#and we'll get some glimpses into current hux waking up and telling this to reader lol

[goose-nest]

it only took me 34534 YEARS but i'm finally back in a headspace where feel like i can properly consume media omg i've been wanting to read this one for so long you don't even knooow i've missed your fics so much!! 😭💝

as always, see you under the cut 🫡

i'll never get enough of cadet hux let's gooo

the "does it take Hux 7000 words to ask reader a question? the answer is yes" made me snort so loudly lmaoo

omg not hux using his memory with reader to fall asleep!! 😩😩<3

(this is unrelated but i had some random music playing in the bg and a country song came up and suddenly hux in my mind had a cowboy hat and jeans sjdfjksd xD maybe i will do the cowboy AU after all hahaha)

hux being back to where he's entirely riddled by anxieties, worrying that reader is only being nice; it's a bit heart-breaking ngl but by now i know the pay-off will be so satisfying when they get to tell each other how they feel djfhdskf (if the dream ever gets there that is lol)

aww bb hux getting cold feet and turning away before reaching our door 🥺🥺

yay jeela cameo! :D

the comparison to a droid with essentially the engine light on going wee woo wee woo has me absolutely rolling sdhfjh 😂

hux promptly forgetting his student number when reader asks for it fhdsdhfksd i loooove the writing of that whole paragraph btw, the pacing, with the question at the end. ugh so good!!

"Maybe he would just pass out and he would never need to ask you." ah yes the good ol' reliable of hoping to pass out to get out of a situation xDD

"Maybe he should just get up, leave your room, and throw himself down the nearest garbage chute." ok drama queen 😂��� ugh i love himmmm

"He gathered his remaining senses – there weren’t many left to him." pffff 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

tbh getting to read through hux's inner workings is so funny every time because obviously his mind is reeling and it takes a split second or him to go through all stages of grief twice, but on the outside he's just sitting there kinda stiffly but i just know that reader finds it endearing either way (and probably feels a similar way inside anyways) and idk i was going somewhere with this but lost it along the way lol it's just such a fun read!

ugh charlotte!! i've missed your writing sm like fr fr <3 this was a great read and as always i was grinning and giggling like an idiot the whole time sdjfhshkf

a question – a 'time after time' bonus chapter (armitage hux x reader)

time after time masterlist – (this chapter is set after 'close to you')

Summary: Cadet Hux ventures to your room to ask you a question

Warnings/Tags: gn!reader; academy!reader and academy!hux; set pre-TFA; awkwardness; embarrassment; social anxiety; let me know if I've missed anything!

Words: 7215

Author’s Note: okayyyyy we are back with a new bonus chapter!! I actually wrote this one a while ago and then thought I didn't like it, but after doing some editing I think I've brought it to a place where I'm pretty happy with it! ☺️

this is our second 'academy dream' which follows after the events of 'close to you.' as I mentioned in that author's note, I'm essentially positioning these in the 'time after time' canon as dreams that Hux has so that I can explore what Hux and reader's relationship might have looked like had they met at the academy 💕

I suppose the question here is: does it take Hux 7000 words to ask reader a question? (the answer is yes lmaoooo) 😆 I really hope you enjoy! 🥰

Hux was standing outside your door. And he was kriffing terrified. He had turned around in the corridors what felt like a hundred times, each time almost convincing himself that he should abandon his plan and retreat to his own room. ‘Almost’ being the key word. Because now he was standing outside your door. 

He had thought of you every cycle since the party. He had replayed each moment of his time with you as he was trying to fall asleep, the comforting memory of your presence sometimes enough to coax him into unconsciousness for a few hours. He was certain that he had never had as much fun as he had in the flight sims with you. He didn’t have any of his designs with him, and his thoughts were far too scrambled by how close you were for him to remember any of the metrics for his ships that the sim required to configure an original model. He had been gripped with fear that you would be disappointed in him, but you had just offered him a sunny smile and asked him to choose random pre-set ships without telling you which ones they were so that you would have to guess at the flight mechanics during the sim. He wasn’t a very good co-pilot, given that he had only taken the bare minimum of flight requirements, and anything he had learned was momentarily erased from his mind by the fact that your hand would sometimes brush against his as you reached for different controls. You didn’t seem to mind that either though, since you smiled and you laughed and you talked to him. When you finally powered down the sim and he had walked you back to your room, you had even suggested that the two of you should do it again, and he could bring his designs next time. Hux was sure his enthusiastic response had been hardly coherent, but he was elated.

Now, though, he was kriffing terrified. And he was standing outside your door. The litany of fears that had almost convinced him to turn around so many times broke back into his thoughts as he stared at the dark metal. Maybe you hadn’t actually wanted to see him again and had only offered because it had been polite. People did that, right? Suggested doing something again even though they didn’t want to just because it was considered polite? But you had seemed to enjoy yourself. Was that politeness too? Hux understood the value of faking an expression when the situation called for it – maybe you were just trying to be nice even though you weren’t actually enjoying yourself. His heart was beating wildly out of control in the empty corridor. He feared it was so loud that the sound of it might be echoing against the metal of the hall. Maybe you could even hear it in your room.

Kriff, maybe you had found him to be unbearably awkward and completely incompetent at everything. After all, he reminded himself again, he had barely been able to focus on co-piloting the sim with you since he was completely captivated by listening to you speak, entirely transfixed by watching you expertly pilot the ship, wholly distracted by the sensation of your hand brushing against his occasionally. He was certain he had barely expressed one coherent thought to you in the couple of hours he had spent in the sim with you. He had tried – kriff had he tried – but then you would turn to him with a smile or you would laugh softly and suddenly his mind would go blank. Maybe he had made an utter fool of himself. 

But he wasn’t sure he could live with himself if he didn’t at least try to see you again. And he had been trying. Each cycle he had gotten closer and closer to your room before turning around as his fears consumed him, painting his cheeks a humiliating pink as he hurried back to his own room. This cycle he had gotten all the way. He had to try. He needed to see you again.

He was certain he could almost feel his heart hitting the inside of his ribs with the force of its flurried beating as he raised his hand to press the buzzer. His anxieties reached a fever pitch, screaming almost incoherently at him as his finger hovered over the button. Then he pressed it. Instantly, everything in him went silent as his body was completely frozen over with fear and disbelief. He had done it. He couldn’t believe he had done it.

In the beat of nothing that followed, his thoughts roared to life again. Maybe he had gotten the wrong room. No, that was impossible because you had let him walk you here after finishing with the sims and he had encoded the location and number into his memory. Maybe you were in classes. No, that couldn’t be true either, because the digital signage that greeted him upon entering your wing had dispassionately informed him that it was a rest period for your cohort and quiet hours were being strictly enforced with double demerits for anyone who caused a disruption. So maybe you were sleeping. Oh kriff, he would never recover from the embarrassment if he had come to bother you while you were trying to rest. That thought was almost enough to make him turn on his heel and leave immediately. Then the door whizzed open. 

The person standing in the doorway was not you. She had straight, dark hair tied back casually from her face and eyes that regarded him curiously. He immediately intuited that this must be Jeela.

“Can I help you?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. Hux swallowed. Jeela didn’t look like she had just woken up, and the lights in the room beyond her seemed to be on, so he allowed himself a small measure of relief that he hadn’t bothered you while you were sleeping. But also, you were probably in the room, just feet from him. And if he wanted to see you, then he needed to find some way to answer Jeela’s question, and he needed to do it now.

His voice was remarkably steady as he informed her that he had come to see you. One of her eyebrows lifted slightly, clearly in surprise. Nevertheless, she turned back into the room and called your name.

“There’s someone here to see you,” she added, presumably to a question from you that Hux couldn’t hear.

He didn’t even have time to prepare himself before you appeared, stepping somewhat tentatively toward the doorway. The sight of you alone was enough to stop most of his normal functioning. Even his treasured memories could hardly compare to the reality of you standing just in front of him. A flash of recognition passed across your face and then you looked almost… excited. You gave him a bright smile and everything in him went weak. It was a miracle he was able to stay upright, that nearly impossible feat only achieved thanks to his years of being drilled into perfect attention at all times. 

“Hi Armitage,” you said softly. If he had been a droid, no doubt all of his sensor suites would be blinking uncontrollably, little sirens going off to indicate he had reached his maximum computational capacity.

He tried to stutter out his own greeting, but only half of it came out, and even that was garbled. You didn’t seem to care at all.

“It’s quiet hours – you’ll get in trouble if any administrators come through on hall checks. Why don’t you come in,” you offered, shooting a quick glance at Jeela as though to see if she was alright with the prospect. Hux had almost forgotten Jeela was there at all. She just shrugged and pushed herself off the doorframe, disappearing back into the room.

Wait. You were inviting him inside. He had not calculated for this. He knew what to do if you had stayed in the doorway. He knew what to do if you had stepped into the hall to talk to him. He even knew what to do if you had suggested the two of you talk elsewhere. He had not planned for a scenario in which you invited him inside. 

He had never assumed you would be interested enough to invite him in. He had never assumed you would be comfortable enough to invite him in. Inviting him in suggested a lengthier conversation. It suggested you were at least somewhat enthusiastic about his presence. As he reworked these new calculations, their results causing heat to flood through him, he realized he was still standing in the hallway. You had invited him inside. He needed to go inside. 

With a little duck of his head that was both a pathetic gesture of thanks and a failed attempt to hide the red that was climbing steadily into his cheeks, he stepped toward the doorway. You moved back slightly, letting him enter the room. As soon as he was inside, he realized he had completed the only step in the hasty plan he had constructed, and he had no idea what to do next. 

Just as he was trying to untangle his mess of thoughts and figure out what the next normal action would be, you reached toward him, and he was frozen on the spot, his thoughts still a snarled mess. Your arm passed just fractions of an inch from him as you pressed the button to close the door behind him. His face was blazing. He should have moved. It would have been normal to move. But you were so close to him. He couldn’t move. He was sure you could sense his ragged breathing as clearly as he could already feel the comforting warmth that seemed to radiate from you.

You retracted your arm then and offered him a little smile. The potential courses of action he was attempting to assemble in his mind went clattering to the ground.

“Um, here – why don’t you sit?” You turned your attention to the desk that he suddenly realized he was standing next to. You had pulled out the chair, offering it to him, but then a little exclamation left your mouth. 

“Oh! Sorry, I was studying – all my things are still out.” In a flurry of activity, you shuffled your datapad and notes and a few other items that had been spread out on the surface of the desk. Tucking them into a neat stack off to the side, you indicated to the chair again with an inviting smile. 

Sitting down was probably within his capabilities. He sank into the chair, folding his long limbs inwards as he tried not to disturb anything. He should probably say something. He gathered his remaining senses and attempted to take a subtle deep breath.

“Thank you,” he murmured, mildly impressed the words came out of his lips at all. That was a start. “You didn’t need to move your things on account of me – they—they didn’t bother me at all.” Had he just articulated a nearly coherent sentence to you? He didn’t want to congratulate himself too soon, but he did allow himself to relax just slightly. Maybe he could actually do this after all. 

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” you assured him. “I needed to clean them up anyway since I’ll be going to bed before too much longer.” You stood in front of him for a moment, your hands folded in front of you, unconsciously twining and unentwining your fingers. Hux watched the movement fixedly, vividly remembering how your hand felt clasped in his, recalling the sparks each brush of your fingers set off on his skin. He really wanted to reach forward and take your hands in his, to ease your nervous gesture and savor the glowing sensation of your touch. But he understood only too distinctly that he could not do that. He tried to clear the image from his mind. He caged his hands in his lap.

You seemed to realize that you were still standing then, and you shuffled back slightly to perch on the edge of what must have been your bed. The space was not large at all, and you were so close to him, his bent knee not far from touching yours. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt this lightheaded while he was sitting down.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Jeela announced, causing Hux to snap his attention around to the other half of the room that clearly belonged to her. There was little to differentiate the sparse furnishings: the small room was a mirror image on each side, both halves populated with a regulation-issued bed, bedside table, desk, and chair, with a shallow closet inset into the wall near the foot of each bed. His eyes flicked over the dark walls and matching furniture and linens as he tried to ground himself, situating himself in the space. Certainly it looked just like every other room in any of the dormitory areas of the ship, inspected nearly daily to ensure it met regulation. But also, it was yours. You lived here. And you had invited him inside. His chest was feeling a little staticky.

The door whizzed open and shut behind him, presumably as Jeela left for the common refreshers. His eyes found you as you looked up to watch her leave. When the automatic lock clicked back into place, your attention returned to him and his reasoning abilities suffered under your soft gaze.

“It’s actually perfect that you came,” you said, and Hux could tell that you seemed genuinely excited. The buzzing in his chest increased considerably. “Because I was trying to message you.” You leaned forward to pull your datapad off the desk and flipped it open. “But since you’re in the engineering program, and I’m in the navy officers’ program, it wouldn’t let me do it with just your name – isn’t that silly? Just because we’re in slightly different advanced programs there’s an extra layer of required info just to be able to message each other. Anyway, I needed your student number too, which I didn’t know.”

You handed him your datapad, the screen pulled up to a message request screen, his name already filled in, the cursor blinking on the space for his student number. You had tried to message him. This whole time he had been inching closer and closer to your room each cycle, thinking himself out of it every time, and you had been trying to message him. The static in his chest must have spread to his head. All of his thoughts felt fuzzy as he struggled to regulate his breathing.

“Oh, sorry! But you don’t have to if you’re not comfortable,” you said instantly, pulling the device back slightly. Your face folded with embarrassment. “Sorry, I—I shouldn’t have assumed that you wanted me to message you. I— never mind.”

You had almost withdrawn the datapad entirely when Hux reached out on instinct and caught it, for once grateful for his long, gangly limbs. Your eyes were still nervous when you flicked your gaze to his. Stars, if only you know how kriffing much he wanted you to message him.

“Please,” he entreated quietly, gently pulling on the device to ease it back toward him, “you’re welcome to— well, I’d love for you to message me.” He had awkwardly traded a lukewarm sentiment that he thought would be expected for one that was certainly far too strong, even if it better articulated his true feelings. Why couldn’t this just come naturally to him? You didn’t seem to care about the faltering expression though, because the embarrassment faded from your features and you broke into a beaming smile that stilled all of Hux’s movement instantly.

“Oh! Well, wonderful, because I’d love to message you too! And, well, I did try, but it just…” You had released the datapad into his hands, and your sentence trailed off as you gestured vaguely to the screen that was demanding his student number. He looked at the empty box. You’d love to message him. He needed to input his student number. You’d love to message him. He’d had his student number memorized for years. You’d love to message him. What was his student number? 

He blinked rapidly, trying to force himself to focus. If he wanted to message you, he needed to put in his student number. That knowledge was enough for him to fight through the staticky feeling that lingered in his mind and withdraw the required information from his cluttered mess of thoughts. He tapped the number into the box and double and triple checked it. Then he pressed the button to submit the request. After a moment of processing, the screen informed him that the message request had been sent successfully. Kriff, he wished he had his datapad with him so he could accept the request immediately. He handed the device back to you.

“I don’t have my datapad with me,” he apologized as you took the device and set it back on your desk, “but I’ll accept the request when I return to my room.”

“Oh, yes, of course! Whenever you have time is fine,” you assured him. It would be his first action immediately upon getting back to his room.

“Did, um… did you come for a particular reason?” you asked then. “I mean, I’m just glad you came! So, you didn’t have to have a reason, but I just didn’t know if you… did. Have a specific reason, that is.” You half buried your face in your hand then, as though embarrassed by your rush of words. 

He was still processing the fact that you said you were glad that he had come, and that he didn’t need to have a reason. Did that mean he could stop by and see you again? That wasn’t precisely what you had said, but your words did imply it. Then he realized you had asked him a question. Did he have a particular reason for coming? Kriff, he did. He had somehow convinced himself that he would never get to the part of the conversation where he would actually need to tell you what that reason was, despite the fact that it had been one of the initiating factors for this whole trip. Well, that and just seeing you again. But he did have a reason. And you were asking for it. So he needed to tell you. He took a deep breath even as he knew his cheeks were flooding with pink.

“I um… I submitted one of my designs to a competition for cadets in the engineering program. And it— uh… it won, so…” He heard an excited gasp escape your lips and he looked up.

“Armitage, that’s wonderful! Congratulations!” In your genuine enthusiasm, you had reached across the small space between the two of you and caught his fingers in yours. You squeezed them lightly as though to emphasize your words before releasing them, but the gesture had effectively stopped nearly everything within Hux. Though the contact was brief, it left a glowing warmth on his skin that was beginning to sink into his body, causing little shivers to race through him. He stared almost uncomprehendingly at his fingers. You had touched him. Easily. Casually. Happily. 

He tried to get his mouth to form the rest of the words to explain his reason for coming, but the sounds kept getting caught in his throat. You had touched him. He swore he could almost see fireworks going off on his hands, sending shimmering, golden sparks whirling in ecstatic spirals from the places where your fingers had touched his. In his deepest hopes, he had wished you would touch him again, but he hadn’t thought it would be so soon. He never thought it would be now. 

When he tuned back into his senses, he realized his breathing was uneven. Kriff, he had been so stunned by the sudden, glorious contact with you that he had completely derailed his own thoughts. He couldn’t just sit there in silence looking at his hands, you’d think he was utterly deranged. What had he been saying? Right – he had been explaining the reason for why he had come to see you. He attempted to steady his breaths enough that he thought he would be capable of forming coherent words.

“And I won two passes to the officer’s dining hall.” It was a privilege sometimes granted to upper-level cadets for things like winning a competition or an outstanding academic record. It offered the rare opportunity to eat something other than nutrition bars. Hux didn’t really care about that though. He didn’t mind the nutrition bars, and he had never had any real desire to eat in the officer’s dining hall, even though many of his peers fantasized about it. That was why he had never entered this competition until now even though they ran it most terms – he just didn’t care about the prize. Until now. Until you.

“I’ve heard the food there is really good,” you said. “I knew someone last year who got a pass for acing a difficult test and she said there was a huge selection. You must be so excited to try it!” Kriff, your genuine enthusiasm on his behalf was making his whole body feel staticky. He needed to focus. He had to ask you.

“I was actually thinking— well, the reason I came to see you…” He suddenly had to grip the edge of the chair to keep himself steady as blood rushed into his head, pounding in his ears. Stars, he was so nauseous. He couldn’t believe he had made it this far. He truly had never planned for a scenario where he got to the point of actually asking you this. Probably because he knew subconsciously that if he had planned for it, he never would have come. Because what if you said no? 

What if he asked, and you weren’t interested? What if you were horrified or disgusted? What if you laughed at him for suggesting such a thing? He would never recover from it. But you were excited that his design had won. You had touched him. Kriff, you had touched him. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself, only to find that he was shaking uncontrollably. Maybe he would just pass out and he would never need to ask you. No. He needed to ask you.

“I was wondering if you’d like to come to the officer’s dining hall. To get a meal. With me.” The words came out in such a flurried rush that he wasn’t even sure they were coherent. They probably weren’t. He pressed a hand to his face, unable to look at you. Everything in him was hot, and he was sure every inch of his pale, freckled skin was humiliatingly pink. He thought he was going to throw up. Maybe he should just get up, leave your room, and throw himself down the nearest garbage chute. 

“Armitage, that’s so thoughtful – I would love to! But are you sure you want to spend your second pass on me? You could go twice if you wanted.”

Hux looked up immediately, his hand falling away from his face. You… you would love to go. With him. He searched your features, his roiling anxieties telling him it was somehow a joke. But he found nothing but enthusiasm in your expression. You actually wanted to go with him. His eyes continued to flick over your face, and then he detected just a trace of nervousness. Why were you nervous? Most of his reasoning faculties had shut down after he had heard that you would love to go with him, but you had said something else. He tried to replay the sentence. Oh, you were nervous because you weren’t sure he should spend his second pass on you, because he could go twice. He almost could have scoffed at that. The only reason he got them at all was to go with you. But you didn’t know that. You were being generous. He needed to say something so that you wouldn’t be nervous.

“No, I—I would very much like for you to go. With me. If you want.” He was painfully aware that the words were still awkward and hedging, but he was still having a hard enough time processing the fact that he had actually asked you, much less that you had said yes. 

“If you’re certain, then yes, I’d love to go with you!” you exclaimed, and even Hux’s fears couldn’t find a reason to doubt your words from the happiness that was clearly written on your face.

You’d love to go you’d love to go you’d love to go. The thought was dancing in giddy circles through his head, and the fireworks that had cascaded over his hands were now popping and fizzing across his entire body, leaving trails of sparkling light behind. You’d love to go.

“Excellent. Perfect.” Hux couldn’t come up with any words that properly expressed his enthusiasm. “When would you like to go?” Stars, he wanted to go right that instant, to have an excuse to keep talking to you, to keep spending time with you, but he understood that was unrealistic. Your face fell a little and was overtaken by an expression of mild frustration. You reached for your datapad again.

“My schedule’s a little complicated right now,” you explained as you tapped at the device, likely bringing up your calendar. “Because I’m in Flight Mechanics for Complex Environments, but it’s the advanced section, so we have additional modules in the sims. But for whatever reason, our instructor only schedules them for a week at a time rather than all the way through the term, so I never know exactly what my schedule will look like, and I’m still waiting for her to publish the module times for next week.” You heaved a sigh and made a little gesture of annoyance that was utterly endearing despite the frustration that Hux realized had motivated it. His heart did a little flip in his chest.

“That’s completely fine,” he rushed to assure you. “Once you know, you can message me if you would like, and we can schedule something from there.” He was almost stunned by the clarity with which he had proposed the idea. The suggestion sounded… normal – it was a normal and reasonable thing to suggest. A little rush of pride washed through him.

“You’re right – that’s a great idea,” you responded, the brightness in your expression returning as you set your datapad back down. You thought it was a great idea. Yes! He was doing well at this!

After a moment, your face fell a little, and Hux’s celebratory mood along with it. His mind instantly concocted a thousand scenarios for the change in your expression, first among them was that you had finally realized what you agreed to and were regretting it. Why would you want to go to the officer’s dining hall with him? Why would you even want to be seen with him? Or spend time with him? The sick feeling in his stomach returned.

“I um…” you started quietly, your eyes flicking away from him as you absently picked at the black fabric of your covers. Hux’s full attention was locked on you. He was barely breathing as he strained to hear what you would say next, already filling in a hundred ways for you to say you were no longer interested in going with him.

“I wanted to apologize,” you said softly. Hux was certain he had not done well at repressing the look of complete shock on his face. Apologize? Apologize for kriffing what? He flipped back through every treasured interaction he had had with you, and – as he had expected – found not a single thing you should feel like you needed to apologize for.

“I was going to do it over messages, but I guess I’ll say it now. Since you’re here.” You took a little breath that trembled around the edges. You still weren’t looking at him. Now Hux was feeling sick for an entirely different reason. He didn’t want you to feel the need to apologize for anything. As far as he was concerned, you were the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

“I’m sorry for how I was in the sims,” you said finally, exhaling all the words in one long breath. “I—I think I was kind of overexcited and I didn’t let you do much of the flying. And I just— usually it’s just me in there, so I didn’t think about it, but I should have been more aware of that. And then I was thinking about it later, and I… Well, I was worried that maybe you didn’t have a very good time. Because of me. So I wanted to say sorry for that. And—and if you wanted to do it again sometime, I promise I’ll be better and um… and more cognizant. But I also understand if it wasn’t very fun for you and if you don’t want to go again. That’s fine too.” Your flood of words came out in a rush then. When you had finished, you finally looked at him again, and the worry he could see in your eyes was cutting through him.

Oh no. Oh kriff. You thought he didn’t have a good time. Because of you. Oh kriff kriff kriff how was he ever supposed to tell you that he was fairly certain he had never had a better time in his whole life because of you? He was halfway between crying for the first time in years and dissolving completely into panic. He needed you to not be worried about this. The idea of you thinking that somehow he hadn’t enjoyed himself and that any part of that was related to you was actually starting to make bile rise into his throat. How the kriff was he supposed to articulate that to you when he had almost thrown himself into a garbage chute over asking if you would like to get a meal with him? But he was becoming increasingly aware that he needed to say something, and he needed to say it soon, because otherwise you would probably take his silence as confirmation that your fears were true, even though they couldn’t be further from the truth.

“No, no, no, not at all.” It was a start at least, but he needed to say something else, something more reassuring. 

“I really enjoyed myself.” A paltry way to express that those couple hours he had spent with you were some of the best he had ever experienced. But he knew anything further would be far beyond his capacity to articulate without risk of becoming completely nonfunctional. He needed to say something more though, something that proved his words were true. He forced himself to think. Was there a specific moment he could point to that he had enjoyed? Kriff, he had enjoyed all of it. And he certainly couldn’t say that most of his focus had been on everything about you: your voice, your laughter, your smile, if and when you were going to brush against his hand again. Blast it, he barely remembered the sim at all. Wait. He could say that. Kind of.

“And it’s actually me who should be apologizing – I fear I was not a very good co-pilot at all.” Hux was almost stunned into silence by his own words. That was precisely what he wanted to say. He shook his head slightly, making himself keep going. 

“I’ve only taken the basic required flight courses, so I’m certain I wasn’t much help. And anyway, I…” His sudden burst of confidence deflated abruptly. He flexed his fingers nervously, hoping the movement might ease the words from his mouth.

“I enjoyed watching you fly. You… you’re really good at it.” He had barely managed a whisper, and he could already feel the heat coursing through his face. He had certainly gone way too far – that had not been the correct thing to say, even if it was true. His eyes were fixed on the dark, polished floor, cheeks blazing, waiting for you to say you wanted him to leave now.

“Really?” Your small question brought his gaze back up to you instantly, even before he could think about it. The only emotion he could read on your face was disbelief. He realized the beat of silence it took him to recalculate things was probably a bit too long, that he should have said something more quickly, but he had needed time to readjust. 

“Really,” he promised. “And I would really like to go again,” he added, trying to ride the wave of bravery brought on by the knowledge that you hadn’t seemed at all put off by his confession. “And I can bring my designs if you want.” Stars, he would probably pass out for real if you flew his designs and liked them, but even the prospect of that humiliation was not enough to stop him from wanting it so desperately that it made the edges of his words tremble just a little. 

“Yes, Armitage, I’d love that!” The genuine enthusiasm in your voice coupled with your bright smile immediately reduced all of his thoughts to delighted static. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware that he should probably say something back, not just stare at you wordlessly. He simply breathed the word ‘okay’ into the small space between you, still too entirely captivated by the radiant light of you to produce anything further. Oh kriff you’d love to go with him and have him bring his designs and then you could fly them and you might even like them and then maybe you’d touch him again and what if you held his hand again and what if you liked that too and you were going to go to the officer’s dining hall with him and you were excited for that as well and then maybe you’d enjoy your time with him there and then want to spend even more time with him after. Hux struggled to process everything that had just happened and what it all meant. He would need to think through this further later, because right now his glowing cloud of elated thoughts was making him feel so lightheaded he feared he might actually be wavering on the chair. 

He had almost gotten to the point of trying to say something else to you when he was suddenly snapped back into the present as the door whirred open and Jeela reentered the room. That meant his time alone with you was ended for the moment. He could only bear that thought with some measure of forbearance because he knew he would have more time with you later. He also understood that Jeela’s reentry and your comment about going to bed soon meant he needed to leave. 

He was preparing to do just that when Jeela made a move he had not expected. She strode past him and came to land on your bed, sitting next to you.

“Sorry I didn’t introduce myself before,” she said, “I think I was in shock, because this one,” she mock-punched you and you dodged her hand with a little laugh, “never has guests. But I’m Jeela Mitaka.”

“Armitage Hux,” he responded on instinct with a little duck of his head. This was an exchange he understood well. Jeela’s expression quirked into one of mild surprise.

“Oh! The one you told me about from the party?” she asked you, and you seemed to fumble with your words for a minute as a sort of shy embarrassment fell over your features. Then you just nodded in confirmation when nothing was forthcoming from your lips. 

You… you had told Jeela? About him? He had hoped to be able to keep himself composed in front of your roommate, but he knew his face was steadily pinking again. Stars, what had you told her? Why did you seem shy or embarrassed all of a sudden? Kriff, what had you told her? The very idea that you would tell her anything about him, that he was that noteworthy to you, was truly making it quite difficult for him to breathe. 

“Come on,” she playfully jostled you with her shoulder, “you should have told me I was in the presence of a hero.” She flicked her gaze to him then, her words more serious: “thanks for saving my roommate from a panic attack, Hux. That was really nice of you to do.”

Oh no. This was bad. This was really bad. Well, actually it was good. So good. So kriffing good. But also it was bad. Because now Hux was going to black out for sure, right then and there. If he had been a droid, there would be wisps of smoke rising from him as his control panels popped open, loose wires and springs bursting free from their casings as he malfunctioned entirely. He wasn’t going to be able to come back from this. 

You had told Jeela that he had saved you from your panic attack, which was far from true – he had barely done anything – but somehow you thought he had? Jeela had considered him a hero – although he knew her tone was slightly joking, but still – did that mean that was how you had presented him to her? As a hero? He tried to swallow but his throat was so dry. One of his hands gripped at the edge of the chair again, the other arm wrapped around his torso as he tried to keep himself from physically shaking. He wasn’t sure it fully worked. His mind and body were reacting like his modeling programs when he wasn’t patient enough to wait for all the metrics to load and render before he added more – he was struggling to process this information.

“I didn��t do much,” he was finally able to stammer out, the words only pulled from his mouth by the knowledge that if he sat there silently twitching for one more second, you would be seriously reevaluating your far-too-generous praise of him. “But I was happy to help.”

He dared to glance up at you then, a bold move considering that even under normal circumstances your warm gaze and soft smile were enough to empty his mind of all thoughts. The way you were looking back at him was still shy, but also almost… glowing? Was that possible? It must have been, because all of a sudden it felt like he was standing in a sunbeam, the golden warmth soaking into his skin and down to his very bones. Everything in him felt soft.

“I’ll let you get some sleep,” he said hoarsely. He was suddenly painfully aware that if he lingered one more minute under the glowing light of you, he might never be able to force himself to leave. 

He gathered his remaining senses – there weren’t many left to him. He tried to feel each of his limbs, to sense if he might be able to stand without faltering. Maybe he should falter though, then you might catch him, your warm hands pressed against him, sending fireworks exploding across his skin. No. He couldn’t do that. In his current state, he might start crying if you touched him again, despite how he longed for you to do so. He couldn’t risk it. 

He pushed himself up to stand, and you echoed the motion. Oh kriff, the room was so small, and you were so close to him now. He had stood surprisingly steadily, but now that steadiness was being severely compromised by the way he thought he would be able to almost feel you breathing if he inched just slightly closer. No. No no no no. He couldn’t do that. He needed to leave before he ruined everything. 

You might have thought he was a hero, but he knew that he was a fumbling, awkward mess, and it would take just one wrong move for you to see it too. Then you would never want to see him again and then he would never see you smile at him again or hear your warm laugh and then you wouldn’t touch him again, and those thoughts were making him feel quite ill. He swallowed the bile that was threatening to rise further into his throat. He had to focus on the positive: you were going to the officer’s dining hall with him, you wanted him to bring his designs to the sims next time, and – for the moment at least – you thought he was a hero. He just needed to act normally enough that you would still want to spend more time with him. 

He took a quiet deep breath and tried to offer you what he hoped was a smile. That was a normal thing to do, right? A good expression that would assure you that he was happy? Kriff, it probably looked so wrong and stiff on his face. Even if it did, you were gracious enough to return the smile, beaming at him happily in a way that almost made him fall back into the chair. 

He turned toward the door, and he could sense you following just behind. He was also aware of Jeela still sitting on the bed, watching the interaction unfold with curious eyes. He needed to be normal, he reminded himself, he needed to be someone you would want to spend more time with.

“Thank you so much for coming, Armitage,” you said as you pushed the button to open the door, and he could hear the sincerity in your voice.

“Of course,” he replied, forcing the words from his still-dry throat as he moved toward the doorway. He just needed to not kriff this up in the last few paces out the door.

“I’ll message you!” you promised as he stepped through the doorway, and he ducked his head in acknowledgement. He could already imagine the absolute elation he would feel when he saw your name pop onto his datapad screen with a message. 

“Bye, Armitage!” you said with a little wave as the door whizzed shut. He raised his hand in an echoing gesture that he hoped you saw before the door closed entirely. 

In the quiet corridor, he took a breath so deep it filled his whole thin frame. His thoughts were still a scrambled mess. So much had happened in the brief time he had spent with you. He had so much information he needed to sort out and make sense of. But first and foremost, he needed to return to his room and approve your message request as soon as possible so you could message him. Jolts of excited electricity burst through him at the thought, and he hurried back through the corridors, happier than he could ever remember being. You were going to message him.