Howzer X Reader - Blog Posts

Stolen Nights and Shared Dreams

Captain Howzer x Reader (fluff)

The knock was soft but unmistakable, sending a little spark of anticipation through me. I didn’t have to wonder who it was. Howzer’s visits were rare, but each one was a balm to my heart. The galaxy’s chaos faded, if only for a few hours, whenever he was around.

I opened the door, and there he was: looking tired yet undeniably handsome. His hair was a bit tousled, and the shadows under his eyes hinted at the day he’d had, yet his gaze softened when he saw me.

“Hey, you” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

“Hey” I replied, unable to keep the grin off my face. I reached out, taking his hand and guiding him inside. As the door clicked shut behind us, it was like we’d stepped into our own little world.

“Rough day?” I asked, gently squeezing his hand as he began peeling off his armor piece by piece.

A sigh escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. “Something like that. But I’d rather not think about it right now. I’d rather… just be here. With you” His words were simple, but the way he looked at me made my heart skip a beat. Howzer had this gentle sincerity about him, and when he was with me, it felt like I was the only thing in the galaxy that mattered to him.

“Good” I replied, pulling him into the living room. “Because I made tea, and it’d be a shame if I had to drink it all by myself”

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that melted away some of the tension in his shoulders. As we settled onto the couch, he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close as he took his tea. “I missed this” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.

Leaning into him, I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into his warmth. “I missed you” I whispered back, my hand finding his where it rested on my shoulder, fingers threading together. His grip was gentle but firm, a silent promise that he was here and wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

For a while, we just sat like that, basking in each other’s presence. Just us, sharing a simple, peaceful moment. Howzer leaned his head back, closing his eyes, and I took the opportunity to trace my fingers along the strong lines of his jaw, admiring every detail of his face.

He cracked an eye open, a lazy smile playing at his lips. “Enjoying yourself?”

I chuckled, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “Maybe a little”

His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing along my cheek as his eyes softened, gaze filled with a warmth that sent a sweet ache through my chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned in, his lips meeting mine in a soft, lingering kiss that made the outside world disappear.

The kiss deepened, and when we finally broke apart, we were both breathing a little heavier. His forehead rested against mine, and for a moment, we just stayed like that, wrapped up in each other.

“Stay with me tonight?” I asked softly, fingers tracing the lines of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my palm.

Howzer’s smile was gentle, but there was a spark in his eyes that told me he felt just as strongly. “Nothing could keep me away”

I pulled him down onto the couch with me, wrapping us both in a blanket. He settled beside me, our legs tangled together as he wrapped an arm around me, holding me close. His hand trailed up and down my back in slow, soothing circles, and I felt myself relax, safe and warm in his embrace.

He kissed my forehead, lips lingering as if to savor every second. “You know, being here with you like this… it’s the only time I really feel at peace” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.

My heart swelled, and I snuggled closer, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

“Do you ever think about what we’ll do once the war is over?” I asked, my voice soft.

A thoughtful look crossed his face, as he considered his answer. “All the time. I think about finding somewhere quiet… maybe a place near the ocean” His lips curved in a small smile. “I don’t know if I’d know what to do with all that quiet, but if you were there…” His voice trailed off, and he looked down at me, eyes full of a longing that made my heart ache. “I think I’d be just fine”

I smiled. “I’d love that. Just the two of us, finally getting a chance to… just be”

He held me a little tighter, his hand tracing the curve of my shoulder. “Maybe we’d have a little garden,” he murmured. “Somewhere we could put down roots. Real roots”

My heart swelled at the thought. “We could have all the time in the world, no more rushing off to fight battles. Just… peace”

His voice was low and tender as he added, “And you’d never have to worry about me leaving. I’d finally be able to be here. Fully” He kissed my forehead, and I felt him press his cheek against my hair, lingering there, breathing me in.

For a while, we spoke of dreams, letting our imaginations run wild with little details—a small home, lazy mornings, and a life filled with quiet moments just like this. We laughed about the little things, like whether he’d actually be able to sleep past sunrise, and whether I’d be able to cook without burning something.

Finally, he sighed, a content, almost sleepy sound. “Thank you… for giving me something to look forward to. Something beyond all of this” He kissed the top of my head, lingering, as if savoring the moment.

“Always” I whispered, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. 

We lay there, wrapped in each other, sharing quiet whispers and gentle touches, each one an unspoken vow to hold on to these moments for as long as we could. I knew in this very moment that no matter what the galaxy threw our way, we’d always have this—our dreams, our little world, and the promise of a life we’d one day build together.

The night passed in a blur of whispered words, tender kisses, and soft laughter, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like the galaxy was exactly as it should be.

_____________________________________________________________

You can find my masterlist here x

“A Safe Place to Fall”

Captain Howzer x Reader

You didn’t remember the escape.

You remembered the cell—the sting of cold stun cuffs, the fluorescent hum of sterile walls, the shadow of an Imperial officer’s boots crossing your field of vision.

You remembered pain.

And silence.

And waiting for the end.

But now, you woke to the sound of wind.

Real wind—not the artificial filtered kind used to simulate nature in Imperial holding zones. This was dry and real, carrying the scent of rock, dust, and maybe desert flowers if you were still sane enough to tell.

You lay on a cot, wrapped in a scratchy wool blanket. Dim golden light crept across the floorboards of what looked like an old storage room—repurposed into a makeshift sleeping space. There were crates stacked in the corner, and a small table with two chipped mugs.

You sat up slowly. Your body ached like it had been stitched together too quickly. And then—movement.

A man was sitting in a chair across from you, unmoving. Broad-shouldered, armored only in the bare essentials of his gear. He stood when he saw you stir.

You flinched. It was instinct. You hadn’t seen his face yet—just the outline, and the authority in his posture.

“Hey,” he said quickly, palms lifting, voice calm and low. “You’re safe. You’re out. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

You blinked up at him as his face came into focus. Not a stormtrooper. Not an officer. A clone.

But not just any clone. There was something different in his eyes—something soft. He wasn’t holding a weapon. Wasn’t armored head to toe. He looked almost… tired. Grounded.

“Name’s Howzer,” he added, watching you carefully. “I was with the squad that got you out. Captain Rex sent me.”

You opened your mouth, but your throat wouldn’t work. You clutched the edge of the blanket tighter around your shoulders, fingers trembling.

“You were in that cell a long time,” he said gently. “You don’t have to talk yet. Just breathe. That’s enough.”

Your eyes burned, but you nodded. That felt like something you could do.

Howzer stepped back a pace, giving you space. He moved with a kind of deliberate calm—like he knew exactly how close not to get. Like he understood trauma too well to make it worse.

“I put some tea on the burner,” he said after a beat. “It’s not great. Local stuff. But it helps.”

You didn’t answer. You weren’t sure you could. Your whole body still felt like it was waiting for the next scream, the next interrogation, the next blow.

You watched him move to the small table and pour something steaming into one of the mugs. Then, without pressure, he set it down on the crate beside you and stepped away again.

“I’ll sit right over here,” he said, nodding to the chair. “You don’t owe me anything. I just… thought maybe you shouldn’t wake up alone.”

That sentence.

That sentence hit something in you.

You stared at the mug. It was shaking. No—it was your hand. You gripped the blanket harder to stop it.

“I thought I was going to die in there,” you rasped. “I didn’t think anyone would come.”

He didn’t say you’re safe now. He didn’t say it’s over. Instead, his voice dropped low and sincere.

“I know,” he said. “I’ve seen what they do. To people who speak out. Who know too much.”

Your eyes lifted to his again.

“Why are you helping?”

A ghost of a smile touched his face. “Because someone should.”

You stared at him, then looked down again. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t oppressive. It breathed.

“I didn’t think any of you clones cared,” you admitted softly.

Howzer let out a slow exhale. “A lot don’t. Not anymore. Chips saw to that.”

You didn’t know what that meant yet, but you filed it away. It sounded like something buried deep.

He rubbed the back of his neck, then added, “But there are still some of us who remember what we fought for. What it was supposed to mean.”

You looked up. “And me?”

“You spoke up against the Empire. You tried to protect civilians. You mattered.” He paused, voice softening. “You still do.”

A strange sound escaped your throat—half sob, half laugh. You covered your face with your hands, shoulders curling inward. It was too much. Too kind. Too intimate after so long spent dehumanized.

“I don’t know how to be around people again,” you confessed. “I feel… broken.”

“Then be broken,” he said gently. “You’re allowed to be.”

You lowered your hands, blinking at him. His expression hadn’t changed. Steady. Open.

He moved again—slow, cautious—kneeling beside your cot so he didn’t loom.

“I can leave if you want,” he said. “Or I can stay. I won’t touch you unless you ask. But you don’t have to go through this next part alone.”

Your throat clenched. You didn’t know this man. And yet, his presence was the first thing since your arrest that felt real. Safe.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you whispered.

He nodded. “Then I’ll stay.”

You shifted the blanket, and after a moment’s hesitation, reached out. Your hand found his gauntleted wrist—just the edge of it, where skin met armor.

He didn’t move. Just stilled, like he didn’t want to scare you. Like the contact meant something to him, too.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice cracking.

He gave a small nod. “You don’t have to thank me. You made it out. That’s enough.”

You held onto his wrist for a long time.

And when your breathing slowed, and the tears dried, he stayed right there, kneeling beside your cot, steady as a lifeline. No words. Just quiet company in a broken world.

And in that small, silent room, lit by the desert sun and filled with nothing but the sound of two survivors breathing, you finally began to believe that healing might be possible. That not all soldiers followed orders blindly. That kindness hadn’t been stamped out entirely.

Captain Howzer didn’t promise to fix you.

He simply offered to stay.

And in that moment, it was more than enough.

⸻

You couldn’t sleep.

Even in safety, your body hadn’t learned how to rest. The cot creaked when you shifted, the blanket tangled around your ankles, and the stale air felt heavier the longer you lay awake.

But what really kept you up were the memories—the sterile cell walls, the screaming, the waiting. The echo of boots outside a door that never opened. You hadn’t realized how deeply loneliness could burrow inside your ribs until you were finally out.

You sat up and pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, feet touching the cool floor.

A creak sounded outside the room.

You froze.

Then—Howzer’s voice, quiet, near the door. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” you answered softly.

He hesitated. Then, his silhouette appeared in the doorway, bathed in the soft yellow glow of the hallway lantern.

He was wearing only the bottom half of his armor—no chestplate, no pauldrons. Just a plain dark shirt, sleeves pushed to his elbows. His expression was open, calm. He looked more like a man than a soldier tonight.

“Can’t sleep either?” you asked, voice hushed.

He shook his head once. “Too quiet, sometimes. Feels wrong.”

You understood that too well. The silence that had once meant peace now scraped against your thoughts like broken glass.

“I made some tea,” he offered after a pause. “Didn’t want to drink alone.”

You stood slowly and followed him into the main room. The safehouse was small—two bedrooms, one main area, and a kitchenette that looked like it hadn’t seen Republic service in years. It was old, but clean. Familiar now.

You sat across from him at the small table. The light was dim, warm. Between you sat two steaming mugs.

“This is becoming tradition,” you said, fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic.

Howzer gave a low hum of amusement. “It’s the only thing I know how to make that doesn’t involve rations.”

You took a sip. “Still better than what the Empire served.”

His smile faded, and for a moment, he watched you too carefully—like he was searching for bruises no one could see.

“You’re sleeping more,” he said. “That’s good.”

“Not dreaming less,” you admitted.

“How long were you in there?”

You hesitated. “Three months. Maybe more. They stopped marking the days. I think they thought I’d break.”

A silence settled between you. But not a heavy one.

“They don’t like people who speak too loudly,” he said eventually.

“I didn’t scream when they came for me,” you murmured, almost surprised to hear the words aloud. “I thought… maybe that would mean something. That I stayed quiet. Dignified.”

Howzer’s voice was soft. “You don’t owe them your silence. Or your strength.”

You looked at him. Really looked.

His eyes weren’t cold, like the ones behind stormtrooper helmets. They were warm and tired and human. He looked like a man who had seen too much and decided to carry it anyway.

“You’re not like the others,” you said.

He shook his head once. “Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

His jaw tightened, and for a long moment, you thought he might not answer.

“I saw what they did to Ryloth,” he said finally. “The Empire. The orders. I followed them for too long. But one day… I just couldn’t anymore.”

He didn’t sound proud. He didn’t sound angry either.

He just sounded real.

“Do you regret it?” you asked.

“Every day. And I’d do it again.”

You swallowed hard. “That’s brave.”

“No,” he said quietly. “That’s necessary. Brave would’ve been doing it sooner.”

The silence between you changed. It warmed. Stretched. Your eyes lingered on his hands—strong, scarred, fingers curled around the mug like he was anchoring himself to something.

“You’re the first person who’s made me feel safe since…” You trailed off, unsure if you could finish.

He didn’t press. Just said, “You don’t have to explain.”

“But I want to.”

That surprised both of you.

You lowered your eyes to the table, your thumb tracing the rim of the mug. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel normal again. Or… human. But with you, I don’t feel broken. Just… healing.”

Howzer’s voice dropped to a hush. “You are human. You never stopped being.”

You looked up.

And the way he looked back at you—gentle, unwavering—made your chest ache.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you said. “I don’t know how to be close to someone again.”

Howzer reached out—slowly, carefully—and laid his hand on the table, palm up. He didn’t touch you. He didn’t move any closer.

But he offered.

And after a long moment, your hand found his.

You curled your fingers around his palm. The warmth of his skin grounded you, anchored you in the present.

“You don’t have to know how,” he said. “We can just sit here. That’s enough.”

The silence that followed was the good kind—the kind that let you breathe.

You didn’t realize how close you’d leaned until his forehead touched yours.

The contact was feather-light. Chaste. His breath ghosted across your cheek. His eyes stayed closed, and his free hand hovered near your elbow, waiting for you to pull away.

You didn’t.

Your forehead stayed against his, your fingers tightening around his.

“You’re gentle,” you whispered.

He smiled, barely a breath. “I have to be. You’ve had enough pain.”

Your heart stuttered.

“I don’t know if I can feel everything yet,” you admitted.

“That’s okay,” he said. “We don’t have to rush anything.”

And gods—how many people had said that and meant it?

You leaned into him, letting your weight rest partially against his chest. He adjusted, gently guiding you closer, until your cheek pressed against the space just below his collarbone. His arms wrapped around you slowly, hesitantly, then held you like you were something precious.

He didn’t try to deepen the moment. Didn’t press for more. He just held you. One hand in your hair, the other resting low on your back. His heartbeat against your cheek. Steady. Warm. Alive.

“I don’t want this to be temporary,” you whispered.

“Then it won’t be.”

You stayed like that until the lantern burned low, and your body stopped flinching at shadows.

And when you finally fell asleep—held safely in Howzer’s arms, your fingers still twined with his—you didn’t dream of the cell.

You dreamt of the desert wind.

And hands that never hurt.

“The Quiet Rebellion”

Captain Howzer x Twi’lek Reader

⸻

Freedom was a strange thing.

You could be chained for years—shackled, broken, silenced—and still not feel as free as you did when you sprinted through the jungle with a stolen blaster and your heart racing like it had somewhere to go.

You’d fought to be here.

Fought to exist.

Now you fought for something.

Cham Syndulla had given you a cause. A home. A voice. And you’d die before you let anyone take that away again.

Which made your situation with Captain Howzer… complicated.

You first saw him standing tall in the Ryloth city square, surrounded by clone troopers in gleaming armor. He wasn’t barking orders like the others. He watched. Measured. Thought.

You hated him immediately.

Until you didn’t.

The first time you really spoke, it was because of Hera.

“Put me down!” Hera screamed, dangling from the edge of a roof she wasn’t supposed to be on.

You scrambled to reach her—but Howzer got there first, catching her mid-fall and cradling her against his chest.

“Hera,” he said, calm and soft, “you alright, kid?”

She blinked at him. “Yeah… you have a really strong arm.”

“Perks of the job.”

You expected him to arrest her. Lecture her. Instead, he handed her off to you, nodded once, and said:

“She’s bold. Reminds me of someone.”

It was the first time he looked at you like he saw you—not a rebel, not a threat, but someone.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

⸻

Weeks passed.

The Empire’s grip tightened. Ryloth tensed. So did you.

But Howzer—he didn’t act like a loyal dog. He asked questions. Protected civilians. Argued with Admiral Rampart in front of everyone.

And when you crossed paths again—this time in secret, near an old Separatist outpost—you confronted him.

“You gonna shoot me now, Captain?” you asked, blaster raised.

He didn’t flinch. “No. I came to talk.”

You laughed bitterly. “Clones don’t talk. They obey.”

“I’m trying not to.”

That stopped you cold.

You lowered your weapon, cautiously.

“I’ve seen what the Empire is doing,” he said, stepping closer. “I don’t agree with it. I think you don’t either.”

“I was a slave,” you spat. “I know what tyranny looks like.”

He didn’t argue.

“I’ve been watching you,” he added. “Fighting. Protecting people. Risking everything for them. You don’t run. You don’t hide. You remind me of why I started wearing this armor in the first place.”

Your breath hitched.

And just like that, the tension between you snapped—not with violence, but something gentler. Warmer.

Something that felt like understanding.

⸻

From then on, you met in secret.

He smuggled you information—troop movements, transport schedules, weak points in the blockade.

You brought Hera to some of the meetings. She liked to sit on a crate, Chopper at her side, giving snarky commentary.

“Are you two in love yet?” she asked one night, kicking her legs.

You choked on your drink. Howzer actually blushed.

“I—I don’t think soldiers are allowed to be in love,” he said awkwardly.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not a soldier,” you muttered.

Hera just shrugged. “I think you should kiss. You look at her like my dad looks at my mom.”

You and Howzer shared a long, stunned silence. Chopper beeped something crude.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Howzer muttered.

But later, when the night was quiet and you were alone with him, the firelight dancing off his armor, you finally asked,

“Why are you doing this? Risking everything?”

He looked at you, eyes soft, jaw clenched.

“Because you showed me something real,” he said. “And I want to fight for it—for you—instead of some banner that doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

You leaned in, heart thudding.

And when you kissed him, it wasn’t soft. It was earned.

Fierce. Honest. Full of fire and freedom and all the things you’d both been denied for too long.

You weren’t free of danger.

You weren’t safe.

But you had something better.

You had each other.

And even in the heart of an Empire, that was rebellion enough.

⸻