#Wolffe Pack

[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]

Wolffe from my prompt

sketch b + w version

[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

[xxxcertifiednerdxxx]

What if Wolffe and Fox tried to convince Cody to change his name to Coyote so they could all have canum (plural of canis) names (I did minimal research for this but all three of these animals are kind of related). Obviously Cody rejects the idea, it’s ridiculous, and he likes the name he already has.

the Coruscant Guard and the Wolffe Pack both hear about what their commanders are trying to do and get in on the act.

it spreads like wildfire. The 212th immediately like the idea of Coyote, but they mostly want to heckle their beloved brother.

the 501st catch on, and as the affectionately dubbed most annoying and chaotic battalion, they go out of their way whenever they come across Cody to only refer to him as Coyote. Ahsoka and Anakin join in, and Rex does nothing to stop them.

Eventually, in the heat of a battle, Cody tosses Obi-wan’s lightsaber back to him, and Obi-wan calls out “thanks, Coyote!” Cody feels betrayed.

it’s not that Cody doesn’t want to bond more with Wolffe and Fox. He loves his brothers. But he picked his own name and he stands by his choice.

Things get taken too far when Plo Koon suggests that, if Cody were to change his name to Coyote, Plo could adopt him (and Fox and the rest of the Coruscant guard and actually why not the whole 212th?) so he could join the Wolffe Pack and become a member of the canum family, but Obi-wan puts his foot down and is like “NO that is MY CODY you will not take him from here on out he is Commander Cody of the 212th battalion aka Obi-wan’s battalion and if anyone has a problem with that they can talk to my lightsaber”

everyone chills out about the Coyote thing and respects how Cody feels, although he still gets called Coyote here and there, especially by Wolffe and Fox (but they don’t have any hard feelings and understand that Cody doesn’t want to change his name)

Cody and Fox and Wolffe and so many more of their brothers get closer throughout the war and get each other through tough times.

maybe, on the way to Utapau, Cody actually considers changing his name to Coyote

[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.

[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.

[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!

[toska-writes]

“Random Clone Headcannons p.1”

These I made instead of working on my WIP for some reason but I have no regrets!

My ideas here are all over the place but please enjoy!

If you see any you like and such I’m planning to turn a few of these into full length writings so let me know!

Clones x reader pairing! (Platonic!)

• You cant tell me that if You had longer hair that so many Vodes would keep hair ties on their wrists for you

• Wolffe is the reason you have a deadly eye roll and amazing smart comments

• I feel like if you gained his. Trust you and Crosshair would be deadly on the battlefield- like he’d do the thing where he’d steady his riffle on your shoulder

• Jesse and Hardcase would beg you to show them some moves with your lightsaber, and honestly they aren’t terrible

• Braiding Tup and/or Hunters hair for fun. That’s it just think about it.

• You absolutely begged Rex if you could help to bleach his hair- finally giving in and needing a touch up he agrees to let you help. You don’t know how it’s happened but bleach is literally everywhere

• You and a few others were so excited to help the Wolfpack paint the “Plo’s Bro’s” and were so proud to stand next to Wolffe as you showed Master Plo for the first time

• Lake days with the 501st- just imagine. This I think will be my next WIP

• To say that you weren’t the best wingman for your brothers was an understatement you were amazing- Hardcase wouldn’t be anywhere without you. Playing match maker is so fun for the Clones and seeing them embarrassed is even better

• Rex can sleep anywhere. You’ve found him in so many different places just slumped. It’s become a tradition now that if you see him you’ll curl up by his side and get some rest and vice-versa (cause if Rex falls asleep you know you should be too)

• In your defense how could you not take those loth kittens back to Coruscant with you? Fox was a wonderful babysitter as you figured out where they could go

• You introduced wrecker to markers and now you take turns coloring small doodles on each others arms. Wreckers gotten pretty good over the last few times, and it’s alway fun to see the huge clone in training with a sleeve of colorful doodles

• You, Boil, and Sinker have always talked about taking you to get your first tattoo and you couldn’t agree more- Wolffe has to be the mom and shut it down pretty fast but one day soon it will happen

• Tech will teach you all these strategies to different games knowing at when you keep practicing he’ll have some good competition

• He has regretted this decision ever since you beat him once and his brothers and yourself hang it over his head all the time

• Delta Squad loves having joint mission with you and your battalion- Scorch can count on something interesting going down and Boss gets more gray hairs by the second in all the situations he has to get his squad out of

• So so so many nicknames it’s insane. They vary from who it is with Cody and Wolffes battalion keeps it sweet and simple with kid, vod’ika and Cyare where as groups like the 501st, Delta Squad and the Corries have unusual and creative names like Scrappy, shorty, and others

• Cold nights and everyone’s having a huge sleepover in the barracks- sneaking in and never sleeping more soundly then you have before

Hmm guess I could go back to my WIP but if you want a Part. 2 I’d be happy to make one!

—————————————————————

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza

[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!!

[funkyydinoart]

commander wolffe 😻

[shiversdownyourspleen]

Grievous being captured by gungans is the most out of pocket thing in the clone wars, which is immediately followed by the other most out of pocket thing in the clone wars

[sinfulsalutations]

Hey lovely! Popping by with that quote!

“may my heart

be the softest place you fall,

may this love

be the wildest place you run”

I am looking forward to seeing where your inspiration takes you and what clone vibes call to you!

𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕙 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕝𝕗𝕗𝕖

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴏꜰ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴀʀꜰᴀʀᴇ, ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴄʏ, ᴍɪʟᴅ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

⋆ ★ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴜꜱᴇꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴘᴏᴋᴇɴ: ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰᴇ.

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

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Wolffe doesn’t trip. He’s learned and trained himself not to, avoid mistakes and failures at all costs. Gray bloodstains litter his armor, painted with the markings and his mourning of all the men he wasn’t able to save.

Master Koon insists it isn’t his fault. No one had seen such a weapon coming and it’s been a devastating loss on him too. But the wolf still won’t falter, still won’t mistake a time of respite as a time not to be alarmed. He is never safe, his brothers are never safe.

Wolffe has never wished to find a place of solace to run to.

Until he met you.

The wolf purrs in your presence. You hold him, hold onto him, and discover that he likes head scratches and he likes longing stares; likes the way you smile and look at the world with the excitement of a shiny drenched in Kamino waters. You’re gentle, you’re kind and lovely and you sit with his silence.

He remains rough in the places that matter. Your love hasn’t blinded him to the dangers of war and the battles he fights. He still leaves marks all over you, growling darkly as the wolf lays claim to what’s his. He won’t let you go, let you dissolve in his hands like his brothers, and that in its own makes him so soft during the afterglow.

The afterglow. Warm and comforting and so beautiful. Enough of a reminder that he’s no longer on that escape pod, counting the helmets of the fallen on his thigh plate. He doesn’t count with you. Doesn’t count the minutes or the hours spent entangled in bed exploring each others bodies, languidly eating dinner and talking about everything and nothing, slowly interlocking fingers while exploring the quiet areas of Coruscant. Counting creates limits. He doesn’t want limits with you.

Wolffe doesn’t trip. He struts rather than runs and does everything with the careless care only a commander so tainted with bloodshed could manage. But when he’s with you, he’ll run. He’ll run as damn fast as he can to catch up and squeeze you till you break and mold to him permanently. In the aftermath, he’s found the solace he never wished for, and has no plans to leave.

tags: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @dukeoftheblackstar @meshlaxbunny @kimiheartblade @wolffegirlsunite @star-burned @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @ladyzirkonia

[mrs2224]

Woof Woof! 🐺🖤

[daddy-calkestis]

Lost In Space: A Star Wars Story

Summary: You’ve been hiding out on Bracca for years in the remnants of your old ship that crashed down on the planet. You have little to no memory of the life you had before you came to this glorified junkyard and little to no way of escaping. So you’ve made a sort of life for yourself. You get what you can from a few kind engineers who work in the shipyards, sell what you can to the scrapers who live further away and just keep your head down. That is, until the war came knocking at your *makeshift* doorstep. Now you must fight, both the Separatists and with your own memories of what happened to you before the crash with a little help from some Jedi. endgame: reader x ?

Read on AO3 for tag list

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43756357/chapters/110038711#workskin

                                                    Chapter One:

It was raining on Bracca.

Shocking.

Every single fucking day on this planet, it rained. You had no idea it could rain this much anywhere, even on plants covered in greenery and teeming with wildlife. The rain was barely needed here considering this planet is basically a junkyard. There were no trees, no plants, nothing. It was a miserable place to live, let alone be stranded. Why anyone would actively chose to come here was beyond your comprehension. Everyday you were a little closer to getting off this maker forsaken plant, you just needed a couple hundred more credits and you were gone.

Everyday it was the same thing, ever since you woke up here three years ago. You jolt awake to the sound of alarms going off in the distance, indicating it was a shift change for those engineers who worked the night shifts in the shipyards. So you would roll off of your bunk and make a quick cup of instant caf, also known as the one thing you “splurged” on here. It wasn’t really a splurge but with the rain, it left everything feeling raw and cold so it helped to not only wake you up, but warm you up too. It was the one luxury you allowed yourself.

After donning your ever loved navy blue poncho that you "borrowed" from some clueless engineer on your first day here, you would set off on your day which either consisted of scouring the scrap around your humble abode for valuable parts or heading over to the shipyard to snag what you could from a few of the engineers who pitied you. They were kind and always looked the other way when you picked through their scrap piles. They would also supply you with some of the ration bars they had stowed away too. Then you would haul your findings to the outpost of scrapers and sell what you could.  You’d snag whatever food was cheap before making your way back to the wreckage of the ship that you woke up on three years ago then do it all over again the next day.

Today was the same as every other day before it. You woke up to alarms in the distance and groaned. You rubbed the palms of your hands into your eyes, rubbing until you saw sparks of white light dancing behind your eyelids before sitting up and putting your boots on. You took your poncho down from the hook next to your bunk and threw it on to chase off the morning chill.  

You quickly undid your hair, running your fingers through it to detangle some of the knots before trying it back into another braid and shoved yourself up. You quickly padded over to the small hotplate you scrounged up from some of the wreckage of your ship and filled the small kettle with the rain water you collected before leaving it to boil. You trudged over to the small opening you had covered with a wool blanket to keep out the wind and pulled it back. Immediately you noticed something was off.

Normally you could always hear the sound of the machinery blasting away first thing in the morning from the shipyards but it was quiet this morning. Eerily quiet. Goosebumps licked the skin along your forearms under the long sleeve shirt you wore as you sat in silence, waiting. Dread curled in your gut in anticipation for something to happen, but you had no idea what. The kettle started to sing behind you, but you didn’t move from your spot. Your senses told you something bad was about to happen and you've learned to trust your gut over everything at this point in your life, especially living on a planet with some less than decent men.

You stood there for moments, just watching. It was like time had stilled around you as you tune your senses into the environment around you.  Even the random stray critters were silent this morning. The kettle was rapidly boiling at this point so you move to quickly shuffle to turn it off and make your instant caf before returning to your spot. That’s when you hear it, the first explosion in the distance. Quickly, you grab your energy bow (that you definitely didn’t steal that off a destroyed ship full of dead Zygerrians, nope, not you) and head back to look outside. The sight before you was filled with sheer horror.

Looming in the sky high above the shipyard was a massive Separatist Dreadnaught. “Shit.” You whisper to yourself as you watch the scene unfold before your eyes. Drones of droid dive bombers fly with quick speed away from the dreadnaught, dropping their payload of what you could only imagine were tons of explosives into the shipyard as they fly overhead before zooming across the sky towards you. You quickly duck behind the durasteel wall to hide from sight as the explosives detonate in the distance. You barely hear the dive bombers overhead over the roar of the explosion, the shock wave vibrating the cold metal floor under your feet. You quickly peak out your small opening to see the carnage of the shipyard. It was engulfed in flames that rose high into the sky, the smell of explosives drenching the air.

“Double shit!” You whisper as you quickly search your small living area. You quickly grab whatever weaponry you had laying around including a small blaster and a vibroblade. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do for now. You hear explosions going off once more, this time much closer to you. You manage to quickly grab your pouch of credits and wrap the string tightly around your neck before another explosion goes off a little too close to you. The hull of your ship vibrates rapidly and you grab onto the shelf to keep yourself steady.

You quickly pull up your hood and push away from the wall. You sling your energy bow over your shoulders, strap your knife and blaster to your belt and quickly make your way outside. You run fast and hard away from your crashed ship, keeping to the shadows cast by the piles upon piles of scrap before another explosion goes off behind you. You quickly turn to see that your ship is now engulfed in flames. You feel your eye twitch as your anger rises in your chest before quickly shoving yourself back into the scraps as more droid bombers fly overhead.

“Oh you fuckers are going to pay for that.” You grumble to yourself as you push forward. You ran as hard as you could, leaping over mounds of metal scrap and ducking between the piles as you move further from the carnage. You wanted to be nowhere near the shipyard, hell no. The further away you were from the Separatist's target, the safer you were going to be. That is until you started to hear the screams. You stop to listen. Not only did you hear screams, you heard the distinct sound of blaster fire. Then your gut was pulling you.

“No, not happening.” You spoke to yourself. Your gut pulled you again, screaming at you to go help those people.

“This isn’t my problem. This isn’t my war.” It pulled again, this time harder. You could almost hear the voice in the back of your head.

“Those people need help! They helped you! They were kind to you! You need to help them. They will die without your help.”

You groan to yourself, tilting your head back dramatically. Maker, help me. Before you even register what you’re doing, you take off towards the shipyard. You dodge and weave your way around the fires that now litter the landscape, seemingly unphased by the steady rainfall that pounded against your chest. Your legs are screaming at you by the time you make it to the outskirts of the Republic grounds.

You slow your pace, sucking in lungfuls of air as you creep closer to the sounds of blaster fire. You quickly wiggle your way under the opening in the fencing, jogging over to the small security building that sits near-by. You firmly press your back against the cement wall and listen inside.

“Wow, that was easier than I thought!” A whiny metallic sounding voice comes through, muffled by the stone.

“Of course it was easy!” Another, similar voice pipes up. “We bombed them before anyone could fight back!” You hear a metallic smack.

“What was that for?”

“Being simple!” You move along the wall, looking carefully around you before peering around the corner of the door. Inside the small hut were two B1 battle droids.

Ugh, these things are so fucking stupid.

You groan as you pull down your bow, firing a bolt across the yard and into a pile of random scrap, a.k.a your pile that they left for you.

“What was that?!” You wait as the two droids run outside, blasters aimed at your pile. You shake your head at their own stupidity.

“I could have sworn-” you fire a bolt at the first droid's chest, its shell falling to the ground with a thud.

“What the?” The remaining droid turned towards you. “Who are yo-” you shot a second bolt, knocking the now dead droid down. You move quickly, pulling their bodies inside the security building before looking around to make sure no one saw what you had done. You didn’t hear another droid but the blaster fire continued on. You quickly look at the security cameras to find the source. You scan the monitors quickly before your eyes grow wide at the screen in front of you. You watch as a handful of droids rain blaster fire down inside one of the hangers that isn't too far from this building. People are trying to flee, but get cut down the moment they leave their cover. You see a handful of men hiding behind a massive gunship, cowering in fear. You recognize some of their faces too. You had maybe minutes if they were lucky to get to them.

You bolt out of the security quarters, making your way across the shipyard to the hanger you saw marked on the monitors. You stop outside the massive doors, before peeking inside to see no droids were in the doorway. The few droids were further inside, closer to the center of the bay so you quickly slip inside, sticking to the shadows of the room. You see handfuls of bodies thrown across the room as you move inside, all unmoving and bloody. You take a deep breath, choking down the bile that threatened to escape as you come up behind the line of droids. You quickly look around for cover before looking up. Above you there are gunships hanging from cables between the catwalks that run the length of the hanger. You quickly find a ladder and scramble your way up, the noise you make hidden under layers of blaster fire.

You swing over the catwalk, keeping your feet light as you make your way to the gunship that hung over the small crew of men hiding.

“I think someones in the rafters!” A droid speaks, firing a blaster just as you swing into the ship. You press your body against one of the walls and look over the ledge. From this angle, you could easily fire off your shots and take them down. The cover was good and you banked on the stupidity of these droids would cause you to have a slight tactical advantage.  

“I don’t see anyone!” You hear as you quickly draw your bow and look below. Six droids, six shots. You take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. You let the bolt fly before quickly pulling back once more, aiming for your second droid. You move quickly out of sight before, hiding before they even knew what hit them. You take your aim out the other side of the ship, quickly hitting another droid.

“Hey! Where did that come from?” One droid calls out. "I told you someone was up there! Blast 'em!" Another calls! The remaining three aiming their blasters for the ship and firing. One of their shots hits the support rope for the ship, lurching it precariously to one side. Lucky shot. You know what’s coming, so you take a breath and take a running jump out of the ship before it falls, taking aim at another droid mid air and letting the bolt fly right into it’s chest. You hear more shouting as you tuck and roll, landing at the feet of the fifth droid before letting another bolt fly. This time the droid's head flew off, landing across the room somewhere. You scramble to your feet, dodging the shots of the last remaining droid with ease before ramming into it at full force.

“What the-'' you grab its neck, swing your leg up and over its shoulders before taking out your vibroblade and embedding it into its head. You jumped off, landing on your feet before the shell even hit the ground.

“Maker, I fucking hate these things.” You speak to no one in particular. You still don’t know why, you never had a run in with these things before now. Or did you? Something seems a little familiar. Maybe I've just seen enough of them dead in the scraps.

“Kid?” You hear someone call your nickname from somewhere behind you, quickly ending your thoughts. You turn to see Davis sticking his head out from behind the torn apart gunship they used as cover.

“Are you guys okay?” You throw your blade back into its place at your hip before shouldering your bow once more and jogging over to them, crouching behind the durasteel. There were twelve men hiding here but you only recognized Davis, Walker and Jensen who worked in this hangar.

“You gotta get out of here, Kid.” Jensen whispered to you. His normal gray mustache was now black from the soot, his normal cheerful smile gone. “It’s not safe!”

“No shit it’s not safe, the Seppies are here!” Another man you don’t recognize shouts. "We need to get the fuck out of here!"

“Keep your voices down.” You whisper back. You hear a patrol of droids approaching, their mechanical footsteps giving them away. You peer out, watching as a whole squadron walks by the massive doors, a few rows peeling off into the hanger. There were at least 20 droids heading your way. You clench your jaw and grind your teeth in annoyance. Of course my gut told me to run to my certain death,  naturally! That bitch. Whatever, might as well take as many as I can out with me. No way I'm making it out of here unscathed.

“Shit, we’re all going to die!” Another man practically sobs. You hush them, waiting. The mechanical footsteps come to a stop just inside the building.

“You heard the commander, clear the hanger!” You watch the droid at the front wave their squadron forward and into the hanger opening.

“Can any of you fire a blaster?” You whisper to your group. Eleven of the men shake their heads in unison before Walker nods.

“I can.” He whispers back. You quickly pull yours from its holster and hand it to him. You peak back behind the ship to see the droids have made their way closer to the center. You look up to see another half assembled gun ship hanging right above the group.

“Okay listen to me. I’m going to draw them to me and away from you. You need to shoot the cables holding that gun ship up.” You gesture to the one. “The blaster should be enough to break the cables holding it up. The second the droids are down, you all run like hell to the hole in the fence. You think you can do that?”

“What about you?” Jensen asks, concern whirling in his deep brown eyes. He was the oldest of the group, probably in his early fifties. He always gave you food and any spare clothing he could find. He was a sweet and caring man. He was probably the one person you actually liked here.

“Don’t worry about me. You guys need to get out of here.”

“Are we really going to take orders from some trash?” One of the other men of the group speaks up, his face contorted with anger.

“If you want to die here, then be my fucking guest and stay. But this trash is trying to help, as well as took out the droids who were trying to kill you so I suggest you shut your fucking mouth and do as I say.” You growl. You look back at Jensen, nodding to him. “I’ll find you once this is over. Use the scrap piles to stay hidden.” He nods in acceptance but as you turn, Davis grabs your arm. You turn to look at him to see a soft smile on his round face.

“Thanks kid. Knew you weren’t so bad.” He smiles softly before letting you go. You smile back before slipping into the shadows once more.

The droids were turning over random crates in the room, looking for survivors when you strike. You find a place with some decent cover so you take aim. Shot after shot you fire from your energy bow, taking down as many as you can before ducking behind metal shipping containers.

“We’ve got a live one. Blast it!” Loads of blaster fire come flying past your hiding spot, embedding into the wall. You turn, firing more bolts into the small group before you hear the distinguished creaking of the gunship above.

“There’s more of ‘em!” You hear another droid call out. They spotted the small group and start firing at both you and them. You look over, watching as Walker attempts to shoot the remaining cable. He’s quickly getting flustered, his aim all over the place so you push back from your crouched position and start firing into the droids once more.

“Come and get me you fucking chipbrains!” You scream at the droids, drawing all their attention to you.

“It’s a girl!”

“What did she call us?”

“...I’m more than a chip!”

You fired bolt after bolt. Come on, Walker. You got this. You’ve probably taken down 15 of the droids,but they just kept coming like more were waiting outside. Sweat starts to pool between your brows as you try to keep the droids distracted. You hear more footsteps approaching the hanger and you hope it’s not more droids. You don’t know how much longer you could hold out here!

Finally Walker nails the last cable and with a groan the gunship comes crashing down, smashing all the remaining droids to pieces. You let out a deep breath and run back towards the hanger doors only to see rows and rows of B1 droids. They slowly turn, looking right at you.

“FUCK!” you scream as you signal the men to stay put. You turn to hide once more as the blaster fire comes in a steady stream past you but only to hear more ships approaching. You peek out to see 6 gunships with the Republic logo on the side land close by, letting off troopers. Immediately you feel a sense of relief crash over you.

“Clones!”

“Get ‘em!”

All the droids have turned away from you and have started marching towards the Republic troops. Now that they are distracted, you could get these men out of here. You wave them over to you with Jensen leading the way. “Go while they are distracted!” You point towards the hole in the fence you always used. "Get out of here! I'll find you when I can!" Walker tries to give you your weapon back but you shake your head. “Later. Go.” You give them cover as the men file out one by one, making a B line for the fencing. A droid turns when it hears the running but you quickly fire and take it down. Of course that draws the attention of it’s fellow B1 droids. You ready your bow, taking aim but before you could let your bolt off a very large Lasat drops in front of you and ignites a lightsaber.

“JEDI!”

The droids start firing at the tall Lasat, but he easily blocks their shots with the blue double bladed saber, twirling it effortlessly before reflecting the blaster fire to the droids. You turn to run, knowing the best thing to do in order to protect yourself is put some distance between you and this place but before you turn the Lasat turns and peers down at you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t know why or how, but something in you stops your movements. You blink up at him, frozen in place. He gestures to the rows of droids in front of him and you instantly know what he wants. You groan inwardly, knowing deep down it would be a dick move to leave this guy here to fight an entire fleet of droids. "Damn it" you groan before sighing and turn back towards the battle in front of you, drawing your bow. You fire at the droids, their fire solely concentrated on the Jedi and not at all concentrated on you. Before you know it, a gunship turns and flies towards you, dropping explosives on the rows of droids. The Lasat grabs you, pulling you into his chest and turns, shielding you from the blast. For some reason, right here, your body relaxes like it knows you don't have to be fearful of this being.

You don’t even have time to dissect that thought before he grabs your shoulders and pushes you away from his chest to look at you. You hear a gunship land behind you but you stay frozen in his stare. He looks you up at down, for what you have no clue but when his green eyes land back on yours, you see his gaze soften slightly.

Slightly.

“Get on the ship.” His deep voice rings in your ears. You blink a few times in confusion.

“Wait, what?”

"I will not ask again." He lowers his voice sightly. You furrow your eyebrows up at him, you lips dipping in a frown.

"I didn't  hear you ask at all! I'm not getting on your damn ship!" You wave your hand towards the ship. "Look, I appreciate the rescue, but no thanks." You turn to leave but he holds you still.

"Get. On. The. Ship.” His voice is much more stern.

“Fuck no, dude! I’m not getting on the ship!” You shout back. Who does this guy think he is?! You turn to run, only to find yourself being held in place by some unseen force.

“Stop being difficult _____, get on the ship. I'm not in the mood for these games.” Wait, what did he just call me? Does he know me? Is that my name? I don't even remember my name. How does't a Jedi know who I am. Did the force tell him? Is that how that works? Panic bites at the back of your throat as the bonds keep you in place.

“WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?! LET ME GO!” You struggle against your invisible bonds. “I NEED TO FIND THOSE MEN, THEY HAVE MY BLASTER AND I WORKED REALLY HARD TO GET IT!” Your chest is rapidly rising and falling. Your heart pounding hard in your chest as you continue to struggle to get free. "LET ME GO! PLEASE! LET ME GO!"

"You are safe now." WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?! The large Lasat raises his wrist to his face as you continue to struggle, ignoring your request entirely as panic threatens to engulf you. “Commander Heat, do you copy?” He speaks into what appears to be a comm link.

“Yes, General. We pushed the Separatists back from the shipyard and are holding the lines. Scanners indicate more ships are on the horizon so aerial support is on it's way.” A deep voice with a slight accent comes through the com. It rings a bell, sounding almost familiar?

“Excellent. Please send a message to the temple. Take Cal and meet me back aboard the Albedo Brave.”

“Regarding what, sir? ”

He eyes you up and down, smiling softly at you as your heart rate hits an all time high. You barely hear him over the pounding in your ears. “Master Plo Koon’s lost padawan.”