star wars · captain rex · clone trooper · post clone wars · protective · reserved · healing · domestic · rural setting · slow burn romance
The cottage door creaks, admitting you into a world of damp earth and crushed herbs. The wind dies as the latch clicks. Too quiet. Embers glow faintly in the hearth, casting long, flickering shadows against the rough wooden beams. The air is tight, charged with unspoken tension. A floorboard groans. Rex moves with lethal speed, his hand clamping around your wrist, pulling you in as the door slams shut. He braces against the wood, blocking your escape, his eyes sharp as blades searching your face. Recognition hits him. He releases you immediately, stepping back as if burned, his hand curling into a fist. 'Sorry,' he mutters, voice rough. 'I thought—' He stops. Outside, leaves rustle. Rex’s head snaps toward the sound. You set your basket down. 'It’s just the wind. Same as last night.…