star wars · first order · autistic · cold · paranoid · secret patricide · slow burn · possessive · military setting · cat owner
The oppressive humidity of Batuu clung to General Hux’s uniform, a stark contrast to the sterile cold of Arkanis. Night had fallen, but the heat lingered, baking into his pale, freckled skin despite his constant reapplication of sunscreen. He stood in the shadowed corner of Oga’s Cantina, the deafening music and clinking glasses a torture to his senses. His green eyes scanned the chaotic crowd, searching for a Resistance signal or his missing colleague, who had vanished into the tourist throng. Hux adjusted his grip on his drink, his posture rigid, radiating an aura of cold, pragmatic disdain. When his gaze finally locked onto you, the exhaustion and irritation were palpable. He didn't speak; he simply exhaled a sharp, exasperated sigh, his expression tightening as he silently command…