before you. 

“What do you think I should start with?” you asked him.

“Maybe the pancakes? I’m rather proud of those.”

#charlotte writes #also how do i tag for this man bc we don't know his last name??? 😭😭 #alistair #twilight #alistair twilight #alistair twilight imagine #alistair twilight x reader #alistair breaking dawn #twilight alistair imagine #alistair imagine #alistair x reader #twilight alistair #alistair nomad #nomad alistair #twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #twilight alistair x reader

[charlottesbookclub]

ahhhhhhhh omg yes a continuation of one of my fave hux stories ever!!!

okay and this line fully took me out:

"He doesn’t need any witnesses to his inept attempts at marriage."

like oh buddy 😭😭

gosh this is just so gorgeous as always!!!! 💖💖 I mean, the PINING, the AWKWARDNESS, the SOFTNESS -- absolutely 10000000/10

your work is always so incredible - thank you for sharing it with us!! 🥰🥰

Hi Star! Huge congratulations on your 2k milestone - it is so well deserved!!

Could I possibly get "Let's Hear it for the Boy" with our beloved ginger general?

Thank you so much and congrats again!!

Drunk / In Love

Track 3: Let's Hear It for the Boy by Deniece Williams - Give me a character and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons on how they would want you to show them that you love them. 

General Hux x F! Reader / 📼 ✨ mixtape milestone ✨ 📼

Thanks for the request, my love! Sorry it took me so long!

The idiots from these two stories are back again. Sorry I'm obsessed with them (I'm not sorry at all). Warnings for some minor sexual content and weird consent issues!

Phasma said you were drunk.

What she failed to mention was how—how drunk you were, or how you ended up that way. It was only supposed to be a friendly dinner when Hux first suggested it (and didn't stop suggesting it until Phasma finally gave in).

He thought if you made connections here—even just one—that it might make you more comfortable being with him on this ship, and so far from anything familiar.

Although this might be too familiar.

He reaches the door to Phasma's quarters and they glide open automatically, programmed to recognize his approach. He sees Phasma seated at the table, out of uniform, a smirk playing on her wine-stained mouth.

Armitage is not prepared for the dark flash in his peripherals, or the arms around his neck.

Your embrace frightens him, and that alone is enough to leave him feeling hot, stomach swimming, even when he recognizes your touch on instinct. It has him weak at the knees, just this, has his heart in his throat as all the alarm and panic well up inside him, threatening to spill out.

Then your lips meet his. 

There's been a handful of almost-affectionate moments shared between you. The brush of your hand as you wished him goodbye one morning. A kiss on the cheek that missed its target, landing at the edge of his lips.

But nothing like this.

Hux can feel your mouth shift against his, lips turning up at the corners, and the little laugh that passes through them—maybe at the way his hands hang limply at his sides, or the crop of perspiration blooming at his collar from the warmth of your skin, the smell of you. He can't make himself kiss you back, although he wants to.

He really, really wants to.

There's no malice in your eyes when you pull away—Armitage doesn't think you're capable of malice. You smile at him sweetly, taking his hands in both of yours.

"I missed you," you tell him, each word bleeding into the next, eyes half-lidded and hazy from whatever you'd been drinking, "did you miss me?"

"I- uh, yes," he answers—unavoidably honest—his eyes flitting towards Phasma, who's so pleased with herself it practically drips from her, hanging heavier on her shoulders than the armour she usually wears.

A hot anger floods through his stomach, spiked with acrid shame. He doesn’t need any witnesses to his inept attempts at marriage.

Your smile widens, every facet of you bursting with delight knowing that he’s missed you in the hours since you last spoke his name, and then he’s back in your embrace, the sound of sweet laughter in his ear. 

He reaches out for something to brace himself on, and finds nothing. It takes everything in him to keep standing. 

Armitage peels your arms from around his neck, putting a desperate inch of distance between himself and the press of your body. 

"Why don't we let the captain get some rest?" he asks.

Your enthusiasm at the suggestion turns his stomach into knots.

He's able to usher you through the empty halls at a speed just short of a jog, one hand at your waist to keep you from stumbling, and the other wrapped firmly around your wrist to keep you from any further attempts at touching him.

And, though he can’t puzzle it out just yet—with the warmth of you still against him—he knows something is wrong with you. Something that wine alone could not bring on.

Armitage knows you don’t want him. Not like this. 

Yet you practically drag him through the doors of your quarters, mouth planted against his before the mechanical lock whirs into place. 

All the desire in him makes him sick—feverish and weak. His body shudders against yours, nerves trying to break through skin at the gentleness of your touch.

“Armitage,” you whine, pouty in a way he’s never heard before—always so polite and obliging when you’re sober, “kiss me back.”

He couldn’t refuse you, even if he wanted to, even though he knows it would be better for both of you—knows the way this memory will torture him endlessly, until the moment he dies. Maybe long after that. 

But still, he cups your face in shaking hands, and presses his uncertain lips to yours.

And it’s nothing like all the times he’s thought about this—about taking you, feeling the warmth of your breath mingling with his own, pulling you tight against him with his arm at your waist and kissing, kissing, kissing you, until he tires of the feeling, until he rids himself of all his hideous need to be loved and to be wanted. 

It’s nothing like he imagined because he’s terrified. Because he can’t manage to move the ways he wants to, tripping over his feet when you stumble deeper into his chambers. Because his stomach roils at the feel of your tongue against his stubbornly closed mouth, and his arms shake with the need to move, but his hands stay where he placed them, holding hard enough to bruise, pulling you closer with enough force that part of him wonders if he’s hurting you. 

And still, your mouth on his, your wandering, eager hands. 

The room spins; Armitage’s reason leaves him when his feet lift from the floor, your body underneath him, and below that the cushion of his bed molding you together.

Still kissing. Still you. Your hand, guiding his down the thrumming pulse of your neck, lower. Lower.

Armitage is on the other side of the bed before the thought of how wrong what he has done truly registers, his feet planted and one hand pushing back the fallen strands of his hair.

 “Armitage?”

He curses the day you learned his name, curses the ill, vile part of him that wants to go back. 

He clears his throat and finds it doesn’t steady him at all. 

“You- you should get some rest, I think.”

Your movements are clumsy as you crawl to him on your knees, fighting against the thick bedspread and the fabric of your skirt. There’s a little huff on your lips when you reach him, eyes big and wide and brimming with glistening tears. 

“Why don’t you want me?” you whisper, and tears well up to their breaking point, slipping down your cheeks.

Fuck. He wants to touch you, and knows it’s a terrible idea, palms aching beneath the leather he wears and hates—now more than ever when it keeps him from you. His hand reaches out against his will, hovering just out of reach of your skin and the tears he can’t manage to wipe away because, once again, he is the cause of all your suffering. 

 “You’re- you’re drunk, darling. You’ll feel better if you just-”

“No,” you tell him, pushing his hand away with your own, “why don’t you want me ever?”

Oh, gods. Armitage recoils like you’ve slapped him, the sting of those words and what they mean destroying everything—every moment he’s agonized over since he first saw you and knew you had to be his. 

“You . . . you can’t possibly believe that.” 

You nod your head, fists curled at your sides petulantly, and your stubbornness would make him laugh, if it weren’t so sad.

“I do,” he whispers, then swallows, reaching for your hand. You let him take it. It gives him something to look at, watching your elegant fingers intertwine with his. “I do, but I—”

How much of this will you remember? Even now, the idea of revealing this soft, vulnerable part of him strikes fear into his very core, has him wishing he could run, wishing he could escape the way your eyes flay him wide open.

Your hand against his chest, he can feel his own heartbeat meet the shapes of your fingertips, molding to you. Armitage meets your gaze, and as frightening as it is, there’s no part of him that could deny how deeply he craves it.

“Please forgive me,” he stutters, and there aren't words for him to explain everything he needs to, just the truth. “I am—oh, gods—I am a ruinous man.” 

He watches you, the muscles working in your jaw, the way your brows pull together, examining him, weighing the assessment of himself that he’s offered to you. 

“No,” you tell him, “no you’re not.”

He thinks you might kiss him again, as close as you are. Close enough for him to count each of your lashes, map the constellations you’ve hidden in your eyes. 

You drop to the mattress instead, and the look you give him has him holding back a laugh, the mix of stubbornness and grudging deference that has Armitage wondering how hard it’s been for you to play at obedience in your union.

“You should change,” he tells you, just resting on the edge of the bed, “you’ll be more comfortable.”

It’s easier to talk to you when you’re like this. It has Armitage feeling like he’s the one intoxicated, and he is, in a way. Because what if this is your most honest self? 

He didn’t think you could make him love you any deeper, but you’ve managed. 

“Don’t care,” you mumble into the pillows, trying to brush him away with a waving hand. He takes it in his own.

“You’ll ruin your dress.” 

There’s a look of intense focus on your face, and he wonders if you’ll refuse again. Maybe you don’t care about the dress either, although Armitage would be disappointed. It’s one of his favorites from your incredibly extensive wardrobe—a beautiful black and cream confection that always catches his eye.

But you shift instead, turning to look up at him. “Kiss me.”

Stars, not again. Not now, when the weakest parts of him are so palpable. “I- I don’t-”

You flop into a sitting position, hold a single finger up between your faces.

“One kiss,” you concede, “okay?”

He nods, despite himself. You wait patiently for his approach, still and hardly breathing through your parted lips as he slides closer. Armitage keeps his eyes open, and so do you, heavy as they are, watching the distance between your faces fade into nothing.

It’s not like the other times he’s kissed you, although all but one had happened only a few moments ago. You let him set the pace, his lips just barely brushing your own, a sigh bubbling up from deep inside his lungs. He can only offer a little more pressure before he’s lightheaded again, little bursts of light dancing across his vision.

He pulls back from what could hardly be called a kiss, and waits for your disappointment, for your insistence that he try again, that there must be something more, or better, that he’s kept from you. 

Armitage doesn’t want you to know that there’s nothing else to hope for. 

You don’t say a word about it though. Just flop your arms out in front of you, waiting, satisfied in your demands.

“Help me.”

And it passes like that, with more bribes in the form of barely-there presses of his lips to yours—a kiss for you to raise your arms as he slips something soft and oversized over your head, a kiss for you to clumsily slip the dress out from underneath. A kiss to get you to leave him for a moment while he changed into his own night clothes after you’d begged and begged for him to spend the night beside you, and a kiss upon his return.

It feels like a lifetime of kisses to Armitage. He doesn’t know what that number would be for anyone else, but you’ve certainly exceeded it for him. He could die in his sleep tonight and have more than he ever deserved. 

And now you’re curled up beside him a hand at his waist, your head on his chest. Armitage breathes, but only barely, hoping he won’t wake you. 

The tension drains from him, his body the closest it’s been to relaxed in ages. He wonders if he should ask Phasma to invite you to dinner again.

He hopes the next time he kisses you, you'll be sober enough to remember it.

#charlotte reads #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x reader #general hux x you #general hux fanfic #general hux #hux x reader

[charlottesbookclub]

hux Thoughts™️ are back!!!!

hi pals! I’m sorry I’ve been so absent from this blog!

I got a new job and then was applying to phd programs which is practically a job all on its own 😭😭 but those apps are in now so I’m hoping to have a bit more downtime

which leads me to the fact that I have just visited galaxy’s edge in disney world, and I went on rise of the resistance and whooooooo boy do I have hux thoughts!!!!

I’m still on vacation atm but I do have a little fic all planned out in my head, plus a lot of pics I took on the ride and some general thoughts/meta stuff. I don’t have access to my computer rn, but hopefully when I get back next week I’ll be able to give y’all a little hux content!

um yeah okay that’s it for now! 🧡🧡

#charlotte rambles #armitage hux #general hux #hux #general armitage hux #rise of the resistance #galaxy’s edge

[charlottesbookclub]

sooooooooooo good!!!!!!!! the one-shot that is the first part of this au is one of my favorite hux fics EVER and I reread it all the flipping time so this was an incredible treat!! 1000000000/10 absolutely delectable 🥰🥰

Congratulations on your milestone! 🎉 I’d like to request Track 1 with Armitage Hux please 😊

Drowning

Track 1 - Crimson and Clover by Tommy James and the Shondells: Give me a character and I’ll write a short blurb or headcanons on how they would pine for you.

General Hux x F! Reader / 📼 ✨ mixtape milestone ✨ 📼

Thanks for the request, bestie!

This is kind of a continuation of this one shot I did forever ago, but you can read it independently! Warnings for some allusion to sexual content and language. Let me know what you think!

Armitage is surprised you're not in his quarters.

And then he's disappointed.

He has no right to either emotion—you were given your own rooms for a reason. Still, he'd become accustomed to your presence in his sitting area every evening, or warming his bed when he returned late.

The way a wife should.

But your relationship isn't that typical of a marriage, no matter what Armitage had first hoped for or envisioned. It was a childish idea that started him on the path, even if there were other, more logical, benefits that solidified his decision.

There's no logic in the way he's waiting for you to appear.

Half-stripped of his uniform, he wanders into the refresher, listless. Desperate to keep his head clear of the worst of his thoughts.

But you would never care for him. You'd float through his spaces and on his arm dutifully, the way you'd promised him in your vows, and give him nothing more. And he's not capable of a relationship that would involve anything more.

There'd be no fondness or gentle touches for somebody like him, with a repulsive exterior and worse soul.

You couldn't love him. Ever. He should give up on any hope of that now.

The water's cold from the sink, the way he likes it, pressing handfuls of it against his tired eyes, letting it drip down his neck and soak the collar of the thin shirt he wears beneath his uniform.

The sound of water grows louder, deeper—a heavy swish instead of a light trickle.

And then your voice, not imagined this time, though he often heard you when he was alone.

"I didn't think you would be back so soon."

Armitage whirls clumsily, and feels stupid for doing so, the edge of the counter biting into his palm where it lands.

Oh fuck.

The bathtub in his refresher is deep, and large, and never used—Hux could hardly find the time to lie down, let alone soak in a bath—so it's strange for him to see it full.

It's strange, despite its deepness, and the milky quality of the water that floods the air with the smell of flower petals and salt, how much of your skin he can see.

Hair hanging damp around your face, the water just kisses at the slopes of your shoulders, caressing your body in ways he's only dreamed of doing.

Hux means to speak, but all the air in his lungs comes out in a huff. Tongue brushing over his lips, he can taste the fragrance in the air.

Almost like it's you he's tasting.

Your head bows. His silence has spoken before he's had the chance, and now he's offended you. Again.

"I'm sorry," you tell him, swilling the water between your fingers, "I should have asked before I used—"

"No—" he interrupts you, hardly a whisper, but you defer to him as always. Hux wonders what it will take to stop you from fearing him.

"There's no need for permission," he continues, and then trails off weakly, unsure of how to put words to the rest of his thoughts. Afraid you could see all of it on his face—thinking about how the fabric of his trousers would pull heavily at his skin if he slipped into the water with you, if he'd even be able to find the curves of your hips or thighs in the water's depths.

He is willing to drown himself trying.

Your tongue runs smoothly over your lips, folding in between your teeth, "Oh. Thank you."

He's got nothing else to say—no words that will make their way out, at the very least—trying not to stare but incapable of looking anywhere but you. Your soft eyes. The slope of your nose. Your lips.

He notices the way they move around your next words, although the sound is drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears. Probably for the best—it stops his gaze from traveling anywhere lower.

You're waiting for a response, but Hux can't give you one, cheeks burning. "What?"

The word comes out more snappish than it should. So off-kilter and so unused to feeling that way, he reacts on instinct, all of which are sharp and biting.

"Sorry, could you?" you point a hand in the direction of the counter, and the fluffy black towel that rests on it, "then I'll be out of your way."

"Of course," he responds, connecting the dots as quick as he can manage when his thoughts are so wild.

Hux ventures as close as he dares, passing the towel to you from a distance, like he might be sucked into the sweet water and your sweeter embrace if he gets too close.

You take it from him without touching him, and he's glad for it. Hux can barely keep on his feet with the soft smile you wear. Your skin on his would certainly be too much.

It's a sweet moment—one of few he's managed not to fuck up completely.

Until your expression falters, teeth caught on your lip. Hux has no idea what he's done to cause your discomfort this time.

"I'll just . . ." you start to slip from the water, and then it hits him, hard, like a punch to the gut.

A surprised grunt escapes Hux's chest, and he turns back toward the mirror, eyes shut tight to offer you some privacy. Nails cutting lines in the palms of his hands.

You would have let him see you. Would have stood bare before him as the rivulets of water traversed your body, would have let him watch, maybe even let him feel. Would have let his palms take in the softness of your skin, instead of the bite he feels now.

And Hux knew this already. No doubt you've been instructed to be a good wife from a time before you were old enough to listen—to offer yourself to your husband, to make yourself available whenever your he desires.

But would you? He feels there's a distinct possibility. And maybe even a possibility you'd want to.

A soft cough interrupts his thoughts, and he takes that as a sign to turn around, finding you with a towel wrapped tight around your body.

You fiddle with the edge of it, shyly meeting his eyes.

"Will I be seeing you in there?"

Your words are stilted, punctuated with pauses like you're picking around landmines—too shy to even say the word bed.

It's a fair question. Even on nights you stay in his quarters, you usually sleep alone.

He wants to say yes. Wants to so badly he feels it bubbling up in his chest.

"I- no," Hux says instead, tamping down the hope inside him. Not when the control he holds over his body is on such a tenuous string.

Your lips press tighter before you wish him good night. He's not sure if it's relief he see's in your features, or something else.

Hux waits until he's alone in the room before releasing one ragged breath. This fight is a battle he'll lose. The wanting will pull him under eventually, and the death it offers will taste sweet.

#charlotte reads #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x reader #general hux x you #general hux fanfic #hux x reader #general hux #armitage hux fanfiction #armitage hux

[charlottesbookclub]

an update 🥰

hi everyone!

sorry I've been so mia lately - I was finishing up my masters degree and then life just got hectic and I haven't had a ton of time to write

I'm finally hoping to catch up on reading some fics that I've had bookmarked for ages that I just never had the time to read while I was in school

I know many of you are here for the hux content - and there will absolutely be more of that - but I did just want to give y'all a little heads-up that I will be reblogging fics and such for my other blorbos as well. you are of course always welcome to block those tags if they are characters you're not interested in

um, yeah, I think that's all I have to say for now!

hope you all are doing well!

charlotte 💙

#charlotte rambles

[charlottesbookclub]

great poll, op! I went with "he doesn't indulge," just because on the whole, I do see him as a fairly restrained person who finds excess expense and/or excess resource use to be wasteful and frivolous

however, I do think that there are rare occasions (usually after a particularly awful day) when he might break out the one bottle of expensive wine he owns, or allow himself to purchase one thing he doesn't actually need, or something else along those lines (I actually have a fic about him indulging in a hot shower if anyone's interested lmao)

but of course these are just my thoughts, and I can honestly see it going either way, so I'm interested to see what everyone else thinks!

My fellow Hux’s simps, I want to ask you a question that has been on my mind now. It seems to me that the fandom is split on the issue, both in discussions here and in the way Hux is depicted in fanfiction. So let's try and quantify it and find out which Hux headcanon is more popular.

Do we see Hux as someone who likes the finer things in life like good food, alcohol, fancy robes, etc. or do we think he scoffs at such ostentatious display of wealth and/or dislikes it because he feels such things make soldiers weak?

I think in what little canon material we have you could find proof to support either argument.

But what do you all think?

I have my own opinion on that matter, but I'll only share it after the end of the poll as to not distort the results.

#charlotte rambles #polls #general hux #armitage hux #hux #armitage hux headcanon #hux headcanon #general hux headcanon

[charlottesbookclub]

this is so good omg 😭😭 it’s giving pride and prejudice levels of desperation and hope and I love it so much!!

Hey bestie! Can I request track 6 (again) but this time for Hux please? Thank you!! ❤️❤️❤️

📼✨ mixtape milestone ✨📼

Oh hey again, bestie! You got a letter! I wonder who it's from 👀

#charlotte reads #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x reader #general hux x you #general hux #hux #general hux fanfic #hux x reader #armitage hux #armitage hux fanfiction

[charlottesbookclub]

omg no I am crying you are too sweet!!!! 😭😭❤️❤️ I hope the fic meets your expectations!! and I hope you have a lovely lovely day!! 🥰🥰

(I'll also add here that most of the premise for that fic was very much inspired by me taking a depression shower lmao 😅)

General Armitage Hux Headcanons (pt. 2)

okay so to prove that I'm still alive and bc I just feel the need to write, have some of my more unhinged Hux thoughts!!

(headcanons under the cut bc they got long as always)

people have absolutely said this before but I guess I'll just reaffirm my agreement here: Hux for sure has an incredibly detailed hygiene routine that involves both skin and hair care

when he's on the bridge or in meetings, he keeps as still and stoic as possible, but if he's working on something alone in his own quarters, he bounces his leg or taps his stylus against the desk. typically it's just a single repetitive movement, and he's usually unaware he's even doing it (is this bc those are some of my stims and I project too much onto fictional characters?? who's to say, who's to say.......)

okay this one's kinda sad but Armitage genuinely has no real sense of self. his identity has been so wrapped up in the development of the first order that it has become his identity. that and the fact that rank determines so much in the first order have conditioned him to believe that his rank within the order is him, if that makes sense. that's part of the reason he wants the title grand marshal so much; because in his eyes, achieving that title is Hux reaching his fullest potential and - to him - becoming his truest self that he was always destined to be

following off this last one, Hux has no real idea of what he actually likes. when the crew is planetside, his lieutenants might spend their time off shift going to restaurants or bars or even attractions like museums or whatever the space equivalent of an amusement park is. Armitage's life is consumed with work, work, and then more work, so if he has even the slightest bit of free time, he's left in this weird limbo of not knowing what he wants to do, because he doesn't actually know what he likes to do. Br*ndol's abuse, the fact that he grew up a refugee, and just the nature of the first order in general essentially assured that the young Hux never got to develop any interests outside of those that would further the cause of the order. so while he does enjoy engineering and some of the work that he does (not all though - he suffers through the rest because he knows it will help the first order's cause) he genuinely has no idea what his interests are outside of that

again, building off the last one, this is part of the reason that he does work so much. he hates that weird, unsettled feeling of not knowing what to do with himself. and, as a man of efficiency with little time for the consideration of his own emotions, rather than interrogate that strange, hollow feeling further, he just dives back into something he knows: work. also, if he's working, the thoughts and weird feeling go away, so it's a win-win in his opinion

I guess this circles back to the first one a little bit, but when he's had a particularly hard day (or a run-in with Snoke or Kylo), Armitage will allow himself to take a long shower. typically, he just gives himself enough time to clean himself, and he often makes himself take cold showers because he believes it helps invigorate the body or whatever. but on those hard days, he'll turn the heat way up - like, all the way up - and just stand under the nearly-scalding current of water until his pale skin turns bright pink and the refresher is clouded with steam. also, he often cries. not that he acknowledges that though - tears? nah, that's just moisture on his face from the water (also I was thinking about writing an angsty little fic based on this headcanon if people would be interested in that)

okay, so that's all I've got for now, but I hope you enjoyed these (and that they didn't make you too sad). as always, I'd love to know your thoughts on these and any other headcanons or ramblings you'd like to share!

[charlottesbookclub]

ahhhhhh @jedis-cum thank you so much for the lovely tags!!! 🥹🥹

I also wanted to let you know that I have indeed written a fic based on that hc concept and you can find it here! hope you enjoy!! ☺️

General Armitage Hux Headcanons (pt. 2)

okay so to prove that I'm still alive and bc I just feel the need to write, have some of my more unhinged Hux thoughts!!

(headcanons under the cut bc they got long as always)

people have absolutely said this before but I guess I'll just reaffirm my agreement here: Hux for sure has an incredibly detailed hygiene routine that involves both skin and hair care

when he's on the bridge or in meetings, he keeps as still and stoic as possible, but if he's working on something alone in his own quarters, he bounces his leg or taps his stylus against the desk. typically it's just a single repetitive movement, and he's usually unaware he's even doing it (is this bc those are some of my stims and I project too much onto fictional characters?? who's to say, who's to say.......)

okay this one's kinda sad but Armitage genuinely has no real sense of self. his identity has been so wrapped up in the development of the first order that it has become his identity. that and the fact that rank determines so much in the first order have conditioned him to believe that his rank within the order is him, if that makes sense. that's part of the reason he wants the title grand marshal so much; because in his eyes, achieving that title is Hux reaching his fullest potential and - to him - becoming his truest self that he was always destined to be

following off this last one, Hux has no real idea of what he actually likes. when the crew is planetside, his lieutenants might spend their time off shift going to restaurants or bars or even attractions like museums or whatever the space equivalent of an amusement park is. Armitage's life is consumed with work, work, and then more work, so if he has even the slightest bit of free time, he's left in this weird limbo of not knowing what he wants to do, because he doesn't actually know what he likes to do. Br*ndol's abuse, the fact that he grew up a refugee, and just the nature of the first order in general essentially assured that the young Hux never got to develop any interests outside of those that would further the cause of the order. so while he does enjoy engineering and some of the work that he does (not all though - he suffers through the rest because he knows it will help the first order's cause) he genuinely has no idea what his interests are outside of that

again, building off the last one, this is part of the reason that he does work so much. he hates that weird, unsettled feeling of not knowing what to do with himself. and, as a man of efficiency with little time for the consideration of his own emotions, rather than interrogate that strange, hollow feeling further, he just dives back into something he knows: work. also, if he's working, the thoughts and weird feeling go away, so it's a win-win in his opinion

I guess this circles back to the first one a little bit, but when he's had a particularly hard day (or a run-in with Snoke or Kylo), Armitage will allow himself to take a long shower. typically, he just gives himself enough time to clean himself, and he often makes himself take cold showers because he believes it helps invigorate the body or whatever. but on those hard days, he'll turn the heat way up - like, all the way up - and just stand under the nearly-scalding current of water until his pale skin turns bright pink and the refresher is clouded with steam. also, he often cries. not that he acknowledges that though - tears? nah, that's just moisture on his face from the water (also I was thinking about writing an angsty little fic based on this headcanon if people would be interested in that)

okay, so that's all I've got for now, but I hope you enjoyed these (and that they didn't make you too sad). as always, I'd love to know your thoughts on these and any other headcanons or ramblings you'd like to share!

#charlotte rambles #charlotte writes #armitage hux #general hux #hux #general hux headcanon #armitage hux headcanon #hux headcanon #tw mention of child abuse

[charlottesbookclub]

Clean (General Armitage Hux)

Summary: Armitage has a particularly rough day and takes a depression shower about it

Warnings/Tags: Hux-centric (no pairing), angst, stress, memories of child abuse, Hux works too much, did I mention angst?, body image issues, insecurities, maybe just very slight SH implications?, ANGST (let me know if I missed anything!)

Words: 1,162

Author’s Note: apparently I'm on a roll with producing Hux content recently! This is just a short little fic building off a headcanon I wrote about in this post. It's an idea I've had for a while and just finally wrote it down. Hope you all enjoy even tho it's super frickin angsty and kinda sad!

(oh and the lines from Br*ndol are from the Hux comic and I think Empire's End?)

            The faint beep his door emitted as it recognized his credentials and zipped open for him sounded almost heavenly to Armitage. He barely made it into his chambers before he collapsed back against the now-closed door, sliding down until he was seated on the floor. He rested his arms on his bent-up knees, folding himself down as small as was possible given his height. There was a strange tightness in his throat, and not the kind caused by the unseeable grip of the damned Force. The passing thought of that frivolous magic snapped him back to himself, and he pushed up off of the floor in one fluid movement, knowing that if he slowed or hesitated at all, his exhausted body would decide that he would be sleeping unceremoniously slumped against his door.

            It had been a long cycle. Or was it two cycles? How long had it been since he had last rested? He shook his head minutely, trying to clear the fog of weariness that had finally allowed itself to settle in his mind. His chambers were dark except for the pale light of the stars creeping in through the large windows. He didn’t bother turning a light on. Instead, he made his way slowly to the refresher, discarding items of clothing one by one, each seeming to represent a problem that he wished he could cast off as easily as his uniform.

            First, the gloves – Ren destroying another expensive control panel. Greatcoat next – an unfortunate meeting with Snoke that left his project on a much tighter timeline than he had originally planned. One boot kicked to the side, then the other – the knowing glances cast between former Imperial officers on the bridge, sharing some joke he wasn’t privy to. His uniform top – the endless forms needing his approval and signature. The light undershirt next – the constant pinging of his comlink and datapad with requests for his time. Then his trousers – useless meetings with more insufferable Imperial veterans who just wanted to feel as though they were still valuable by giving outdated advice. Finally, his undergarments and socks – the biting headache that has been festering behind his eyes for the past… well… however many cycles it had been.

            Hux reached the refresher and didn’t bother to turn that light on either. Instead, he stepped directly into the dark-tiled shower and turned the hot water to its full capacity. Normally, he limited himself to cold showers. He felt they were more effective at waking him up – or, more often than not, freshening him up since actual sleep was something of a rarity for the general. Either way, despite the fact that his rank gave him unlimited access to hot water, he rarely indulged in the luxury. Right now though, it was what he needed more than anything.

            Steam filled the refresher, indicating that the water had reached a suitable temperature, and Armitage stepped under the current, nearly gasping at the shocking heat. For a moment, he could think of nothing else but the nearly unbearable warmth of the water as it coursed over his skin. When he had gotten somewhat habituated to the temperature on his body, he dipped his head into the stream and hissed as the water cut almost-scalding rivulets through his hair. After a few moments of exposure, his body became desensitized to the intense heat. He was left with a welcome warmth seeping into every fiber of his being. He began releasing tension he wasn’t even conscious of as the hot water unspooled it from his coiled muscles. His pristinely coiffed hair was soaked into damp strands, the gel dissolving and relinquishing its hold on his orange locks. For a few glorious moments, his mind was blissfully blank. He thought of nothing, simply absorbing the sensation of the hot water against his skin in the dark shower.

            They always crept back in though – the voices, the thoughts. What a waste of resources. How frivolous. How useless. Hux gritted his teeth then, hearing his father’s despised voice ring in his ears: “I’ve yet to find anything that Armitage isn’t utterly useless at.” He was glad he couldn’t make out much of his body in the steam-filled darkness of the refresher. He knew his pale skin was turning a humiliating shade of pink – both from the heat and from the unwanted memories. And he was thin. Scrawny. “Thin as a slip of paper and just as useless.” Armitage pressed his fist against the cool wall of the shower, putting enough force behind it that his knuckles began to hurt. Anything to drive his father’s words from his mind. As the insults and memories faded, Hux heaved a sigh. He exchanged his fist against the tile for his forehead, the press of the cold black stone bringing him back to reality. Despite his face no longer being under the current of water, he nevertheless felt warm liquid slipping down his cheeks. He scrubbed at his face with his hand, assuring himself it was nothing but beads of condensation, and situated himself back under the stream.

            He allowed himself just a few more fleeting moments under the warm water, trying to let it sap the last of the stress from his body, even though he wasn’t sure that was even possible at this point. Tension had settled deep into his bones and made itself at home there, untouchable even by the calming hands of heat that spilled over his body. Before he lost his nerve and stayed in the shower for the rest of eternity, he snapped the water off and was left suddenly shivering as the cool air of the refresher began to prick his skin. Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped himself in a robe. He caught a quick glance in the mirror, but any glimpse of his body was mercifully obscured by both the darkness and the steam collected on the reflective surface. He didn’t want to be reminded of his weak constitution now, not when he had only just banished his father’s unwelcome words.

            He stepped back out into the main room of his quarters, letting the pale starlight guide him as he inched his way carefully along the trail of discarded clothing items, collecting them as he went. On his way to his bed, he placed each in their assigned places: uniform and undergarments in the chute that connected directly to the ship’s central laundry facility, greatcoat carefully arranged on a hanger in his sparse closet, boots lined up neatly next to the door. That done, Armitage allowed himself to sink into bed, pulling the covers over his chilled body. He was almost ready to give into his aching head and sore body, to just allow himself to fall into the oblivion of sleep. Then a shrill ping interrupted that futile dream. He rolled over, pulling his datapad into bed with him to check the notification. He could always rest after responding to this message.

#charlotte writes #armitage hux #armitage hux fanfiction #armitage hux headcanon #hux #general hux #general hux fanfic #general hux headcanon #hux headcanon #tw mention of child abuse #tw body image #tw slight self harm

[charlottesbookclub]

General Armitage Hux Headcanons (pt. 2)

okay so to prove that I'm still alive and bc I just feel the need to write, have some of my more unhinged Hux thoughts!!

(headcanons under the cut bc they got long as always)

people have absolutely said this before but I guess I'll just reaffirm my agreement here: Hux for sure has an incredibly detailed hygiene routine that involves both skin and hair care

when he's on the bridge or in meetings, he keeps as still and stoic as possible, but if he's working on something alone in his own quarters, he bounces his leg or taps his stylus against the desk. typically it's just a single repetitive movement, and he's usually unaware he's even doing it (is this bc those are some of my stims and I project too much onto fictional characters?? who's to say, who's to say.......)

okay this one's kinda sad but Armitage genuinely has no real sense of self. his identity has been so wrapped up in the development of the first order that it has become his identity. that and the fact that rank determines so much in the first order have conditioned him to believe that his rank within the order is him, if that makes sense. that's part of the reason he wants the title grand marshal so much; because in his eyes, achieving that title is Hux reaching his fullest potential and - to him - becoming his truest self that he was always destined to be

following off this last one, Hux has no real idea of what he actually likes. when the crew is planetside, his lieutenants might spend their time off shift going to restaurants or bars or even attractions like museums or whatever the space equivalent of an amusement park is. Armitage's life is consumed with work, work, and then more work, so if he has even the slightest bit of free time, he's left in this weird limbo of not knowing what he wants to do, because he doesn't actually know what he likes to do. Br*ndol's abuse, the fact that he grew up a refugee, and just the nature of the first order in general essentially assured that the young Hux never got to develop any interests outside of those that would further the cause of the order. so while he does enjoy engineering and some of the work that he does (not all though - he suffers through the rest because he knows it will help the first order's cause) he genuinely has no idea what his interests are outside of that

again, building off the last one, this is part of the reason that he does work so much. he hates that weird, unsettled feeling of not knowing what to do with himself. and, as a man of efficiency with little time for the consideration of his own emotions, rather than interrogate that strange, hollow feeling further, he just dives back into something he knows: work. also, if he's working, the thoughts and weird feeling go away, so it's a win-win in his opinion

I guess this circles back to the first one a little bit, but when he's had a particularly hard day (or a run-in with Snoke or Kylo), Armitage will allow himself to take a long shower. typically, he just gives himself enough time to clean himself, and he often makes himself take cold showers because he believes it helps invigorate the body or whatever. but on those hard days, he'll turn the heat way up - like, all the way up - and just stand under the nearly-scalding current of water until his pale skin turns bright pink and the refresher is clouded with steam. also, he often cries. not that he acknowledges that though - tears? nah, that's just moisture on his face from the water (also I was thinking about writing an angsty little fic based on this headcanon if people would be interested in that)

okay, so that's all I've got for now, but I hope you enjoyed these (and that they didn't make you too sad). as always, I'd love to know your thoughts on these and any other headcanons or ramblings you'd like to share!

#charlotte rambles #charlotte writes #armitage hux #general hux #hux #general hux headcanon #armitage hux headcanon #hux headcanon #tw mention of child abuse

[charlottesbookclub]

I promise I'm still alive!!

so sorry for the inactivity over here! I've just finished and submitted the first draft of my master's thesis, so I'm hoping I'll have a little more time to write (until I get comments back at least, bc then I'll have to revise 😭)

but what would y'all like to see from me? I don't have any particular scenarios/plots atm, so I'm super happy to take suggestions from anyone who has some ideas!

#charlotte rambles #general hux #hux #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #general hux x reader #hux x reader #armitage hux fanfiction #general hux fanfic

[charlottesbookclub]

charlotte's masterlist

I've finally written more than one fic, so I guess I can justify creating a masterlist now? I'm always willing to take requests (check my pinned post for characters for whom I write)

Armitage Hux

Nightmares

Snowfall Kind of Love Part One, Part Two

Clean

Random Headcanons, Part Two

Alistair (Twilight)

like real people do

#charlotte writes #general hux fanfic #general hux headcanon #general hux #general hux x reader #hux x reader #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux fanfiction #armitage hux headcanon #hux

[charlottesbookclub]

Snowfall Kind of Love - Part Two (Armitage Hux x Reader) 🧡❄️

Summary: Your visit to Starkiller goes a little differently than expected, but in a good way

Warnings/Tags: pure teeth-rotting fluff, very brief reference to memories of child abuse, takes place before tfa, gn!reader - I think that's it but please let me know if I've missed anything! (the title is from the song "snowfall" by ingrid michaelson, which is the vibe I'm hoping to give to the fic)

Words: 2,713

Author’s Note: ahhhhhhh I'm so sorry this is up so much later than I had hoped! the holidays got crazy and this part of the fic got, well... long. this part switches between the reader's perspective and Hux's, and I've tried to indicate that through snowflake emojis between paragraphs. this is really self-indulgent and insanely fluffy, but I hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated!

Read Part One Here

The transport shuddered slightly as it came to land on the tarmac. Hux let the other officers file out first, wanting to be able to see your reaction to the base. He gave a small nod and gestured for you to exit the ship ahead of him. You flashed him another brief smile, and then obliged, stepping carefully down the ramp to the planet below. Hux followed quickly after, forcing his anxieties down and attempting to make himself as professional and placid as always. You would see through the façade of course, but it wasn’t you he was trying to fool. He caught up with you just as you stepped onto the planet’s surface, and for a moment he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt a bit foolish – like a little child presenting a mud pie to his friends with the desperate hope that they’d be proud of his paltry creation – but that faded as soon as he saw your reaction.

❄️❄️❄️

            A small gasp escaped your lips as you took in the scenery around you. Lifting a hand to shield your eyes from the nearly-blinding whiteness of the snow, you gazed across the sprawling facility. The neat, compact structures of the First Order’s operations stuck out from the drifts like black monoliths, creating rigid order amongst the undulating lines of the snowscape around them. Troopers, officers, and droids all bustled about, much as they might on one of the many ships that you had called home all your life. But there was something different here. Was it the air? You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. It was so cold you could practically feel your lungs icing over. But there was something about the chill that was refreshing, invigorating almost. And then a new sensation hit you. It was a sharper smell, but crisp and clean. You opened your eyes and turned your head to follow the scent. Where the First Order buildings dwindled, a massive forest rose from the snowy landscape, towering pines standing like officers at attention. That must have been the scent of pine. You had never experienced it before, but it instantly made you curious. What would it feel like to stand under those trees? Your life had been spent in the metal hulls of warships, surrounded by pristine black walls, polished floors, and harsh industrial lighting. Something in your chest tugged you desperately toward the forest, begging to know how it felt to be on a real planet.

            “Do you like it?” Armitage had come up behind you, his question breaking you out of your reverie. There was a jagged edge of worry to his voice, one he didn’t even attempt to hide in your presence. It was the same fear you had seen in his eyes on the transport – a desperate need to meet your approval, for you to be proud of the work he had done. How many times had you told him that your admiration and affection for him were a given and he didn’t need to fret so much about impressing you? But you knew enough of his childhood through the secrets he whispered in the darkness of his private quarters, green eyes luminous through the shadows, trusting you enough to finally share his deepest pain. You knew enough to know that assurance and praise were never something freely and willingly given to Armitage, they had to be earned – and often even the most grueling of tasks or the most impressive of feats could not win them for him. So you turned to face him, letting yourself smile as you only did around those you trusted most. 

            “I think it’s wonderful, Armitage,” you glanced around to make sure no one was watching your interaction before using his first name. You could see the tips of his ears turn pink as you uttered his name, a reaction which only made you smile brighter. You made one more scan of the tarmac, and, finding it mostly vacant for the moment, you pressed a quick kiss to the general’s cheek. Then you whispered into his ear: ��though it’s not quite as wonderful as you.”

            You pulled back then and resumed an air of unimpeachable professionalism, although you couldn’t keep a smile from pulling at your cheeks. You had effectively flustered Armitage nearly out of his wits, something that only you ever seemed capable of doing. His entire face was now flushed scarlet, and he glanced toward the ground shyly. He scuffed his boots against the dark surface of the landing area as though he was a nervous schoolboy, unable to take a compliment. 

            “I—ahem—thank you. I am glad you find it to your liking.” He looked up at you then, green eyes sparkling, his face no longer the carefully-controlled mask that he wore when around anyone but you. “Would you like a tour of the facilities?” He asked.

            “I would love one, but first…” you trailed off, letting your gaze wander back to the woods, wondering how he would receive your request. He just looked back at you with eyebrows raised in curiosity, waiting to hear the rest of your sentence. “Could we explore the forest?”

            “The forest?” Armitage’s eyebrows now scrunched together in confusion, creating an endearing little dimple on his forehead.

            “Yeah…” you trailed off a bit and glanced away, suddenly self-conscious. “I just—this is the first time I’ve been on a real planet in so long, and I—” 

            Before you could finish your faltering explanation for the odd request, Armitage had grabbed your gloved hand in his own and was pulling you gently toward the forest. Sprinting for a couple paces, you came into step next to him, but didn’t drop his hand. There weren’t many personnel at the fringes of the tarmac, and even if there were, you didn’t care. Hux cast a small, sidelong glance at you, unable to hide the smile twitching at his lips as he then let his eyes fall to where your hands were intertwined. He looked back up then, but softly rubbed his thumb in small circles on the back of your hand. A quiet, tender warmth filled your chest as the two of you walked hand in hand to the woods beyond.

❄️❄️❄️

            You liked it. That was all Armitage could think. You had said it was wonderful. But you thought he was wonderful too. Of course, he understood this on a basic level, but it was always difficult for him to fully comprehend the idea that someone could actually like him and want to be around him, let alone think he was wonderful. 

            Your request had startled him, but as a rush of embarrassment flushed over your cheeks and you stammered out an explanation, he had made up his mind that if that was what you wanted, that was what would happen. He couldn’t stand to see you ashamed or embarrassed, especially not on account of him, so he did his best to indicate that he was more than happy to fulfill your wish, even if he didn’t fully understand it. He recognized that what to him was a routine chore was an adventure to you, since your position rarely required leaving the ship. But still, the forest? With its deep drifts of snow and organic detritus and unpredictable terrain? He certainly didn’t see the appeal in it. But if it was important to you, it was important to him.

            He stepped carefully over a large pile of snow that had been pushed to the very edge of the landing area by the clearing crews, then reached a hand back to help you cross as well. A few short paces brought you to the forest’s edge, and he turned to look at you, trying to deduce what may have led to your desire to see the woods. You had your eyes closed, seemingly breathing deeply and inhaling the scent of the pine trees. Armitage cautiously followed suit and found that the smell of the pines was incredibly refreshing. It had a kind of clean warmth to it that he had never noticed before. When he opened his eyes again after his moment of reverie, he found you already walking into the trees, and he followed closely behind.

❄️❄️❄️

            The huge pines towered over your head, creating elegant arches that curtained you into a world of dark green and bright white. You had no idea that organic things could grow this large. Well, you did, actually – in theory. You had studied the measurements of all types of lifeforms at the Academy, but experiencing it was so much different than just understanding a theoretical concept. You were relieved that it was only you and Armitage in the forest, since you probably looked quite childish wandering through the trees with your mouth slightly open and eyes wide in wonder and awe.

            You looked all the way up, craning your neck until you could see the grey sky above. The highest branches made intricate patterns across the clouds, almost resembling star charts or constellation maps. Your breath came out in little puffs in the cold air, and you let out a bubbling laugh. When you turned back to Armitage, he was standing in the snow, watching you with the soft, adoring gaze that was reserved for you alone.

            “How old do you think these trees are?” you asked, skipping back towards him.

            “Um, well. I’m not sure. I suppose if we find a stump we could count the rings… That is the accepted method for determining a tree’s age, is it not?”

            “I’ve heard of that too, but I’ve never tried it. I’m rarely ever planetside.”

            Then the two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence amongst the towering trees and snow drifts. You could hear the calling of birds and the skittering of smaller animals in the underbrush. You leaned against Armitage’s shoulder, and felt him lean back against you, the muscles in his body relaxing for at least one brief moment. 

            “Thank you,” you said at last, very quietly so as not to disrupt the moment.

            “What?” he asked, pulling away slightly to look at you.

            “I just said ‘thank you,’” you responded, meeting his gaze. “For bringing me out here. I know you don’t like this planet so…” your sentence faltered, and you weren’t sure what to say next.

            “Wait – how did you know I don’t like this planet? I tried my very best not to bias you, I’m proud of the base of course, but it’s true that I haven’t always enjoyed the actual task of visiting—” his words all came out in a rambling rush. You just laughed fondly in response.

            “Armitage, the look on your face was enough to say it all.” You nudged him playfully. “When we felt the wind on the tarmac, you looked at it with almost as much hatred as you look at Kylo Ren. Almost.” Armitage laughed then, a rare but beautiful sound that encouraged you to join him in his mirth. 

            “Fair enough,” Armitage responded, his face still glowing from his bout of uncharacteristic merriment. “Although I think I may be starting to appreciate it a little bit more,” he admitted with a smile. 

            You were about to respond when something cold landed on your cheek. Startled, you looked up to find flakes of snow falling from the clouds above. You held out your hand eagerly, watching them collect on the black fabric of your standard-issue uniform coat. Bringing your arm closer to your face, you inspected the tiny white flakes, marveling at the intricate geometric patterns contained in each tiny shape. Against your dark sleeve, they looked like tiny stars. But instead of being distant and vacant, seen only through the thick windowpanes of battleships adrift in space, these were here. They were real. You could touch them. You looked up at the sky again, watching the snow spiral lazily to the ground. The tiny white specks stood out against the dark green of the trees that surrounded you, twirling in a lilting dance through the pines. You couldn’t help but laugh as the little pricks of cold kissed your cheeks and collected on your coat and in your hair. You spun in a circle, watching the world turn into a kaleidoscope of falling stars. Any lingering bit of propriety or professionalism had been pushed from your mind as you danced in the falling snow.

            Then there was a warm hand clasping around yours and another encircling your back. Armitage’s smile was possibly as bright as you had ever seen it as he twirled you through the clearing. Snowflakes gathered in his fiery hair, dusting his locks in a delicate lace of white stars. You couldn’t remember ever being this happy.

❄️❄️❄️

            With you in his arms, Hux could barely even feel the cold that usually stalked his every step on this planet. You were practically glowing, lit up with a kind of joy he could barely even believe existed. For once, he didn’t mind the snow collecting in his hair and on his greatcoat. All he cared about was that you were there, and you were as happy as he had ever seen you. He guided the two of you through the snow and around the branches and rocks that littered the ground. The pines spun in a evergreen blur at the edges of his vision as he watched the delicate flakes land on your cheeks and in your hair. The soft glow of the snow seemed to cast a kind of halo around you as the two of you spun in lazy, lopsided circles in the forest. He would stay on this planet until the end of his days if it meant this moment could last forever.

************************************************

            After an extensive tour of the facilities that was filled with secret sidelong glances and quick, subtle hand brushes, Hux lay in his private quarters with you curled up against him, already sleeping. His mind ran back over the events of the day, which were for once not a litany of data and measurements and technicalities, but rather a warm swirl of color and light. He danced back through your moments in the forest and relived every barely-hidden smile you had given him during the tour of the base. He recalled the questions you had asked – always informed and intelligent – and your genuine curiosity and interest in the work he and his engineers were doing.

            Then he brought himself back to the present moment, gently stroking a hand across your hair, just ghosting over your warm skin so as not to wake you. For once, he couldn’t hear the shrieking of the wind against the windows. He focused instead on your calm, rhythmic breathing, matching his to yours. The cold that usually seeped into his bones and refused to leave was gone as well, dispelled by the warmth of your body against his. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, and you hummed a little in your sleep, curling even tighter against him. He had thought he hated this planet, but you had shown him how to love it. Since you had met, you and Starkiller had been tied as his top two priorities. But now? A strange feeling stirred inside his chest, a kind of shifting. The realization slowly dawned that he didn’t care so much if Starkiller actually succeeded, he only cared that you liked it. That you enjoyed your time on the planet. Enjoyed your time with him. It was a startling insight, a kind of sharp, clear honesty that was rare in his life. You had superseded Starkiller’s importance to him – something he had thought to be impossible. But then that was before he met you. That was back when he thought it was impossible that he would ever experience the kind of peace he felt with you. He closed his eyes then and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him. He drifted to sleep, at last unbothered by the wind and cold. Unbeknownst to either of you as you slept in the velvety darkness of Hux’s quarters, snow began to fall outside, softly covering the world in a comforting blanket of white stardust.

#charlotte writes #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux fanfiction #hux #general hux #general hux fanfic #general hux x reader #hux x reader

[charlottesbookclub]

wish hux got more screen time 😔💔

#it’s missing hux hours #it’s always missing hux hours #general hux #hux #armitage hux

[charlottesbookclub]

Snowfall Kind of Love - Part One (Armitage Hux x Reader) 🧡❄️

Summary: Armitage tries to be a confident man, but the thought of bringing you to see his greatest achievement makes him nervous

Warnings/Tags: very brief reference to memories of child abuse, Hux not liking the cold, Hux being a bit of a nervous wreck, takes place before tfa, gn!reader -- I think that's it but please let me know if I've missed anything!

Words: 1,547

Author’s Note: since I've been so much slower to work on this than I had hoped, I wanted to give you all something, so I decided to break this fic into two parts (it was getting long anyway lmao). As I mentioned in my sneak-peek post, we've had a lot of snow here and it put me in a very wintry mood, and I just wanted to write some winter fluff. the title is from the song "snowfall" by ingrid michaelson, which is the vibe I'm hoping to give to the fic overall, altho I think that won't come in until the second part, which will be up asap. I hope you all enjoy!!

(part two is now available here!)

           For Armitage, it was a routine trip. He tried to find time in his always-overfilled schedule to visit Starkiller every so often. He trusted his engineers of course, but he just had to make sure. This was his magnum opus after all. This is what would prove to the galaxy that the First Order had risen from the ashes of the Empire, molded and strengthened by its trials by fire, forged into a weapon poised to bring the Resistance to its knees. And it would prove that Hux too, had risen. He was stronger than the Imperials who came before – he had survived and persevered. He had spearheaded the Starkiller project. This was his moment of triumph.

            So he made the trip to the distant planet that held the steadily-growing embryo of what would soon be the most powerful weapon the galaxy had ever seen. He didn’t particularly enjoy being planetside, especially not on this planet. It was always cold, pricking his pale cheeks to an embarrassing shade of red. No matter how often the troopers and droids cleared the runways and paths that connected the buildings of the First Order complex, the biting wind would throw billowing curtains of snow back onto them, making it nearly impossible to walk without stepping in small piles of it. Then it would be tracked into the various buildings that constituted the base, melting on the polished floors into puddles that had to be cleaned. The maintenance seemed to be never-ending, and yet the planetside facilities could never quite be brought up to the level of pristine cleanliness that Hux expected and demanded of all First Order ships. 

            And then there were the snowstorms. Aside from the troublesome wind, the cascades of falling snow would collect in the general’s hair and on his greatcoat. After he finally escaped into one of the buildings dotting the planet, the melting snow would turn his fiery locks into a sopping mess, dislodging the carefully-applied gel that kept any wayward strands at strict attention. He would have to excuse himself to the refresher, wasting precious minutes of time he could be inspecting the base on rearranging his hair and bringing it back up to his usual standards. There was little to do about the chill that crept into his wiry frame as the snow on his shoulders melted and slowly seeped through the gaberwool of his greatcoat. He often found himself suppressing the urge to shiver as the cold damp seemed to creep into his bones. But he maintained his perfect posture and impassive expression, even if he did occasionally lose focus for a moment on whatever the officer in front of him was reporting. 

            But what he hated more than anything – more than the cold and the wind and the snow – was sleeping on the base. Of course, to make the most productive use of his time, he did often force himself to stay planetside for the rest cycle rather than travelling needlessly to and from the Finalizer for something as unimportant as his sleeping comfort. Not that he slept much – planetside or otherwise – but there was something about not being on a ship that unsettled him. He could never quite identify what exactly it was that made him so uneasy sleeping on the base, but whatever it was, it was certainly not helped by the ever-present cold. Not wanting to waste precious fuel on unnecessary heating, the buildings were kept just warm enough to be reasonably livable. No matter how many extra blankets Armitage piled on his bed, the creeping chill still brought back unwelcome memories of his childhood. It was always cold on Arkanis – cold and wet. It was even worse on the series of big, empty ships that brought him and the other Imperial remnants into the Unknown Regions. Those ships were so cold that Armitage sometimes thought he would freeze to death, if his father didn’t kill him first. He had to force those thoughts down, bury them under his routine recollections of all the information he had received that day, to have even the slightest chance at a moment of rest. If he did manage to fall into an uneasy sleep, it often was not for long. Even in the sturdy metal infrastructure of the facility, the wind taunted him. It screamed against the building, howling and wailing throughout the night. He would wake, looking more haggard than usual, and do his best to touch up his appearance before stepping authoritatively out his door for another day of inspections.

            Although these trips were routine, Armitage dreaded them. Despite his love for Starkiller, he hated the planet that housed it. He suffered only to make sure the project reached its completion. Had it been anything else, he doubted he could bring himself to endure it. But this was Starkiller, this was his achievement. So he visited that detestable planet and locked his discomfort away deep inside of him, just like he always did. But this time would be different. This time, you would be coming with him.

            You had known about the project before, of course. It was everything Armitage had been working toward, and even with his resolute self-control, he couldn’t help but share his plans with you, even if you didn’t have the clearance for that information. In fact, he had felt a little thrill at the thought of this tiny slip in protocol. He had mused that perhaps this is what his peers at the Academy had felt when they would sneak off to empty storage rooms for clandestine trysts. Hux had many secrets, but this one felt… lighter somehow. It wasn’t something that kept him up at night or made him glance over his shoulder to make sure there was no one behind him. This was a good secret, he thought, if there could be such a thing. It felt wrong to keep the project hidden from you when you were the only other thing as important to him as Starkiller.

            But now that it had moved beyond the planning stages and was beginning to transition into operation, more and more personnel were being brought in to staff the large facility. Therefore, it would no longer seem strange or suspicious that you might accompany him on a visit to the planet. And although he barely admitted it to himself, this thought made him nervous. You had heard him talk about it for months, what if you didn’t like it? What if you didn’t think it was impressive? What if the awful planetary conditions made you hate it? Made you hate him for bringing you there? He only endured it because it was his project. You might find it distasteful, horrible, even unbearable. Maybe you’d step one foot off the ship then turn right back around and command the pilot to take you back to the Finalizer. You’d leave him standing there in the landing area, cheeks pinched a humiliating shade of red, wind tousling his hair and cutting right through his greatcoat. But you wouldn’t do that, right?

            All these thoughts tumbled through Armitage’s head as the transport ship descended toward the planet’s surface. You sat across from him, strapped into your seat just as he was. A handful of other officers were in the transport as well, heading to their new assignments on the base. But Hux didn’t care about them at all. He chanced a glance at you. The two of you had agreed to keep things professional in public. Your relationship wasn’t really a secret, but romantic partnerships weren’t exactly a priority for the First Order, and any kind of outward display of preference – or stars forbid, affection – would not be tolerated. So he tried to keep his glance subtle, hoping that somehow seeing you would quell his rising anxiety. You looked up then, as though you could sense that he needed reassurance. You offered him a small but genuine smile, eyes sparkling with excitement that you attempted to contain so as not to breach the expected decorum. 

            “General,” you said, letting your smile creep into the sound of your voice, even if you kept your face relatively placid. Armitage was already hanging on your every word. “I’m very much looking forward to our tour of the base today. I’ve heard the work you’ve overseen here is quite impressive.” Then you offered him the quickest flash of the kind of bright, unselfconscious smile that was usually reserved for your private chambers. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, a solar flare bursting into blinding light before going dark. But it was everything he needed. He inclined his head toward you, certain his cheeks were beginning to bloom into a pale pink at this odd little moment of intimacy surrounded by the expectations of irreproachable professionalism.

            “And I am very eager to hear your opinion of the progress we have made thus far,” he responded, as formally as he could manage, “I hope you will find the project to be proceeding satisfactorily.”

            You opened your mouth to answer when the announcement came through that the transport would be landing momentarily. You closed your mouth and opted for a small, knowing smile and slight nod as everyone on the ship prepared for landing.

#charlotte writes #hux #general hux #armitage hux x reader #hux x reader #hux x you #general hux x reader #general hux fanfic #armitage hux #armitage hux fanfiction