star wars x reader (one-shots)

Hunter: Burnt Out

-you don't realise it, but sometimes you're on fire from the inside out. It burns through you, and darkens the scars you thought have long healed.
-over time it's so painful. And that fire grows until you're turned into ash.
-sorry i'm going through a lot right now and just need to make a comfort fic, you know??

Summary: You don't realise what it means to work through the pain because you're used to it. Only when Hunter sees how far you're tipping over the edge do you see it.

Pull through. You can do this. There's only another stack of fifteen double-sidee sheets left. Fill them out, record the excess data, and then rest. It was a simple task, really. All you had to do was complete it.

Your aching hand complained, but you ignored it. Time was running short. You had untim Friday to finish, meaning only two more days left. It was a lot of information to cover, some of which you hoped you hadn't forgotten to record.

The doors to your office hissed open. You continued on and scribbled a few notes to the side.

"Cyare?"

You looped off a signature and flipped over the flimsi.

"How long have you been in here for?"

You typed in a few keywords on the datapad. How many credits did it say? Right. Nothing short of nine thousand.

"You need to take a break."

The flimsi joined another pile of copies. They were all snow white, with dark, black ink in any blank spaces and circles. You pulled out a packet and got started on that. Only fourteen more and you'd be home free.

"Cyare, can you look at me?"

You signed off an order form regarding a collection of new blasters. These boys really needed an upgrade.

"Please?"

You clicked your stylus and glanced at Hunter. "I'm--I'm almost done. Only a little more." He raised a doubtful brow you didn't miss. "Only a couple more? You've already gone through ninety sheets of flimsi, not including the mission reports. It's time you get up and move around a little."

You shook your head with a harsh sigh. Geez, what kind of mission did the 501st completely smash this time? There was quite a bit of damage, along with a request for more explosives. "Like I said, I'm almost done Hunter."

"You've done too much already."

"Then I might as well finish it," you decided. "Then I can relax and do whatever I want for the rest of the week."

Hunter wanted to say that was a brilliant idea, but how could he when dark bags pulled at the edges of your eyes, and you looked like you hadn't slept in days? Fifteen pages wasn't worth it when you were suffering like that. "Please, Cyare, put the stylus down for five minutes."

You looped off another signature with a hefty sigh. The ache in your wrist wasn't going away, and your eyes hurt from staring at flimsis for the past nine hours. "Fine." You set the stylus down and slumped back in your chair. "I could have finished it."

"You can save it for later." Hunter stated. He made his way behind your desk and took your hands in his. His touch was gentle and soft, yet firm and comforting. He wanted to assure you that you didn't need to worry about senseless due dates. What came first was your health. No one would thank you for signing and filing out reports, even if you died doing it. There wasn't any point in it.

Part of him didn't want to see you become like him. Being a soldier meant staying alert and ready at all times. There were no breaks. No time for leave either, and most definitely no vacations. But you had a choice. You were a civvie who so happened to become a secretary here in the GAAR. Sure, you had basic military training, but that didn't mean you were like him.

He'd rather you stay the way you were. Besides the fact that you were burning up from the inside out. Your contribution to the GAAR was consecutive and religious. You may not like the work much, but you never acknowledged it and always pulled through. That work ethic was valued--which meant more work. The higher ups didn't care if you were drowning in it. You were just another worker to them.

And for that reason, you were burning up like a dying star. All the difficult times you rammed past left you with scars you couldn't see, some only Hunter ever noticed. Maybe one day you'd see what he saw.

That fire would spread throughout your body, mind, and soul. If it continued, then you'd flare up in a flurry of ash and dust.

Hunter drew circles on the back of your hands. They were soft compared to his, yet calloused from writing so much and smudged with ink. "I hate it when you do this." he grumbled. You shrugged and it was so lifeless that Hunter felt like he could cry.

"Nothing I can't handle. Compared to you--"

"Don't compare yourself to me." he firmly stated. "We all have different jobs and duties around here. How is that a fair comparison?" You shrugged again. "We're still in the GAAR."

Hunter knitted his brows together. "Well that's not a fair argument." He released your hands and helped you to your feet. In an instant, you were in his secure arms. Despite the armour, he was warm and comforting. He smelled like the forest, and fresh air on a mountain top. You hadn't realised how much you missed that about him.

"You can't fly so close to the sun," he commented, "or you'll burn up." You relaxed into his touch and rested your heacy head on his shoulder. "I just want to finish my work." He hugged you tighter. "But then you'll fall."

"Will you catch me?"

"Yes. Always."

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