#Wolffe Pack

[leenathegreengirl]

Could this perhaps be a Wolffe Wednesday..? 😀💚💕

💚Tag List💚

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @returnofthepineapple @antisocial-mariposa @techs-stitches @resistantecho @kimiheartblade @dezgate @sunshinesdaydream @rex-targaryen @freesia-writes @heidnspeak @justanotherdikutsimp

[mrs2224]

Wolffe Smoke breaks in the GAR 🖤🐺

[cc1010fox]

Fox: Wolffe! Wolffe Pack: Is that Commander Fox? Fox: WOLFFE!!! Wolffe Pack, backing away from Wolffe: Osi'kyr! Fox: Wolffe! Wolffe, sighing: Fox... Fox, punching him square in the jaw: You were on Coruscant for two days and you didn't even contact me!? Wolffe, headbutting Fox: Cody wouldn't leave me alone! You know how he gets without Rex. Fox, grabbing Wolffe into a hug: Let someone else deal with him! I missed you! Wolffe, hugging Fox back just as tightly: I missed you too...I'm sorry... Wolffe Pack: ...What just happened?

[ghostymarni]

Hot toys posted 2 hours ago about releasing Wolffe!!!

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Ahem

Commander Wolffe and his pack except they're wearing dog harnesses and pulling your sled.

That is all.

[clonedadplo]

I could go into a huge diatribe about how sad Plo Koon's death was and how Order 66 will forever remain the most devastating thing to happen in the entire Star Wars franchise (IMHO) however I would instead like to say that honestly; I'm just glad Plo Koon just got shot down from behind and never even saw it coming.

Never had to look into the eyes of Jag and his wingman, or anyone from his beloved Wolffe Pack and watch them turn on him.

Because even though it would be only momentary right before he was shot down can you imagine the absolute pain?

The heartbreak?

And if he ever knew that his ship was not only shot down by his adoptive children but that it also crashed into a clone training center and killed 141 more clone troopers?

I honestly can't imagine.

And I do mean adoptive children because damn, he seemed to be the only person who understood that these men are all just rapidly aged children given highly impressive combat/tactical capabilities and not much else. And honestly. He's just paternal.

But no, there was never a moment Plo had to question why his men pulled back to follow him. Why? Because the Wolffe Pack follows him everywhere.

I'm sure even if he felt some disturbance in the force having his men behind him could never make him feel anything other than comforted.

Unfortunately this leaves us to lament how Commander Wolffe gets to feel, having survived the clone wars and outlived his buir.

So yeah, gun the man down while he ain't looking, stab him in the back, kill him in his sleep anything is fine.

There's no need to be honourable, just don't break his heart.

Gif credits to: @phantom-of-the-keurig @barissoffee @kamino-coruscant, @ahsoka-snips-tano-lives and SYGT3M on tenor

[sinfulsalutations]

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

[13ag21k]

Okay so I had this idea, what if Palpatine's plan completely backfired on him. The jedi love their clones so much that they refuse to actually fight the separatists XD they just always try to solve everything with as little bloodshed as possible and always try to negotiate and reason with separatist no matter how sticky the situation is.

I had this scene in mind where a separatist is threatening Anakin or Obi-Wan and they look at their men and respond with "how about peace?" "NO?" "We can negotiate" "violence is never the answer" no matter how hard the enemy tries to press them into using violence. Basically they do succeed most of the times at negotiating with them. The jedi are taught how to persuade anyone and in using violence as an absolute last resort for solving a problem. Their love for the clones saves the galaxy.

[miseries-mistress]

Okay idk if you write for commander wolffe or ahsoka but if you do can you write something spicy for either of them. You choose who idc, I’m just so down for these two LMAO

Also ur writing is so amazing, like it’s indescribably good ♥︎♥︎

RIPPED AWAY (SEWN TOGETHER) | COMMANDER WOLFFE

Synopsis: You wanted to shout, scream into the night to release your pent-up frustration boiling inside of you. The battle to take a separatist base was fruitless, and with Anakin's instance that none of you retreat and keep pushing forward, despite your protests leads to Ahsoka's injury. In your haste to retrieve Ahsoka, you step away from the ranks to her body in the center of the clearing. Chaos ensues. 

Warnings: female reader, wolffe being mean, like more than usual, but it's okay bc i love mean men, injury, canon typical violence, blood, gore, injury, all the good stuff. W/C: 3,880

star wars masterlist

The battle raged like a storm without end, with each wave of blaster fire raining down upon you with the strength only death alone could possess. It didn't matter how many droids your men shot down or how many shots you and Anakin deflected. It wasn't enough. 

Clouds of smoke spiraled around you, obscuring the moon while your body ached for respite under cover of the ever-twinkling stars. Retreat was becoming more of a prospect by the second, yet another dark reality to face as another volley of bombs dropped in your vicinity, the ear-piercing screams quelled by the exchange of blaster fire. 

Another bolt was deflected. Another droid is down. Another man down. The cycle was endless, and you've had enough. 

"Anakin!" you screamed over the clanking droids. "We need to retreat!"

Anakin's head whipped around to face you, his eyes wide before his eyebrows knitted in frustration, his face twisting in defiance.

"We can take the base!" he shouts, and a man behind you thuds to the ground, his organs mixing with the sloppy sludge of oil, mud, and blood. "If we can break their defenses–"

"The men can't hold out that long, and neither can we! Regrouping is our only hope of surviving this! We are losing them by the minute!" 

"We hold our position. That's final!" 

You wanted to scream, tear the hair out of your head if that meant reasoning with him. If this was your mission, you would have pulled back ages ago, having realized staying here any longer would be fruitless. Their forces were simply too many, overwhelming quick thoughts of attack. You needed a strategy, and it would be impossible to form one in the heat of battle while you deflected oncoming advancements. 

You racked your brain for a solution, frantic to figure out some kind of strategy to not only reduce casualties but also take the separatist base. That was until a crackling, uneven voice spoke urgently over your and Anakin's commlink, his voice barely audible. "Commander Tano is down."

Every nerve, vein, and blood vessel was doused in frozen water, your blood running cold as you could feel it draining from the pores in your face. You've never seen Anakin move so fast, stepping back so Rex could cover him. "What?! Where are you?!"

"We are overrun– we need to pull back," the trooper spoke again, despair thickly coating his entreaty.

"Send your coordinates and hold your position," Anakin orders. You could feel, not in the Force, but physically feel his solicitude radiating off him in unprecedented waves of dread before switching off the commlink. 

"General, go to Ahsoka's position! Rex and I will hold out here!" he orders you with the swiftness and composure he could muster under the circumstances. You curtly nod, your apprehension for Ahsoka outweighing your frustration. 

You turn to your commander, your boots sticking to the mud and clinging to your feet. "Wolffe, Comet, and Boost, you're with me. Sinker, you lead the men while I recover, Commander Tano."

"Yes, sir." Wolffe squeezes Sinker's shoulder before the three troopers follow you as you weave through blaster fire, looking down at the coordinates Anakin sent you every couple of seconds. 

The noise of battle is deafening. A sound that often haunts soldiers' dreams is all that pounds in a hysterical beat against your skull. Dirt and rubble fly around you, men howl in pain, and superiors scream orders in the faint hope of not seeing more numbers on a list of the fallen. Each sound terrorizes you, engulfs you in dark, endless black water, fated to drown you if you stop kicking for the surface where the light resides instead of the void of the darkness beneath you. All your years of training to become a Jedi and being one could never prepare you for this.  

You reach Ahsoka's position in record time, and immediately you are met with red bolts of blaster fire showering upon you. It was worse, so much worse than where you held out with Anakin, and it showed by the disfigured bodies of blue and gray armor stacked upon each other, the stench of death almost too much to bear. 

"Over here, general!" You follow the voice, your feet slapping against the mud as you catch sight of Ahsoka. She was groaning, her hand covering what you could already see as a nasty wound, the skin around it scorched and inflamed. Thick dark red blood oozed around her fingers as another clone pulled her back. He was almost to your position when a flash of light collided with his armor, and his body smashed to the ground next to her.

Your lightsaber sprang to life with a snapping hiss as you began defending Ahsoka's injured form. Wolffe, Comet, and Boost joined the battle as you did, reemerging into the flow of war. 

You tried to inch forward to her position in the middle of the clearing with every battle droid that smashed into the grimy soil, but your efforts were in vain. For every droid that fell, another replaced it. Reinforcements flooded in an endless stream of metal as the bodies beside you grew, your friend's life force dwindling as she slowly bled out, so close yet so far. If only–

Your body slammed into the ground, your arms crumpling beneath your weight. There was an obnoxious high-pitched ringing in your ears, blocking the sound of anything else besides your thundering heartbeat. You blinked, clearing the black spots that had begun to dot your vision, the shock hitting you in full. The infinite dark sky is speckled with luminescent stars, mockingly watching you as they laugh at your collapsed form, doused in the weakest breath of strength.  

Ahsoka. 

You could see her closer now, and your head swam with the force of whatever injury you sustained that you couldn't feel. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except getting Ahsoka to safety. Whatever it was, it wasn't severe enough to stop you from stumbling to her, your body throbbing with the phantom of agony as you all but collapsed beside her, your knees wet with silt. You shook her with a ghost of the power you possess, your hands violently shaking as her eyes remained shut. Tears swam in your vision while your chest painfully constricted as you shook her harder, only for her eyes to crack open a moment later, her face covered in a thin sheen of sweat and ash. You could almost collapse in the burden of your injury and hers, but you held yourself up, not brave enough to look at her wound. 

"Ahsoka," you cried in relief, and her features wrung in pain as she returned to a more steady form of consciousness, no doubt feeling the weight of her injuries. "I'm going to get you out of here." 

"I-I'm okay," she wheezed as your arms dived under her head and knees, slowly rising to your feet with her. Colors flashed blindingly in your vision, and lightheadedness and dizziness nearly swept you off your feet. No matter how much your body screamed at you, threatening to crumple, your will filled your chest like a breath of fresh air, stealing your resolve. You had to do this. You had to push through, not for your sake, but for the young Padawan in your arms. 

You two made it behind your forces, and a clamor of voices finally reached your ears after too long of nothing but ear-splitting ringing. 

"They're back! Fall back! Fall back!" someone ordered as the rest of the men began to retreat to the carriers behind you to take you back to base. Even though with each step, pure singing misery rippled down your spine, you pushed for the promise of safety. 

When you entered, the doors closed and lifted into the murky sky. A couple of troopers rushed to your side, carefully taking Ahsoka from your arms and scurrying off to the medical center buried deeply in the confines of the ship. Clones around you dispersed to their positions, and you cautiously lowered yourself to the ground, forgoing the seats as you leaned your head back. The ship was silent besides the roar of the engines, which you hid your labored breathing behind. Every expansion of your lungs felt like you were being burned within an inch of your life, seizing the air from your breast in one fell swoop. Tentatively you lifted your robes, hissing when the fabric caught on your impairment, only for your breath to be sucked back into your irritated lungs. Your exposed flesh was spitting out crimson liquid, the edges of your wound charred in a sickening state of black, and you could faintly smell your burning flesh, binding the torn fabric of your tunic to your heaving meat. 

Just a graze, you thought to yourself as you lowered your tunic, something that could be dealt with when you reach Coruscant. 

"You…okay?" a hesitant voice reaches your ears, and you turn your head to find Wolffe leaning against the doorway, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. It wasn't a look you often saw on him, making your chest tighten as if someone had reached into there and squeezed with all their might to rob the breath from your lungs. You find the same emotion inexplicably rising in the back of your throat.  

"Yeah, yeah, just tired. That's all," you lie, pinching your lips as the intensity of your burned nerves sharpens by the minute. 

He raises an eyebrow, his chin jerking forward. "Then what's all that blood for, sweetheart?"

Shit. You glance down to find that your blood has, in fact, seeped through your clothing, the dark patch expanding into the woven fabric of your wear.

"It-It's not mine. No need to worry," you grit your teeth. Wolffe scowls, and it's then you know you've lost the uphill battle of pride you were fighting. You sigh, slinking further against the wall, and he takes this as your sign of defeat.  

"When were you planning on telling me? Before or after you bleed to death?" He kneels in front of you, and you cringe at the bite in his words. 

"You're being over dramatic. I'm fine, Wolffe." you roll your eyes at his antics, but he scoots closer. Even when taking a knee in front of you, he seems to tower above you, his stoic presence alone engulfing the room. It's impossible not to notice the concern that laces his features as he gulps, his adam's apple bobbing.  

"You're covered in blood," he points out.  

"Like I said, it's nothing–" You yelp, doubling forward when he roughly shoves two fingers into your wound, blood instantly staining your outer robes from your tunic. 

"Fucking liar," he snarls before standing up, his eyes flickering around the room for the first aid kit. You groan, curling within yourself as the damaged skin throbs from Wolffe's painful jab, your vision blurring around the edges as you try to keep your eyes focused, only for him to leave your peripheral a second later. Your eyes begin to droop as the weight of battle, and your injury finally starts to percolate the very fiber of your being. Sleep is now a call from the heavens, a gentle hand forcing your eyes to shut.

There is a clanging sound as a box hits the floor, and out of curiosity, one eye cracks open. Wolffe is back, digging fervently through the med kit on the floor for something…most likely for you. Your eyelids begin to close once more, now at peace knowing Wolffe would take the pain from you as he has done many times before. 

Just as you began to drift off, the pain returned, only doubling in vehemence. You bite back a scream as the clothes melted into your pulsating raw flesh are ripped away. Wolffe places a firm hand over your chest to keep you from doubling over. 

You throb with white-hot agony, every nerve alight as it feels like thousands of boiling hot needles are being shoved into your skin and torn out simultaneously. Your eyes squeeze shut, fat tears collecting in your scrunched waterline. Behind your eyelids, you can see a kaleidoscope of bright colors dancing across the infinite void behind your eyes. 

The searing pain dulls as something cold and slippery runs over the affected area, the scalding burn dissolving into a dull throb. 

"Shit, Wolffe," you whimper as he presses the bacta into your charred skin, his fingers roughly moving into every crevice of your wound. 

"If you wanted gentle, you should have asked for my vod instead," he gruffly replied as you hissed in pain. The bacta was doing its job of settling the fiery burn eating at your flesh, but his hands were far from delicate, and you considered the idea that he was purposely trying to make this hurt more than it should. "Or told me sooner."

"You could be a little nicer. After all, I am–" you grit your teeth as fingers swirl over your side with unnecessary force. "Injured," you finish weakly, slipping further into your position on the floor as he begins to wrap the wound.  

"If you weren't such a brat and tried to lie to me, we wouldn't be in this position, now would we?" he growls, his voice a baritone lower and substantially more gravelly. His eye flares and his lips curl into a snarl in his malice. You advert your gaze, shame filling your sternum, and you can't help but wallow in it while Wolffe finishes patching you up. 

He sits back on his heels, admiring his work while your disheartened expression not going unnoticed by the burly commander. Those feelings, the ones he'd tried to suppress when he witnessed what appeared to be a fall while retrieving Ahsoka, which was now revealed as a blaster wound, came swarming to the surface, brimming at the edge of release. These emotions were dark and tenebrous and made his chest constrict with each second they remained pent up. 

You were a Jedi, you didn't get injured. It was something he never had to fret about whenever you stepped onto the battlefield, but today...today proved that wrong in the nastiest way possible. Your flirt with death was unnecessary and reckless, a show of independence and strength. Your refusal to rely on Wolffe or his men to aid you resulted in your life-threatening injury and the worst part was there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"What you did today was reckless." Your gaze travels from the durasteel floor to the intense silver of his cybernetic eye, the crease between your eyebrows deepening at his accusation. 

"What I did today saved Ahsoka's life." 

"You needlessly put your life on the line instead of relying on your men to help you."

"I did not." you defend yourself, tenderly crossing your arms over your chest with an indignant huff. 

"That's exactly what you did," he snarled. "Don't even try to bullshit your way out of this."

"I'm not!" you exclaim, wincing at the strain you caused on your side from your outburst. "I did what I had to do without risking your lives!"

"Oh, so now you pretend to care," he chuckles darkly. "You seemed too preoccupied with your little hero moment, sweetheart. I almost had the wrong impression."

Your eyes narrowed into crinkled slits, coldness bleeding into your gaze. "I was mindful of the risk and decided it was one I alone had to take!"

"And look where you wound up."

"You're a piece of shit," you spit. "You don't get to harass me about my choices."

"If I wanted to harass you, I would. I'm trying to get it in your thick skull not to put yourself in such unnecessary danger again."

"Oh, you're just full of nice things, aren't you, Wolffe?" you scoff, rolling your eyes skyward while your heart writhes in bitterness. 

"Only for you," he sneered in retaliation. 

The bickering is childish, but both of you don't seem to realize it, too caught up in your own bouts of fury to even consider the other person's words. It's horrible, but it's the only way you can talk to each other unfiltered, without lies to ease the validity of the situation. If you took a moment to collect yourself and remove yourself from the fervent argument, you're afraid he would stop spewing out what he truly feels in harsh comments and resign to silence, bottling up his emotions as he has done all his life. Wolffe's never been one to find the right words or the will to express what's eating away at his war-stained mind. You blame it on the Kamanoins and the environment he was raised in, which is why any progress in opening up the impenetrable vault of his heart is better than nothing, even if it means being on the receiving end of his insults. But, of course, you are not entirely focused on that, your anger stirring at his unreasonableness to listen to you, which in turn only eggs him on. And if you weren't so caught up in your emotions, you would realize that his invectives come from a place of regard for your safety and well-being after you were nearly killed. 

It's not a familial care like he shares with his brothers, but a tender, heart-wrenching fear foreign to a battle-hardened soldier such as himself, hence his inability to process the emotion, turning to lash out in his distress. But of course, that goes over your head, nothing but determination fueling your self-righteous point of view. 

You two stare at each other, and in your own rage, muddled aggravation, you can't pick out the exact emotion swimming in his irises, pushing and pulling against each other. 

"If you are going to continue to be a prick, leave me alone. I'm done trying to deal with your bullshit," you bark, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your whimper as you adjust yourself, your wound pricking at the stretch in your torso. 

Wolffe's eyes seem to soften at that moment as their former fiery irises give way to the ocean of regret that fills them. He wilts, his hand finding its way to his hair, carding through it in search of the right words. 

"You almost died." It's not a question or command but a statement- a fact. Words fail you as you continue to stare into his mismatched gaze. "Your reckless behavior almost got you killed."

"But it didn't." You stare at him, begging him to notice your reassurance, to take it with open arms, but he doesn't. Wolffe is too wrapped up in the unfamiliar surge of emotions making his chest strangle with the lump impossibly forming in his throat. He wasn't used to this kind of trepidation for someone else, a worry running so profound it was stifling him. 

 "If I wasn't there..."

"Wolffe–"

"No– fuck listen to me...You would have died." You wrenched your gaze away from him as tears welled in the back of your eyes, the weight of your actions bearing down upon you with the ease only regret could tame. 

"You could have died," his strangled voice bit out as you digested each word, your stomach sinking all the while. "God damn it, look at me."

Your gaze is ripped from the floor when Wolffe grabs your face, forcing you to stare into his eyes, muddled with too many gut-wrenching feelings to process. "Fuck– you can't do that to me. Can't… can't do that to me."

His words are awkward and unsteady as if he doesn't know how to, but there's a desperate plea for your understanding. He wants you to comprehend every word his tongue can't form, every emotion threatening to swallow him up and spit him out, as every facade comes crashing down in his moment of desperation. 

So instead of talking, you lean over, despite your discomfort, and capture his lips between your own. He holds his breath, his body rigid with the sensation of your warm lips cracked by your constant biting. Then he understands the suddenness behind your actions, and his hands find your face instantly, pouring everything out into the open. His lips are feverish, swollen with spirit. He moves his mouth to taste the essence of your life, to devour your sweet taste as if it was the last thing he would ever do. It's as if he's reassuring himself of your beating heart (and flushed cheeks) as his tongue moves over your lips to seek refuge in the cavern of your mouth he calls home.

You don't see Wolffe in distress very often. Instead, you see a mask of calm, composed ruthlessness shielding his ever-cracked and dismantled soul. Your ability to peer through his walls frightened him at first, but over time as you spilled your hearts to one another over and over again, he found less of a need to keep the shields he had readily put in place, an action that came over time. Now, while his lips swallowed yours in a frenzy, his worry, an emotion that would make him a liability in war, was being poured over you. It was passionate how he moved over you, his hands moving to cup your face while the other slid across various parts of your body. He knew his action was not a display of lust but a solace to himself that you were, in fact, here, despite the deepest horrors his mind could conjure. 

As the embrace slowed to a halt, pulling away for a gulp of air, the tension that once smothered the room in its toxic fumes dissipated, leaving peaceful tranquility in its wake. 

"Don't do that shit again, you hear me?" he breathes, his voice hardened by the lilith that tainted his words. 

"Okay." You nod along with your promise. "Okay."

His body sagged with relief at your reply, a short breath of air leaving his lips. 

"I'm sorry." Wolffe shook his head, dismissing your apology. With the condolence you had so given him, the lingering air of hostility melted, and while it didn't soothe the ever-present fear that came with combat and your safety, the unspoken promise that you would heed his words and move less hastily without care for your life was enough for him. He knew you couldn't give him anything more because anything more would be a lie. His hand moved to cup your face as you nuzzled in the ever-present warmth of his hand, praying that your moment of reprieve would last forever.

[toska-writes]

idk if you’re taking requests, but if you are, can i request another padawan reader with wolffe or fox? love all that you write!!

I love writing for Wolffe so much!

“Endure”

Summary: Ever wonder what happened to Wolffe and the pack after the tragedy of killing their Jedi? Me too, but what if there was a padawan along for the ride

Pairing: Wolffe x GN padawan Reader (Platonic)

Warning: Major character death, mentions and descriptions of injury and blood, butt load of angst no happy ending yet

Word count: 1500

Notes: I couldn’t stop thinking about these boys all day and since Wolffe didn’t show up in the bad batch I’ve been wondering- how cool would it be if there was a show like the bad batch but with Wolffe and a padawan? Welcome to the first episode

“Wouldn’t want you falling behind now Wolfy” The commander heard the taunting voice of his padawan through the comm devices. Wolffe couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the quips you were throwing at him.

“I should be the one worrying about you keeping up.” He growled back through the comms. Wolffe watched as you and a few members of the Wolffe packed speed ahead of him and the general soaring through the air.

Coming next to him now Wolffe glance to the side of his ship to catch the head shake of Master Plo

“My dear commander what will we ever do with them?” Master Plo voice rang throughout Wolffe ship.

“Your the one that wanted a padawan, I unfortunately got stuck with the others.” Despite his words Wolffe couldn’t control the small smirk that played on his face as he watched his pack turn and fall back into the formation they were supposed to be flying in.

“My young padawan,” master Plo caught your attention as your ship neared both of theirs. “Since you are so eager to fly why don’t you go up ahead and scout for us.”

“On it master.” The cheeriness in your voice was hard to pass up as you flashed a quick smile at Wolffe as you zipped past him yet again

Another eye roll and soon Wolffe’s good eye would go bad- maybe he did roll it a little to hard this time, a small echo of a throb hurt the side of his head.

Wolffe hands griped the wheel harder this time and if on instinct before it even registered in his mind Wolffe was opening the message of the flashing comm device.

“Commander Wolffe, Execute order 66.”

Fear struck Wolffe first as the words bounced around in his head, did he even know what that meant? As quick as a light went out Wolffe forgot his worry and as if he was controlling himself from the passenger seat he pulled his ship back.

He didn’t need to look to see if his pack had done the same, working together for so long he knew they would follow him blindly.

Nothing in Wolffe’s mind expressed any doubt for what he was about to do next, all he knew was that he was the one to pull the trigger first.

A scream echoed through the comm channel, but as quickly as it started it was gone. His sharp eye tracked the burning heap of a ship until it crashed into the ground bellow.

Did he regret it? Something in his mind whispered to him that he just shot down his general, one of his closet friends, his buir. A louder more dominant voice in his mind repeated over and over- kill the treasonous Jedi.

“Find and kill the padawan.” Wolffe snapped to his brothers as they all made their way to where they saw you disappear. Wolffe would find you, he had too.

Something wasn’t right- you happily flew out into the horizon. The thought of the war finally being over plagued your mind and you couldn’t help but think about what it’d be like when everything went back to normal.

No good things can last forever. A searing pain seemed like a title wave in your head, you wobbled for a moment trying to straighten out the ship.

Noise erupted throughout the force in an instant and only got louder and louder. Every word yelled seemed to blend and swirl together- all except one voice you knew too well.

“Master?” You spoke aloud seeing if you could reach him but static filled the air. A lump formed at the pit of your stomach and your vision wavered again. The force didn’t feel as it normally should, it was darker now.

“Wolffe what’s going on?” You tried the only other person who you knew could help you.

You looked over your shoulder as you were about to turn around and head back to see exactly what was going on when your eyes landed on the packs ships that were inbound.

A sigh reached your trembling lips as they grew closer and closer to your ever slowing ship- they would know what to do, especially if your master somehow…

Something made your spine itch as you watched your pack close in nearly reaching your position, no these weren’t the boys you knew. A darker aurora bleed into the once homey feeling of the 104th, and it made you sick.

Without second thought you raced over the landscape followed closely in tow by Wolffe and his boys. The first shot fired upon you confirmed your ever growing fear. They were trying to attack you. That they attacked-

Blaster bolts upon blaster bolts rained against your ship, in an instant with a last ditch effort swerving the wings engine was hit and the ground was coming at you a lot quicker than you wished.

Would you die knowing that your own men, your brothers killed you in cold blood- something had to be wrong with them, they wouldn’t choose to do this.

Or would they?

The fighter hit the ground with a bang jolting you in your seat, pieces broke apart as the ship began the skid to a stop barely even recognizable as a ship anymore.

With one more attempt to open your eyes you watched as a piece of metal and rubled fell along the glass window of the fighter. It cracked like a bolt of lightning across the sky, but the sight didn’t register in your mind as your head throbbed with pain and the sweet relief of unconsciousness took you in its hold

“Fighter shot down sir.” The deadpan voice of Sinker spoke to Wolffe. He watched the ship hit the ground, the wad of smoke was a good sign that there would be no survivors but Wolffe wasn’t a fool.

“I want to see the bodies, or we can assume the jetti survived understand?” His tone was harsh as he circled high above where your ship dropped only minutes ago.

As half of his squad went back to the first wreckage Wolffe and the rest started there descent to the world below.

Smoke filled the air and Wolffe had to stifle a cough under his helmet, his hands wouldn’t give up as he dug through the rubble.

“Sir over here.” Someone yelled for Wolffe his head snapped up and he quickly made his way over.

“That doesn’t look like a body to me trooper.” Wolffe spoke with such venom in his voice the shiny took a step backwards.

“Well sir we found this buried under this pile here,” The soldier paused for a moment handing Wolffe an arm brace, and what seemed to be half of a chest plate and shoulder guard. The symbol of the Jedi order haunted his vision. “The rock and metal is too heavy for us to lift on our own, and the fires makes it difficult.”

Wolffe knew what they were saying, stop their search and wait further instructions elsewhere- the maker knew he wanted to get out of this place quickly before anyone fell ill.

With a sigh and an eye roll Wolffe brought the armor down to his side before speaking lowly. “Take the men and head back to base, see if the others can confirm their kill and wait there.”

“Your not coming commander?” Another voice asked.

“I want to make sure our work is finished.” Wolffe turned his back quickly on his men, maybe he should continue his search where the remains of a Jedi were strewn about but something else called to him.

The noise of ships taking off yet again filled his senses and only when they were gone did Wolffe start his dig once again.

His hand nearly went through a layer of broken glass as he pulled away. More smoke seemed to pour out of this hole when he turned his light on on the side of his helmet.

Despite the protection a cough rattled his body. Wolffe scanned the shadowed room, a siren that wasn’t silenced in the crash kept blaring as Wolffe stuck his head inside.

That’s when the commander caught sight of a figure laying unnaturally towards the bottom of half of the broken ship. He recognized you immediately.

What part of him wanted to cry out when he saw you? Was it the old Wolffe, commander of the Wolffepack, or was it the quieted version of Wolffe he still has yet to understand.

Wolffe Face got closer and closer taking in the sight- did he really do this, he was just following orders.

Good soldiers follow orders.

The slightest movement caught his well trained eyes, the up and down of your stomach was faint and Wolffe almost didn’t believe what he was seeing. You were still breathing.

You were still alive.

A hum of sorts took over in Wolffe brains as it had done before.

Within a blink Wolffe pulled out his blaster.

_____________________________________

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook

[leenathegreengirl]

Meet Perdita! 🥰💚💕

(She is @legacygirlingreen ‘s new OC! Enjoy the excerpt from her upcoming story with Commander Wolffe below!)

“I won’t kill you,” he said, the words steady but heavy. His eyes darted around. The cybernetic one struggling to see in the dimly lit cell as he searched for the control panel on the wall.

Perdita didn’t respond, assuming he was ready to leave and her last attempt at peace foiled by a clone who truly owed her little loyalty. As she prepared for his departure she felt the chains around her hands unlock, before falling away. Flexing her fingers she looked up to see him much closer now as he tugged her forearm.

“But I won’t let them take you, either.” His voice was low, almost aggressive in nature, as if he was revolting against the very action he was taking.

Perdita didn’t smile. She didn’t thank him. She just nodded, the flicker of something like hope passing through her eyes. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give him the courage to take the next step—whatever that might be.

💚Tag List💚

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @returnofthepineapple @antisocial-mariposa @techs-stitches @resistantecho @kimiheartblade @dezgate @sunshinesdaydream @rex-targaryen @freesia-writes @heidnspeak @justanotherdikutsimp

(All writing and layout design created by @legacygirlingreen )

[incorrectclonewarsquotes]

Plo: Comet, do you see me as a father figure?

Comet: No, not a father figure. The father figure.

Plo: Excuse me?

Comet: There's no one else in my life I can tell really fits the role. You have no competition. You're the father figure in my life, and I'm pretty sure everyone else in the battalion feels the same.

Plo: ...

Comet: ...

Plo tearing up W-where are your brothers we must celebrate this momentous occasion!

[fiatluxillustration-portfolio]

Digital Sketchbook - 104th Battalion / Wolffe Pack

Created with Procreate

𝙵𝚒𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚞𝚡 𝙸𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

| Visit InPrnt | Visit Etsy | Visit Digital Etsy | Visit Patreon | Visit the Portfolio

[moonstrider9904]

Grumpy commander Wolffe can't resist Bunny's kisses 😘

Art of clone commander Wolffe and the 104th medic, Rose Goldstone, from my story, The Hunt.

Here it is, my first official digital art piece. I did this with a pose reference I found that immediately made me think of Rose when I saw the lipstick. I just knew I had to draw these two. It isn't perfect, but it's mine, and I've got plenty ideas planned for me to practice and get better.

Just wait until I start drawing Crosshair!!

[ghostymarni]

Wolffe from my prompt

sketch b + w version

[funkyydinoart]

commander wolffe 😻