Could I maybe request a Grand Admiral thrawn x artist reader?
Of course! We stan the grand admiral.
I very much ran away with this one...woops.
Remarkable (Grand Admiral Thrawn x reader)
Lothal is...quiet. A stark contrast to the perpetually busy streets of Coruscant or even the ever-present thrum of business aboard the Chimeara. You found you quite liked the dull by comparison planet as it afforded you the one thing you’d always gone without; a break. As Vice-Admiral of the modified Star Destroyer you were never without work for long-such is the price to pay for being good at your job-which meant that moments like these were rare at best and nonexistent the rest of the time.
You find yourself in one of the many plains Lothal has to offer, seated cross-legged atop a small jagged rock formation with a flattened top telling you that you weren’t the only one to observe from this place. In hand is a stylus, resting atop where your legs decussate is a clipboard holding a piece of flimsi you’d managed to pilfer out of the Grand Admiral’s office.
It’s been a while since you’d had the time to sit and sketch and it shows in the way your lines waver. They grow lighter in some areas and darker in others in a manner depicting someone out of practice rather than someone who has drawn their whole life. But you press on, determined to use this precious time to yourself as a means to preserve your skill for recreation. It’s a simple piece-a landscape drawing meant to capture the rather unremarkable terrain of the Outer Rim planet but it brings you peace as you watch the stylus deposit its plumbago along the line you decide with your hand before retreating as you do to look up at the bizarre rock formation you are currently trying to capture once more. Perhaps it is because you have been soothed by the simple process that you miss the key sounds that signal approach.
“What are you doing out here, my dear?” The deep voice practically purs in your ear. You startle, stylus flying away from you as your body jerks to life. You are moving before you’re aware of it. Both hands move to clasp the clipboard as you spin ‘round to swing it at whoever dares to intrude on your personal time. But you are stopped before you make any contact by two blue hands wrapping around your wrists. Your eyes clear and meet with deep red ones, impassive to all but you can see the glimmer of amusement hiding behind them. He finds this funny. “Calm yourself, my love, I did not mean to startle you.”
You can’t help but scoff at that. “Oh, of course, you didn’t.” You hiss but there is no weight to it. And Thrawn knows this. He releases you and you immediately begin locating your stylus, hopeful that the lead did not break.
“I truly did not, Y/n.” Thrawn hums as you turn away from him to scour the tall grass beneath your perching rock like a shriek-hawk examining the ground for easy prey. “I was merely trying to locate you aboard the ship and when I could not, I was informed that you had left for a walk.” Unable to locate the stylus, you huff and turn back towards the Grand Admiral. From your position atop the rock, you peer down at him. But he does not look at you. He is, instead, solely focused on your missing stylus that he holds up as though for an examination. “I was not aware you draw, my love.”
You can’t help but fidget and Thrawn takes a note as he drags his eyes away from the utensil and up to you. “Uh...It’s not really something I get to do all that often...what with the Empire and all.” You explain lamely, slowly sinking back into a seated position. You kick your legs over the side of the rock before sliding your hands into your lap, clasped over the over-turned clipboard, as you chew on your bottom lip and avoid eye contact with your lover. It was hard to explain but in this moment you wanted nothing more than to return to your drawing-alone. You could physically feel the seconds ticking away-moments of precious time meant to be spent in seclusion slipping by.
“Indeed.” Thrawn hummed, less in agreement, and more so as an acknowledgment of what you had said. Carefully he held the stylus out for you to take and you readily reclaimed the simple tool. But instead of picking up the clipboard to begin drawing anew like Thrawn expected you to do-you just rested it on the back-your sketch still face down against your thighs. Thrawn’s eyebrow quirked upwards ever so slightly in confusion. “Do you...not wish for me to see your artwork?”
Your eyes widen. “Yes! I mean, no! I mean...” You take a breath to collect yourself, “I mean...it’s just, it’s not an artwork-it’s just a sketch.” You try to explain to cover up your all too eager response. The reality is, you’re scared to show it to him.
“Every step in the creation of a masterpiece is an artwork in its own right.” Thrawn replies without missing a beat and you feel your face flush. “May I see it?” Sighing, you carefully lift the clipboard off your lap and discreetly check to see if in your haste to hide it you smudged the lead. Maybe if you did and you asked to have some time to fix it, he’d forget? Unlikely, Thrawn never forgets anything. It is both a blessing and a curse. Still, you hand it to him. Thrawn spends a few seconds in silence and you watch as his dark red eyes dart left and right in an examination of the simple sketch. “Remarkable.” He eventually hums and you tilt your head in confusion.
“Remarkable?” You repeat.
“Remarkable.” He confirms with a solid nod. He hands the clipboard back to you and you immediately began reexamining it. You knew remarkable-remarkable was the artwork Thrawn studied on a daily basis. Remarkable was the artwork he always compared your appearance to. Remarkable was Thrawn himself, his intellect unmatched by any one person in the Empire. Remarkable wasn’t a half-finished sketch of Lothal. “Simply,” you feel him move closer but don’t look at him, far too perplexed by your own drawing, “remarkable.” There is a press against your temple and you can feel the word vibrate against your skin as he speaks. He is pulling away just as you turn to him with wide eyes. “Your attention to detail and perspective is astonishing, my love, and it reads so clearly even in the beginning stages of your process. While your lines show that it has been a while since you’ve actively drawn, you’ve used that to your advantage to give your sketch the appearance that all of this is fleeting-subject to change at any given moment.” You glance down at the flimsi once more, not at all seeing what he was getting at. “And most remarkable of all-your willingness to show me such an intimate part of the art process. The idea.”
You were aware that you were now gaping at the Grand Admiral, entirely perplexed. He offered you a rare smile. “That is often the most difficult thing to do. To explain your idea before it’s been realized can be frightening as it often opens the artist up to ridicule before they’ve even begun.” He said no more and you were left staring blankly at the sketch. A beat passed before you heard the shifting of fabric and the familiar caress of Thrawn’s hand on your jaw. With barely any effort, he pulled your face closer to him so he could press a delicate kiss to your forehead. “Would you mind if I stayed with you while you continued?” You couldn’t find it within you to form words so instead, you shook your head. Thrawn lithely hopped up onto the rock you were seated on with all the litheness of a loth-cat and settled next to you. Without a word, he pulled out a datapad and opened it up to the holo-novel he’d been reading in his off time. Finally understanding what had happened, you smiled at the side of his face before moving to place a kiss of your own on his high cheekbone. It lifted imperceptibly.
Quietly, you unlipped the piece of flimsi you’d been sketching on and flipped it over. Readying your stylus, you began drawing once more-this time with a new, remarkable muse in mind.
