Clone Trooper Rex X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Part 2 of “Forget Me Not” is coming out tomorrow 👹👹👹👹 RAHHHHHH IM SO EXCITED I AM SO PROUD OF IT SO FAR!!!!!!!!

Little sneak peak <33

(Ps it’s out now)

A lone tear cascaded down his face, leaving a wet, salty trail from the midpoint of his eye, down the plush softness of his cheek, dripping off the edge of his jaw. Just like her scar. He let his thumb caress the rough, broken, damaged skin, his lips twisted in a pained frown, stunned to silence. 

Her hand, one that used to be so soft and so gentle, was now gripping tightly at his wrist, a gentle shadow on her cheeks, on her scar, casted by her eyelashes. When did she get it? How did she get it?

Her head twisted to the side, making the most effort to hide that side of her face from his gaze. 

"Don't.." Rex whispered, no, he warned, taking a hold of her chin, forcing her to turn his way, to face him. Lowering his face to hers, his voice was strained, rough, pleading. "I want to see you.. Let me see you, mesh'la." The word spilled from his lips with such ease, with so much delicacy, as he touched his nose against hers, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips hovered just an inch above hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against his skin. 

He had dreamt of this day, every night, every day, for so. Many. Years. 

He had dreamt of lifting her into his arms, of kissing her, of crying with her, of holding her, of crashing her against his bed, leaning on top of her, letting her feel his undying love for her. For so many kriffing years.

She's alive. 

She's breathing.

She's here.

"I missed you. So. Kriffing. Much." He muttered, his voice becoming more strained with each oncoming word, his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead flush against your own as he fought every fibre in his body against the awful, suffocating need to kiss you. Another pained whimper left her lips. And that was what undid it for him. 

YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYA IM SO EXCITED TO POST THIS!!!!!!!

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭

Captain Rex x F!Jedi!Reader Pt.2 of Forget Me Not Rex has finally settled down on a faraway, isolated planet. Finally, he has found some semblance of peace from the ongoing war against the Empire. Finally, he can take the time to recover from losing you, but how long will that last? Word Count: 3007 Warnings: Swearing, making out, old injuries. A/N: This has been specifically requested, and can be thought of as either the continuation of the previous story or an alternative ending :) It was going to turn into a big fat smut but my brain couldn't handle posting that (I've never written or posted a full smut before!!)

Vast golden fields swayed gently in the warm, evening summer breeze. The golden sun illuminated the landscape, a warm glow settling over the hay and Rex's figure, who was relaxing on his porch, hands behind his head as he observed the sight before him.

How many times had he dreamt of such a sight? Of owning his own little farm, of owning a couple of banthas and chickens and goats? 

Too many times for his younger, prouder self to admit. 

Where his brothers used to loudly fantasise over their ideal futures, he was too busy playing the perfect soldier, sticking to his obligations, rules and limitations.

But now? Now he had that one small bundle of joy, held tightly within his iron-hard grasp. And he wasn't about to go exchanging it for anything else. Not in a million lifetimes.

The loud, content bellowing of a few banthas stripped him of his thoughts, his gaze looking for the one particular creature that always seemed to make the most noise. Far ahead, to his left, was one bantha, rolling its body in the hay, short tail wagging left to right, continuous hums and moos escaping its throat in ground-shaking vibrations.

A soft smile tugged at Rex's lips; that was his oldest, and his first ever Bantha.

He had spent the last four years nurturing and caring for the creature, leading it over stretches of land, until he was finally able to settle down in an abandoned farmhouse, far away from any civilization.

The farmhouse itself wasn't in such bad shape. Sure, it needed repairs here and there, but it wasn't anything a tough solider like Rex couldn't handle. He got to work pretty quick, with his handy tools and a shit ton of determination, he had refurnished and fixed the farmhouse within a year and a half, and now, all that was left was to renew the coat of paint that seemed to chip away any time it rained.

But Rex figured that could wait, after all, no one would be able to tell that the farmhouse was being used as long as it looked old and rusty, right?

With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes, basking in the warmth provided by the rays of the setting sun. He was tired. It was a long day of working on the farm, planting the appropriate crops for the upcoming, much colder, season, as well as milking the banthas to make different cheeses the next day.

He thought over his schedule, already feeling a headache rising in the back of his head. The following week he was supposed to be making his way over to the nearest town, to sell whatever he had managed to produce over the last two weeks. Going to the closest town over was his least favourite activity; he preferred to stay hidden away in his little farmhouse with his Banthas and Tooka.

He preferred to relax on his porch, to watch over his animals as they grazed happily across the long stretch of fields, to feel the warm sunrays kissing his skin, to watch the sun lazily disappear behind the horizon.

He let his tired eyes fall closed, the wrinkles on his skin seemingly fading away, a soft smile shining on his face at the soft hum of the summer breeze and grazing animals, an all too familiar weight lifting from his chest inch by inch. The gentle breeze passed his body, leaving a pleasant, cooling chill to run down his spine.

Darkness and warmth surrounded him like a weighted blanket, though his body felt light. He dreamt of nothing, his mind jumping to and from consciousness, his body twitching at a sudden shift in atmosphere. His ears almost twitched at the soft whir of a ship flying above, goose bumps rising over the expanse of his bare, muscular arms as a much stronger wind grazed past his body.

But his eyes snapped open to the sound of panicked tip-tapping of his banthas, their heaved breathing and confused whines reaching his ears. The warm honeyed glare of his eyes was gone, now replaced by a deep black as he looked around, the night sky pitch black.

He must have snoozed off or something, how many hours have passed?

The banthas continued to make noise, but this time the briefest whispers accompanied them. With a strong, heavy inhale, Rex slowly rose from his seat, eyes squinted as he tried to cover for his lack of vision.

Who were they? The Empire? 

Surely not.

Rex had made sure to cover all of his tracks, remaining classed as officially dead in the Empire's files. 

Did someone betray him? 

But who? 

And how? 

Only a very small number of people actually knew-

"Hey lady! Calm it!" A familiar voice said all too loudly, giving an affectionate pat to one of the banthas. The voice, it was so.. so like Rex's.

His eyes widened as the other figures shushed the man, and Rex couldn't help the relieved smile and sigh that escaped his chest. 

He knew those people. After all, they're the ones he rescued Echo with.

However, one by one, various emotions swirled around in his head. Happiness? Of course. He was happy to see his brothers after four gruelling, lonely years. Confusion? Hell yeah! What was so important that they had to break their no contact? Relief too, he could feel the way his heart rate had spiked just at the mere idea of danger, blood rushing into his head, loudly pounding against his eardrums.

Slowly, one foot moved, followed by the other, taking turns leading Rex down the porch, towards his brothers. Towards his family.

At the sight of Rex's moving figure, some men groaned, whereas Wrecker and Omega began running at full-speed towards the male, tackling him to the ground in a long awaited hug.

"Rex! We missed you!" Omega exclaimed, erupting into fits of laughter as Rex's strong arm wrapped around her and Wrecker.

"Alright alright! Now get off of me, I can feel my bones being crushed!" Rex exclaimed, though his hold on the two didn't ease, nor did his smile disappear.  Quickly scrambling off of him, the two couldn't contain their happy, yet seemingly mischievous smiles as Hunter extended a hand out to Rex.

"It's been a while, brother." Hunter nodded, pulling Rex in for a quick hug, patting his back. Hunter's body was stiff, his shoulders tense and breathing strained as he moved away, Rex noticed. That was unusual.

Though a smile remained on his face, Rex couldn't help but feel nervous at the strange tension surrounding the batch. As he looked around, one eyebrow quirked at the sight of Tech and Crosshair shielding Echo from view and.. someone else? Who were they?

"What's going on..?" He questioned, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two.

Echo and the figure stood in the very far back, Echo's arm was wrapped tightly around their shoulders, holding them protectively close to his chest, his grip tight as if the figure would disappear into the darkness of the night if his hold let up even by an inch.

His eyes remained trained on Echo and the mysterious figure, though Rex's head tilted slightly to the right, in Hunter's direction.

"Hunter-" Rex started, but was quickly interrupted by the look on Echo's face. His ears strained, almost missing the soft, trembling whimper. The figure brought a hand up to their face, too late in stifling the sound.

As their hand lifted, Rex noticed that all-too familiar, cuffed sleeve hanging onto their hand. 

Time seemed to slow, his chest straining painfully at the sound. Rex could feel his heart drop, the air sucked from his body like a popped balloon.

His sight was stuck on that sleeve, visions plaguing his mind, replaying like a broken tape.

Memories, memories of her.

That voice.

His legs moved before his mind could even comprehend what was happening. Tech and Crosshair narrowly avoided being collided into, stepping to the side as Rex pushed through. 

His lips twisted into a pained frown, his teeth gritted together like metal bars.

That robe.. That Jedi robe.

How didn't he notice it right away?

The look on Echo's face told him everything he needed to know, his hold easing on her as Rex reached his arms out, gripping her shoulders tightly.

"Y/n.." Her name spilled from his lips so easily, so softly, as though he was cursed, spellbound to only repeat her name, only those few simple syllables for the rest of eternity. It lingered on his tongue like the sweetest of syrups, leaving a fiery, burning trail in his throat, scalding at his heart like a molten fist, twisting, turning and tearing.

"Rex," A shiver fell down his spine, his breath hitching in his throat. How long had it been since he last heard it? Tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes, his gut twisting into a familiar knot, adrenaline spreading like fire through his veins. His heart pumped blood so quickly, so fiercely through his body, it was like a thousand fireworks had gone off in that instant. Many people have said his name, of course, but only her voice had ever evoked such strong emotions in him.

From the way she'd command his attention during meetings, her gaze lingering a second longer than necessary, the way she'd whisper it when it was just the two of them, hiding in a faraway corner on one of the ships, or even the way it rolled off the tip of her tongue whilst-

It felt like the world around had been sucked into the background, leaving only the two of them, hearts beating wildly, minds melting over one another, even the cold night failing to gather their attention.

His hands, which had been previously on her shoulders, were now gently cradling her face, thumbs swishing back and forth in soft strokes. 

His whole focus was on her eyes- oh, those starry eyes.

How many times had he dreamed of them?

How many times had he cried at night, calling out for her in broken whispers and sobs?

Rex knew it was a few times too many, and yet at the same time, it wasn't enough.

A sob left his lips as he dropped the hood off her head, revealing the person behind the shadowy figure.

Something was different. Off.

Her face, although so familiar, was now so different. Bathed in aged lines, marks, grease and dirt, and worst of all.. A scar.

He hadn't noticed it under the shadow of her hood, but now, it was ever so prominent under the blaring moonlight.

A lone tear cascaded down his face, leaving a wet, salty trail from the midpoint of his eye, down the plush softness of his cheek, dripping off the edge of his jaw. Just like her scar. He let his thumb caress the rough, broken, damaged skin, his lips twisted in a pained frown, stunned to silence.

Her hand, one that used to be so soft and so gentle, was now gripping tightly at his wrist, a gentle shadow on her cheeks, on her scar, casted by her eyelashes. When did she get it? How did she get it?

Her head twisted to the side, making the most effort to hide that side of her face from his gaze.

"Don't.." Rex whispered, no, he warned, taking a hold of her chin, forcing her to turn his way, to face him. Lowering his face to hers, his voice was strained, rough, pleading. "I want to see you.. Let me see you, mesh'la." The word spilled from his lips with such ease, like a prayer, with so much delicacy, so much practice, as he brushed his nose against hers, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips hovered just an inch above hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against his skin.

He had dreamt of this day, every night, every day. For. So. Many. Years.

He had dreamt of lifting her into his arms, of kissing her, of crying with her, of pushing her against his bed, leaning on top of her, making love to her. 

For so many kriffing years.

She's alive.

"I missed you. So. Kriffing. Much." He muttered, his voice becoming more strained with each oncoming word, his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead flush against your own as he fought every fibre in his body against the awful, suffocating need to kiss you. Another pained whimper left your lips, unknowingly acting as a trigger for his next movements.

His lips crashed against your own, his hands keeping your face steady, making sure you wouldn't slip away like the hundreds, no, thousands of dreams he's had before.

Your lips were as soft as he remembered, your touch featherlight and rough. Your hands were shaking, he noted. You were afraid. Afraid of him? You wouldn't be kissing back if that was the case.

Your scent overwhelmed him, it was that faint smell of peach shampoo that he loved so much, it was making his knees weak. Where did you manage to get that from? From the state of you, he was sure you were dying for a hot, bubbly bath. Maybe it was just his imagination playing up. Kissing you, it was addicting. He was like a starved man, pushing his lips against your own, his tongue slipping past to dance with yours in a sweet Waltz, full of grief and hope and longing and all the years wasted away by your separation, by his fear of your light having been snuffed out, like a flickering flame.

You were his light in the dark, his oasis in a never-ending dessert, his midsummer night's dream. You had that spark in you - the one that attracted individuals to you like moths to light. Your laugh, so easily evoked, and your kind smiles, so easily graced upon anyone and everyone, shining down like sunshine on a dewy, autumn morning. You were a breath of fresh air, but also a crackling, comforting fire on a cold winters night.

But he had lost you just so quickly, on that day. Never knowing, for years, if you'd be back. If you were alive.

Your touch slowly grew from soft, dissipated like cotton-candy and falling snowflakes, to eager, pleading for more as your fingers found solace in his slightly outgrown blonde hair, encasing his head in your embrace, pulling him closer as you kissed feverishly, afraid he will disappear like dandelion seeds on a spring day.

You couldn't hear anything but his heartbeat, you couldn't smell anything but his scent, one that had creeped up on you and wrapped around you in an invisible embrace, the smell of freshly cut grass and smoky campfires entrapping you. You couldn't feel anything but him. His hands, always so much bigger than yours, had completely and utterly gotten control over your body, feeling and caressing your hair, gripping your chin and pulling you closer by your waist, his lips hot against your own, his breathing stuttering and yet so laboured as his teeth clashed against your own, his eyes scrunched shut - afraid you would disappear.

Being held in his arms was like a dream come true. You could spend an eternity with him, never losing your love and affection for the soldier standing before you. His warmth planted butterflies in your stomach, and his touch ignited them, making them burn wildly in your gut, scalding and yet patching over the old scars and wounds, gently embracing your heart in a healing bandage.

Only Rex could do such a thing. 

Only Rex could make your heart beat faster, only Rex could have adrenaline pumping through your veins just by a featherlight touch, or a sweet, candy-like, tooth-rotting whisper, or a longing, loving gaze of his golden irises and lush eyelashes.

So lost in each other, for so long, neither the two of you broke contact, until Hunter had to clear his throat awkwardly and speak up to make the two of you slowly, unwillingly, pull apart. 

Rex's forehead rested against yours, crows feet tugging at the outer corners of his eyes, his lips slightly agape as he tried to calm down the galloping of his heart. 

Slowly, eventually, his eyes opened again, the familiar warm colour of honey swirling around his pupils as he gazed into your eyes, a small, pained, and yet happy smile overtaking his features. His heart melted as that same smile reflected on your face, and tears brimmed in your eyes.

"Are you guys done yet?" Crosshair's voice called from a short distance, disgust and yet somehow a hint of endearment present in it.

"You lot go ahead, we'll catch up in a minute," Rex tossed the words over his shoulder with little to no care, rolling his eyes at the loud scoff that came from Crosshair. It was quickly followed by an audible smack, an 'Ouch', and the sound of retreating footsteps.

Your shoulders shook as a breathy laugh escaped you, and as you shut your eyes once more, tears began to escape one by one, sliding down the expanse of your cheek. Rex wasted no time in bringing a hand to gently wipe away at your tears, his own tears tickling at his waterline. 

He missed you so damn much.

And finally, you were here, with him, crying and smiling in his arms.

His throat felt tight, as if someone was strangling him, daring him to say anything. His chest felt heavy, and he was sure if he was stood up any longer, he would simply collapse. 

His thumb caressed the soft, and yet ragged, skin on your cheek, the corners of his lips twisted into a semi-frown, his heart hurting, blood pumping loudly in his ears.

His lips opened and closed, at a loss for words, but his voice found a way to come through.

"You have n-no idea," His voice was just above a mere whisper, afraid if he were to speak any louder, you'd crumble away under his touch, or he'd wake up. 

His thumb moved to trace the outline of your scar, a loving look present in the golden pool of his irises.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you.."

𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

Captain Rex x Reader Every waking moment you had to yourself, you spent on trying to remember. To remember his touch. His voice, his warmth. His face and his eyes. But how could you when after so many years it's become nothing but a blur? And each time you're close, each time your mind drags back pieces of the puzzle together, you're interrupted. Word Count: 1,462 Warnings: Angst A/N: This idea came to me whilst listening to Once Upon A Dream from Sleeping Beauty and I couldn't help myself but vomit words onto screen, I hope whoever reads this enjoys this because I loved the idea TT

The city lights from below twinkled and burned brightly like the stars in the dark sky above. A miniscule smile rested atop your lips, a familiar gleam sparkling in your irises.

The cold autumn breeze flew past you, ruffling your unruly hair into an even more so, larger mess. 

A blue, old scarf a size too big hugged and entangled your shoulders, floating up and down with the cold. Your fingers twiddled with the loose threads, feeling the coarse material between the pads of your fingers. It was a gift from him. The man from your dreams. 

You used to love him. You used to miss him. You used to wait for him.

You used to walk with him,

Once upon a dream.

His hands used to be warm, his gaze so smitten. 

That look in his eyes, was so familiar a dream.

His voice used to be so soft, his touch so tender. 

Those visions of him, you knew they were seldom true.

His embrace endearing, his kisses slow and passionate, as though you were the most delicate flower he had ever the pleasure of finding. 

His love was your hope, like that of a sprouting seedling in a vast desert. His scent was your calm, like the sound of rain pattering against glass. His voice a lullaby to your dreams.

And now all you had left of him was the old, scruffy, pale blue scarf. 

And you loved it as much as you loved him and he loved you.

The faint scent of his cheap cologne still lingered. You had done your best to find the brand, but failed. How hard was it to find the same exact cheap cologne? Very, you had come to realise.  

The Empire destroyed everything. It took him away, it destroyed his memory.

"Y/n?" His voice asked, but it wasn't his voice. This one had a husky timbre to it, as though he hadn't felt anything but the familiar burn of a cigar against his lips in a long time. It wasn't the same.

"Hunter?" Your voice came out soft, quiet as though he had interrupted an intimate moment you were having.

He took a long moment to continue, his gaze sturdy and focused on your figure.

"Someone's here to see you." 

His eyes met yours as you shifted around, a brow raised questioningly. His shoulders stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. He knew what you were about to say.

"Tell them-"

"It's urgent," He interrupted, putting emphasis to his words, swallowing harshly as he felt his throat tighten, "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't," He paused again, this time his gaze dropping to the wet concrete beneath his feet, and suddenly he was all too aware of the loud pattering of the rain against his hair and the concrete, of the rough and short beats of your heart echoing in his ears, "Trust me." His gaze rose back to yours.

With a shake of your head, you pulled the scarf tighter around yourself. This was one of the few bits of time you had to yourself, that you could spend on thinking. Thinking of him. 

Amongst the many missions and bounties, your mind always failed to remember him. The faces of his brothers, the different tones and accents and timbres, they all mixed and matched together until it was all a blur. At first, you were happy to be surrounded by Hunter and the Batch. But now you could barely remember the face of the man from your dreams.

The door creaked shut behind you, the sound of rain muffled by the all-too loud music of the bar below. You hated it. You could never focus with it on.

The heavy scent of alcohol lingered in the air, like a poisonous fog ready to fill your lungs and taint your blood. Your chest felt stuffy every time you were forced to be in the vicinity of the awful stench. 

Hunter's heavy boots thudded against the concrete floor, his head hung low as he kept a fast. steady pace, refusing to give you enough opportunity to question him, enough chance to prod him where you needed to get your answers.

He wouldn't give in so easily even if you tried.

Not tonight.

Though it seemed you hadn't felt the need to ask. 

Not tonight.

Your mind was in a different plane, a different galaxy. A distant past.

The hallway seemed to narrow down the longer you walked, winding around corners and staircase openings like a never-ending labyrinth. You were slowly becoming sick of it. Why was this building so dauntingly tall? 

The walls seemed to be crumbling down and wailing for repair with each crack that extended down hallways, staircases and rooms. Grimaced faces were painted on the sickly orange walls, freshly patched spots grasping to hold the structure together as the building shook with the volume and vibrations of the music.

Hunter hated it too. But he could bare with this for a moment longer. For you.

His throat dried up as the door came into view, and his ears heard the way the pace of your heart picked up as he spoke, "They're behind that door."

His hands fell to his side, smearing the sticky sweat on his armoured thigh, and his steps slowed down, his own heart matching the pace of yours. You must have known by now, right?

"Who is it?" You asked as you came to an abrupt stop, just inches away from the door. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. The two of you stared into each others eyes, silently communicating through the miniscule, atomic-like movements of your irises.

It wasn't hard to know what you were thinking. Nor what Hunter was.

Who is it? He imagined your voice to be soft, velvety like freshly cleaned cushions, the unsure tenderness of it warming his heart.

Go ahead and find out. You imagined his voice to be gravelly, like waves crashing against a sandy shore, the hum they left behind sending shivers down your spine.

With a soft sigh, you turned away from his towering frame.

Lifting a shaky hand, you turned the knob. 

The door creaked uncomfortably, like the wornout strings of an old violin. 

A gentle, dimmed light flooded the hallway, painting it a sickly shade of yellow. Was this a hotel or a pigsty?

You could almost taste the years worth of dust on the tip of your tongue.

The doorknob felt rough and weak under your touch, the dragged wood pressing against the pads of your fingers. 

With a heavier push, the door managed to pull open, screeching in protest until it came to a final stop. 

Your chest stopped heaving up and down as the air was caught in your throat. 

A sudden lightheadedness hit you, eyelashes blinking rapidly as you tried to get a tighter grasp on the doorknob. For a moment, you scrunched your eyes shut, and fought away the dizziness that clamped around your temple like a pair of metal tongs. 

When your eyes opened again, you felt a pair of arms get a hold your waist. 

Was someone hugging you?

Maybe, you thought and as you slowly looked down, you noticed a pair of armoured arms wrapped around you. Hunter's arms. 

Did you fall?

You couldn't feel your legs. 

As you looked up again, it all dawned on you.

The man from your dreams.

At first, you only saw the faded maroon poncho. It was overly large, and clearly didn't fit. It looked old, tattered as loose threads stuck out at odd angles.

And then you glanced down. White armour clung to his legs, embracing his feet and shins and thighs.

Your gaze wondered up, spotting the helmet seated atop a bed behind him. Blue streaks dancing down the expanse of the white coat of paint. It lingered there, pricking at your heart strings as though wanting them to snap one by one. 

It hurt.

Your chest was burning. 

Your throat tightened, the painful drags of a wail tugging at your voice chords.

The arms around your waist tightened, a familiar head of ashy, chestnut brown hair tickling at your skin.

Where were you again?

Your eyes fluttered, blinking erratically as you fought to look up. Your mind couldn't let you.

You couldn't- 

You couldn't rememeber his face.

A hand flew to your gaping mouth, covering the strangled whimper that erupted from deep within your chest, tearing at your throat as slowly, slowly you allowed your eyes to look up.

It hurt.

Did he always look so familiar? So.. Awfully perfect? So familiarly strange? 

His warm, honey gold irises were locked onto you, wide and unblinking and disbelieving. 

New wrinkles and aged lines dragged at his tanned skin, painting the picture of an abandoned, weary, scarred soldier, an abandoned and forgotten man. 

His hair was still that beautiful blonde, his sun-kissed skin and chapped lips still brought out that awfully familiar, but long forgotten feeling in the pits of your stomach.

It's him. 

It's-

"Rex?"