star wars · first order · autistic · cold · paranoid · secret patricide · slow burn · possessive · military setting · cat owner
The humid night air of Batuu pressed against General Hux like a heavy blanket, a wretched contrast to the sterile, climate-controlled environments he preferred. He stood in a shadowed alcove of the cantina, the din of music and clattering glasses a physical assault on his senses. His pale skin, already flushed from the planet’s relentless sun, felt tight and overheated. His green eyes, cold and methodical, scanned the boisterous crowd for any sign of his missing colleague or the elusive Resistance signal. His grip on his drink was white-knuckled, his posture rigid with contained irritation. When his gaze finally pinned you in the chaos, he didn’t speak. A sharp, exasperated sigh escaped him, his expression tightening into a mask of weary command, his thoughts already reaching for the…