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sinfulsalutations · 10 months

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𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕟𝕠𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕤 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕝𝕗𝕗𝕖

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙᴏʀᴅᴇʀʟɪɴᴇ ꜰᴜʀʀʏ, ʀᴏᴜɢʜ-ɪꜱʜ ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ ꜱᴇx, ɢʀᴏᴡʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʜɪ!!!

⋆ ★ ᴛᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ɢᴜɪʟᴛʏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴡᴀʏʏʏʏ ᴛᴏᴏ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴅ. ɴᴏ ᴊᴏᴋᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀɴ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴀɴ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴍᴇ ꜱᴏ 🥵🥵🥵 ɪ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʟɪᴋᴇ 5 ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱᴏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴇꜱ ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴇxᴛʀᴇᴍᴇʟʏ ᴇᴍʙᴀʀʀᴀꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʏᴘᴏꜱ ʟᴍᴀᴏ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ᴅᴇᴘʀᴀᴠᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ :)

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

He's rocking his hips in tandem with yours at the pace of a fucking rabbit.

It literally took only about ten minutes when he returned to you from a long deployment to get you back in bed again, his body unable to stop itself from thrusting his tight codpiece into your core, looking composed yet utterly desperate for you. And now he’s had you like this, underneath him with your chest pressed to the mattress, squirming and gasping for almost thirty minutes now. He’s only just finally slipped his cock in.

How he's kept his stamina this high up for so long, getting you to come on his mouth and fingers and not even trying to take some pleasure for himself before finally splitting you open with his cock is difficult to figure out.

There's no space to think about that now, though. Not when a new sound has ruptured out of him.

At first, you don't even notice. You're too busy enraptured in your own release and just how damn good he feels inside of you. But then you feel the aftershocks, the vibrations of his voice as he slows his pace down for just a split second. You lift your chin up, tilting it to the side ever so slightly, with the smallest tinge of confusion on your face.

Did Wolffe just... growl?

Not even a typical kind of noise one might make when wrapped up in mind-numbing pleasure. It’s a type of noise that came from his pure, unadulterated, animal instincts.

Shit. Fuck. Why was that so hot?

“Wolffe?” You call out softly. There’s a large pause in the air, something thick. He lifts his body off of you, letting the cool air flow against your back. You sigh again and rest the side of your head on the mattress.

“Hey…” You whine.

Wolffe doesn't respond; he graces you only with a dark grunt and pulls his hips back, pushing his body against your ass again with a hard thrust.

You can’t help but mewl in a meek voice, involuntarily clenching around him, but you don’t just forget immediately. He's still not kriffing responding to you. Not even a simple acknowledgment. Just expects to get right back to it as if he hadn’t just let out the most sinful noise fall from his mouth. Even worse is that you’re absolutely deadset on hearing it again. You can’t just continue like it was nothing.

So you decide to pull out the big guns.

“C'mon, I liked it,” You say with a vexatious, teasing tone, ending it with a borderline pornographic moan. To further effect, you pull your hips away, pushing yourself back onto his cock with a soft hum and resting your chin atop your shoulder. His eyes are cast onto yours without any intention of straying away, and his fingers curl rougher into your skin. He raises an eyebrow. You smirk victoriously and tilt your head with sweet, imploring eyes.

“Can you do it again for me?” The ask can’t be that big… can it?

He only grumbles, eyes finally looking away, and he moves to place his body back on top of yours. Like he’d never stopped, he rocks you again; a steady collision of each of your bodies with each other. You moan pleasantly, fingers curling into the mattress, but feel the difference in how he moves. His hands melodically, yet sporadically squeeze your hips, and you don’t even realize that his hand has moved and is slowly rubbing tight circles on your clit until the shiver runs through you.

“What do you want me to do for you?” He then asks, low and husked, against your ear.

The only thing that comes out of you is a whine because Wolffe blatantly decides to press onto your clit and thrust into you harder. There’s a giddy smile on his stupidly handsome face, and you know this without seeing it because of just how pronounced it is against your skin. “Gotta say it clearly, sweet doll.”

You’re just barely able to get your words out through desperate whines and soughs.

“Growl for me.”

A melodic hum is his only response, and he continues thrusting. You clench, once, twice, eyebrows furrowed. You try to sobber out his name, but it comes more jumbled; both of you can feel how absolutely wrecked you are.

Then, Wolffe finally speaks.

“Think you’re forgetting something important at the end there.”

Oh, this asshole.

“Please,” you beg anyway, because this asshole has you whipped. Then, only then, do you get what you want.

He sounds like an animal behind you, the rumble of his voice seeping into your skin like a snake, your entire body being inflicted with waves of absolute filth. Not just growls, even; he’s letting out the most deprived and primal noises leave his throat. How long has this pent up? Because there’s absolutely no way he’s just now susceptible to carnal noises from pleasure.

Either way, he sounds delighted.

You’re feeling just about the same as well.

tags: @dukeoftheblackstar @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius

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clu-ven · 1 year

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The Closet

Summary: The Wolfpack is sick of the constant arguing between you and Wolffe, so they take matters into their own hands. Surely if you and the Commander were accidentally locked into one of the supply closets, you’d come to some sort of middle ground, right?

Well, there’s one thing they’re forgetting… you’re claustrophobic.

TW: small spaces, claustrophobia, panic attack

Word Count: 4.7k

-> Reader uses she/her pronouns - masterlist can be found here <-

“It’s the perfect plan!” Boost exclaims, slapping the table in front of him for emphasis.

The mesh hall is relatively crowded today, many hungry troopers finally getting some time to relax after another tough mission. Despite the loud chatter of the room, Sinker keeps his voice low.

“I’m not sure,” he concludes with the shake of his head “it sounds risky and Wolffe is in a bad mood as it is, I don’t want this to make him worse”.

At the other side of the table, Boost shares a mild look of annoyance with Comet. “C’mon Sarge, this solves all of our problems!” Comet replies with a whine. It took him and Boost the past week to come up with this plan, putting more time into it than they’d like to admit.

With a deadpan voice, Sinker replies “Oh so this will end the war? And kill Dooku? And wash the gunships? Each and every problem we have will be instantly solved if we lock them in a supply closet?”.

Boost shrugs, trying to stay optimistic “You never know”. Sinker scoffs, rolling his eyes at his brother.

The plan was simple but Comet and Boost couldn’t do it alone. They needed Sinker for this to work. Sighing, Boost leans across the table “Look, all you have to do is get her into the closet on the lower deck, that’s it”.

Sinker is still unsure. “We’ll get the Commander, shove him in there, lock the door and ta-dah! Job done” Comet adds.

This doesn’t sound like a good plan. Sinker knows that but it is enticing. He’s not sure if he can handle another mission full of you and Wolffe’s bickering, the two of you proclaiming you can’t stand the other.

Missions would be much easier if you both avoided each other but no, despite the constant arguing you two engage in, you will still insist on being near one another, whether that be sharing the same holomap (which is an absolute nightmare to witness) or standing next to one another in a briefing (which leads to you interrupting him and vice versa for the entire. damn. briefing.).

Sinker wants to say no, to put a stop to his brother’s shenanigans but would this do any harm? Maybe if you both got the opportunity to confront one another and get all of this arguing out of your system once and for all, then you might come to some sort of middle ground and let bygones be bygones.

“If I agree to this…” he begins and Boost impulsively throws his fist in the air “Yes! You're in!”.

“I said if…” Sinker says sternly “if I do this then the two of you have to wash the gunships”.

Boost nearly falls off his seat “H-how many are you expecting us to wash, Sarge?”.

“I want four done by the end of the next rotation”.

Although Comet has never experienced a heart attack, he’s sure this is how it feels “What?! Four? C’mon Sinker, be reasonable”.

He folds his arms “Boys, if you want my help then that’s what it’ll cost ya”. Exchanging looks to one another, Comet huffs “Fine, we agree”.

***

The sound of your name makes you look up, eyes wide as you scan the corridor. Manoeuvring through some troopers, Sinker comes into view.

Closing your datapad, you give the Sargeant your full attention, a relaxed smile on your face.

“Sinker, what can I do for you?” You ask.

A flicker of sympathy crosses Sinker’s face as he answers “Well, I was just wondering if you could help me get some batca patches from the supply closet. There’s a whole box in there but, well, y’know me, I accidentally pushed them behind the shelving unit and now they’re stuck between that and the wall. Do you think you could get them for me?”.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, so quick to help that it makes the ball of guilt in Sinker’s stomach grow “lead the way”.

While usually you and Sinker always find things to talk about, he’s strangely quiet during your walk to the lower deck. It’s not something that alarms you but instead, it worries you.

It’s no secret that things have been intense lately. The missions have gotten deadlier, injuries are harder to aid and the Separatist army seems to be growing more and more by the minute.

Even something as simple as accidentally knocking some bacta patches behind a cabinet seems like a dire problem nowadays.

“It’s that one, just up ahead” Sinker slows his pace, pointing at one of the closets.

“You’re not coming in?” You quirk an eyebrow, slowing your pace to match his.

“Hm? Oh… uh, no I have to go help the General with something… sorry, I should’ve said that beforehand” he scratches the back of his neck, preferring to look down at the floor.

“That’s ok, you go on ahead, I’ll take care of this” with a firm nod, you open the door to the closet and disappear inside. Once Sinker’s certain the door has fully closed behind you, he lets out a long sigh. Kriff, that was harder than he thought it would be.

The inside of the closet is dark, the dim lights taking a few seconds to boot up. In your time serving the GAR, you’ve been on a multitude of ships, covered with the most cutting edge technology and yet in each and every ship, the closets are always neglected.

They’re a second thought in comparison to the other elements of the ship. Cluttered floors, racks that are full of various stock that are probably out of date, a musty smell in the air, dull lights that are incapable of doing their sole purpose. It’s not a place you want to be for a long time.

Trying to look behind the metal shelving units, you mumble a curse. It’s dark behind the cabinets with barely enough space between them and the wall for you to fit your arm through.

Stooping down, you reach into the darkness, trying to find this damn box of bacta patches so you can quickly leave again.

You’re so invested in finding the box, you pay no attention to the voices outside. “Why would the General want to meet me in there?” A voice says and without missing a beat, another voice replies “I’m not sure, Commander, I thought it was best not to ask”.

Behind you, the door opens but with the position you’re in, it’s hard to turn around and look. “I haven’t found it yet,” you call out “kriff, how far back did it fall?”.

The person doesn’t reply.

“I know you’re really busy just standing there and all, Sinker,” you huff “but I’d really appreciate some help”.

“Sinker?” the voice scoffs, making you freeze. Clumsily removing your hand from behind the cabinet, you stand up straight and come face to face with Commander Wolffe.

You have to admit, you didn’t think you’d come this close to him, your chest almost bumping against his as you sway backwards to give him some space. “Oh! Commander-“ you start but Wolffe talks over you.

“I know us clones all look the same but the last time I checked, Sergeant Sinker has silver hair and both of his biological eyes”. You can hear the venom in his voice, his tone laced in sarcasm as he continues “Just a tip, so you don’t mix people up next time”.

You can’t help scoff, retorting “Mix people up? I wasn’t even looking at you! Am I just supposed to sense how many biological eyes you have?”.

“You should look whenever someone enters a room,” Wolffe begins to lecture you “that’s protocol 101; always be aware of your surroundings”.

“My apologies, Commander, I didn’t realise I came here to get a lesson in GAR protocol” you snap back. This is a usual occurrence whenever you and Wolffe are near each other, neither of you backing down and arguing until you’re separated by the others.

With the rolls of his eyes, Wolffe gestures towards the door “Just go, I have an important meeting in here”.

“With pleasure” you mumble, trying to move around the Commander without walking straight into him or colliding with the multiple cabinets.

Wolffe leans to the side, huffing loudly just to make sure you know this is a bother to him, giving you space to step over one of his legs and move to the door.

Your fingers brush against the control panel to the door, lighting it up. Nothing happens. You wait a few moments before doing it again but this time you press harder on the panel. Still nothing.

“Huh…” you crease your brow, repeating the action for a third time.

You hear some movement behind you and Wolffe turns his body to face you, peering over your shoulder at the control panel. With his critical gaze on you, you try again but to no avail.

“Are you pressing it hard enough?” his voice is gruff and surprisingly close to your ear.

You jerk your head away from him “Jeez, are you trying to make me go deaf? Of course I’m pressing it hard enough!”. With extra force, you press down on the control panel again.

Nothing.

Wolffe rolls his eyes, reaching his arm around you and trying it himself “Obviously you’re not if the door isn’t opening”. Stabbing his finger at the control panel, you hear a small “...oh” from behind you when the door still refuses to open.

“Move over, let me have a proper look at it” Wolffe puts his hands on your shoulders, abruptly guiding you away from the control panel as you both switch places in a shuffling motion.

Now with Wolffe closest to the door, you lean against one of the cabinets, firmly planting your hands on the cool metal.

You can feel your face becoming flushed, a surge of warmth spreading across your cheeks. The door will open, of course it will. This is just a small malfunction, that’s all. And then you can leave this stupid closet and never come back here again.

Trying to distract yourself, you decide to subject yourself to small talk with Wolffe.

“So, why are you here anyway?” you ask, your grip tightening on the shelves as if you’re bracing for impact.

Wolffe keeps his focus on the control panel, fiddling with it as he answers “The General wants to meet me in here, says it’s something important”.

Are you hallucinating or did he just say the General? Clarifying, you ask “General Plo wanted to talk to you… in a supply closet?”.

“That’s what I said”.

“And the General said this to you himself?” you pry, trying to ignore the loud thudding of your heart.

“Not exactly” putting his hands on his hips, Wolffe pauses his investigation of the control panel “hmm, it was Comet and Boost. They said he wanted to meet me here”.

You force out a small laugh “And you believed them? Really?”.

Wolffe says something you don’t quite catch, something in Mando’a. Running his hand down his face, he gives the control panel a death stare for good measure.

“The bad news is the door is locked from the outside, so I can’t open it from here but the good news is the maintenance droids run on a tight schedule so one of them should be…” glancing over his shoulder at you, his words fail him and for a moment, Wolffe’s taken aback.

The puzzled look on the Commander’s face makes you feel even worse, an overwhelming feeling of dread consuming your senses. “What? What is it?” you question, your tone a little too confrontational but thankfully Wolffe doesn’t bite back (for once).

“Why is your face so red?”.

Your stomach twists in directions you’re not sure it’s meant to, utterly embarrassed by such a question. Averting your gaze, your eyes lock onto the shelves that line the room, so cluttered it feels like they’re swarming you.

If you reach your arm out, you could touch almost any shelf. Could you do that beforehand? Is the room getting smaller?

With the surprisingly gentle call of your name, Wolffe brings your attention back to him, his hands out in front of him as if he’s trying to tame a wild animal. “Just tell me what’s wrong,” he coaxes, moving closer to you “are you hurt? Is that why you're in here?”.

With his hand a mere inch from touching you, you flinch, pressing yourself deeper into the cabinet as you screw your eyes shut. It’s not that you don’t mind being touched but the thoughts of feeling such a dominant presence as well as the cramped aura of the room makes your stomach churn.

“No, no, I don’t like this room,” you blurt out, voice beginning to shake as you continue “everything feels too tight, it’s all too close, I-I don’t like it”.

Wolffe can handle fighting battle droids, kriff, he can even hold his own against a sith but this? He knows he’s out of his depth but Wolffe also knows this isn’t the time to freeze, not when it’s you. Right now, you need him and he’ll be damned if he doesn't help.

He notices your tight grip on the shelves, your knuckles turning white as if you’re holding on for dear life. “Do you want to sit down?” Wolffe keeps his voice uncharacteristically soft, stooping to the ground in the hopes you’ll follow.

Hesitantly opening your eyes, you scan the floor below. It’s covered in loose, discarded items that once sat on the shelves but have since been looked over and forgotten.

Is there any part of this closet that’s clean? That doesn’t feel crowded? Your head pangs, pain lingering across your forehead.

You let out a whine. Wolffe keeps one of his hands stretched out to you, opening his palm wide “Don’t be stupid about this, let me help you”.

You don’t think he can help, in fact you don’t think anyone can help you right now. But then your gaze meets his. Wolffe looks up at you with calm, hopeful eyes, his rough exterior and brazen nature slowly melting away.

You try to take a deep breath but the tightness in your throat makes it an impossible task. You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t even want to look at Wolffe right now, the embarrassment of your involuntary actions making you feel worse. But what other choice do you have? It’s not like you can walk away, you can barely take a step forward without face planting a cabinet.

Nervously nodding your head, you take his hand. Wolffe tentatively encloses his hand around yours, watching your reaction closely. At any sign of further discomfort or even the slight jerk of your hand, he would let go, not wanting to accidentally make matters worse.

“Good… finally, you actually followed an order” he jibes, the subtle smirk on his face letting you know he’s not purposely dissing you. Although this is a comment you’d usually roll your eyes at, you weirdly find comfort in his typical teasing.

With his hand to steady you, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. “There you go,” Wolffe comments “were you hurt? During the last battle?”. He knows you said it’s the room causing this but he doesn’t see how that’s possible. Not unless this was somehow caused by an injury you sustained in battle, one that’s only rearing its head now.

You shake your head, though that only makes you feel dizzy. “No, no… i-it’s too tight, this room, I need to get out,” you reply through laboured breaths.

Keeping one hand enclosed around yours, Wolffe uses his other hand to reach up and try the control panel again. He sighs when nothing happens.

Letting out a small whimper, you slip your hand out of Wolffe’s, using both of your hands to pull your knees up against your chest as you hang your head low.

You’ll never hear the end of this. Out of all the clones aboard, why did it have to be Wolffe in here? The one person you know will bring this up at a later date just to get the upper hand in an argument.

What makes it worse is that you know he’ll only view you as being weak after this. Wolffe is a man that’s been through so much in his life, surviving a countless number of battles, disasters and attempts on his life. The heavy feeling of shame makes you hold onto your knees tighter. Wolffe is such a strong soldier and here you are, crumbling because of a locked door.

The soft sound of your name drags you away from your internal self-criticism, followed by a poking sensation on your leg.

Barely looking up, you see Wolffe prodding your knee, repeating your name again as he adds “I can’t help unless you give me something to work with, tell me what I can do”.

Wolffe has always had mixed feelings about you but that doesn’t mean he wants to see you upset. Sure, you’re stubborn… and feisty… and a headache to work with but in fairness, you’ve always been there for the Wolfpack.

After a tough fight, you’ve helped them bandage up. When you don’t have full faith in a plan (usually one of Wolffe’s) you’ll create a backup plan for when things inevitably go off track. Even on those quiet rotations, when memories filled with loss and regret begin to flood his brother’s heads, you’re there, listening to them. You’re a comforting presence in many of their lives, even Wolffe’s.

But don’t even ask him to say that out loud. That’s never going to happen.

He pokes you again “C’mon, it’s not like I’m going anywhere… even if I wanted to”. You huff out a laugh, though that proves harder than you initially thought, your dry mouth making the laugh sound more like a cough.

If you don’t get out of here soon, you think you might get sick, the anxious feelings in your stomach continuing to gnaw away at you.

“I… I need to get out, I need to leave” with newfound determination, you begin to stand.

The second you plant your feet on the ground, you know it’s a bad idea, feeling your muscles tremble. It’s as if you can feel each and every one of your nerves twitching, your body involuntarily trembling with panic.

Wolffe is quick to follow suit, trying to stand without knocking into one of the shelves. “Woah, take your time” he says a bit more sharply than he anticipated.

“No, let me leave, I need to-“ before you can even finish your sentence, your legs go from underneath you. You drop, about to crash back onto the ground when Wolffe catches you, scooping you up in his arms.

“What did I tell you?” He mutters with a huff, fully enclosing his arms around you as he lowers you back down to the ground. “Stay low,” he orders “the last thing either of us need is you fainting and smacking your head against the floor”.

You thought the feeling of someone else near you would make this worse, adding a new layer of suffocation to your mixture of emotions. But it’s actually kinda nice, the warmth radiating from Wolffe acting like a warm, welcoming blanket of comfort.

Being in the professional setting of the GAR for so long, you’ve forgotten how soothing physical touch can be at times. Although your reaction is subtle, Wolffe notices how you faintly lean into him, your head a mere few inches from resting on his chest. He watches you for a moment, studying your face.

Thankfully, you have your eyes closed again so he’s not worried you’ll catch him staring at you. Even though you’re in the middle of a panic attack, you look more relaxed than usual. Or at least more relaxed than how you usually are around Wolffe.

Whenever he sees you, it’s only a matter of time before you both get worked up, the two of you bickering or making not so subtle jabs at one another. But looking at you now, there’s not a single trace of that annoyance he normally associates with you.

“Just relax, take some deep breaths” he encourages you, using his hand that’s resting on your upper back to give you a gentle nudge towards him. Wolffe isn’t sure how else to let you know it’s ok to relax against him, seeing the option of saying it directly being too awkward.

He gives you a small smile and an approving nod as you do exactly that, letting your body fall against him as you rest your head on his chest.

Your hand comes up to his chest too, clutching onto the firm fabric of his Commander’s uniform, something you’re grateful he’s wearing considering his plastoid armour would be way too uncomfortable to relax against.

With your eyes still closed, you attempt to take some deep breaths, your breathing hitching every now and again. You try to sync your breathing up with Wolffe’s, finding the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest to be a lulling piece of comfort.

The tight sensation that grips your heart doesn’t fade instantaneously but you have to admit, it’s nice having someone close. It gives your mind something else to focus on instead of the cramped room, Wolffe’s presence distracting you from your worries.

The only time Wolffe ever expected you to be this close to him is if you had enough of his shit and decided to swing for him. Never in a million years would he imagine you being so peaceful and close to him.

With your voice coming out as a small whisper, you mumble “Thank you”.

His heart beats faster at your small piece of gratitude, something Wolffe hopes you can’t hear through his uniform. He’s not used to things like this. Give him a blaster and Wolffe can handle himself just fine but holding someone and trying to comfort them? That’s not his strong suit.

Taking a deep breath, you speak again, this time projecting your voice a bit more. “Did you really think you were meeting Master Plo here?” you sniffle, your head still aching but thankfully, the pain’s beginning to dull.

Wolffe has to stop himself from doing another eye roll, not wanting to start a fight or get you worked up again. “That’s what I was told” he grunts.

To his surprise, you let out a small, genuine laugh. It makes his hands twitch, wanting to pull you even closer and relish in your laugh but he resists the urge.

“And who told you that again? Oh yeah, Comet and Boost, two troopers known for their unwavering seriousness and hatred for pranks” you laugh, something Wolffe is thankful to hear again.

“Alright you got me there,” he admits, knowing it wasn’t the smartest move to believe his troublesome brothers “but why are you in here? Did they say the same thing to you?”.

“Actually it was Sinker,” you reveal, getting rather comfy leaning against the Commander “he asked if I could get some bacta patches he accidentally dropped behind the cabinets”.

You can feel Wolffe deflate, puffing out a deep breath “Please tell me you didn’t actually believe that”.

“Why?” You crane your head to look up at him, watching as he tries to suppress his annoyed expression.

Although you’d never say this outloud, he looks nice like this. Looking up at him in this position gives you a great view of his jawline, both of his eyes peering down at you and a genuine smile playing at his soft lips.

Damn, maybe you did actually hit your head. Trying to refocus on what he’s saying, you push any admiration you have for the Commander deep, deep down.

“Because the batca patches are stored on the upper deck,” removing one of his hands from you, he runs it down his face “kriff, you’ve been on this ship for months and you don’t even know where the batca patches are stored”.

While you would normally jeer back a response or scoff at Wolffe’s remark, immediately becoming defensive, you find it hard to do that after everything that’s happened.

You finally feel relaxed again, a calmness settling in your stomach and putting your heart at ease. You’re in no mood to start a fight and frankly, you don’t think you have the energy for it either.

Instead you laugh again. After all, Wolffe has a point. You should’ve known where the bacta patches are kept and if you did then you wouldn’t be in this predicament. It was a silly mistake and at this moment, you can’t find the energy within you to do anything but laugh.

Wolffe chuckles too, appreciating your reaction. Shrugging, he admits “Can’t blame you too much, it was only last week I realised the caff machine in the mesh hall has more than one setting”.

“Seriously?” you laugh again “But the default setting on that thing tastes like droid oil”.

“I know that all too well” Wolffe shakes his head, almost tasting the sour caff on his tastebuds from the mere mention of it.

You open your mouth to speak again but before you can, the door slides open, the bright lights from the corridor making you squint. A droid whirls into the room, taking no notice of you and going about it’s own business.

And just like that, your time with Wolffe is over.

Giving him a small smile, you climb off of him, getting to your feet. Watching Wolffe stand too, a sudden awkwardness hangs over you. Is that it? What do you say now? Thanks for the help but I’ll still call you out the next time you’re a jerk?

Noticing Wolffe’s expression, it’s clear you’re not the only one feeling this way. “Well, I guess that’s that” he nods, gesturing for you to leave the closet. You do so gratefully, shuffling past the droid and stepping into the wide and spacious hallway.

When Wolffe steps out, you’re sure you see a flicker of reluctance in his eyes. But you quickly brush past it, blaming it on your vision still adjusting to the bright lights.

“Are you going to be okay from here?” Wolffe asks, though it takes you a few moments to process his words, Wolffe’s head hanging low and voice just above a whisper. You’re not sure why he’s talking so low, it’s not like there’s many troopers on the lower deck to overhear.

“Yeah,” you try to sound confident in your answer “I’ll take it easy for the rest of the rotation, just in case”. In an effort to persuade him, you give Wolffe a quick smile.

“Right, well you know how to contact me if you need me…” he replies before realising how soft that sounds, immediately breaking eye contact with you and clearing his throat “or just go to the medbay, yes, that’s the better option, do that instead of contacting me. I’m very busy today”

“Busy getting stuck in closets?” you playfully tease, trying to brush past this awkward energy.

He chuckles “Better me than you”. Kriff, that sounds too soft too. Wolffe’s not a tender, warm hearted kinda guy, so he’s not sure why he’s trying to be that around you, even if it’s subconsciously.

Quickly shoving his feelings to one side, Wolffe chalks it up to your rare vulnerable moment bringing out his protective nature. That’s it. The next time he’ll see you, things will be normal, none of this small talk or softened expressions to one another.

With the curt nod of his head, the Commander walks away. It’s true, he does have a lot to do today but if you were to contact again, he’d be there in a heartbeat… even though he’s not exactly sure why he’d feel so much urgency to be there for you again.

You blink a few times, surprised by his abrupt exit. But then you remember this is Wolffe so his sudden departure should’ve been expected. After all, he’s “so busy”. Rolling your eyes, you walk in the opposite direction, deciding to track down Sinker and give him a piece of your mind.

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arctrooper69 · 1 year

Note

hiii! i just found your hurt/comfort dialog prompt list you had tagged and i'm such a sucker for that kind of stuff. could you please do prompt 34. "you're covered in blood, need to tell me something?" with wolffe? maybe even a little bit of prompts 20 and 35 from the the hurt/comfort sprinkled in there too? i absolutely adore your work and your such a fantastic writer, i look forward to everytime you post, and you do such a beautiful job on your writing that i can't wait to read this once it is done (if you decided to do it) . feel free to change it how you want, and thank you for taking time out of busy day to read this. love you <333

Hey! I'm so glad you've been enjoying my work! Sorry it took me awhile to get this out to you. I had so many ideas for it but I couldn't decide what I wanted to do. Hope you enjoy it! 😁

Prompt# 20: "How long did you think that you could hide that?"

Prompt# 34: "You're covered in blood, need to tell me anything?"

Prompt# 35: "It's just a headache, I'm fine."

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Love is a Battlefield

The new General doesn't want to ask for help. Commander Wolffe does so anyway.

Warnings: Blood. Angst. Battlefield scenes. Hurt/Comfort.

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"Okay, today officially sucks." You grumbled under your breath, cursing whatever cosmic Force led you to be in your current state. Groaning you dragged yourself back over the ledge and collapsed in the mud. Everything hurt. Your clothes were stiff with dried and drying blood and at this point, you weren't sure if it belonged to you or to those damn splox who's nest you'd fallen into. Probably both.

Ok, now to find the rest of the company. You were sure that you hadn't strayed too far from the battlefield when you'd been drug off by battle droids and thrown from a cliff in the resulting fight. But hey, at least you took them down with you. You thought, cracking a smile. Master Plo would've been proud. On the other hand, you frowned, you had gotten separated from everyone else - so maybe not so much.

You drew a sharp breath between your teeth. A burning, grating feeling radiated from your side as you stepped over a rock and nearly fell to the ground. You paused for a moment to let your tunneling vision focus again, fighting back the urge to throw up. Maybe some of the blood was actually yours. The trek back to camp was going to take much longer than you expected.

Good. Maybe that would give you time to mull over the conversation you'd had yesterday morning with the commander of you battalion.

You were sure it was the reason that Commander Wolffe was ignoring you earlier today.

***

You'd chosen to continue on with the battalion after Master Plo had received an urgent message from the Council, recalling him from the field. Wolffe disagreed.

"You're injured!" He snapped, more forcefully than intended.

You sighed rolling your eyes. "It's just a headache. I'm fine. You know I've had worse, Commander." It was more than a headache, probably a concussion due to the nausea and dizziness that currently plagued you. But he didn't need to know that.

Wolffe pinched the bridge of his nose.

"General, I saw that spider droid fling you halfway across the battlefield. Can you at least go to medical to get checked out? I need you-" He froze, then coughed quickly, trying to pass off his slip-up as though he'd been interrupted mid sentence. "We. We need you. Your men need you at your best, general."

He coughed again and quickly left the room, leaving you frozen in place.

***

Did he really say that? You replayed his words in your head over and over again.

"I need you."

You couldn't deny that it had shaken you. You couldn't deny that it had hit you in such a way that made your whole body tingle and flood with warmth. As much as you tried to suppress it and convince yourself it was nothing, you had found yourself staring at the Commander a lot recently. The way he confidently carried himself, the subtle spark in his eye, the way he cared for his men even though he hid it behind that abrasive and sarcastic front - it was all so perfect. So attractive. So him.

No, he couldn't have meant it like that. You were his superior and even more importantly, you were a Jedi. No attachment allowed. He definitely couldn't have meant it like that. It was simply a slip of the tongue. He felt nothing for you and you felt nothing for him. You told yourself that your infatuation wasn't real. Commander Wolffe was a good solider and your fondness for him was simply a professional sense of pride. That's all.

Distant voices interrupted your brooding. Several clone troopers were searching high and low, calling out for someone but you didn't quite catch the name.

"Who are we looking for?" You walked up to the trooper closest to you. His shiny white armor was streaked with mud and ash - one of the new guys. Splash, they'd christened him on account of the puddle of mud he'd landed in immediately after jumping from the gunship into the field. It was hard to believe you'd only been here for three days. It felt like three years.

"We're looking for the General!" He explained hurriedly, hardly giving you a side glance.

Your heart dropped. Surely not Master Plo. Had he not left for Coruscant after all? Your hero and former master had seemed invincible ever since he'd chosen you to be his Padawan.

"General Plo Koon?" You asked hesitantly.

Splashed grunted as he stepped over a log. "No, the other one."

A wave of relief washed over you. You could've laughed out loud if your head wasn't so cloudy. Your side screamed with every step. You took a shallow breath, trying to ground yourself.

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me.

Supplementing with the force wouldnt last long and it was draining, but it was better than the agony you'd been in. You took a deep breath, allowing the pain to become a whisper and looked back up at the clone.

"Well you found her!" You joked.

"What?" He stood up looking confused. Then he looked over at you.

Splash straightened up upon realizing that he had indeed found the General. He was glad he was wearing his bucket because he could feel his face turning red with embarrassment. He scrambled stiffly to attention. "Uhm, sorry Sir. I mean Ma'am. Uh, General." He stuttered, trying to compose himself. You chuckled, wincing as the movement pulled at your wounded side. Splash looked alarmed as if he'd just realized that his General was covered in blood. "Are you injured, Ma'am?"

You grit your teeth to hide the pain. "No, I'm fine, thank you. I believe it all belongs to the splox that I killed. Fell into a nest of em."

He looked at you, unsure if you were being serious or not, trying to recall if the regulation manuals told him what to do in a situation like this.

"We should probably make our way to medical, all the same." He concluded. "Just to be safe. Get you checked out and all." He offered his arm.

You shook your head. "No that's alright. They're much too busy right now, seeing as the battle has just ended."

"Well I'm sure..."

You put a hand up to stop him. "It's fine, Splash. I can take care of myself. Let's worry about making our way back to camp."

"Of course, General."

***

You made your way back to camp and bid Splash a farewell. Exhausted, you yawned and slowly made your way back to your tent, passing the Commander's tent on your way there.

"General!" Commander Wolffe sprang to his feet the moment he saw you. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

His eyebrows knit tightly together with a frown. If you didn't know better, you almost thought he looked concerned. Worried even. But that would be stupid. You were reading too much into it. He was simply a solider looking out for the welfare of his commanding officer. That's it. Nothing more.

"I'm good!" You grinned, hoping he didn't notice the way your teeth ground against the pain in your head and now your side.

Wolffe's face became unreadable.

"Just good!?" He growled. "General, you are covered in blood. 'Good' does not even begin to cover it. Do you need to tell me something?"

Yes. I think I'm in love with you.

"No not really." You nonchantly shrugged. "It's not mine. Fell into a nest of those giant splox beetles and had to take em out before they ate me. You know how it is."

Wolffe rolled his eyes. He didn't believe you, but what could he do? He wasn't your superior, he couldn't order you to tell him. He made a note to ask Cody and Rex to let him into the clones-with-stubborn-generals club. He could sure use some advice.

"Could you be anymore bull-headed?" he wanted to yell at you as you left the room, interpreting his silence as the end of that conversation.

Wolffe groaned in frustration. Why did he care so much? Why did the thought of you being wounded send waves of terror cascading through his core. You were acting strange, subtly walking as though every step sent agony shooting through your body thinking nobody would notice. He noticed. He wanted to pick you up in his arms and bandage your wounds. He wanted to softly kiss each scar on your skin.

You were a good leader. He understood wanting to be tough, wanting to be strong for the soldiers under your command. If he was honest with himself, he did the same.

You trudged wearily back to your tent, ignoring the pain that was slowly returning to full force with a vengeance as though it was angry at being willed into submission.

You made it a point to avoid medical. The dwindling amount of medical supplies worried you. It was only a matter of time before they would run out if they weren't sent relief. The chief medical officer had drastically downplayed the dire straits the company was in when you asked him. You'd seen the inventory. It was scarce. It wouldn't be right, going to medical right now. Not when you could most likely patch yourself up with the small medkit by your bunk. The clones made up the backbone of the GAR, it was only right that they take priority over you.

***

It was a miracle of the Force that you hadn't passed out by the time you reached the tent. Biting your lip to keep you from making too much noise, you peeled off your shirt to assess the damage, grabbing a towel from the shelf.

You bit back a pained moan and your vision swam as you gripped the edge of your cot to steady yourself. A large gash curled around the side of your chest from the bottom of your breast to your hip. The torn skin bled heavily, quickly turning the towel a crimson red.

This was...not good.

The com chirped, making you jump. You felt dazed and exhausted. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before answering the com. Sergeant Sinker's brisk voice echoed from the device.

"General, the clankers are moving in from the North. They've engaged the front and the 501st is calling for aid. What are your orders?"

Your men needed you. Who were you to ignore them? What kind of leader would you be if you sent them off while you stayed behind. "A good leader leads by example" Master Plo always said. You were tired of the animalistic way the clones were treated - as if they were only droids or worse. You would be there for your men, fighting right up front beside them. Right beside Commander Wolffe.

You lit up the com. "Proceed with the request, Sergeant. I'll be there shortly."

You looked at the medkit. Well, so much for that. You quickly taped up the wound and slapped some bacta treated gauze on it. Then you quickly changed your clothes, willing yourself to ignore the nauseating pain. You steadied yourself with a hand on the wall before wiping the cold sweat from your clammy skin. You tried to breathe, once more closing your eyes in meditation once again squashing down the pain. The show must go on. The General must lead her men into battle.

***

General Skywalker was right to call for aid. The Separatist forces were throwing everything they had at you. You jumped over the guns of a tank, slicing through the controls to disable it. Droid after droid came at you from all sides and you cut them down. If only the Commander could see you now in all your glory.

An explosion knocked you off your feet, wrenching you from your stupor. Pain surged through your body as you pushed yourself to your feet. The continuous onslaught of enemy forces wasn't so fun now. You began to realize just how tired you were. Trying to catch your breath felt as futile as swimming in honey. Your mind felt sluggish and your arms felt like lead. A B2 took aim and fired. You saw him fire and raised your saber to block but it was a fraction of a second too slow and the blast hit your shoulder. Kriff. You hit the ground hard, letting the awful, searing pain wash over you. You wanted to close your eyes. You wished you could just rest. Just for a moment.

Your eyes flew back open. No. The men need you. Get up. Shakily you forced yourself to your knees and onto your feet. One more time. You knew this was abusing the force but it was for an honorable reason. Right?

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me. Pain is temporary. Accept it simply as a signal sent by the body. Accept the pain. Respect it. Don't fight it. Ask your body to begin to heal.

You let out a feral scream, pouring every last ounce of energy and willpower into your prayers, knocking back an entire wave of droids. And then you felt nothing.

***

My head. The first thing you noticed upon regaining consciousness was the skull splitting headache that you could almost feel radiating down your entire body. It felt as though someone was spearing red hot needles through your eyeballs, twisting them through the many sections of your brain. The pain made you nauseous.

An agonized wheeze drifted from your lips as you tried to raise your hands to cup your face. When did my arms get so heavy? Pain shot through your side and shoulder as you tried to move. Panic gripped you when you couldn't.

"Ah kriff," a gruff voice cursed. "Hey! General. General, it's okay. Calm down. You're safe." You'd know that voice anywhere - it was the only clear thing that cut through the haze of pain. Commander Wolffe.

He barked a command at someone and after a few minutes the pain had loosened it's claws. It wasn't much but it was better than before.

"What do you need, General? Are you still in pain?"

"Lights," you managed to groan. Even that took too much energy and you desperately hoped that you wouldn't be sick in front of the Commander.

Wolffe immediately jumped from his chair, quickly shutting off the lights. That helped some, but not much. It still felt like your head was being lobotomized by a pickaxe. Your side and shoulder felt like they'd been broken off and trampled by a bantha. A bantha that was on fire maybe.

"You are so kriffing stubborn, you know that!?" Wolffe growled. Seeing you wince, he lowered his volume but continued with the hard and bitter tone.

"How long did you think you could hide that!? Hmm?" He motioned to your side.

"You almost died yesterday." He said, softening his voice ever so slightly.

Wolffe looked tired. His eyes were sunken and even his cybernetic one had a dark shadow beneath it. He looked like he hadn't shaved or showered since the battle. His grey armor was still scuffed up with dirt and grime. A small bacta patch adorned his right eyebrow.

You looked away, shame burning at the corners your eyes, adding to the overwhelming pressure in your head. You failed him and now he hated you. You turned your head away from him wincing at the pain but you couldn't bear to have him see the tears that rolled down your cheeks.

"Look at me." A command. He didn't have the authority to give you a command, but you felt compelled to comply all the same. Hastily wiping your eyes in a futile attempt at seeming alright, you turned towards him. Your breath caught as he wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling it from your face.

"Stop kriffing pretending that you're okay." Still a command, but this one felt softer. His voice still held the rough, bitter edge that defined him so well but as you met his eyes, they held an uncertain gaze of vulnerability.

"Your men need you alive. They care about you, General." He paused, pacing back and forth in the dark room. He came to a stand still by the foot of your bed, refusing to meet your gaze, as though he had something he wanted to say. Finally he took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Oh kriff it." He snapped. "I care about you, damnit!" He shook his head and began to pace again, the anger returning to his visage.

"General Plo said you could've died." He spat. "He said that you had spread yourself so thin, used up so much energy that you could've killed yourself. Do you..." He cut himself off and took another breath, clenching his fists tightly. "Do you know what that would've done to this company. Do you know what that would've done to me!?"

There was fire in his eyes when he looked back up at you. "It would've killed me too."

You lay there in your bed staring at him - shocked at this outburst. What was he saying? That he cared for you? That he loved you? That he thought about you as much as you thought about him?

"I.." you began softly.

"No. I'm not done."

You shut your mouth.

"General, when you came back to camp covered in blood, I had to restrain myself from throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to medical myself. I knew something was wrong but I trusted that you knew what you were doing. It was the same when I saw you collapse yesterday. It took everything in me not to race to your side."

He shook his head, disappointed in himself, and angry with you. "I should be holding the line with my men, not babysitting my General!"

You stared blankly ahead, letting his anger wash over you. So that's how he saw you. That solves one problem, you tried to convince yourself. It was good that he didn't reciprocate your feelings. That made it easier to cleanse yourself of any feeling of attachment. But then why didn't hurt so bad? Why did it feel like a part of your soul had been sawed away? Wasn't letting go of your emotions supposed to bring you peace? This crushing weight of disappointment and heartbreak was anything but peace.

The room was quiet save for the beeps and whirs of the medical equipment around you. The silence felt deafening. Then finally Wolffe let out a sigh.

"I'm....sorry..." The words dragged themselves reluctantly from his mouth.

You didn't respond.

The bed buckled slightly as Wolffe sat down on the edge. He tentatively rested a hand gently on your back, expecting you to recoil or stiffen under his touch. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as you leaned into his touch instead.

He sighed, rolling his neck. "Look," he began awkwardly. "I'm not good at this kind of thing so I'm just going to be honest with you. I..." He stopped. You turned your face towards his. He took a breathe, not daring to make eye contact. "I think I'm in love with you. Kriff. No, I know I'm in love with you."

You gasped, the dam broke and tears began to stream down your face.

Wolffe jumped up, startled and clearly embarrassed. "I...I mean... I... I didn't mean..." The normally confident Commander stumbled over his words in a shameful horror.

"No," you sobbed. You felt so relieved. Everything felt right again. "You didn't do anything wrong." He looked down at you, eybrows knitted upwards in confusion. "Then why..." He motioned to your tearful face.

"Because I love you too and I was afraid that you hated me. I was afraid that everyone would see me as a terrible General. And also my everything hurts and..." you sobbed, "...and I love you so much."

Wolffe looked down at you with amusement and a strange softness took hold of his features - a foreign look for his usually serious demeanor.

"You look nice when you smile," you whispered with a small grin. "But you can go back to frowning if that's more comfortable for you."

Wolffe rolled his eyes as he settled down in a chair beside your bed. "You should get some sleep, General." Back to his serious old self again but he kept that twinkle in his eye. Only for you. he thought.

"I'll be right here when you wake up."

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 2 months

Note

hi! i saw the soaring’s tour post (love the name btw it’s soo cute!) and i figured i’d book a trip💕✨

my travel companion is wolffe (i love this man so much😭)

our luggage is slice of life/family and romance

we were thinking of going to tatooine and yavin 4

i’m the wolffepack’s medic. i’m the sunshine to his grumpy storm cloud, but he’s always had a soft spot for me. we’ve been together for a while now, and i think he’s gonna pop the big question during this trip, if you know what i mean *wink wink*

that’s all i got to tell you! i can’t wait for this trip, but absolutely no rush though!! thank you so much for helping to plan this trip! have a wonderful day/night!!!

Thank you for booking with Soaring's Tours. We're now ready to board your flight. Please mind the gap between the transport and the platform. We wish you a pleasant journey!

Part of the Pack

Amidst the chaos of the war, you've found solace and love in the arms of your grouchy Commander. As you steal a moment away from the battlefield, the future becomes all that more exciting.

Pairing: Wolffe x f!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: fluff, sweetness, grumpy and sunshine.

Translations: meshurok - gemstone

The sound of your heels clicking echoed down the hallway of the ship, and every trooper you passed gave a slight dip of their head in greeting. You returned it with a smile, hands smoothing down the front of your dress.

Two years you’d served as a medic for the Wolfpack - two years of patching them up after they charged headfirst into chaos. Two years of being madly in love with their grouchy Commander, too. You wouldn’t trade it for the galaxy.

Although outwardly calm, your mind raced. This morning, your comm had beeped with a message from Wolffe, asking you to meet him in the hangar – with the stipulation that you wear something nice instead of your usual gear.

As you approached the hangar entrance, your heart quickened with excitement and apprehension. The hum of activity intensified, with mechanics scurrying around and ships being prepped for departure. Amidst the organised chaos, you could easily spot Wolffe standing near the edge of the hangar, his back turned towards you. Gone was his armour and blacks; instead, he was dressed in civilian clothing – black pants that hugged in all the right places and a grey button-down with the sleeves rolled up. His presence still exuded authority and confidence, yet there was a subtle tension in his posture that you’d learned to recognise. He wasn’t happy about something.

Approaching, you stopped at his side, biting the inside of your lip to suppress your smile as you came face to face with the source of his ire.

A droid.

But not just any droid.

That blasted protocol droid that had joined you all on Aleen.

As the droid prattled on, you could sense Wolffe’s frustration rising. His posture was rigid, shoulders back, lips pressed flat. While it would’ve been fun to remain silent and watch him become increasingly annoyed, you figured it was time to end his suffering. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I need the Commander.” You interjected, offering the droid an apologetic smile.

Wolffe finally glanced at you, hand flexing at his side as he tampered down the desire to reach for you. “No need to apologise.” He answered, gaze shifting to you. “We were just finishing up here.” With a curt nod to the droid, he gestured for you to follow him as he strode away towards a small ship docked nearby.

Together, you entered the ship, and once the ramp was closed, you found yourself pulled into his arms. While your relationship was no secret among the pack, it wouldn’t do for prying eyes to spot you.

“You look good enough to eat, meshurok.” Wolffe complimented, his voice low and warm. While the droid had raised his ire, one look at you had swept it all away. “I hope you’re ready for a little adventure today.”

Your heart fluttered, and you nodded eagerly, excitement bubbling within you. Whatever Wolffe had planned, you knew it would be unforgettable, just like every moment you’d spent by his side. “Do I get a clue?” You teased, smiling up at him as you smoothed your hands across his chest, enjoying the softness of his shirt and the firm muscle beneath.

Wolffe grumbled under his breath. You were always teasing, using your pretty smile to make him melt. But not today. Today was too important. “No clues.” He muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone. Leading you into the cockpit, he settled you into the copilot’s seat before taking the helm.

As the ship hummed into life around you, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him, admiring how his jaw tightened in concentration, yet his eyes softened whenever they met yours. Despite his tough exterior, a tenderness was hidden underneath, a gentleness reserved only for those he cared about. His grumpiness might have been legendary, but so was his unwavering loyalty and fierce protectiveness towards the pack and you.

As the ship lifted off smoothly and soared into the endless expanse of space, he made the jump to hyperspace. “I wanted to steal you away for a moment,” Wolffe admitted, his gaze fixed on the star-studded vista beyond the view-port before he glanced your way.

“You’re taking me on a date.” You stated, unable to stop your wide smile from appearing again. It wasn’t often the two of you had time away from the war effort, and you could count the number of actual dates you’d been on on one hand. Most of the time, you made do with stolen moments between missions - the quiet brush of hands in silent hallways, passionate kisses in empty med-bays, and stolen hours tangled in sheets when no one would disturb you.

Wolffe’s lips twitched into a faint smile at your deduction. “Something like that.” He replied cryptically as his fingers tapped against the controls.

Curiosity curled through you. Wolffe had always been an enigma, but he’d never kept you in the dark. He’d taken to you surprisingly quickly, growing more comfortable around you until one night, when you’d swung by his makeshift office to check on him, you’d ended up pinned against the crates that had been turned into a desk, the firm planes of his body pressed against you as he’d kissed you wildly.

By the morning, he’d made you his, complete with his tags around your neck.

As the ship finally dropped out of hyperspace, you found yourself gazing upon a breathtaking vista - the planet below bathed in the soft glow of its sun, its surface a patchwork of vibrant colours and swirling clouds.

Wolffe glanced over at you as a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, taking in your awestruck expression. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He remarked softly. “But not nearly as beautiful as you.” He tacked on.

Pulling your gaze from the view, you offered the man by your side an amused smile, feeling warmth in your cheeks. “Sap.” You teased, still not used to the compliments after all this time.

“Don’t go telling anyone.” He grumbled though mirth danced across his face.

The sun started setting as you leaned back against Wolffe’s chest. He’d set the ship down atop a small hill, and upon exiting you’d been surprised to find a blanket already laid out, along with a basket of food. He’d neither confirmed nor denied that he’d sent Sinker and Boost out earlier to set it up.

The two of you had spent some time catching up, enjoying the food and each other’s company. Without eyes on you, you were free to share as many kisses and touches as you liked. Wolffe had finally propped himself up against a nearby rock, drawing you to sit between his legs, wrapping his arms around you as his chin came to rest on your shoulder.

The sky above painted a breathtaking palette of oranges, pinks, and purples as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape. The gentle breeze tousled your hair as you leaned into Wolffe’s embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back.

“I could stay like this forever.” You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched the colours of the sky blend and shift with the approaching twilight.

“Me too.” Wolffe pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you in a silent promise of protection and comfort. “You’re my anchor.” He confessed quietly, a tenderness reserved solely for you in his voice. “In this chaotic galaxy, you’re the constant I can always rely on.”

Warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you turned your head to meet his gaze, finding a depth of emotion reflected in his eyes that took your breath away. “And you’re mine.” You whispered, reaching up to draw your finger down his cheek, across the scar from the close call that had nearly taken him from you. “No matter what, I can always count on you to be there for me.”

Wolffe’s expression softened even further at your words, his rough exterior giving way to a vulnerability he only showed you. “I may not always say it, but I love you.” He confessed, his voice barely above a murmur as he pressed his forehead against yours. “More than anything in this galaxy.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you leaned into his touch, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion between you. “I love you too.” You whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “More than words can express.”

With the confession hanging in the air like a delicate promise, Wolffe’s heart pounded in his chest, nerves fluttering like a thousand tiny butterflies as he watched you turn your focus back to the sunset. He knew what he wanted to say next, but the weight of it pressed down on him. He never thought this moment would come, that he’d get to love someone as bright and beautiful as you. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself as best he could, unwrapping an arm from around you as he reached into his pants pocket to find the small box he’d kept a secret for weeks now.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” He stated, his voice slightly hoarse with emotion.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but before you could turn around to face him and ask him what was wrong, his arm was back around you, and in his hand, he clutched a small box, open to reveal a delicate ring nestled within.

As you gazed at it, your breath caught in your throat, the metal gleaming softly in the fading light.

“Ner meshurok,” he began, his voice husky with emotion, “I know we’re living in uncertain times, fighting a war that seems to have no end. I can’t promise you a lifetime of peace or stability, but whatever life I have, I want to spend it with you.”

“Wolffe…” You whispered, your voice barely a breath as you looked over your shoulder at him, meeting his gaze. Tears welled up in your eyes as you took in the unexpected nervousness on his handsome face.

Wolffe swallowed thickly, moving his free hand to brush your hair from your face. “Will you marry me?” He asked quietly.

The words hung in the air, a silent plea for your answer. But before you could respond, you twisted in his lap, throwing your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as tears of joy streamed down your cheeks.

“Yes.” You whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “Yes, a thousand times yes.”

As Wolffe held you tightly in his arms, relief flooded him at your answer. He buried his face in your hair for a moment, breathing in your scent, before you both pulled back slightly to look into each other’s eyes. Carefully, he slid the ring onto your finger, his touch gentle yet sure. As the metal settled against your skin, a sense of completeness washed over you, like puzzle pieces finally falling into place.

You couldn’t help but marvel at how it caught the fading light. The moment felt surreal as if you were suspended in time, cocooned in the warmth of Wolffe’s embrace and the promise of a future together.

“There, all official.” A rare grin crossed his lips. “Guess I’m stuck with you now.” He grumbled good-naturedly, lifting his hand to wipe away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within you as you leaned in to press a kiss against his lips. “You wouldn’t have it any other way, Commander.” You teased, your heart overflowing with love for the man who had become your everything.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @starrylothcat @cw80831 @dreamie411 @issa-me-bry-blog @leftealeaf @isaidonyourknees @padawancat97 @dangraccoon @jedi-hawkins @sverdgeir

#Soaring's Tours Follower Celebration #the clone wars x reader #tcw wolffe #wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #commander wolffe #clone trooper wolffe #star wars clone wars #the clone wars #wolf pack #104th battalion

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nahoney22 · 10 months

Note

Congrats on 3k! Sorry for the late request, I don't know if you're still accepting them or not but could possibly do a nsfw Female reader for Wolffe with the prompts "You know you're really hot when you're angry" and "if we weren't in public right now, I'd bend you over the table and fuck you."

Also your writing is so good from what I've seen!!

3000 Prompt List Celebration

Wolffe X F!Reader

word count: 1.9k

NSFW

prompts:

“You know you’re really hot when you’re angry.”

“If we weren’t in public right now, I’d bend you over the table and fuck you right now.” (Altered just a tad)

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit sexual content. P in v sex, Dirty talk, sexual tension creampie, established but private relationship, slightly rough sex, kissing, nipple sucking/licking, swearing, dom!Wolffe, semi-public sex, reader is a bit of a tease. Aftercare and some soft moments.

authors note: sorry for the wait. 💜 as always, dividers are by @samspenandsword

“Don’t trip.”

Your advice would have been much appreciated if you purposely didn’t it say after the Commander tripped over some tangled uprooted vines. But, as it was Commander Wolffe, you just simply couldn’t help but tease him.

His comrades snigger at their Commander's misfortune, only to receive a piercing, disapproving stare from the resolute clone. His gaze then shifted to you, a bomb disposal expert for the 104th, and he matched your notorious smirk with an equally stern glare.“Watch it, missy.” He hissed as you approached, oozing confidence that used to ignite a fiery reaction within him.

Used to.

The 104th were aware of the tension between you both, always bickering and incessantly teasing one another when assigned on missions together. Even Sinker and Boost had a bet on to see who would kill each other first. What his brothers didn’t know, however, is that the hardened Commander had fallen for you and you just so happened to have fallen for him too.

Those times he had said to his comrades that he had given you a reprimanding in private? Yeah, that is simply you getting pushed up agaisnt a wall and fucked hard, hands tangled in each others hair. Or, you would sneak into each other's quarters at night and he would crawl under your sheets, tasting what he caused.

“Or what?” you taunted, pausing with a confident stance and an arched eyebrow.

His jaw clenches and he looks to his men who marched on forward, leaving you two at the back of the pack. “If we weren’t in public right now, I’d bend you over by that tree and fuck you right now.” He leans in close to your ear, looking like he’s giving you a stern warning when in reality it seemed like an inviting threat.

“Oh Commander,” you say with a hushed tone, taking a step closer to him, “you know I’m not the one to shy away.” You grin with a seductive smile that makes his chest heave as he sucks in a deep breath, intoxicated by your words and the mere scent of you as you draw near.

“You’re insufferable.” He utters though you know it was kind of endearing all the same.

“Funny, you said that to me the first time you met me… now look at us, playing pretend in front of your men.” You make sure nobody is looking when you stand on the tips of your toes and very teasingly place a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Try not to tell me off too much, you know how flustered it gets me.”

He watches you strut away, your hips swaying in a manner that had captivated him from the moment he laid eyes on you. He could feel himself straining against his uniform, a bead of sweat trickling down his neck, and this time, he couldn't blame the heat alone. He needed to find a way to be alone with you, sooner rather than later.

Another jab, another eye twitch from the Commander. You were purposefully being a brat to get his attention and much to the amusement of his brothers who revel in seeing him squirm. The mission had been a success, and as they all boarded the ships to return to Coruscant, you were unabashedly engaged in a loud conversation with Boost and Sinker about Wolffe, making his ears burn.

He wasn't privy to the exact nature of your conversation, but you had glanced over your shoulder, almost snickering, before redirecting your attention to his brothers. Oh, you were definitely up to something.

With a determined stride, his chest puffed out, Wolffe approached, his presence causing both Boost and Sinker's expressions to falter as he stood behind you, arms folded. "What are you three talking about?"

"Uh, nothing, sir," Boost stammered, clearing his throat in a futile attempt to suppress a laugh, while Sinker grew increasingly red, struggling to contain his amusement.

"Uh-huh," Wolffe huffed at the two of them before placing a firm hand on your shoulder and turning you to face him. "Care to enlighten me, ma'am?"

Your eyes locked with his, an unspoken tension hanging between you. "Are you implying that we're talking about you?" you asked playfully, tilting your head to the side. "That's rather egotistical of you."

Sinker couldn't hold back his laughter any longer, receiving a swat on the arm from Boost, but Wolffe’s gaze remained fixed on you. "Do you want me to remind you how to address your superiors?”

Biting your inner cheek, you knew exactly what he was alluding to, and truth be told, you were more than eager. "I believe you might have to, yes."

Taking a step closer, his proximity engulfing you, Wolffe’s voice grew husky. "Go to the cargo hold. I want to speak with you alone."

You turned to Boost and Sinker, rolling your eyes as if to downplay the simmering tension. "Very well, Commander. I'll join you in a moment."

A low grunt escaped Wolffe, followed by the sound of his retreating footsteps. After bidding farewell to the boys, who remained blissfully unaware of what would truly transpire in the cargo hold, you strolled casually toward your destination, the ship's humming masking the rapid thumping of your heart. As the door to the hold hissed open, revealing Wolffe leaning against a stack of crates, the ship's red lights cast an alluring glow upon his figure. "Lock the door behind you, ma'am," he instructed, and, as customary for him, you turned and obediently complied.

But as you turned back to face him, he was already before you, his lips claiming yours with fervor. "You drive me insane, you know that, baby?"

Melting against him, your arms encircled the back of his neck as his lips and tongue expertly explored your own. It felt like an eternity since you had been this close, and you certainly had no intention of letting this opportunity go to waste.

"How can you blame me?" you whispered, a sly smirk gracing your face as you gently nibbled on his lower lip, eliciting a gratifying growl-like sound from deep within him. "You know you're really hot when you're angry."

He chuckled darkly, his hands sliding sensually under your thighs, effortlessly lifting you off the ground. The intense kiss continued as he carried you toward the crates where he had previously been leaning, gently setting you down. "Not angry, just terribly, painfully sexually frustrated," he admitted with a husky tone.

"Well then," you countered, a mischievous smirk playing on your lips as your hands rested against his chest, "I’m glad that the others believe you're reprimanding me. They won't disturb us."

A wicked smirk mirrored your own on his face as his hands eagerly fumbled with the buttons and clasps of your uniform. With a swift motion, your work shirt was stripped away and discarded unceremoniously on the floor. "You're absolutely right, sweetheart," he sighed, leaning down to pepper kisses along your collarbone and down your chest, leaving a trail of heated desire in his wake.

You tilt your head back, moaning softly when he lets his tongue lick over one of your stiffening nipples, his other hand caressing your other breast before teasingly pinching the hardened nub. “That feels so good,” you whine quietly, still a little cautious in case anybody hears you both but at the same time you don't care. And neither did he.

He only hums in response to you, tongue flicking rapidly against your stiffened peak but grins when he feels you tugging on his codpiece and freeing his cock.

He moans heartily as you slowly start to pump along his length, his mouth moving to latch onto your other nipple whilst his hands alternate. “Good girl,” he chuckles, pulling your nipple with his lips and letting go with a pop. Your legs shake in eagerness, your cunt throbbing at the need for his cock.

Wolffe whined as your hand stroked downward, encircling the base of his cock in the best of ways that you knew he loved before rising to the top to trail across the sensitive crown. It didn’t take long for him to be rock solid under your touch and it didn’t take long for him to be hooking his fingers into your pants, pulling down your work clothes and panties in a single swoop.

“We need to be quick,” he grunts as he manhandles you and flips you so your bent over the crates, legs spread and eagerly awaiting his cock, “Maker, been wanting to do this all day,”

You feel a heat rush to your cheeks as you hear him spit, in what only could be into his hand. His glove is tossed onto the crate beside you and you let out a loud gasp as you feel something warm and wet caress at your folds; his fingers lubing you up for his cock. “Such a pretty girl, can’t wait to make a mess of you.” He grunts and you whine delicately as you feel his tip line up with your entrance before slowly pushing inside of you.

Fuck. It had been a while.

You whimper and moan even trying to buck up against him to take more. He feels perfect. He is perfect.

He holds himself in you after a long, slow stroke, letting you adjust to the sensation of his large cock. “Wolffe, fuck me. Please. Hard.” You find yourself begging, which wouldn’t be the first time. You liked it rough with him and in the naughtiest scenarios to which being in a ship filled with his men who could come in any second was just the right amount you needed.

But he does. Hard. Fucking away at you with everything he has, no lead up, just hard, slamming strokes that leave bruises on your hips from where the edges of the crate start to dig into her your. He still adorned his gear so you were not shocked to feel slight pinching on the back of your legs but that was overlooked by him filling you completely, stretching you up.

You feel his cock swell less than a second before he growls in your ear, “you like this huh? You like me bending you over and fucking you?” You can only moan and nod feverishly, especially as you feel his finger reach down and strokes at your clit, just once. That’s all it took. You cum, gripping onto the crate as it drags against the metal floor as he pumps you with his seed.

Wolffe rocks his hips slowly until the last drop comes out and then lays his full weight against your back. It's nice, comforting, while he softens and slips out.

He stands back, watching his white lace drip out of your pussy and down your leg and he loves it. “Beautiful.” He mutters, stuffing his cock back into his blacks and reattaching his codpiece, wiping the sweat from his brow.

You stand up straight, legs a little shaken and he makes no hesitation to hold you close and support you, gathering up your clothes and helping you dress. “You don’t have to help me Commander,” you smile with a blush, always a little shy after you had been intimate with the brooding Commander.

“You know I don’t like it when you call me that, baby.” He whispers, placing a kiss to your cheek as he buttons up your shirt and making sure you look presentable. Hebrings you to his chest, arms wrapped around you where he can just hold you for a little while. Away from the others and away from the War. “I… I love you. I hope you do know that.”

His words made your heart flutter and you looked up to him with slightly misty eyes at his soft confession. “I love you too, handsome.”

Masterlist

Prompt List Works

tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr r @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka a @oohyesplease @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 9 @padawancat97 7 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone e @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog g @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo o @therealnekomari i @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd d @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 1 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad

#commander wolffe #commander wolffe x you #Wolffe x reader #Wolffe x you #commander Wolffe x reader #nahoney22 writes #clone wars #104th battalion

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 7 months

Text

Poets and Painters (Midday) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over… 2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss, and Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes the more the fic progresses (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet.

Word count: 4,665

The trick to keeping Commander Wolffe from prowling the edge of the clearing like a caged animal had been surprising. To everyone.

Allowing him to watch you work keeps him seated on the hill beside you, where he does not worry his brothers or Master Plo Koon by continuing to make lap after lap. He had left your side once, to take a look at something the Clone pilot Warthog had to show him, and then did a little shiny-wrangling (namely Soapsuds) because they were too close to the forest for his comfort, but he was quick to return.

He's not much of a conversational partner, whether that's out of respect for you to let you concentrate, or simply a product of his personality. When he has something to say, Wolffe keeps it brief.

"I'm not that pale."

"But your scar is." you reply with a gentle smile and a soft laugh, carefully adding traces of a lighter flesh-tone to the vertical stripe of scar tissue in your sketching of the Commander. You keep your pressure light on the page, and make your best efforts to keep the strokes in roughly the same orientation. The smile gives way to a frown the longer you fill in the length of his scar on the page. Your heart hurts for what happened to him at the hands of a dark Force-wielder. What her blade did to him. "I imagine it was quite painful, to lose your eye…"

"Yes." Wolffe replies in a clipped voice, suggesting to you that while he does not want to dismiss your sympathies, he clearly must not want to talk about this with someone he does not know, either. You feel a tug on the lapel of your uniform, and the gloved pad of his thumb brushes over something. Oh. You'd forgotten about that. "You added a wolf's head into your uniform, Arcadia?" He's changing the subject. And that's okay.

That's more than okay.

Glancing down best you can, you see the sloppy replication the flint-gray Commander refers to. The thread used for the head is a steely gray, the stitches are almost invisible and camouflaged in the color of the uniform, save for the eyes in your favorite color. It was meant to be practice for repairing holes in your clothing, you explain. "For emergency situations. I wanted to see if my stitches would hold up after being washed. I completely forgot it was there." You don't explain why you went with the image of a wolf. You won't need to, in his presence.

It's easy enough to guess why this would be the animal, of all possible choices available to you in this galaxy, you would stitch into your lapel. The name surrounds you. Wolfpack. General Plo's callsign is Wolf Leader when they engage in battle by starfighter.

It is the name of the man next to you - granted it bears an additional forn and an esk.

Wesk-osk-leth-forn-forn-esk.

Wolffe.

"It held up well." he compliments you, releasing the fold of the lapel and assuming his silence once more. Degree by degree, you are seeing he is not eternally gruff or cold with you, or anyone: merely a man made stoic and far more vigilant than before by war. In his vigilance, he continues to visually sweep the field for signs of trouble or mischief.

Maybe, while he's distracted…

You stealthily swap out the current coloring pencil in your hand - a deeper skin tone - and pluck out the Lamp Black pencil in the mix, drifting your hand lower down the page until the end of the pencil was now lined up with the loosely defined crotch and codpiece of his armor.

Maker alive let's just get this over with.

The body glove is going to be innocent enough to fill in, but defining the shadows around the pubic bulge in his kit will be faster. Just keep it quick and be discreet. Work fast. Hope no one sees. Hope no one asks.

Your pulse screams in your veins when he clears his throat - loudly - next to you, and you are so certain he is now trained on you, and acutely aware of where your pencil is. "Hm-mm…" Oh kriff me sideways. "Excuse me," he apologizes, clearing his throat again softer this time, "didn't mean to startle you, but I was trying to catch Suds' attention." Thank the Maker he didn't look when he apologized. Just a few more marks to finish shading in the codpiece, and then you can start on the body suit. "O-oh. Is he wandering off again?"

"Looked like he was about to."

Still breathing down their necks even from here? "Y'know-"

"As their Commander I am going to look out for my brothers, Arcadia." He sounds neither happy or unhappy with what he assumed you would say. And it's fair of him to assume that, in a sense. You only wish he didn't have to feel so defensive.

"I understand that," you promise him, and for the moment, you set down the pencil in your hand so you are not dividing your attention between the artwork and Wolffe. "and I wasn't telling you to stop, either. I only wanted to warn you that, I think, General Plo Koon seems worried about you, that something is keeping you from enjoying yourself."

To his credit, he gives your words a moment of quiet contemplation. Whether that's to consider the truth behind the words you said, or to come up with an explanation of sorts, Wolffe remains silent and still like the forest that surrounds you on all sides. What secrets does that forest hold? What lives within?

What will you find other than sap and blood on your palms when you pull back the thorny branches?

"I don't believe we're here just to relax for a day." Commander Wolffe admits with a heavy look of guilt and uncertainty. "I think the General has other reasons for bringing us to Little Archossi, and he won't tell us."

"Reasons? Like what?" You pick the pencil back up, and return to the slow, gradual task of adding color to the page. You're going to give him time to think. Time to answer, if he even wants to. He may not. Warning him that he's possibly made his General concerned about him seems to shake him down, somewhat. "I'm sorry."

It's reflexive, apologizing for upsetting him. That seems to pull him out of his silence, for the moment. "Don't be, Arcadia. I'm not going to fault you for having good intentions. Or a good eye."

The kri-?

In dawning horror, you see and fully realize where your pencil lead is. And looking over at him, you see that he does too. "I-I'm so sorry, sir…" You admit that you hoped he wouldn't notice, and that adding the necessary shading and color around areas that carry their shares of suggestive and sexual imagery and connotations would have been completed with as little attention drawn to it as possible. While you're not exactly ashamed to have drawn those parts of him, you feel a bit awkward to have him take notice of your work when you add the color.

Half of his mouth quirks in a smile, an expression of his respect, understanding that took guts to admit. "That's nothing to apologize for. It's just part of the art, Arcadia. A little "awkward" would only be understandable. Would you feel better if I purposely didn't watch?"

Well, seeing as how you're almost done with the inner thigh, you don't see much of a point to the gesture in this part of the progress. But, he did offer. And this seems to be what's keeping him seated in the grass. And what's keeping Plo Koon freer to spend less time being concerned about his diligent commander, and more time in showing his troops more aspects of Kel Dor culture and history, it seems. (Orchid keeps asking questions that Tack could easily answer about Dorin, and it serves as a neat little lesson for some of their newer shinnies. Plo is certainly grateful for the curiosity that allows him to be a teacher, rather than a fighter, today.)

You shrug lazily, laughing softly under your breath. "I'll leave that up to you, sir. At this point…"

Wolffe chooses to keep an eye on his brothers, so you make the process of shading the inner thighs quick, while being careful not to get sloppy. You're not trying to recreate a master painter's work here in the first page of your sketchbook, but you don't want to look at this one day and become filled with the urge to tear it out because all you can see are glaring imperfections, either. That's nothing but a fanciful daydream of making so much progress in your artistic prowess that you would ever be struck with such a thought, of course.

You are preoccupied with a war against the Separatists: when would you ever have the chance to make regular progress and impressive strides without backsliding and the natural degradation of your skills when you do not use them? You're a small part of the busy crew that keeps the Triumphant running smoothly.

People constantly need you. And that's all well and good, but sometimes you find yourself running into the same problem over and over again that crews of this size inevitably face: when you, who provides the help, needs someone, who is there for you? Do you turn to another crewmate who is already up to their neck in all the problems they juggle? Turning to one of the Clone troopers is ill-advised, no matter how much they swear they don't mind lending a hand or an arm (or two) to assist.

You've been doing fine aboard the Triumphant; better than fine, in fact. But that worry claws at you, sometimes. I'm here to help everyone. But if I needed help, who would I go to?

Who does the Commander go to when he needs help, come to think of it… General Plo? Or maybe Sergeants Sinker and Boost, if the matter was a little closer to the heart, something he believed was best kept between brothers?

Who does Wolffe turn to in his hours of need, you wonder.

You need to rest your wrist, and soon. You have just a little more of this tree's canopy to color in though, and then you're calling it good. You've been working on this "sketch" for more than three hours with the Commander at your side. You want to have this done soon. You want to go check out some of these things other crewmates have been laughing themselves silly over for the last hour that leave them gasping and wheezing for breath, clutching their sides and drying their faces. You're burning to know what's so funny, why they keep calling your name to come see.

Curiously guessing over and over what General Plo's reaction will be when you show him this amateurish endeavor in outdoor art drives you to continue, however. Just a few more tiny, feather-shaped leaves… Wolffe notices the sharp twinge in your face, and the uncomfortable spasm in your fingers as you adjust your grip around the Sunflower coloring pencil.

"Getting painful?"

"Just a little." you admit, knowing if you pause now, you will delay when you pick the pencil back. "I'll manage."

"Making art shouldn't bring you pain, Arcadia."

You scoff, just slightly. "Physical pain? Agreed. But emotional pain, that's another matter. Don't worry, I'll be done soon, Wolffe."

He asked you to call him Wolffe a short time ago. It wasn't exactly necessary to call him Commander or Sir all the time if you had him sketched out on your page quite like… that. His legs parted and bent at the knee - flat in the grass out in front of him. Wrist of the left hand resting just on the surface of his thigh, with his hand hanging limp just inches from his groin. You were generous enough to draw his fingers in a more neutral position than how they had looked in reality… Otherwise, if his soldiers and brothers got a hold of the sketchbook, there's no telling how many jokes you'd have to hear about making it look like their Commander was jerkin' it in front of you.

Calling him "Wolffe" would do just fine when it was just the two of you alone on this hill. Perhaps he felt it was only fair if he was calling you by your name. You had no title or rank, like him. You are just a humble part of the crew, but he assured you no less important than one of the soldiers.

It takes all of us, he said. That's how we win this war.

You've come to the home stretch, feeling the ache in your fingers deepen with every tiny skritch and shwoop! as you methodically color in your work leaf by leaf. "Just one last, little leaf," you promise, "and then I'm done."

"Not going to sign your magnum opus, Arcadia?" Wolffe prods a little teasingly. He's smiling at you now, even. Hours ago, he was somber and battle-ready, no smiles, no nonsense. Now, he's beginning to make small jokes. "Should add a signature so future museums know who to accredit this to."

"A leaf and then a signature." you chuckle warmly. "Future museum… Honestly." He only offers a shrug in response to that, and you take it to mean well, you never know. "What, you're trying to tell me you think this would honestly end up in a museum gallery one day?"

He shrugs again, gazing off into the distance, into the forest. "Overheard one of the boys in the mess say something about the notion once. Something they read. Some kind of commemorative effort made by one planet to make sure they never forgot their bloody history by way of art and song and poetry inspired by that time. Evidence of a time best not repeated, but not forgotten either."

Such an insightful and wise thing to be said so casually, poetically, and yet, there's a weighty truth to every syllable and enunciation.

We doom ourselves to repeat the past when we do not remember it and do not teach it anymore. When we allow ourselves to forget, the shades of rouge we sop the bristles of our brushes in will not be in the rich scarlets of Dathomir, or the forever-burning rubies of Mustafar, it will instead be with blood.

When we have enough evidence, it silences the naysayers and the fools. It validates the choking and trembling voices that say I have tasted the bitter blade of war. I have stood before the yawning maw of nothingness it leaves in its wake. I will never be the same. You do not have the right to tell me that I am some kind of paid actor.

If they were conspiracies, do you not think I would be among the loudest of your prophets who tout these twisted claims in the hopes of converting another?

"Fascinating. Thinking something like that will come of the Clone Wars, Wolffe?" You've finished the drawing, now. Taking an ink pen, you jot down your signature in the tidiest handwriting you can manage in the lower right corner, making note of the date for good measure. You'll think up a creative title for this later.

There's a third rising and falling of the shoulders from the man sitting beside you. "It's too soon to tell."

"That's fair." you reply, gathering up your supplies to put them back into the bag for safekeeping. "But you just know, if it does happen, the Separatists aren't gonna like the art." You have faith that the Republic will prevail. How could it not when the soldiers who fight for the Republic are some of the most courageous, persevering people you know? (What will come of them after?)

You're likely right about that, he agrees with a throaty chuckle. The Separatists will not like losing this war, and they'll like the art even less. "I can only hope… that it will not just be the Jedi who are…" Wolffe grows silent next to you. He's not certain what word he wants to use to best explain his thoughts, he admits plainly. There are too many. Too many answers that are right, but he struggles to find the one thing that is most correct out of all of them.

Given what Tack has told you, the answer is obvious. "You're hoping that the galaxy will remember the Clones were a part of this conflict too. That the galaxy won't forget the sacrifices made by your brothers, and they won't forget how many lost their lives. You probably hope that when the free peoples of the galaxy remember the Jedi, they remember you, too. Both must be appreciated together."

"You're probably right," Wolffe concedes firstly, "And you're too wise beyond your years, Arcadia." Strangely philosophical, he tells you, for how old he guesses you to be. Maybe he's the right one this time, thinking to yourself on his words.

Maybe he's not the only one hoping that when this war ends, no matter the outcome, those who served as a part of the Grand Army of the Republic will not be a forgotten topic ten, twenty… even forty or fifty years down the line.

Tack has made a breakthrough in his mysterious flower just before Master Plo is free to come take a look at the sketch and color work you've completed, and concern for his men takes precedence. You would not blame him in the slightest if he forgot he expressed interest in seeing what you accomplished with art materials given to you as gifts. Because of your station with the crew of the Triumphant with a secondary speciality for risk assessment, you're involved in this discussion with the researcher and his commander and general.

Right now determining the risks posed to the men of the 104th matters more. Art and philosophical pondering will have to come later.

Tack explains to both Commander Wolffe and Master Plo that he thinks the smatterings of blue flowers that dot this clearing here on Little Archossi are known as Dinocaeruleus anthos. By their common-name, you know that these flowers are a warning. A silent, unassuming danger for all their beauty and silky blue petals.

Terrible blue flower.

"You can make toxic honey with these flowers?" Wolffe asks more to himself than Tack, as he reads ahead in the compiled information. Plo is taking his time to read the information on the screen of the datapad in his hands. To make sense of this, the Jedi is being thorough.

"Poisonous, Sir, more accurately." Tack makes the correction habitually, and Wolffe does not take it personally. He knows that Tack knows what he meant, and given his aptitude for analytics and other such sciences, his researcher is not correcting him to be a smartass. "But, yes, you can make bad honey with these flowers depending on what pollinators you harvest from. They are not wholly dangerous on their own. Eat it, it might make you feel nauseated due to natural bitterants. Touch it to more sensitive dermal surfaces and it will prove a powerful irritant."

From a short distance away, you hear the voices of Orchid and Soapsuds, Tack's batchmates (you assume), commenting on what the four of you are discussing in the shade of the tree you spent the morning sketching. "So what Tack's saying is don't stick your d-" The speaker finds himself with the other's hand anxiously plastered against his mouth to shut him up in a hurry. "Maker alive, shut up!" Soapsuds warns him, "Orchid, why are you so vulgar?!"

There is a pointed sigh from Commander Wolffe that is aimed at the two of them. Don't make me come over there. Behave yourselves in front of the General.

Plo makes no indication that he's noticed the situation occurring just out of reach. You have to imagine he hears Suds and Orchid wrestling with each other in the grass, now, though, and is ignoring it. "Arcadia and Tack, in your opinion, will these be enough cause for concern to consider returning back to the ship?" Plo wonders aloud. The Kel Dor returns the device to the researcher, and folds his hands together in an act of deliberate contemplation, resting them against his stomach.

Tack looks at you, and you at him, then the Commander. There is a look in his eyes, both the stark silver and the warm vandyke brown, that reads to you as a surrender of control.

I will carry out your judgment.

Tack scoffs and shrugs, his arms thrown wide. "Honestly, General? I don't know enough. I'd need more time to determine through more analysis and comparison. This is only one search result for one flower it could possibly be. But it was enough of a match to make me get the Commander while he was talking with Arcadia." Enough of a match to send him into a tizzy over it. Tack had tripped coming up the hill in his haste, trying to ask if - from where he was sitting - the Commander noticed anyone messing with the blue flowers.

We have a potential problem! had Wolffe on his feet faster than engaging a hyperdrive. And then there was a flurry of questions. Was it contact from the planet's inhabitants? Has someone gotten hurt? Are they needed to assist another battalion? Where's the General?

He has the look again, now. Worry. The inner anxiety is eating him alive. Tack doesn't know. So what about you?

"I see…" Master Plo hums. "And what are your feelings, Arcadia? What do you think about the situation?"

You think. What do you think about this situation? Is it worth double checking the matches for the flower, to make sure that it really is Dinocaeruleus anthos? Are the men really going to be so flippant as to disregard any kind of warning put out about these flowers if they are the Dinocaeruleus, or worse yet, a far more harmful flower? (Not necessarily, but you have to consider that warning the troops that this flower can have detrimental potential invites the opportunity to inflict it.)

There is one thing that is already clear to you, at least. "Tack should first make sure these flowers are what he thinks they are before we make any kind of advisory, General. That is my opinion."

Another thoughtful hum. "Interesting. And why is this your opinion, little one?"

"We should avoid unnecessary panic. Until we know for sure what these flowers are, I say we don't say anything. We invite unnecessary risks by making the men paranoid." you suggest, glancing first at the Jedi, and then the flint-gray Commander to his left. They had every right to accept or disregard your counseling as the commanding forces of this battalion at the day's end; you hope they will consider it at the very least.

"I'm in agreement."

"Then we will do as Arcadia advised, and we will let young Tack take more time to confirm his findings. Until then…" Plo trails off, nodding decidedly. Thank the Maker. Tack dismisses himself in a hushed, hurried tone. If he's going to spend more time pouring over information on the Dinocaeruleus anthos, he shouldn't dawdle. The Jedi kindly wills the benefits of the Force to guide the researcher before he turns to address you once again. "Have you made use of the gifts given to you since we last spoke?"

Blinking with a mild start, you realize that Plo has changed the topic. "Oh, yes, I have. Let me go get my sketchbook from my bag, sir." You scoop the entire bag from the grass, re-tucking your datapad among your things as you extract the book and turn it to the necessary page for his convenience. "Here."

Taking it carefully in his hands, the book is cradled like a priceless relic as his eyes must trace over the page. Once more your property is treated with such care and respect by the Force-wielder. "My… Arcadia, you have quite a gift."

The action is perhaps more childish than professional, but you cannot help but duck your head at such praise, fearing to meet his gaze should he see how flushed your face is. It is not the heat of the sun above you, denoting that it is now high noon, that makes your face burn. You're never quite sure how to accept a compliment.

You opt for humility. "Oh, it's hardly that great, General Plo… I wouldn't say I have a gift… just… a-an attention for detail." And that much is true; dedication to detail is why you spent hours on a simple "sketch" to begin with; why you took so much care and effort to get everything done the best you could. The form of Commander Wolffe's armor. The curve of his jaw and the roundness of the ala of his nose. The correct texture of his hair within the typical haircut many of the Clones have.

But though gentle insistence, the General repeats his sentiment. "Attention for detail is no less of a gift, Arcadia. In war it is a mark of wisdom, in art, it is a skill." A skill that has made for a very fine portrait of the Commander. "Have you seen Arcadia's work yet, Commander Wolffe?" He offers the sketchpad with an invitation to have a closer look, though it isn't necessary.

"I watched Arcadia add the colors, yes." Wolffe confirms. "Quite the process."

Not to mention a strain on your wrist, but one well worth it for the praise given to you from the Jedi, and now many of the men who have congregated to come and suss out what's going on. "I can only imagine… Even gone through the trouble of adding proper shadows to such… rich color."

Sinker and Boost smile softly, not quite sadly (but certainly somber), when they take note of the color of paint their commanding officer wears when you allow the book to be passed around so everyone is welcome to have a closer look. They hold it longest out of everyone, looking at this artistic replication a little more closely than most.

"The ol' maroon, eh? Think it's meant to depict another time, before Abregado?"

"But he's drawn with the scar, Boost."

"Ah, yeah, good eye. Missed that bit."

You timidly clear your throat to draw their attention, and explain that of all the colors, you didn't have gray. "I didn't want to leave his armor naked, either." Not when you went through the trouble of adding the face of the wolf and the other design to each of his shoulder pads, or the unique shape of his visor when you drew the helmet next to his hip.

You would not deal him further, small cruelties by stealing the colors out of his coat completely. These markings he has chosen for himself mean something to Wolffe. The color he wears now is a mark of mourning. The color in the pages of your book will serve as an homage.

You have not forgotten your brothers. You will always carry them with you.

Hmmf. Are you a poet now too, Arcadia?

No sir. Not really.

You're uncertain where the words came from. Borrowed from something you read once? Did you perhaps hear the General say these words once upon a time? You can't recall what inspired you to say such a thing.

But you'll remember the change in his gruff exterior, the way in which he was quieter than quiet for just a moment, and he pivoted in the grass to better face you and make you his equal.

It's only the two of us here on the hill, Arcadia. Call me Wolffe, please.

Don't have a fic taglist for the time being, but I'll likely start one soon if I can figure out how to make those forms some people have since I write a variety of stuff. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (example: just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

[Masterlist]

[Early Morning] [Here] [Late Afternoon] [Evening] [Deep Night] [Golden Dawn part 1]

[Golden Dawn Part 2]

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brrmian · 1 year

Note

Hello! Congrats on 500!!!! 🎉🎊If it's ok, may I please have 36, 39, and 48 on the Hurt/Comfort list with Commander Wolffe?

#36: "Stop telling me you're fine."

#39: "Just keep pressure on it."

#48: "Because I care about you!"

Thanks so much! ❤️😍

PS. If you think these prompts would go better with another clone, feel free to do them instead! And don't feel pressured to include all 3 quotes if you can't make them fit!

hi @arctrooper69! thanks so much for your request, i think these prompts go really well with wolffe :)

warning: some graphic descriptions of injury and blood /prompts are closed!

It hurts to breathe.

You can hear your breath coming in painful, ragged bursts.

The sounds of blasterfire and artillery cannons rage around you. You’re leaning against a supply crate towards the edge of the battlefield, sheltered by a crashed LAAT/i that’s broken beyond repair.

And the Commander of the 104th Battalion is leaning over you, sheltering you with his body and desperately trying to bandage your wound.

“Wolffe—” you groan softly, placing a bloodstained hand on his wrist. “Wolffe, I’m fine, just let the medics handle it—you have to go back—”

“Stop telling me you’re fine,” Wolffe growls, ripping open yet another package of bacta-soaked gauze. He presses it to the jagged gash of crimson on your upper abdomen, making you hiss as pain racks your body. “You’re not fine.”

“I’ve had worse. Trust me,” you breathe, drawing in a shaky breath. “Wolffe, you need to go help your men.”

Your hand is still on Wolffe’s wrist, tightly gripping his vambrace. The plastioid armor, normally bright white with streaks of grey paint, is stained with your blood.

You watch as Wolffe’s cybernetic eye clicks and whizzes softly. He studies you with a deep frown, one hand still pressing the bandage to your abdomen. Your tunic is rolled up, and your armour has been tossed aside.

Your medpack, which you had brought with you as you ran across the battlefield to help injured troopers, is in Wolffe’s free hand.

Wolffe closes his eyes for a brief moment. You can tell he’s angry—this isn’t the first time he’s scolded you for making reckless decisions. You’re not a Jedi, he would hiss. Stop being so self-sacrificing.

It’s my job! you would protest. I was hired by the GAR to save people, wasn’t I?

When Wolffe opens his eyes, he looks calmer, but you know there’s frustration still bubbling under the surface of his façade. He sighs. “Okay,” he says, voice low. “Okay, stay here, alright? And keep—”

“—keep pressure on it, I know,” you finish as Wolffe removes his hand so you can replace it with your own. The pain is blinding, but you press your palm down harder, gritting your teeth. “Go, Wolffe.”

He doesn’t move. You try to mimic the stern expression he so often gives you, but Wolffe stays where he is.

“You sure you’re alright?” He asks, voice clipped. “It’s against regulations to lie to your commander. Don’t make me regret this.”

You nod, rolling your eyes. “Yes, I’m sure,” you admonish. “I’m the medic here, Commander. I can handle myself.”

Wolffe says nothing, still looking doubtful. Resisting the urge to wince as the sound of a cannon going off sounds from not far away, you place your free hand on his shoulder pauldron.

“You have nothing to worry about.” In spite of yourself, you try your best to smirk through the pain. “I don’t know why you’re putting in so much effort to help this lowly civilian medic, anyway.”

In the haze of your pain, you think you hear Wolffe mumbling something, but you can’t hear his voice over the sounds of blasterfire.

“What?” you ask, hoping you aren’t grimacing too badly from the pain.

“I said,” Wolffe forces out, meeting your eyes with and expression not quite as stern as his usual glare, “It’s because I care about you.”

You blink, trying not to show your surprise.

“Well, then,” you say smugly, trying to ignore the horrible feeling of blood soaking your underclothes, “best get back into the field. If you really cared, you’d have ended this battle already… Commander.”

Wolffe has already shoved on his helmet. He’s unreadable again, but when he takes your hand and sets it back down on his lap, there’s something tender in the way he touches you.

It’s only after he runs back into the fray of battle that you realize how warm your face is.

#commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe fluff #wolffe #500 followers for vizslasaber!#star wars tcw #the clone wars #swtcw #clone troopers #wolfpack #104th attack battalion #old writing

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fandom-friday · 1 month

Note

I'll self-rec something in celebration of it's recent completion! 🎉

Now that it's finished, I have a masterlist for Poets and Painters; it was rec'd here once before while the series was in-progress.

I'm really, really proud of this one, not just for being outside of my normal scope (I don't write many mature/+18 fics), but for all the work that went into this Commander Wolffe x GN Reader. (I never expected it to reach 43,000+ words!)

The masterlist contains links to each part along with a snapshot of the synopsis and some general information.

@frostycatblr-fandom-files

HECK YES SELF-RECS AND CONGRATULATIONS ON FINISHING THIS FIC!!! AND ALSO HECK YES FOR REPEAT RECS (that's how you know it's real good haha! You even got another rec for this fic earlier this morning!). You should absolutely be proud for stepping outside of your comfort zone and writing this! Thanks so much for sending it in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

#FANDOM FRIDAY #creator appreciation #fic rec #fanfiction #fan fic #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #104th battalion #clone trooper sinker #clone trooper boost #clone ocs

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bamfahsoka · 1 year

Text

Change of Fate: Chapter 1

NO WARNINGS for the chapter!😊👍

The campaign to retake Ringo Vinda from the Seperatists started as any other. The 501st and 104th joined forces in hopes of taking back the planet quickly and begin to establish the planet's government. The strategy was simple yet effective. After detonating a blast at the Seperatists' base, you plan to use the terrain's natural barriers and strategically placed small teams of men, to create a bottleneck effect and force the droid army into such a small area that they had no choice but to line up and walk straight into your men's blaster fire.

"Alright teams, check in" you said over your com.

"Team 1 in position" Jesse replied

"Team 2 in position" Fives reported

"Team 3 in position," Hardcase yelled into the com a little too excited for his own good.

From behind you, you hear Rex telling the other teams that he and your team are in position and ready.

" Hardcase, how are you looking over there? Are you ready to blow up some clankers?" you called out to Hardcase over the com.

"You know it General!!! Charges are set and ready to go, on your mark. "

You looked back at Rex, and he gave you a silent nod in acknowledgment. You turned around, and with your signature smart mouth you called over the com

" Let's take down some tinnies boys!"

You got a booming "Yes Sir!" Across your com.

Not a second later, you hear the distant explosion of the Separatist base and feel the rumbling of the ground underneath your feet. As the rumbling subsides, the sound of marching droids takes its place.

Jesse's voice came across your comm

"Droids are approaching position."

As planned, the buildings and surrounding landscape funnels the droid army into your trap. Once the first few droids made their way through the bottleneck, you called out over the coms

"Fire!"

With you in front of your team deflecting enemy fire, you and the men of the 501st made quick work of the tinnies. Once the last droid fell, you and your team met with the rest of the 501st.

"Well done boys!" You cheered.

You walked over to Kix, and checked in with your injured. Luckily, there were minimal injuries, and the injuries that the men did endure were not serious. After you checked in with Kix, you checked in with Rex to make sure the remaining men were doing well, and ready to join Master Plo and the 104th to continue the efforts to take back the planet. Rex and Fives admitted that one trooper wasn't acting like himself…Tup. The three of you went over to Tup, and you asked if he was OK. Tup forced himself to appear confident and sure; but you could feel the turmoil. His force signature also seemed muted, like something was trying to take over. You didn't push the young trooper to explain his feelings; however, you were concerned, and you were going to keep an eye on him.

You and the 501st made your way over to the 104th's position. As the 104th came into view, you could see that they were taking down the last advancing platoon of droids. You have your men form another line of defense. As you jump in front of the clones, you can't help but longingly scan the battle field, for Wolffe. You find him dodging blaster fire and shooting back with deadly accuracy. You're pulled out of your daydream by a dark shift in a nearby force signature. As your deflecting enemy fire, you also try to find the source of the disturbance. Suddenly the force screams at you from behind in warning. As time seems to slow down you hear a voice calling your name.

"Y/N!"

You attempted to use the Force, to dodge the incoming blaster fire, but you were unable to get away unscathed. You turned just enough to avoid the lethal shot, but you were still hit in the shoulder. The force and searing pain of the shot almost brought you to your knees. You moved to take cover so you could assess the damage and gather your thoughts without getting shot again, whether it be enemy or friendly fire. It's then that you look up and looking back at you with his rifle still aimed in your direction was Tup.

Wolffe ran to your side.

"Y/N! Are you ok?! Where are you hit?!"

"Shoulder, but I'll be ok" you managed to get out while grimacing in pain.

The usually stone-faced Commander Wolffe had a rare look of fear on his face. He tried to keep his face and voice professional, but for a quick second, you thought you saw something different in his eyes. You wanted nothing more than to curl up into his strong chest and just stay there forever. As Comet, Kix, and Rex ran over to you, you realized that Tup's force signature was still clouded, and his face was contorted like he was having an internal war with himself.

"Tup! Something is clouding is mind, trying to make him loose control. I can feel it! We have to help him!" You frantically told them.

All four clones turned and they saw the panic and desperation in their brother's face. Rex called out to Echo and Fives

"RESTRAIN TUP!"

The ARC troopers grabbed their brother and wrestled him to the ground. Rex turned his attention to Kix.

"Sedate him, and get him back to the ship! I want every test and scan done to figure out what the hell happened!" Rex commanded.

You tried to get up and help, but were quickly stopped by Wolffe and Comet.

"Oh no General, you're staying with me until I can get you back to the Triumphant."

"Until WE get you back to the Triumphant" Wolffe stated, leaving no room for discussion. Wolffe had always been protective, but you felt as if he had doubled his efforts lately to shield you from the galaxy.

Suddenly Master Plo's voice rang in your ears.

"Actually Commander, Y/N is the acting General of the 501st. Because of this, she will be moved and treated on the Resolute with Captain Rex and the rest of the 501st".

You saw Wolffe's jaw clench, eyebrows furrow, and his hands fold up into fists.

"Yes General" Wolffe replied after a moment in a deep and quiet tone.

Rex looked Wolffe straight in the eye, and said

"I will personally get her back to the ship and make sure she is taken care of".

Wolffe nodded in response

"Yea, no worries guys. I'm pretty sure it's a clean shot anyways. Nothing a bacta patch can't heal. I'll even be a good patient this time, promise" you said with a sarcastic grin across your face.

Wolffe and Comet rolled their eyes, but couldn't help the little smiles that tried to creep onto their faces.

After leaving the clean up and the last of the humanitarian effort to the 104th. You and the 501st were on your way back to the Resolute. The second you got on board you raced to the Medbay. You were moving your arm too much for someone who just got shot, but you ignored the pain and continued on with Rex on your heels. You skidded to a stop in front of the medbay and walked in to see Tup's status.

The shock and confusion over the most recent events was overwhelming on the Resolute. Everyone was still trying to mentally process that Tup had attempted to kill you. You approached Kix and Tup with caution. Rex had elected to go in front of you, just in case Tup was awake and still unstable. Kix had kept him sedated for everyone's safety, and to make all the tests and scans easier. Kix informed you that Tup's vitals were stable, and that he had yet to find anything unusual. You reiterated Rex's orders to run every test and scan he could. You then checked on the other wounded troopers. Rex and one of Kix's assistants insisted that you get your shoulder patched up before doing anything else. You agreed and as promised were the perfect patient…minus a few eye rolls.

As you expected, you left the medbay with a few stitches, a bacta bandage wrapped around your shoulder, and a sling to prevent excessive movement. As you and Rex left the medbay, several members of Torrent approached you in hopes to find some clarity or atleast a plan of action.

"General! So good to see you're ok" Jesse said with genuine concern.

"Thank you Jesse. It was a clean shot, nothing a little bacta can't fix" you replied.

Next Fives jumped in with obvious worry in his voice

" What the hell happened? What's wrong with Tup? Will they try to take him back to Kamino?"

You all had heard the rumors of what happened to troopers who we're deemed 'ineffective' or 'damaged'. Your blood boiled, with the thought that the Clone Troopers might be subjected to such evil and inhumane acts.

You raised your good arm and gently put your hand on Fives' shoulder.

"Fives. I know it's hard, but I need you, all of you, to breathe and listen to me". You looked at the men in front of you. "We will find out what is wrong with Tup, we will help him recover, and we will keep the long-necks away from him". All the men seemed to let out a breath that they didn't know they were holding. You continued by saying

"To do that though, I'm going to need help".

"We got your back General" Rex replied confidently.

The rest of the Torrent boys nodded in agreement.

"Thanks boys. First step is debriefing with the 104th".

You and the Torrent boys headed to the bridge to make contact with the Triumphant. You all walk in, but only you and Rex step up to the holotable, the rest of the men stood along the sides of the bridge, out of range so not to be seen on the holotable but so they can still hear the conversation. You asked your Communication Officer to put a call through to the Triumphant. Soon Master Plo and Commander Wolffe appeared in front of you. You saw Wolffe's shoulders visibly tense when his visor made its way over to you. Master Plo looked relieved to see that you did in fact have minimal injury for what was supposed to be a lethal shot.

"Hello Y/N, happy to see you're doing well. That was quite the life saving use of the force".

"No need to worry about me Master, it's good to see you and Commander Wolffe in good health as well. I assume everything went well after we left?"

"Ringo Vinda is back under the protection of the Republic, and the local government has been successfully reestablished. Minus your unforeseen brush with death, the mission was completed".

"On that note Master, I wanted to see if there was any way we could manage the incident as an internal Jedi affair?"

" Y/N, you know as well as I do that this falls within the Senate's control, not the Jedi Council" Master Plo sympathized.

" What if I make an appeal as to why we should manage the investigation ourselves, with the support of a Senator?"

" Y/N… I know that you've always struggled with the lack of attachment aspect of your training, and that means you care and love deeply, but you can't let your feelings cloud your judgment".

"Master I'm not! I'm trying to find the truth! I'm trying to protect the men of the GAR, and Jedi alike. Something is wrong, and I intend to find out who or what it is".

"Then I suggest you work as covertly as possible, and keep your circle small. You are heading into dangerous waters Lil' Y/N. I'll protect and help you as much as I can, but The Jedi Council can not be implicated in any way."

"I understand Master, thank you".

"May the Force be with you".

"And with you".

The holotable cut out, and you could feel the eyes of the troopers in the room on you. You looked up and saw awe and admiration on every clone face in the room. You were thinking of how to address the troopers in the room, but you were speechless when every clone stood at attention and raised their hand to salute you. This time though the salutes were not out of obligation or a sign of being a good soldier. Instead these salutes showed affection, pride, and trust.

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sinfulsalutations · 9 months

Note

Congrats on 500 followers! Can I see Wolffe with a female reader for Prompt 2 (“I can’t believe you’re mine.”)? Maybe something soft and domestic?

➼ ɴᴏᴜʀ'ꜱ 500 ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

⋆ ★ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏɴɴɪᴇ! ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴀ ꜱᴏꜰᴛʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇꜱ ɪᴛ 🥰

➼ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ ☆ "ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ"

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ᴅᴏᴍᴇꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴋɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 531

The morning air boils deep in your stomach when you awake, the sound of early rising birds chirping outside your window. You stir slowly, a deep groan leaving your lips as your senses come back to you gradually; first, your sight, as you allow your eyelids to peel back and gaze toward the sun peaking through sheer blinds, searing them half shut again when the light finally begins to burn your sight render less once again. Then, you become aware of the looming presence of a strong, muscular arm laid over your waist, hand pressing to your stomach to keep you pressed against his hard, sturdy chest.

You hum again when you feel his lashes brush against you and his lips purse, placing a lazy kiss onto your shoulders where he’d rested his head.

“Morning, baby,” He rasps in your ear, voice so honeyed and alligatored with misuse, and you smile softly to yourself.

“Morning,” you mutter back, turning over. Instinctively, your hands rise up to rest on his shoulders, and you bite your lip to contain your smile. He looks so good like this, bathed in morning light and still trying to get his bearings back. You don’t seem to be doing a very good job.

Wolffe leans in, and you purse your lips, expecting him to give you a sweet, afterglow-covered kiss, but instead, he slowly creeps up over you, pinning his knees over your thighs and his elbows by your head. You look up at him, raising an eyebrow, and he just leans in toward your temple, leaving a kiss there instead. He then asks in a hushed whisper into your ear,

“What time is it?”

“Not sure,” You respond, hands returning to their rightful place in the crooks between his neck and shoulder. “0900, something like that.”

“Hmm,” Wolffe rumbles, pulling his face away from the side of your face and finally slotting your lips together. You keep wanting to break away, allow yourself to smile in the basking glow of his affection, but instead let him kiss you silly until he’s forced to pull away and catch his breath.

He repeats the action from before, lips pressing against your temple, then your cheek, then softly swiping down to your jaw, before coming back to your ear.

“You sleep well?” He asks. You sense the slight rustling of blankets around you and feel his hand trail over your skin, delicate and innocent, yet it lights your body aflame all the same as the sensual and intoxicating caresses he graces you with in times of heated passion. Perhaps you just can’t help yourself.

“I did,” You answer coolly, tilting your chin up as he slowly journeys down again. When his lips linger on certain spots and you feel that slight curl of a smirk against your skin, you know he’s admiring marks he’s left from the night before.

Suddenly, he pulls away, and you whine meekly, looking up with wide eyes.

“Something wrong?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Wolffe sighs, eyebrows creasing together. But he doesn’t seem annoyed.

“I just… I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You giggle softly, pulling him down and pressing your noses together.

“You better start, handsome.”

tags: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @dukeoftheblackstar @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @star-burned @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @aconstructofamind

#nour writes stuff #nour’s 500 follower celebration #commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #104th battalion #wolf pack #tcw wolffe #wolffe x reader #wolffe smut #star wars wolffe #wolffe x you #rebels wolffe #wolffe pack #the clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars #reader insert

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mandos-mind-trick · 8 months

Text

F*** Diplomacy

Summary: On another relief mission, you find yourself in a sticky situation. Luckily there's a certain Commander to give you a hand.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, sorta sex pollen, aphrodisiacs, unprotected sex, grinding, clothed sex, growling, biting, brief blood, dirty talk, language, Wolffe being Wolffe, confession of feelings.

A/N: I wrote this in the bathroom during an IBS flare up so please forgive if it makes no sense. I am out of it like crazy but must share the smut with y'all because I have no self control.

MASTERLIST

You could laugh. You wouldn’t dare, though. Your sense of self-preservation is far too high to do something like that.

It was no secret your commander hates relief missions.

It's only natural your battalion was chosen to head another relief mission. You think Wolffe actually growled when the Generals ended the call.

You know how much Wolffe hates relief missions. At least this time his favorite droid won't be going. There was no need for a protocol droid this time. You were delivering supplies and setting up shelters after a Separatist attack. The Republic needs the continued support of this particular planet due to its location near two critical hyperspace lanes, so you were going to help keep the Republic in good graces in the eyes of the inhabitants.

You would have chosen anyone but Wolffe for this mission.

The gruff commander wasn't exactly the most diplomatic, and you suppose that's why he'd grabbed you by the pack and hauled you onto the gunship with him and the rest of the Wolf Pack as you'd been loading up.

It's also no secret you're the Wolf Pack's favorite medic. You had been graced with the sigil on your uniform not long after your reassignment to the 104th. You had been among the many medics shipped off to refill the ranks after the loss of most of the battalion.

You'd been the one to hold Wolffe's head in your lap, staunching the bleeding after his unfortunate incident with the wrong end of a lightsaber.

You'd been adopted into the Pack not long after, named their honorary medic despite your status as a civilian contractor.

You tried not to blush as Wolffe all but lifted you into the gunship with one hand. You'd be lying if you said you weren't harboring a small crush on your commander. It was hard not to crush on any of them, but the gruff commander held a special place in your heart. Maybe it was the way he looked at you as you comforted him after he lost his eye, or maybe it was the way he kept you close whenever you were going to potentially dangerous areas. You know he still feels the loss of his original battalion to this day.

The gunship rattles as it takes off, your hand lifting to hold one of the handles to keep yourself steady. You don't get off the cruiser often, but you're always excited when you do. You've always wanted to travel, to visit places all over the galaxy. Maybe that's what led you to join the GAR.

You certainly don't regret it, even if it is hard sometimes.

You can feel Wolffe's arm brushing your side as you sway with the movements of the gunship. You're sure your cheeks are red by now and you're glad your back is to the rest of the Pack. You'd never hear the end of it.

Wolffe exits the ship first when it lands, offering you a hand to help you down. You take it, even though you could make it easily yourself.

You jump right into helping, working with the other medics to get the tent set up and ready to start treating any wounded villagers. You'd love to be able to watch Wolffe's attempts at diplomacy, but you are here to do a job. Ogling your commander is not part of that.

***

You're kept busy throughout the day. Most of the injuries you see are minor. Many bandages and bacta patches later, you finally take a break. One of the villagers offers you a cup of warm liquid and you accept, not having had much of a break to eat or drink anything. The liquid is sweet and slightly tangy, coating your mouth and throat as you drink it, but it’s not unpleasant.

You finish the liquid before making your way through the village.

You find Wolffe gathered around the fire with the village leaders. It's colder on the planet than you would have expected with the sun out. You slip in between Wolffe and Sinker, taking in the warmth of the fire.

Wolffe glances down at you as you settle in beside him, before he turns his gaze back to the village leaders.

You sit and listen to them talk, your mind starting to wander a bit. You can feel the warmth of the bodies beside you, almost more than the fire in front of you. Something begins to tingle under your skin, making your hair stand on end.

One of the village leaders is staring at you, her face focused. She's been staring at you for a while, no emotion or expression in her gaze. The attention is making you a bit uncomfortable, and you resist the urge to hide behind Wolffe.

You begin to warm, a cramping feeling starting in your stomach. You press a hand to your abdomen right below your belly button. Maybe you're more hungry than you thought.

The ache in your stomach continues, progressively getting worse. You couldn't possibly be sick. There were no unknown diseases on this planet you could have been exposed to. You had drank whatever it was that woman had given you. Maybe that was causing your distress.

"Excuse me." You say quietly as you step away, slipping through buildings until you're on the edge of the village.

You brace a hand against the side of one of the buildings as another cramp spasms in your stomach. The air no longer feels cold as your body warms. Maybe you are sick.

You take a few steps into the trees, not wanting to be sick where someone might see you. You take deep breaths, screwing your eyes closed. The last thing you need is to be sick during a diplomatic mission.

Your ears pick up a sound in the distance, your brows furrowing. Curiosity gets the best of you and you follow the sound, walking through the trees.

You stop on the edge of a small clearing, your eyes widening. The woman that had given you the drink is pressed up against a tree, completely bare. There's a man behind her, snapping his hips into hers. Both of their eyes are closed, faces twisted in pleasure.

Your face burns as you back away, breathing heavily. Kriff, you think. You had read something about this planet's mating seasons. The attack had happened right in the middle of one.

Kriff.

Your core throbs, your brain replaying the image of the man and woman over and over. The faces begin to shift, morphing into you and Wolffe. His hands gripping your hips, growling as he fucks into you.

Oh kriff.

You need to get on a gunship and back to the cruiser immediately. The drug could kill you if you're not careful.

Your name is called, your eyes squeezing shut as you curse. Just who you don't want to see. You turn to him, probably looking as wild as you feel. Wide eyed, sweat dripping, legs trembling. Thank the maker he can't read your mind as he struts closer to you.

You know he's big. You just know it.

"Everything alright?" Wolffe asks, stopping a few feet in front of you.

"I need to get to the med center on the cruiser." You say, voice shaking almost as much as your legs.

He frowns, looking you over. "Are you sick?"

"I'm going to be." You murmur, swaying on your feet.

You audibly whimper when Wolffe puts his hand on your shoulder, steadying you. His hand is so warm, the weight of it enough to send you spiraling into visions of him on top of you, those hands all over your body. You screw your eyes shut, not able to look at him anymore.

"What's going on?" You can practically hear the growl in his voice. Slick floods your panties, soaking them right through.

"It's mating season." You say, not brave enough to open your eyes. "They gave me an aphrodisiac."

"What?" Wolffe asks in disbelief.

"This planet has mating seasons. They use aphrodisiacs to help. I drank one." You explain. "I didn't know what it was when she gave it to me."

His grip on your shoulder tightens, another whimper leaving your throat. You want him to squeeze your hips, your thighs, your ass. You want him to hold you so tightly he leaves bruises. You want him to sink his teeth into your throat and claim you as his-

You don't realize he's been talking.

"I need help." You whimper. "I could die if I don't get something." The last word leaves you in a whine. You want a cock, you want Wolffe's cock inside you.

"What can I do?" He asks.

"I-I'm not in my right mind." You frown, eyes still closed. "I-I can't. I can't take advantage of you like that."

He steps closer. You can feel the warmth of him against your body. He's so close, his breath fanning your heated skin. "What if I want to."

You finally let your eyes open, your gaze meeting his. His brow is furrowed, gaze intense as he stares down at you.

"Kriff, I've been waiting for you to ask me for a long time, mesh'la." He all but growls, the hand on your shoulder sliding down your arm. It leaves goosebumps in its wake, the fabric of his glove rough against your sensitive skin. "Do you know why I keep you so close to me?" He tilts his head, bending down closer to you.

You lift up on your toes, shaking your head. "No, sir."

He does growl this time, the sound vibrating in his throat as he smirks. "It's because I keep hoping for the right moment to kiss you."

"All you had to do was ask." You murmur, closing the distance between you.

Your back hits a tree as your lips meet, his body pressing tight against yours. His hand lifts to your face, tugging on your chin until you open your mouth. He slips his tongue inside, flicking it against yours. You moan into his mouth, the heat under your skin practically begging you to devour him.

His hands slide down your body to your hips as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip. You taste blood, but you don't care as he presses his codpiece against your pelvis. You moan at the friction, grinding yourself against the hard plastoid.

"Kriff, just like that, mesh'la." He groans. "Gonna cum just like that?"

You continue to grind against him, nodding. "Yes. Fuck, Wolffe!"

He smirks, letting you work yourself up desperately against him. "Good girl."

He lets you continue to grind against him, his hand slipping behind you to grab a handful of your ass. You whine, his touch almost painful but you don't care.

"Gonna...gonna cum." You pant, desperately grinding against his codpiece.

"Cum for me." He growls, pushing harder against you.

Your head as you cum with a cry, hips jerking against his codpiece. You can feel the bulge under it, a promise of what's coming next.

The heat under your skin abates for just a moment, your mind clearing enough for you to catch your breath. You taste blood as you lick your lips, staring up at Wolffe.

"I need more." You gasp out, heart thumping wildly in your chest. "It won't be enough."

Wolffe bites the tip of his glove, tugging one off. He tucks it into his belt before his hand cups the spot between your legs. You're hot and damp under your uniform, slick dripping down your thighs. You need more, you need touch.

You press your hips against his hand, desperate for more. He tugs your belt off dropping it in the grass. His hand slips under your waistband, rough fingers gliding through your slick folds.

An absolutely primal noise leaves you as he finally touches you, more slick gushing out to coat his fingers.

He chuckles, fingers ghosting over your clit. "Such a needy little thing."

"Please." You whimper. "Please. Need you so bad."

"What do you need, baby. Tell me."

"Your cock." You whine, grinding against his hand desperately. "I need your cock inside me."

He pulls his hand from your pants, making you sob. "Ask politely. I am your commander, remember?"

You gulp, getting wetter as he stares down at you with that intense gaze. "Please, sir. I need your cock inside me."

He grins, stroking your cheek with his slick fingers. "That's my good girl."

You practically preen under him, legs shaking in anticipation.

"Take it off." He growls, leaning in closer to your face.

You reach forward, pulling off his codpiece. You can feel the heat blooming under your skin again, your brain filling with fantasies of what's about to happen. You drop his codpiece in the grass, your hand rubbing the bulge in his blacks. He's so big, hard and pulsing against the fabric.

You slip your hand in, closing your fingers around his cock. Your mouth waters and you desperately want to drop to your knees and suck the mean streak right out of him. You know you can't waste much time, though. You need to fix this problem and get back before the others start looking for you.

You pull him free of his blacks, marveling at the size of him in your palm. You jerk him a couple times, letting your eyes lift back to his face. His gaze isn't soft or gentle by any means. It's...admiration, you think? Something not usually in his gaze when looking at others.

"Take your pants off." He rasps, pushing your hand from his cock. He takes it in his own hand, jerking it as you work on tugging your pants down.

You get one leg out before he pounces, gripping your thigh tightly to tug that leg around his waist. You lean back against the tree, holding his gaze as he drags his cock through your folds.

You mewl needily, trying to push your hips closer to him. He finally takes pity on you, slipping his cock inside your pussy. You moan at the stretch, your body opening for him. You know it's the aphrodisiac doing most of the work, making your body well prepared for him without needing any extra stimulation or preparation.

The feeling of his cock stretching you open forces the worry of any lingering side effects out of your mind. He pins you against the tree, your arms wrapping around his neck.

He pauses once he's inside you, letting out a groan. He lips brush your neck as he feels you pulse around him, body desperate for any sort of relief. You cling to his shoulders, his armor digging into your skin but you don't care. The pain only adds to the sensation, more wetness seeping out around his cock.

"Making a mess of us and I haven't even started yet." He smirks. "You naughty little thing."

You whimper at his words, trying to grind your hips against him for any sort of relief. "Please, sir." You whine. "Please fuck me."

He nips at your neck, humming quietly. "Since you asked so nicely."

He draws his cock from your walls until just the tip is inside before slamming his hips forward, forcing his cock back inside. You gasp at the sensation, clinging to him as he repeats the motion, jolting your body with every thrust into you.

The bark of the tree drags against your skin but you don't care. You'll worry about the discomfort later. All you care about is Wolffe and his cock inside you.

"Harder." You gasp, threading your fingers in his hair. "Fuck me harder, please."

A groan rumbles in his chest as he draws his hips back before picking up the pace, fucking into you hard. You cling to him as he takes you roughly, hips slamming against yours. You'll have bruises but you don't care.

"So kriffing good." He groans, panting into your neck. "So tight and hot. Such good pussy, baby. All for me. All mine."

"Yours." You gasp, hardly able to form words from the pleasure rushing through your body. "Only yours."

"Gonna cum for me?" He asks, slipping a hand between your bodies to tease your clit. "Gonna cum around my cock?"

You cry out his name as he fucks you through your orgasm, walls spasming around him as pleasure burns through your veins, nearly whiting out your vision.

His hips stutter, a growl rumbling through his chest as he cums, hips slamming into yours as he fills your pussy.

You're gasping for breath, still clinging to him as you come down from your high.

"Fuck, babe." He groans, pulling back just slightly. The front of his armor and his blacks are soaked.

"Oh kriff." You breathe. You can still feel the heat lingering under your skin.

Wolffe pulls himself free of you, tucking himself back unto his blacks. "Made a big mess of us, didn't you?"

You nod, legs shaking as you try to stand on them. He chuckles, helping you back into your pants, putting your belt back on before his codpiece.

"Come on, mesh'la." He says, scooping you into his arms. "Let's get you back to the ship."

"But what about the mission?" You ask, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Fuck diplomacy." He says, carrying you back to the gunships.

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @sinfulsalutations @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink

#star wars #star wars fic #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x reader #x reader #clone thirsting #the dark side fic

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arctrooper69 · 1 year

Text

Don't Miss Me

Part of the "If I Don't Make it Back Alive" letter series. Commander Wolffe (reluctantly) writes his lover from the front lines.

Warnings: Mentions of war and death? Typical canon stuff.

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Cyar'ika,

I feel ridiculous writing this letter when I'd rather just say it straight to your face. At least then I could kiss you. Unfortunately duty calls, finding me without you.

There are rumors that this war is almost over but I'm gonna be honest, Cyare, it's been a rough couple of weeks. The damn clankers keep on coming and we keep on fighting. The weather's been shit here too - rain, rain, and more rain. Turns the ground into mud that'll suck your boots off if you're not careful. That happened to Sinker yesterday. It was honestly the funniest thing that's happened in awhile. Well, it was funny until the idiot decided to drag half the squad down with him. Now I've got mud in places that don't even see the light of day. But enough with the complaining already. I'm probably boring you to tears.

You always say that I frown too much, but lately when I'm lying awake in my bunk at night in the dark, I think of you and it makes me smile a little. You always did bring out the best in me. (Just please don't ever tell the boys that I smile. I'd never live it down.)

I guess I'm really just writing to say that I love you, cyar'ika. I want you to know that I'm still alive and kicking and that I'm doing my damnedest to get back into your arms again. Hell, you know I'd fight all the clankers in the whole kriffing galaxy if it got me back to you any faster.

Now I know you don't want to hear this, cyar'ika, but I just need to say it. If something happens to me - if I don't make it back to you - I want you to move on. I know I'm the luckiest clone in the whole damn GAR because I have you. But I am just a clone. You deserve so much better and if I don't make it out of this war, promise me that you won't shut yourself away. You're too smart for that. How I ever ended up with a girl as smart and as beautiful as you I'll never know, but I thank my lucky stars every day for it. I love you, cyar'ika. See you soon.

Wolffe

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ooostarwarsfandom501st · 15 days

Text

Reunion

Hunter x Fem! Jedi reader

Summary: you reunite with your old squad after Order 66...

Warnings: Mild descriptions of injuries, a bit of angst, fluff, happy ending, kissing, Order 66 mentions, I think Hunter deserves his own warning as well ;-)

Hey! This is my first small one-shot on Tumblr. I have been writing a few stories and other things in my life, but it is not something I've done in a while, so it's probably not my best. But please, feel free to leave a comment with some ideas for other one-shots etc. Enjoy!

Kallar.

Worst kriffing planet in your life! Not so much the planet itself, but more the traumatic events that happened there.

Before the war, you were a young Jedi Knight. Your old master, Plo Koon, had supervised most of your training, and you were thriving. At least, until the war came and you were thrown into a big pile of galactic bantha shit.

At first, you served with the 104th battalion along with your old master. You and Commander Wolffe worked well together and things were always a little bit easier, when you did it together.

But after a bit you grew more and more restless, not really having a feeling of being useful - at least, as much as you used to have. You tried pushing those ridiculous thoughts away, but that proved a lot harder than you thought.

Although you loved the Wolfpack who had all become your friends, despite the Jedi Code, you knew it was probably time to move on.

That's when Clone Force 99 came into the picture.

Those boys were everything you loved and longed to be. Diving headfirst into battle with a more or less reckless plan, but somehow always pulling it off. Sometimes, it honestly surprised you how well they worked, considering there were only 4 of them.

Crosshair was the most difficult one to connect with. He didn't really understand the need for a Jedi General, when him and his brothers had always worked alone. You did understand his point of view, but you weren't going anywhere. You loved this squad. It took many rotations, but after a rather difficult mission where you saved his life in a daring manner, he slowly began warming up to you.

Then came Tech. After you got over his ridiculously huge brain, you started paying more attention to his, as his brothers call them, 'info-dumping's' and it turned out that they were actually quite interesting. And when Tech realized that you were paying attention and sometimes even asking him questions, he always found you whenever he had something new to share about the planet you visited, or when you discovered an animal.

Wrecker was the easiest one to connect with. He was a giant with a heart of gold, always making you laugh until you couldn't breathe, always showing some new work out, and always having a blast with you, whenever you blew something up together. Being friends with Wrecker came as naturally as breathing.

And then Hunter.

The dark, mysterious, smoky and broody Sergeant of Clone Force 99. The first time you ever laid eyes one you, you were afraid your heart was giving out. Everything about him was captivating. His eyes telling but a million secrets, his voice sending shivers down your spine despite saying the most regular things, his majestic hair that you one time were allowed to braid because the temperature on Tatooine was unbearable Maker even his scent drove you crazy. When you learned about his enhanced abilities, you instantly knew that he must have heard your raping heart, but by the little smirk he send your way, he seemed to like it.

Although you cared deeply for all the boys, Echo as well when he joined the squad, Hunter was different. Your relationship wasn't labeled or anything. But it definitely wasn't platonic either. Not judging by the looks you always sent each other, or the way you always looked out for each other, touching each other in some small way like fingers brushing against each other, a hand on your back or on his arm. It was something much deeper. And you both knew it was so wrong. If you were caught, it would mean the end. But that didn't exactly stop you.

Not until Kallar.

When the troopers turned on you and Master Billaba, and you were the only one who got away, albeit with a nasty blaster shot to your shoulder, you turned and ran and you didn't look back once.

You heard the news. The Clones killed all the Jedi.

Your world was turned upside down. You thought about your old Master, about your old battalion, but mostly about Clone Force 99. If you faced them, you knew, you wouldn't be able to kill them.

So instead, you ran.

And for a while you hopped from planet to planet, earning credits by doing small jobs here and there. You hid everything. Your lightsaber was safely tucked away on you small ship, and instead you carried a blaster. You changed hair color, clothes and everything else you could, to change your appearance. You were constantly checking over your shoulder, afraid that the Empire would show up. Or worse, Hunter.

And then you met Phee. Completely random on the street, when you were running a job for some wealthy family. You were weary of her first, but then she showed you Pabu and now you owe her your life.

Life on Pabu was something else. Calm, warm, and everyone was so nice. And the best part of it, no one knew how you were. It was perfect.

As you were on your usual morning stroll, you got a comm from Phee, telling you to come to the square and meet her new friends. This wasn't the first time this had happened, and you were excited to see who Phee had met this time.

"Alright Phee, I'm here. Now who are..." you trailed off, freezing in your spot, when your eyes came in contact with the ship that had been your home many rotations ago.

Your brain was working overtime to find the best possible escape route, but it was too late. Four heads turned and starred at you, their eyes wide and mouths open.

"Y/N..." Wrecker was the first to open up, a smile spreading on his lips. But when he took a step forward, you took a step back on instinct and you saw the hurt flashing in his eyes.

"We... we thought, you were dead... is it really you?" He tried again, but you still said nothing.

"Uhh Y/N do you know them?" Phee was obviously confused

"Well obviously she must be rather cautios of us, given the circumstances in which we saw her last. But I believe she looks to be in good health" Albeit a surprised tone, Tech spoke up, adjusting his goggles.

It was too much for you. You were scarred, you couldn't look any of them in the eyes, especially not Hunter. So you turned and ran. Just like you did on Kallar.

Ignoring the calls from behind you.

______________________________________________________________

They couldn't believe their eyes, when they saw you. Hunter had been heartbroken that day on Kallar, and he never thought, he'd ever feel better. Then Omega showed up, and he suddenly had a new purpose in life. But when he saw her standing there on the square... he felt his world turn upside down again.

"Who was that?" Omega asked carefully, making Hunter look at her with soft eyes.

"An old friend who we thought had passed away" Hunter explained, not wanting to go into too much detail right away.

"You should talk to her" Echo nudged him, "We'll go with Omega"

Hunter shot his brother a grateful look and rushed after his cyare.

When he found you on the beach, his heart did a flip. You looked just a beautiful as the last time he saw you. You had changed, yes, but you were still you.

"Y/N please don't run away again" he begged, and when you turned around and finally met his eyes, you had tears in them.

"I- Hunter" was all you said. All you could manage to say. You still kept a small distance.

"I thought, I had lost you. When the regs starting shooting at you and Master Billaba... we are not with the Empire, cyare. I promise" his words were firm, but his voice were shaking.

Carefully, he took a step forward, and you stayed.

"Why did it happen?" You asked, having about a million questions.

"It's a long story, why don't you come back and I'll tell you everything?" he moved closer and closer until finally, he stood right in front of you.

You felt yourself breaking again, tears streaming down your face as you let Hunter embrace you.

"Oh Hunter..." you choked.

"Cyare... I missed you" he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

"I- I missed you too" you spoke, wiping your tears away after calming down.

For the first time you looked at him with love again, smiling softly at him. So much had happened. So much was lost. But now you had finally gained something again.

You didn't waist another second as your lips crashed against Hunter's, who let out a surprised groan, but quickly kissed you back, sneaking his arms around you as your lips moved in sync.

It was everything you and dreamed of for so long. It was perfect.

If possible, you pulled each other even closer and only pulled away to catch your breath, Hunter's forehead leaning against your own.

"Let's go back, I still have a million questions for you and the boys" you whispered, a pleasant smile on your face.

"On one condition" Hunter said, making you raise a brow at him. "No more hiding this. I love you, cyare. Will all my heart"

You didn't think it was possible, but your smile grew and you pecked his lips again.

"I love you too, Hunter. Now let's go back before Wrecker eats all the dinner"

And as you both laughed and bathed in the morning sun, you took his hand and for the first time since forever...

You were truly home.

______________________________________________________________

Okay, this is not my best work, but I still quite like it. Hope you all enjoyed as well <3 Again, feel very free to comment ideas for other one-shots etc. also, which characters you want to see. It can also be other clones or other Star Wars characters<3

Also - I probably wont be writing crazy smut, maybe spicy stuff but not full on crazy haha.

Bye <3

#star wars #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb omega #the bad batch #tbb s3 spoilers #tbb season 3 #tbb tech #clone force 99 #tbb batcher #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #hunter x you

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hetalianskywalker · 1 month

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The Bad Batch Prompt Event!

End of Avoidence

Summary: You find Commander Wolffe asleep on your couch after a night at 79s.

Authors Note: Thank you @arctrooper69 making this event. I did the SFW prompt with Commander Wolffe x reader. The prompt is in bold. I had wanted to do the NSFW prompt, but the anxiety won out. Hope you all enjoy this instead.

Nickname for reader: Corvid-meaning a crow/raven. Partly based of the special relationship Ravens and Wolves have in the wild.

Warnings: Cursing and I’m pretty sure that’s it.

Word Count: 1225

Thank you for reading!

“Commander Wolffe?” You lean against the door frame in between your bedroom and the living room of your Coruscant apartment. You blink, making sure that you weren’t imagining things. Low and behold, your commanding officer was still half asleep on the couch.

His mismatched eyes give you a half glare as he sits up. You quickly glance him over, noticing the top half of his armor resting on the chair next to him. You both remain at this weird stand off before you sigh and head to the kitchen.

“Caf?” You call over your shoulder. You begin making the pot before you get an answer from him. You had seen the amount of caf Wolffe could go through when he had flimsiwork to do after a large battle or rescue mission.

You are the head engineer for the 104th. Usually your job would go to a clone, but after most of the battalion had been lost near the start of the war you had been recruited instead. Something or other about the Kaminoans at the time needing to train more engineers.

It had been weird at first being the only natural born on an entire Star Destroyer other than General Plo Koon and an occasional visit from Admiral Coburn. However, you grew to enjoy the company of the clones around you and they all seemed to get along with you. Apart from two that is and one of those was a recent development.

You can see Wolffe walk into your kitchen and sit down at your small table. While he doesn’t say anything, you turn just in time to see him take in a whiff of your brewing high grade caf. He almost smiles.

“I’ll take that as a yes on the caf than, Commander.” You state, unable to stop the smug smile from spreading across your face. Falling back on the jabs and glares that were the foundation for the majority of the conversations you had with him before whatever falling out had happened.

The trance of good smelling caf is broken as he now focuses his eyes on you and fully frowns, but still nods. You turn back to the caf, reminded once again that something had happened to change his opinion of you. You had no idea what though. At first he seemed to enjoy the banter with you until he started out right avoiding you a few months back. At least with the battalion’s CMO, you knew exactly why you two didn’t get along; you had a tendency of trying to take care of your own wounds yourself.

Actually for someone who can’t seem to stand me, how the hell did he end up on my couch? The thought hits you like a tidal wave as the caf machine beeps and you pour the two cups. You take them to the table and hand Wolffe his. You quietly add your extras in, once again trying to figure out why Wolffe was in your apartment, as he quietly enjoys his caf black.

“I don’t dislike you.” He breaks through your spiraling thoughts as you look up at him from your now much lighter caf.

“Since when?” You want to smack yourself when the unfiltered response reaches the open air.

“Since we met,” Wolffe snaps back. “Alright, Corvid.” You didn’t know how to respond to that. Both with the confession and the nickname most of the Wolfpack referred to you as. You were often perched in high places on the Star Destroyer when troops found you during any off time, wore mostly black when not in uniform, and you had somehow become a kind of safe house for Wolfpack contraband, which were mostly harmless things. Since most of your conversations recently had been unavoidable and professional, you hadn’t heard him call you that in months.

“You go down a different hall the moment you see me, how exactly am I supposed to take that, Wolffe?” It comes out far more resigned than the anger you wanted and he doesn’t deny it. “What brought this on anyway?”

“I overheard you tell a batch of shinies at 79’s that I hated you.” It’s the wrong answer to the wrong question, but it gives you information you wanted none the less. The heat rushes to your face and you watch him smirk. Fuck. You resist a very powerful urge to bang your head against the table. Cause if he heard that then he probably heard what your tipsy ass had said after that. At least you hadn’t been completely drunk and totally made a fool of yourself.

When he doesn’t say anything, your shoulders relax in relief. No hangover and he didn’t hear the more embarrassing half of that conversation. Today might actually be an okay day.

“Still doesn’t explain why you are on my couch.” You grumble as you take a sip of your slowly cooling drink.

“I came by to check that you got home alright and I wanted to talk to you. And you invited me in.” You nearly spit out your caf.

“I did not.”

“You were half asleep. You told me to spend the night with how late it was and waved at the couch.” Wolffe pauses before giving you a sharp smirk. “Besides, you wouldn’t rat out your favorite.”

“I totally play favorites. Mine just so happens to also hate me. Kriff, I’m fucking pathetic and toxic as hell, but oh well. You only live once.” You had raised a glass and the shinies had seemed to get a good laugh out of your self deprecating jokes. The memory makes your stomach churn.

No, he definitely heard the entire conversation with the shinies. Great, just fucking great.

“You’re the worst.” You growl.

“Yeah well you still like me.” The smug response makes you want to scream. But you're suddenly hit with the fact that he’s not rejecting you.

You inspect him for a moment; your mind trying to put together some other explanation for this situation. Wolffe smirks again as he sets his now empty cup down. Your thoughts take a carnal turn for a moment, having never seen his top half with just his blacks on up close. You shake them away as a new surge of anger comes through.

“Why did you avoid me then? I was trying to figure out for mouths why the fuck…”

“I thought avoiding you would end it. But it seemed to just make it worse for both of us apparently.” He cuts you off and you take a second to digest the words. It’s quiet for too long.

“And that was a mistake.” It’s not quite an apology, but he says it like it’s one. You open your mouth to except the peace offering.

“I’m sorry.” The genuineness of it soothes your remaining anger.

“Thank you.” As you say it, most of the tension finally leaves your kitchen.

“So what happens now?” Wolffe smirks again at the question as he leans in close.

“Well Corvid, you said we only live once.” You blush and stare at one another a quick moment before his hands gently rest on the sides of your face. He glances at your mouth and back at your eyes. A silent question.

You nod. A silent response earns you a kiss you have wanted and waited to long for.

#tbbpromptevent #star wars #tcw #commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 7 months

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Poets and Painters (Early Morning) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Word count: 4,390

Early Morning

It's unclear if someone perhaps made the suggestion to the General, or if he devised this idea on his own, but Master Plo has decided that the best use of the day today is to do… nothing at all. You are drifting through space in an area of the galaxy that has been seldom touched by this war. You didn't even recognize the name of the planet when you regarded the astronav aboard the bridge of the Jedi cruiser. Small, and relatively unpopulated according to what the scanners had picked up. There was hardly any record of this planet being here, in fact. It was puzzling to mostly everyone.

"Yeah, well it was the same for Big Stormy in the Jedi archives according to the General, but Kamino was still very much there…" one trooper complains to his brother in the chair beside him with an unimpressed roll of his eyes, his arms laced tightly across his broad chest. "Who's to say other planets won't show up on the kriffing maps if not a lot of people come here?" His neighbor glowers at him in warning, hissing back under his breath to shut up or he's going to distract the General.

To this, Plo Koon encourages the two young troops to settle themselves before Sergeant Sinker tells them to cut it out. "Come now, young Tack. Orchid is right, in a sense. There are perhaps even other galaxies we do not know about, or have a way to get to. This planet… Little Archossi… seems to be safe. We'll set down on the planet, away from what appears to be one of the settlements, so as not to disturb the inhabitants." Inhabitants that are assumed to be humanoid and sentient, but they have no way of making contact with them. Everyone is cautioned to not appear threatening to them should these Archossi (Archossian?) make an approach.

They would surely notice a ship of this size over their home planet.

The Triumphant looms imposingly above, just out of reach of the planet's atmosphere and gravitational pull.

Disembarking the gunships, you step into the soft, springy grass of the large clearing on this forested planet. The atmosphere is breathable, and it's welcomed after so long in the presence of oxygen recyclers.

The air is cool, and fragrant with a diverse bouquet of blooming wildflowers. Some are familiar, others are surprising and entirely unknown. Clone researchers, though they are not asked to, task themselves with determining these botanicals out of caution. "Just being preemptive, General Plo." Tack explains when the Kel Dorian Jedi comes to remind him that the Clones and crew of the Triumphant who joined him on the surface of the planet are here and meant to relax. "Just in case these flowers turn out to have irritants or strange pollen. Don't want any surprises, sir."

Plo hums thoughtfully, the sound a deep, warm rumbling. "Very good, Tack. I hope you find what you are looking for soon so you may join your brothers." One of his steady hands makes a slow, sweeping gesture out to another part of the clearing, where several other brothers of the 104th battalion have gathered around the Commander.

He appears to be laying out a few ground rules with his men, from where you sit on a small, grassy knoll here in this break in the trees. You can catch words and small fragments of what he's saying, but you don't pay him much attention. Being just one of the crew aboard the cruiser, words like emergency flares and what must be the word holster don't pertain to anything you've brought along with you. There's no expectation of danger from the native people, but they say you can never be too prepared. Well, you're not too sure about that when you hear what was definitely the words stun setting and do not stray far.

Surely the Commander was being a little overboard about all this…

But that's not your business. You turn your attention back to the small canvas bag at your feet and root through it to find the personal belongings you've taken with you for today just as the researcher named Tack assures his General once again that he's perfectly content to spend his day like this.

"Don't worry about me, General. I never mind spending a day researching things. Besides, I'm not the only one who's brought my usual gear with me. Looks like Arcadia brought their own datapad." Hearing your name, you pause just as you're pulling out the datapad since putting the spiral-bound sketchpad and graphite pencils you've thrown in the bag in your lap, meeting Tack's eye.

"Oh this is just in case I want to read later," you explain with a laugh. "My, uh, older family members gave me some serious art supplies to take with me before I joined aboard the Triumphant and I just haven't had a chance to use 'em yet. Figured while we were on Little Archossi I'd give them a try."

"Cool, cool. Have fun with that." Tack replies, smiling as he turns back to a dazzling blue flower with thin, silky petals. You've caught the interest of the Kel Dor, and he makes a request to sit beside you for the moment. You've been told by others that this Jedi Master makes a point to try to get to know as many people who serve alongside him as possible, that he's polite and seems to just radiate calm and wisdom.

"Yes of course, go right ahead." you tell him, moving the bag to the other side to make room beside you on the knoll. "Here."

"Thank you," he starts, dipping his head in a slow gesture of gratitude, "I won't take up too much of your time Arcadia."

"I don't mind if you do, General. I don't really know what I want to do with… all this." you assure him with a mild laugh, indicating the spiral-bound and the pencils resting on the thighs of your slate-gray, form-fitting uniform. You chose not to wear any of your casual-wear today, though it would be more comfortable in the long term. You were due to wash your uniforms soon enough, spending a day on a strange planet would expedite the need to do so in case of any contaminants.

You let him take one of the pencils to examine, noting how Master Plo takes such care with your personal property. "These were a gift to you, you said?"

Your head bobs in answer. "That's right. I guess they thought I'd have a lot more opportunities to get back into artwork or something while I was stationed with the one-oh-fourth on the cruiser. But maybe I'll break in the new sketchbook today, with a little, uh… oh, what do they call it? Plein air sketching." You imagine the inquisitive blink of his eyes under the anti-ox mask and eyewear worn by the General when he does not say anything at first, and can only guess there is some sort of smile before the pencil is returned to you. "Most intriguing. Perhaps I will have to come by another time when you have made some progress."

"You're certainly welcome to."

"Thank you, Arcadia. I believe I should warn young Soapsuds to remember the Commander's warning about not straying too far…" There's a shared chuckle between you. Soapsuds is a darling, and a very courageous soldier for what are nicknamed "shinnies", but he can be a little bit forgetful. Perhaps with the Force, Plo Koon can sense what you can only assume: Commander Wolffe is having some difficulty with the primary objective for today. "Until later."

You bid him farewell for the time being, too, and tuck back the cover to the sketchbook. The pages are surprisingly thick, and if you had a more serious artistic inclination, you could guess that the pages of this book could take a variety of mediums. Graphite pencil, for certain, and perhaps a number of other dry mediums like pastels or charcoal or coloring pencils. You're not certain it would do well with wet mediums at first glance. Maybe a layer or two of gouache? Looser styles of watercoloring? But probably not oils or acrylics, they would likely warp the pages and make everything tacky.

It's admittedly been some time since making any use of traditional supplies for anything other than scribbling down a note to pass to a colleague, or taking records of serious instructions on the bridge. Before putting the pencil against the page, you mentally coach and coax yourself to take the plunge.

I'll probably be a little rusty. That's okay. Just give it a shot. Maybe I'll surprise myself.

The lead within is buttery-soft, and lays down a bold line without any skipping after it sweeps over the fine, toothy hills and valleys in the texture of the page. Oh. Oh wow. That's quality. You'll have to thank the gift giver for their generosity, and you promise yourself in a moment of wishful thinking to never use this for anything but artistic endeavors in the few fleeting chances you'll get for it.

(Would you keep this promise in a standard week from now, or a month at most? Unlikely.)

There's a groan of great annoyance from Tack to your left, still studying the beautiful blue flowers. "Not having any luck, Tack?"

"No. It's not showing up on any of my catalogs."

You frown sympathetically, lifting your head to meet his eye. "I'm sorry."

"I'll figure something out…" Tack grumbles, lightly raking his nails along the back of his neck. "I just don't want to find out that this can make anyone sick, or something, before it's too late."

"That's very sweet of you, Tack." you tell him with a kind smile as you continue to sketch loose shapes and lay down lines to break in this first page. Tack was rough around the edges, and could frustrate easily, but did not back down from a challenge just because he met a little resistance. "Say, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Does the Commander seem on edge to you this morning? I have to admit I'm having trouble telling." You feel you need to tread a little cautiously with this question. If you express that you think the leader of the 104th with a silver, cybernetic eye and a prominent stripe of scar tissue down his face is being a bit overbearing or uptight in any way when you don't know him quite so well, it would not make for a great first impression should word get back to him.

Tack shrugs after a moment of thought. "Oh, Commander Wolffe? Yeah, I suppose so. He's a rather diligent man. Nothin' wrong with that of course-"

"Of course, no." you cut in hurriedly. "I was only curious."

"Don't know him so much, I'm guessing?" Tack makes a sound of understanding as you shake your head, "Ah, well, you haven't been here that long. Not many of us have been either, truthfully." He lays down a short summary of the battalion's history to you, answering questions best he can. Things changed dramatically after the Battle of Abregado; they lost so many brothers, there were only a few survivors of that encounter, and they were not always the flint gray they are now.

"Maroon? Really."

"Mhm."

"I see… And, his scar?"

Tack suppresses a deep wince, but only just. "Sith."

Your veins turn to ice momentarily in spite of the gentle warmth of the nearest star. "Maker."

You've had your fill of the questions for the time being, wishing him luck as he tries his hand once more at identifying his mysterious flower. You're going to do your best not to stare at Commander Wolffe as he paces the perimeter of the clearing, keeping a vigilant watch for trouble. The General repeatedly invites him to have a seat and clear his mind for a moment, but he is turned down time and time again, politely but curtly. "No thank you, General Plo."

The trooper you know to be Sergeant Sinker thanks to the pale, silver hair leans in closer to whisper something to the General, which only makes Jedi shake his head almost pityingly. "I was afraid of that… Thank you, Sinker."

"Don't worry, General. He'll probably only pace for so long," Boost says in an attempt at comfort, "if the people of the planet were gonna come and investigate, they'd've done it by now. But we know to show them we mean 'em no harm."

So was the Commander pacing the perimeter because he wanted to see any approachers before it was too late? Would he be keeping this up all day when they were meant to clear their heads for a change? Yes, they were advised to be aware of their surroundings, but securing a boundary might be a little much. What was driving him to be so watchful and defensive on a sparsely inhabited planet?

Paranoia? Selflessness and love and concern for his brothers? Was this perhaps a sacrificial gesture: pacing and patrolling the circumference of the clearing to ensure that his soldiers, and some of the crew of the Triumphant, could be out here largely undisturbed without any rest for himself?

If that was the case, it did not tug at your heartstrings gently.

For someone with such a gentle name, Orchid has one of the worst swearing habits in the one-oh-fourth. "Oh karking Maker, the Commander finally sat the kriff down." Tack warns him to keep his voice down in a sharp-ish manner, and to take it easy on the language.

You were glad that the man did finally decide to rest his legs and perhaps finally enjoy the day with the rest of you, but not so much where he decided to sit.

You'd been trying to draw one of these interesting trees here on Little Archossi, where the sprawling crown of the canopy cascades down in thick, full plumes of leaves in multiple shades of red and orange. You had a few pencils for coloring in the bottom of the bag, and a decent pen that you could add a little ink to the page to outline some of the details, but now Commander Wolffe has plunked himself squarely in the middle of what you have been trying to draw for the last hour and a half.

Of all the hills in this clearing, this is where he decided to sit? In front of the one tree in this entire area largely free of them? Everyone else has stayed clear of it when they realized they would be getting in the way of your artistic subject, apologizing and instead coming to sit beside you to watch for a few minutes. But he doesn't seem to notice you just across the way, just on the other hill.

Well… it's not what you had in mind, but, maybe you could make this work, still. The armor and the anatomy won't be perfect by any means, though. You're thankful you kept your pressure light on the page, making it easier to erase a large area of the trunk you'd drawn previously and fill that space with the Commander. You just had to hope he didn't get up anytime soon.

Most of his body and the basic shapes of his armor are sketched out before the ceaseless skritch of the graphite must finally catch the Commander's attention just as you're warring with yourself on the matter of the codpiece.

How much detail do I include here? Oh Maker if he sees this he'll probably realize I've been staring at his crot-

"What are you doing over there?" The voice from across the other grassy hill jolts you from your thoughts, and you are grateful you did not have your drawing implement against the page in that moment.

Oh, Maker, please do not let your face be red. "Ah, just doing a little outdoor sketching, Commander." Please do not let him ask you what you're drawing…

"What of…?" The Commander draws out his question, pausing when he probably does not remember, or know, your name. That's not super surprising, you tell yourself. You're just a crew member, and not one of his many men he interacts with on a regular basis. He not knowing your name is by no means personal.

"Call me Arcadia. And the tree, sir."

"Am I in your way, Arcadia?" he asks, one of his eyebrows lifting just slightly with the question.

"No, sir. You're not. You're included with the tree." you answer, stretching the truth. You have to hope that it doesn't come across in an unsettling or creepish fashion to the Clone Commander. Good impressions. Good impressions were important. "I, um, hope you don't mind." You don't want him to get up when he's just sat down. You don't want to feel like you're doing something unwelcome either. Something that would disrupt his enjoyment of this rare occasion in wartime; a peaceful day, among flowers and a grassy, hilly field surrounded by trees on all sides. His brothers are enjoying themselves, laying on their backs in the grass, faces warm in the golden sunlight with the day just beginning.

The General is enjoying himself, and looks to be spending a little time with some of the other troops, showing them how to calm their minds with meditation. You heard one of the shinnies ask Master Plo about it not too long ago, and he was happy to oblige.

Commander Wolffe should get to enjoy this day, too.

"I don't mind." he answers. The tonal quality of his voice does not suggest begrudging agreement, a thinning veneer of patience, or complete indifference. "How long do I need to hold still?" He asks, the same eyebrow as before lifting again.

"Not very," you reply, quickly returning your pencil to the page to begin sketching him again now that you were assured he would not be opposed to this, "the idea is to be quick when drawing outdoors, for the most part."

"And why is that?"

The graphite continues to skritter and skritch along the surface of the page, you do not stop what you are doing to answer him this time. You will get this done quickly, and you will take your work somewhere else to add color to it. "No two days will ever be the same, sir. Plein air painters and artists only have one day to complete what they work on." One day that you did not want to force being a live subject upon him. Agreeing to let you sketch his likeness into the sketchpad is one thing. Asking him to stay there as you added layers of color and ink to the page would be taking advantage of his agreement. His "day off".

Resting his head back against the scale-patterned bark of the tree, Wolffe nods slowly in contemplation, closing his eyes. "And which are you, Arcadia?" You missed the question, so absorbed in the general shape of his face, and recalling that in order to draw eyes you need to keep them an eye's distance apart.

"S-sorry, sir?"

"I asked which one you are. A painter, or a different kind of artist."

You shake your head softly, doing your best not to stammer terribly in shame for not hearing him. "Oh. I-I'm not much of a painter."

"So a different kind of artist then," he suggests, tilting his head back just slightly for a moment while adjusting his legs in front of him, "a sketcher, perhaps."

Your eyes meet with his for a fleeting moment when you glance back up from the page to finalize a few details of the position of his legs, the width of his tights, and once again do not linger on the codpiece. "Um, I suppose? It's been a long time since I…" you trail off and shrug half-heartedly, unsure how to explain. Or if he even wants to hear it and is just making conversation to be polite. A man of his position and status in this war is busy, his mind must always be occupied with stratagem and contingencies and, recalling what Tack has said… loss.

The Republic did not win that battle, and Wolffe lost so many brothers on top of it all. And an eye to a Sith. How much more would he lose? How much more would this galaxy take from him?

You frown, brow furrowing, at the thought.

"What's the matter?" the man on the other hill asks you, expression neither puzzled or concerned.

Quickly, you look back down at the page in your lap, and you choose something to lie about. "The detail on your shoulder plating. Unfortunately I think a lot of the finer details will be lost in the sketch."

"Unfortunate."

"Mhm…"

You are thankful that you got most of the details down already. What you are not expecting is that when you look up again to make sure you have what you're looking for, you are now almost eye level with the white codpiece and the belt which his kama hangs from. Your heart is now hammering madly in your throat, and the rush of blood pounds steadily against your eardrum. Much like the silhouette of the Triumphant above Little Archossi, Commander Wolffe stands above you, and you feel small and almost frightened. (Almost.)

You hadn't meant to, but you flinched to find him looming over you. He frowns. "Did I scare you?" You admit that he had, yes. You didn't even hear him move from under the tree on the other hill and come up to the top of this small knoll for all the armor he wore. "You need to pay attention to your surroundings at all times." Wolffe replies coolly, now dropping to sit next to you on your left. He removes the shoulder pad from his right upper arm, and holds it up beside your sketchpad.

It feels a little insulting to be talked to like that, like one of his soldiers, when he told you to pay more attention. How dare he? "Sorry..." you mumble as you use the sharpest side of the pencil to try to copy down the wolf icon from a side-view on the graphite likeness of the man now next to you. "I didn't think you'd be moving so soon."

More like at all.

Maybe he can sense the subtext, and he becomes slightly apologetic. "Only thought it might help you to see it closer, Arcadia." Wolffe explains. He does not watch you, or respond in any way when you give a short sort of oh sound in reply to that; instead he visually sweeps the clearing for dangers or signs of trouble. You know he's listening to you, at least. The sound of short and terse scratches and more drawn-out, fluid, sweeping marks against the page keeps the moment from completely collapsing into uncomfortable silence.

"...thanks."

You've done the best you can to capture the face of the wolf, and the crescent moon-like shapes of the pad closest to you. You could probably stand to fine-tune Wolffe's face on the page, but that seems daunting to ask him to return under the tree on the other hill now just so you could get the proportions right. It wouldn't exactly come across well, you imagine.

Thank you for showing me your shoulder pads up close and all but could you kriff off, now?

"You're welcome. Do you need anything else, Arcadia?"

"No sir." you lie to the Commander through your teeth. You're just going to have to make do. This hill is taller than the other, and from here, you can see the whole clearing. This probably makes for an excellent vantage point with his strategic inclinations. "Thank you. I think I've gotten the right amount of detail, now, before I want to add some color." you continue, praying to all manner of galactic deities that you can now excuse yourself without any issue. But no such luck: you start to gather your datapad and other things, and he puts a stop to it with a single, simple question.

He'd like to watch for a moment, if that's alright.

Shit.

"Sure."

You put aside the graphite, and root through your bag for the coloring pencils. The bag has been largely untouched since it was given to you, but through one mishap or another the package of coloring pencils has been damaged, and the contents are now scattered in the bag. You have to hunt down all the necessary colors you need before any progress gets made. Sage will have to do for the grass, and Fawn will be your closest match to the color of the bark. For the leaves of the tree, Terra Cotta, a deep Marigold and Sunflower are your best choices. Regarding the Commander's armor…

There's no gray. There is not a single gray pencil in the entire package. There's Lamp Black. But no gray.

"Oh, kriff me sideways." you swear under your breath, forgetting the man beside you for the moment in your frustration. "Are you kidding me?"

Wolffe just believes for the moment you can't find something, and takes the canvas bag from at your side without a word of permission. "Are you missing something?"

You let it go that he's taken the bag to look, it's not that big of a deal. He's only trying to help. "Yes and no. I need gray for your armor, but the package doesn't have it." Giving him the broken carton, you let him see for himself that trying to look in your bag is a kind, but ultimately fruitless effort.

An alternative is quietly pointed out. "... it does have maroon."

Your heart hangs heavily in your rib cage knowing what you do now. You can only imagine his own heart will be heavier still. You have never seen the 104th battalion in that color of paint; only ever heard the tales of their escapades and exploits when their armor must have gleamed in that handsome and deep, warm red.

But tragedy and loss has stolen the color out of their coats, and they move in shadow.

Now when the Wolves run and hunt and fight, it is only in gray.

Note from Frost: I, uh... hoo boy. I don't know how to explain where this one came from. I feel a little out of my element, here, knowing what's coming and how under-practiced I am when it comes to writing more mature themes. Any pointers and/or feedback at all would be appreciated, honestly. Appreciate anyone who took the time to read this, too!

[Masterlist]

[You are here] [Midday] [Late Afternoon] [Evening] [Deep Night]

[Golden Dawn Part 1] [Golden Dawn Part 2]

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