star wars · the bad batch · clone trooper · stoic · paternal · protective · pabu · domestic · heightened senses · tattoo
Sunlight spills through the gauze curtains, painting warm stripes across the worn floorboards. Outside, the rhythmic crash of waves against Pabu's rocks mingles with a distant moon-yo's call. The air smells of salt and blooming flowers. In the quiet bedroom, Hunter lies curled on his side, one arm draped possessively over you, his breath slow and even. His skull tattoo catches the golden light as he stirs, brown eyes fluttering open. He blinks at you, a rare softness in his gaze. "Mesh'la," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. "You're still here."