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trumpkinhotboy · 1 year ago

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I'll keep an eye on you - II

pairing: jacob black x reader

type: not requested

genre: bit angsty and fluffy

warnings: none

word count: 3400

requests: open! for twilight wolfpack, narnia, heartstopper

a/n: hope you enjoy this lil part 2 !! also I really want to thank @tgarrett26 for helping me with this fic (you are awesome) + they are the reason there is even a pt.2 hehe

part I part III

*gif is not mine

summary: After one night of respite, the reader confronts the day to realize the shadows haven't quite disappeared yet.

There's a timid sunbeam lighting up your cozy little room. Nothing scary or menacing in view. You look over to your nightstand with barely opened eyes to see your mushroom light still on. The clock on your desk shines the time. 7:00am.

7am?!

You sit straight up, immediately noticing the big dent on the left side of your bed. Yes, of course, Jacob came in last night. Your cheeks flush with the thought of having slept so soundly next to the heaping mountain of muscles that is your friend. You feel so confused and well-rested. For the first time in a few weeks, you awoke calmly. This might have been the best night of sleep of your whole damn life, and it's 7:00am! You managed to wake up before your alarm. You wouldn't have to be rushing to school for once. You were usually only able to fall asleep when the sun started shining and chased away the threatening shadows of the night. So, being late to school was a recurring occurrence for you. For once, your father wouldn't have to come in to try and wake you up. You were pushing away your blankets to get up when there was a knock on your door before it slowly cracked open.

"Sweetheart, time to wake up. Don't want to be late for sch-"

Your father's traits lifted up in surprise, and honestly, you couldn’t really blame the man. You didn't keep track of all the mornings he found you all tangled up in your blankets, hair sprawled everywhere like a bird's nest, saliva drooling down your chin.

"Did you sleep well?"

You nodded eagerly, a sincere smile spreading on your lips. Charlie seemed incredibly thrilled by that piece of news. He was no stranger to the nightmares haunting your nights and was brokenhearted to see you so tired and on edge all the time.

"Well, then. Better get down and eat breakfast before you head to school." He gave you a timid smile before softly closing your door.

You had your first breakfast with your dad in a long time. He was particularly chirpy, and you kept catching his relieved gaze. You left for school on time and had a really great day. You felt awake and energized. Participating in class and your little social circle once again felt like a rush. Your efforts were welcomed with gigantic smiles from your teachers and friends. For a second, you thought the weeks of anguish and terror might finally be behind you. Maybe a night with Jacob had been the only thing you needed to put this whole thing behind you. However, as the sun went down and shadows stretched on the ground, you got more flinchy and twitchy. Once more, you turned at every odd sound, looking over your shoulder as you left the school grounds. You almost ran to your car, locking all the doors, and left a trail of dust with how fast you headed back home on the powdery roads of Forks.

Dinner with your father was much more somber than the breakfast you shared this morning. You felt like a dagger to your heart, his disappointment when he saw you jump as he caught you by surprise in the kitchen. You usually were always careful about hiding your internal conflict from Charlie. Yet the frustration you felt tonight weighed much more than the want to hide everything from him.

Once dinner was over, you climbed the stairs with heavy steps, feeling the dread in your body get worse the closer you got to your bedroom. You opened the door to find a space very different than the one you had left when you awoke this morning. Your still unmade bed didn't feel so inviting tonight. Long gone were the rays of sunshine that scared the shadows away. The room you faced was now dark and gloomy. Nothing about it felt safe or secure.

You rushed in to turn on your mushroom light and sat on your bed, trying to summon all your courage to breathe calmly.

It's over now. Nightmares are just that. They aren't real. I'm safe now.

No matter how much you would repeat it, those words felt empty and fake. You got up, put your pajamas on, and as you were ready to get in bed, you noticed a piece of clothing jutting out from under one of the pillows. You lifted it up to find the T-shirt you lent to Jacob. He didn't keep it. He left your house shirtless so you could keep the stupid piece of clothing. You grabbed it and held it up to your nose. Immediately, your senses were overpowered by his woodsy scent. You fell to your bed, shirt still pressed on your face as you let a deep sigh leave your lungs.

Grabbing your phone on the night table, you hesitated. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you closed the device and threw it away.

The clock had just struck midnight when you heard something scratching outside. You almost had a heart attack when you saw Jacob hanging onto your window, motioning for you to open it.

"Jacob Black. What the hell are you doing? Do you want to kill me?!"

Your tall friend let out a deep chuckle as he swiftly stepped into your room without making a noise. His gaze fell onto the fort you had built yourself. There were pillows and blankets lined all around your bed, a very feeble attempt at a barrier. The tv screen was paused on one of your favorite movie. He gave you a worried look and took a second to really take in the state you were in. You didn't look like the relaxed girl he had, reluctantly, left in a peaceful slumber this morning.

"What?" you defensively crossed your arms on your chest, already sensing where this conversation would be going.

"What are you doing?" he quietly asked, his head slightly leaning on one side.

"I was watching a movie."

You immediately saw a shadow pass in his dark eyes and felt a familiar pain ring in your chest. You couldn't live with disappointing both your father and Jacob. Worse, you couldn't live with the pity in their eyes. If only the bad dreams could stay away.

"What are you doing," you finally asked, a bit more roughly than you had intended.

He hesitated, sensing you had been offended in some way. "I just did a quick run around the perimeter, but then I saw the light open and just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Your expression softened at the concern painted on his handsome face. Fear did make you more on edge, but you knew Jacob had done nothing to deserve that anger. You sighed before plopping down on your bed.

"That's very nice of you, but I am okay. I just didn't feel tired yet."

You felt adamant about telling him of the return of the paranoia. You were already so disappointed in yourself. You couldn't even muster the bravery to be in your room alone at night. What would it even do if you told him the truth? It felt so shameful to ask again for his help, to ask him to watch over you while you were sleeping. Just because, like a child, you were afraid of the dark and the beasts it hid. You were instantly relieved when he gave you a suspicious glance as if he might believe your lie. You gave him your best smile, trying to prove how relaxed you were. You only wanted to chase the worries away from his chocolate eyes.

That could have worked if only the sound of your house creaking under a strong gust of wind and a branch scratching on your window hadn't made you flinch so damn hard.

Jacob's gaze hardened over your tense figure. You expected him to make a comment, to confront you. As you waited anxiously for the ax to drop, he finally walked over to your bed, sat, and pointed to your television.

"May I join you then?"

You initiated him to one of your best comfort movies. It required absolutely no brain power and just helped you feel better. Always a good player, Jake obliged and even seemed to enjoy it. When you were done, you spent another hour just chatting about nothing and everything. You tried hiding your clock from his sight and hoped he wouldn't notice time flying away, but sadly, there wasn't much your figure could hide from his wolfish sight.

"It's getting late. I should probably go," He muttered after an hour of mindless chatting. His dark eyes fixed on your features, you faced each other, forearms tucked under your head while you lay on your side. You couldn't help your shoulders and jaw from tensing up at his words. The happiness and carelessness he had brought you vanished as if it never occurred. Fear crept up in your belly at the thought of being alone in the dark again.

You gave him a tight smile as you nodded. He hesitantly got up, giving you another weird look. You barely registered it, too focused on avoiding falling into a panicked state. He walked to the window, and as you thought he was about to leave, he turned around on a whim.

"I really don't understand you. Even in this state, you won't ask for my help?"

His outburst surprised you and unintentionally made you recoil at the swift motion. He sighed deeply, "Please don't look at me like this. I want to understand. Why don't you want my help?" he repeated, annoyance rippling in waves from his body.

"I- I'm not sure what you're talking about," you responded, determined to hang on to the shred of dignity you had left.

He let out a sarcastic laugh. It was dry and reeked of disdain towards this fluke you were trying to fool him with. "Stop playing Y/n. You reek of fear."

His words were like a punch in the gut. You felt shame hitting you as you realized how stupid you had been.

"See? Your reaction only confirms what I already knew. What I don't understand is why you insist on facing this alone. You can always call me, and I will always come through for you. Have I not proven that?"

"You did, but it's not your responsibility to fix me. To fix this."

"Not my responsibility?" he scoffed. He turned around while dragging his hand through his hair. He was a mix of so many emotions you couldn't pinpoint what was brewing in his brain. He stayed silent for so long that you thought he would leave you like this. You were about to add something when he raised his voice. "I would give everything to go back to that night. To be there by your side. Maybe you wouldn't have to go through that, or at least I would have been the one to rip to shreds that bloodsucker." Flames of rage danced in his eyes while you stood speechless, gawking at him.

You were at a loss for words. You had seen Jake in many different states in your friendship, but he never looked so conflicted. Anger and sadness seemed to be battling out the right to overpower him. For a rare moment, he looked incredibly vulnerable. He was back to being that innocent teenager you had always known. You approached, unsure whether that would make him lash out, but he stayed put, his eyes fixed on the ground. You knew Jacob felt responsible for what happened to you. What you didn't know is that he tortured himself with it. Your heart ached at the thought, and any frustration you had felt up to this point melted.

Softly, you grabbed his hand. "Jacob, look at me."

When he finally turned around and lifted his gaze, tears hung on to the line of his long lashes. The sight of it made your throat close up.

"Why won't you let me care for you," he whispered, inches from you.

His gaze was so deep and carried a tsunami of emotions. Without even thinking about it, you grabbed his face. Both of your hands cradled his soft and warm skin. You saw goosebumps creep up his muscled arms, mirroring the one on yours. Bringing his forehead to your own, you took a deep breath.

"I don't want to be a burden."

Saying the words that'd been ringing in your head for so long felt almost exhilarating while also being incredibly relieving. Contrary to the belief of your messed up head, the world didn't end or break in two once the thought left your lips.

"I've always thought you were such an incredible person and couldn't help but always want to be better for you. Ever since you phased, that feeling only got more intense. You've evolved so much in the past few months, and I'm still old me. When I got attacked, it was the most horrible experience of my life, but it also reinforced that concept. I couldn't even walk from yours to Emily's cabin without being attacked. The boys had to risk their lives to save me. I didn't even get one scratch, and still, I'm afraid of the dark. I'm afraid to sleep alone. I'm afraid if I let my guard down for one second... it'll happen again. Which means that I'll either die or be a burden for you guys once more because I can't even defend myself against something like that. You're already so good to me. I don't want to add this to your list of things to worry about."

Your eyes stayed closed even after you finished and controlled your breathing again. Saying it aloud was incredible, but to open your eyes to face his reaction felt nerve-racking. You were about to when a strong pair of arms wrapped around you.

"You are not and will never be a burden to me." His tone was soft and felt a little strangled. In your dimly lit little room, while the rest of the world was in a peaceful slumber, Jacob's words felt like the only thing that mattered.

He pulled back after a moment but still held you close. "I don't know what gave you the impression that you were a burden. If it ever was something I did, I want to apologize."

"I remember so vividly the look on your face when the boys brought me back to the cabin. You had the same disappointed expression as you have just now. I promise I'm trying to heal as fast I can, but this... this is harder than I thought it would be."

Confusion was now the only emotion on his face, clear as day. "Disappointed? Y/n, I never was disappointed. It was the worst, terrifying, shit your pants kind of fear I've ever felt. It's agony to know you're so ridden with fear. I was disappointed to learn that tonight was still hard for you, not because I think you're not healing fast enough, but because I hoped I finally helped you feel better. I feel so bad you have to live with these memories for your whole life. I just wish I could make them disappear."

That's when you understood the slim difference between disappointment and defeat. One was channeled towards you, and the other wasn't. For Jacob, it had always been directed at himself.

"Jacob, you're the only one who makes me breathe a little easier. You're the only reason I slept soundly last night." A new light illuminated his eyes. You steadied yourself before you continued, your tone slightly hushed. "You've always had that specific calming effect on me. You're the only person who makes things better for me. Ever since we were kids. I have always felt safe with you. You're like my personal haven."

It felt like a big thing to say, but you wanted that sadness to leave his face. You wanted his eyes to be filled with light again, and somehow, it felt right to tell him about all this. He spent so much time worrying about everything and everyone. He deserved to know how appreciated he was. He deserved to know what he meant to you.

Emotion thickened the air. So much so that it felt like you couldn't breathe just right. Your hands slid from his cheeks delicately. You placed one at the nape of his neck while the other grabbed the top of his hair. "Jake, I don't think you even understand how much you mean to me."

Time stood still for a moment. Your eyes focused on each other, and the rest of the world ceased to exist.

"Y/n, I-" his eyes held something heavier. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something before deciding better of it. It almost looked like it cost him to try and get the words out. He gave up in a huff, and whatever was in his gaze, whatever he thought about, vanished. Some part of you wanted to push him, to ask, but tonight had been a rollercoaster enough. You could let it go for now. He pulled you in for another hug before releasing you a little.

"So, now that we've established that you are not a burden." he started softly.

"And that this is in no way your fault," you added with a grin.

He rolled his eyes, "Uhm. Can you tell me what you actually need? I can stay here with you if you want."

You felt a pang of your old fears scratch at your heart, but you let them all go in one breath. "I would very much like that."

You tucked yourselves in bed for the second night in a row. You hesitated to turn off the light, but always so observant, Jacob assured you it didn't bother him to keep it open. You lay side by side in silence. You were focused on becoming familiar with the ordinary and hazardous sounds an old house made at night when Jacob started to whisper.

"I know you think you aren't as fearless as us, but I can assure you everyone in our tribe thinks you are the bravest person they've ever met. Not many people would feel comfortable hanging out with a bunch of new werewolves."

"Brave or totally crazy," you added while making a wicked-looking face. His eyes disappeared in his bright smile, and you wished you could snap a picture of it.

"No, but really, you're the only one who stayed by my side all throughout my phasing process. No matter how dangerous it was for you. If that's not the definition of bravery, I don't know what is." He turned pensive again while his gaze darkened.

You unwillingly recalled the phasing process of Jacob. All the terrible memories flashed before your eyes. His screams of pain still rang in your ears. You remember distinctly every time you wished to take his place. If you could have taken away some of his pain, you would have in an instant. The least you could do was stay by his side no matter what. You had to fight with Billy and the rest of the pack, but in the end, even they couldn't keep you away. No one could have.

You slid into his arms, and his body tensed under the new touch before quickly relaxing to envelop you in a tight embrace.

"I would never leave you alone," you mumbled in his chest. "I know you like to have this strong and impressive appearance, but inside, you're still the same little Jacob I've always known. I know you need me."

You lightly pressed your lips onto his chest and nuzzled farther into him. Fireworks were exploding in the boy's chest as he returned the gesture with a kiss on your head.

"And Jake?"

"Uhm?"

"Don't think I didn't notice you wanted to tell me something important earlier. For tonight, it's okay, but we'll have to talk about that."

#ilya writes #jacob black #jacob black fic #jacob black blurb #jacob black x reader #jacob black x y/n #twilight #twilight au #twilight saga #twilight renaissance #jacob black fluff #fluff #fluffy #werewolves #shapeshifters #twilight wolfpack

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oceansssblue · 9 months ago

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SW REQUESTS:

"Would love to see a Wolffe x reader fic where the AFAB reader is injured in battle, Comms him and then their Comms get jammed and he's just freaking the hell out. Love some angst of him carrying her back to a ship and losing his mind over it"

Some minor alterations but I'm SO HAPPY with how this one came out! I love wolffe and there aren't that many fics about him. Do recommend your favourites! Xx, sky.

"RADIO SILENT" –WOLFFE/F READER

WARNINGS: BATTLE, WOUNDS&BLOOD, ANGST AND FLUFF. 📩💔💖

Halsakaa is a nightmare. The Republic hasn't been able to redirect more forces to the Outer Rim planet to help you; and your troops are struggling to keep the droids battalions at bay. It honestly feels as though the Republic –and the Jedi– have abandoned you to your wrath; no-one coming to this remote location in the galaxy to save you. The destine of your own life, and the lifes of your soldiers, are solely in your hands. And you'd give everything for them, even sacrifice yourself if you have to. After so many experiences together, for almost three years straight now, they have becomed such an important part of you it feels as if you have ingrained every single one of them in your soul. You know you should'nt be so attached to them; Master Ploo quietly reminds you from time to time –though you know he's not exactly indifferent either–. The wolfpack is his own just as they are yours. Yours. Growing up as Jedi you haven't had this kind of... ownership over anything but your saber. Obviously, you don't see the clones as something you can posses, use; but they do belong to you in some sense, and in that way, it's your responsability to command them, to take care of them. And you... love them. It's a dangerous word for a Jedi. But it's the truth. It is the reason why, right now, your soul aches. Each death is a strike right to your heart. But how can you see them any different, when they are such loyal friends? Such fierce soldiers, who fight and die selflessly for the freedom of other citizens in the galaxy, a freedom that hadn't been given to themselves?

Your dark emerald green lightsaber flies in your hands, deflecting one bolt after the other one. Sweat makes your usually comfortable jedi robes stick to your body; minor scratches and wounds tingling painfully at the friction of the fabric. It doesn't make you move any slower, though; you feel unstopable jumping from a cluster of droids to another, the hum of your saber following you around while you slash through your enemies with persistent focus and skill. General Ploo is doing his own thing on the other side of the battlefield; your clone troops split in half to defend both sides of Halsakaa's capital.

You don't know how much longer you can hold this off. All of you have been trained for this, and you're used to drawing strength from the Force, increasing your usual endurance; but even you are feeling exhausted, muscles straining like painful cords, and the thing about the droids is that they never tire out. You know this has to end eventually. Right now, Master Ploo's orders are to hold on til some other battalion can come to your rescue –the other option abandoning Halsakaa to the separatists, which would cause a disastrous impact on the Republic–; though you don't know when that will be. It may be days, or weeks. A month, maybe two. Even with the system of rest-and-takeover you've got established with the clones you're afraid you're going to lose.

The night falls, and some troopers fall back into the delicate safety of the makeshift camp, a decent distant away from the battlefield; they'll try to shut the eye for some hours before replacing other brothers positions again. You keep fighting, completely exhausted but knowing perfectly well that your presence in the battlefield equals the force of ten clones; pushing through your energy limits and fiercely holding your own.

Hours pass, and the two suns of Halsaaka rises again; your tired eyes getting used to the new light while you keep slashing droids with your saber.

"We're pushing them further away from the South Door" Master Ploo's calm voice picks up through your coms. "I have been informed that the 442th have been dispatched in our way. They will join us in two sunrises".

You can't help but give a relieved sigh. The 104th have worked with the 442th more than once in the past. They are heavy infantry; and you wouldn't say no to some of that now. Any fresh soldier would be a welcomed addition. You can see the strain on your troopers; though none of them would dare say a word out loud.

"Copy that" you answer through your channel with your Master and the 104th's commander and sergeant. "I'll feel as happy as a kid with a popsicle when I see that green stripped armour along our light gray one".

You dodge a shot and use the Force to push a wave of droids to the side; your troopers quickly using the oportunity to blast them down.

Wolffe's deep husky voice pipes up in a tiny, well-humoured comment.

"Still a kid yourself, General" he teases you, voice still firm and contradictionally serious.

Your lips pull up on a tiny smirk.

"We can't all age in a blink of an eye, my dear Commander" you chirp back.

The coms pick up his raspy chuckle before the frequency goes back to silence.

The droids make way for something bigger and you groan under your breath. The first bolts make the earth beneath your feet shake slightly; orders and screams shouted all around you.

"Bad news, boys" you open the general coms this time so everyone gets updated in this very unwelcomed surprise. "We've got some spiders".

You focus yourself on them; flying through the battlefield and jumping on one droid after the other one, sinking your saber into their red sensors or cutting off their laser canions. Then, when you're in the middle of jumping off of one, a surprisingly well aimed bolt crosses the air and hits you; and you fall down with blood quickly soaking your side, staining the fabric of your Jedi clothes.

"Fuck" you mutter out loud, jaw clenching til your teeth hurt while you stand up quickly and deflect another bold with your saber, trying to cope with the pain. You open your private frequency with Sinker and quickly inform of your state.

"Sinker, I've been hit" you grit between your teeth while you kill the droid responsible for your wound and step back between your troopers to cover yourself momentarily.

You pull your clothes up and quickly glance down at the wound. Usually the bolts inmediately cauterizes the wounds; but this hadn't been a normal droid, but a combat-J1, with it's weapon specifically designed to make the most damage to human's skin without it's predecessors side-efects. The apparently less dangerous bolts are quite the opposite; dividing into smalller ones that diverts into different directions when hitting a surface with enough resistance. Right now, there's only one entrance wound on your right side; but you know they may have carved more than one path inside of you, making it a life or death situation depending on how lucky you are.

"How bad is it?" He asks, slowly but effectively advancing through the droid lines towards you, an easy person to locate with the shine of your emerald saber.

You grunt in pain, hand soaked in dark scarlet blood, and take a deep breath in, knowing what you need to do for now.

"Bad" you just answer, carefully lowering your own saber towards the wound "It's a shot from a J1. I'm going to cauterise the wound for now, but I might go into shock in the next hour. Just a heads up."

You chuckle weakly, and then carefully graze your lightsaber against the wound. The skin quickly hardens and clots; the smell of the burn quickly reaching your nose. Your knees buckle while you swallow your scream of pain; legs shaking weakly and tears springing to your eyes while you finish putting a momentarily solution to your wound. At least you won't die from blood loss for now.

"Maker, General" Sinker is suddenly there, taking a strong hold of your opposite hip to stabilize you. "That really doesn't look good. You should go back to camp, Sir".

You find solace in his strength for a minute before rightening yourself again and getting ready to move. You close your eyes and center yourself with the Force. You're hurt, but you're still in the middle of open fire; you need to swallow the pain and dizziness down and hold on.

You give Sinker a firm nod.

"I'm letting this side of the battlefield on your hands, then" you tell him, his own back inmediately straightening too under such responsability. "Just one more night and we'll have reinforcements with us tomorrow".

Sinker nods in understanding, appreciating your words of encouragement. He quickly orders Comet to help you get safely back to camp; while he inmediately takes the role of leader and commands your part of the 104th clone troops. You need to protect the North Door of Halsaaka while Master Ploo and Wolffe take care of the South.

One arm around Comet's shoulders and finding strength in the Force, you quickly start your dangerous way back to safety. Even though Comet's alert with his own blaster and you're still deflecting bolts with your saber, you're vulnerable now. You just hope you're both able to make it.

You open your coms to inform of the new situation.

"I've been hit with a J1" you warn Master Ploo and Wolffe. You don't like how weak your voice sounds. "Wolffe, I..."

There's a small explosion right beside you; and the force of it pushes both you and Comet to the ground. You whimper in pain, but quickly grab him and push the two of you back up, resume walking –more like stumbling forward–. You try the coms again, wanting to tell Wolffe you've left Sinker with command before retiring for the night; you grumble in irritation when you see your com device has detached from your forearm and has been left abandoned behind.

"Do you have your com?" You ask Comet.

His voice is barely audible under the protection of his helmet.

"My audio appears to be broken after that last fall, General."

You sigh, tired. There's nothing you can do about it now. Sinker will communicate with them sooner or later.

"Let's just make it back to safety then" you say, and Comet nods diligently.

You'll just focus on not collapsing to the ground before reaching camp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe's heart stutters inside his chest when he hears your voice in the coms. You're always strong, always fierce; something he had admired from the very first time he had had the chance to work under your command. He had been cold towards you back then; not purposedly harsh against you, but not friendly either. You hadn't cared. When one of his men had pointed out to you it wasn't personal, but just Wolffe's reserved, unpolished personality, you had answered unbothered and completely understanding. He could still hear those words in his head; "I get it. I'm a stranger that holds the lifes of his brothers in her hands. None of you know me yet; trust is earned. I hope I will with time. I'd like us all to be comfortable with each othef. But if not, it doesn't matter. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to fight. I'm here to protect people; and I'm here to direct my assigned troops as best as I can in order to achieve the best results with the minor number of casualties. If Commander Wolffe opens up to me I'd be honored. If not, I'm sure we could still be good comrades in this war". He still remembers the way you had tilted your chin upwards; staring defiantly at the clones in front of her, completely unaware of him standing not so far away at her back. "Now, I believe there's still some preparations needed for Jaal; and we're taking off in an hour". With that not-so-subtle signal that the conversation had ended, the troopers around you had quickly fell back to place; and Wolffe had silently followed Master Ploo Koo towards you. "Look at you, little warrior" the older Jedi had told you, a pleasant smile wrinkling the corner of his covered eyes. "Already displaying such good lidership traits". You had turned around in surprise; so many life presences around you, and experiencing a rush of your own emotions, you hadn't been aware of both of their presence. Your cheeks had flushed slightly; though that same defiant glint hadn't left your eyes. "Master" you had slightly bowed towards him. "You see me with good eyes" you had smiled softly at him, in a clearly opened affectionate way Wolffe wasn't used to seing in other Jedi. "Just having a chat with the troops". Master Ploo had chuckled quietly and pointed at him with a hand gesture; Wolffe quickly taking a step forwards towards them. "I have just had a quick meeting with the Council. Commander Wolffe will update you on my behalf, as I need to go have a word with the pilots" Master Ploo had glanced back at him pointedly. "If he'd be kind enough...". Wolffe had inmediately nodded, firmly. He had high respect towards that specifical Jedi; and he didn't usually hold others in such high regards. "Of course, sir" he had then turned towards you. "General, if you can follow me to the strategy room...". You had firmly hold his stare for a few seconds; and the quiet inquisitive gaze had felt as if the young Jedi Warrior had scanned his own very soul. Wolffe had had his first tingle of that uncomfortable but curious feeling back then; a feeling that had only increased with the following years. Nowadays, he...

Wolffe cleared his thoughts and focused on battle. Your voice had sound weak and tired, but you were perfectly capable of holding yourself, and this wasn't the first time you had been hurt before. He had actually patched you more than once in the past and... And then you mentioned a J1, and whispered his name, and there was a loud ringing sound through the coms that sounded too close to an explosion for his comfort and... And the sounds died, leaving nothing more than radio silence. And Wolffe, going against everything he had learnt and was trained for, pannicked.

"General?" His frantic, afraid voice was enough for Master Ploo to focus his attention on him, a graze at his Force life enough to make him understand his commander's feelings. "General. Come on. Com in, kid..."

There was only static.

Wolffe's heart pumped faster, adrenaline shooting through his veins. His hands trembled. A knot formed in his throat, slowly chocking his voice. He never broke down. He never broke down, but...

"Cyar'ika" he begged in a whisper. "Please, please answer and tell me you're okay".

He still got no answer back from you, and he felt his soul hurt.

Master Plo's hand suddenly renched him back into reality; a comforting wave of what could only be his Force washing over him. Wolffe turned his face towards him. The Jedi watched him in understanding.

"I can feel your turmoil. It is such it's difficult for me to focus on anything else. You are in no state to stay in the battlefield" he told him, cautiously gentle. "If my padawan has been gravely injured someone has probably helped her return to camp. You must go and make sure she's okay".

Even if Wolffe wanted nothing more than to start of a run and find her, he still hesitated in front of his General. He was a soldier. A commander. He couldn't leave his place just because he had stupidly, oh so fucking stupidly, fallen in love with her...

Master Plo squeezed his shoulders once. He knew him so well.

"Go" he insisted. "That's an order".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe quickly wrenched the flimsi excuse of a door of the tent open. He had gone to the makeshift infirmary first; his doctor quickly informing him of the state of his Jedi, and where he could find her resting at the moment. "A dangerous wound, but surprisingly stable" he had told him while he took care of the wound of a fellow brother. "She's a tough one, our General. It was a good idea to use her own lightsaber as a cauterizer. She wouldn't have probably made it all the way back here otherwise". That probability had made Wolffe tremble.

His own eyes quickly scanned the Jedi's state now. She was laying down on a rucksack, unusually clad in just a sport top and his Jedi pant's; outer robes discarded and clean bandages effectively wrapping around her lower torso, with just a small amout of blood transpairing on her side. Her lightsaber had been carefully placed at her side. Her hair was untied and a mess; some sticking to her dirtied face and some falling around freely behind her. Despite her evident exhaustion, Wolffe hand't ever been so happy to see her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Commander?" You asked in a surprised voice, slowly and carefully propelling some of your weight in your elbows in order to see him better. "Shouldn't you be back on the battlefield?"

Your face quickly changes into a deep, worried frown as you scan him up and down quickly.

"Are you hurt too, Wolffe?"

His heart clenches again. He steps inside the tent, slowly falling down on his knees besides you, and closes the door.

"No" he simply answers, observing you quietly.

You're completely lost. He's looking at you in a different way. He... Feels different, in the Force. Usually he feels much more reserved, almost as if he had learnt how to shield his emotions from a Jedi; however this... This felt raw.

"I'm afraid I don't understand" you chuckle and then wince at the way the movement tugs at your wound, a bit nervously now. You pointedly look at him. "You wouldn't be here just because you got worried, right?"

Wolffe's expression doesn't change.

"You went radio silent" he answers, quietly.

You arch an eyebrow.

"Our coms died" you explain, still confused about his attitude.

Wolffe can't help himself. He reaches forward and carefully grasps your chin in his right hand; eyes boring into yours. You gasp in surprise and can't do anything else but stare at his breathetaking mismatched eyes in response; emotions inside of you swirling dangerously with his move.

"You were hurt" he enfasises, almost as if he's trying to tell you something else, something you're not quite understanding. "You were hurt, and you went radio silent".

Oh. Oh. He thought you might be... You might have...

"Oh, Wolffe" his name is an understanding, affectionate sigh on your tempting lips. "I'm okay".

He doesn't want empathy. Doesn't want that almost condescending type of comfort. He needs to make sure you're still here; with him. He needs to exteriorize all this raw, painful emotions he has been keeping hidden for so fucking long, and he wants you so fucking bad it makes his mind and soul burn...

He bends down over you, holding himself against one hand proped against the floor while the other one tugs your neck forward, and then he's kissing you –fiercely, dominantly, real–; he kisses the same way he fights and a surprised but delighted whimper of a moan can't help but escape from your lips, hands quickly clinging onto his shoulders desperately.

You... You hadn't thought you'd end up having this. With you being a Jedi and him being such a perfect, respected clone Commander, you had always brushed your wants aside and...

"Wolffe" you whisper, trembling inevitably when his plush warm mouth moves from your lips to the side of your neck, biting gently. "Wolffe, I...".

He breathes and looks up at your face again; cupping your cheek with his right hand and observing your reaction with his eyes shimmering in needs and desire.

His Force signature blasts. He loves you. He loves you, and you...

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" you whisper, risking it all and giving your heart to him.

Tears blur your sight. They're not sad tears; they're not happy either. They're a mix of emotions that make you feel like a mess and...

Wolffe sighs. You love him. You love him, and the fact that you've told him in Mando'a...

He closes his eyes and gently presses his forehead against yours; finding solace and peace in your embrace, in this Keldabe. His eyes then flutter open, and he holds your face in both of his hands, slowly joining your lips in a kiss much more sweet and unhurried than those from before. You hum, surrendering in complete bliss.

He caresses your smuged cheek with his thumb, taking some of the dirt and exhaustion of the battlefield away.

His voice is a secret whisper as well.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyare".

Your fingers tug at the hair at the back of his neck, and you crash your lips onto his.

You imprint those five mandalorian words in your soul.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one was a blast to write! Felt the emotions so raw myself tooo bfbfbsfb this two are so cute. I hope I get to write more of Wolffe in the future, I really like the guy.

Did some minor alterations –like him not been the one to actually carry you back to safety– but it kinda wrote itself and I'm happy with how it came out. Hope you liked it as well!

Also, dear friends, if you ever want to request something longer than a one-shot, you're able to do so as well (if the plot goes accordingly or I find it expandable). I'm not writing whole stories, but a short one of maybe 2-5 chapters max would be okay.

Stay tunned for the next one yall. It will be a little angsty one with Echo, and then we'll have a flirty fun one with Crosshair.

Xx,

Sky.

Back to main masterlist here!

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aynavaano · 7 days ago

Text

The heat on Thyferra

Hunter x f!reader

Rating: Explicit/NSFW

Wordcount: 9k

Summary: You got assigned to Clone Force 99 as a medic but also to keep an eye on their methods. It did’t take long for you to fall for Hunter and you fell hard, but it seemed like he was totally unaware. It got more difficult to deal with your feelings by the minute until after a heated training session you decide to ask for a reasignment.

Notes: This takes place during the Clone Wars pre Echo joining the Batch. Ngl this is completely self indulgent porn with very little plot. Mutual pining, idiots to lovers kind of, yearning, masturbation, consensual voyeurism, oral f! and m! receving, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, porn with feelings aka “It’s always been you”, slight cum/breeding kink, yeah Hunter has a breeding kink, knife kink if you squint, also no beta, I don’t have enough horny friends to proofread this insanity

Getting assigned to Clone Force 99 wasn’t what you had expected when you joined the Republic's science and medical corps. The stories about them were legendary—whispers of impossible missions pulled off by a squad of “defective” clones with a 100 percent success rate. But those stories also included frequent mentions of damaged equipment, questionable methods, trouble to follow orders and complete lack of reports, the bane of any commanding officer's existence.

You’d been with the 104th battalion, the Wolfpack, before this assignment, and leaving them had been hard. The boys had been good to you, treating you like one of their own. Commander Wolffe had even gone so far as to personally request that you stay with them when word came down that you were being reassigned. It seemed everyone in the GAR knew about your reassignment before you did, and you’d heard the murmurs—Clone Force 99, the “Bad Batch,” was getting a natborn and they were apparently not happy. Despite the rumors, the transitions was smoother than anticipated and they’d been kind to you from the start, even if none of them were particularly keen on having someone outside their tight-knit group join their ranks.

Well, almost all of them.

Crosshair, with his sharp tongue and sharper aim, took some time to warm up to you. The sniper was standoffish, always seeming to watch you from the corner of his eye, as though waiting for you to prove you didn’t belong. His words were often cutting, laced with sarcasm that bit deeper than he intended, or maybe exactly as he intended. But over time, you learned to see the cracks in his armor, the subtle ways he showed he cared—an extra ration pack left for you when supplies ran low or a slight shift in position that put you in the safest part of the formation during firefights. You’d come to realize that beneath the layers of snark and cold professionalism was a fiercely loyal and caring brother, someone who would lay down his life for his squad and now, it seemed, for you.

But it wasn’t Crosshair who stole your breath and left you with sleepless nights. It was Hunter, the sergeant and leader of the squad. From the moment you patched him up after your first mission together, you were hooked. You couldn’t help but be drawn to the contrast between his deadly efficiency in the field and the quiet, almost gentle demeanor he had off it. Hunter was everything a soldier should be—strong, capable, and confident—but it was the way he looked at you with those intense, caring eyes that made your heart race.

His long, curly hair and that signature skull tattoo had caught your eye the first time you saw him, but it wasn’t until you had him on the med table, shirt off, his muscled chest exposed, that you realized just how breathtaking he really was. The tattoo that stretched down the whole left side of his body, bold and dark against his tan skin, left you speechless. You remember how your hands had trembled slightly as you cleaned the wounds on his side, pretending not to notice the way his muscles tensed under your touch or the heat that radiated from his body.

“Everything alright there, Doc?” he’d asked, his voice smooth and low, with a hint of amusement in his tone.

You’d nodded too quickly, turning to grab more bandages to cover your flustered state.

“Just making sure you don’t end up with a nasty scar,” you’d managed to say, trying to sound professional even as your mind raced with thoughts you had no business entertaining.

He’d chuckled softly, a sound that didn’t help the slightest but in fact sent shivers down your spine.

“Don’t worry, scars are part of the job.”

But it wasn’t just the physical attraction that pulled you to him. It was the way he carried the weight of his squad on his shoulders, the way he always put them first, and how he made sure you were safe and taken care of, even when you were the one patching them up. It was the quiet moments when he would sit beside you after a mission, asking how you were doing, his voice full of genuine concern. He was always professional, always in control, but sometimes it felt like there was something more there, something simmering just below the surface, but you convinced yourself it was just your nerves, getting the best of you.

Every time you thought about him, every time you remembered the way his tattoo snaked down his body, the way his eyes darkened when he looked at you, it took all your willpower not to let your thoughts wander into territory that was far from professional.

You knew you were falling for Hunter. Hard. And no matter how much you tried to push those feelings down, they kept bubbling up, threatening to spill over.

At first, it was easy to dismiss the way your heart would skip a beat when he was around, chalking it up to simple attraction.

How could you not be physically drawn to him? You had seen him training one morning, his toned body moving with a deadly grace that left you breathless. His caramel skin glistened with sweat, each muscle defined and rippling under the effort of his workout.

That image was seared into your mind, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake it.

But it was more than just the way he looked. The more time you spent with Clone Force 99, the more you saw the depth of Hunter's character. He wasn't just their leader; he was their protector, their confidant, their brother. The way he cared for his squad, always putting them first, always making sure they were safe and looked after, it made something inside you shift. Watching him interact with his brothers, seeing the soft side he showed them, the gentle way he handled their concerns, that was what truly made you fall for him.

And then, he decided you needed better training.

Despite your basic training and the fact that one of them was always by your side during missions, Hunter insisted on making sure you could take care of yourself. It was a logical decision, of course-ensuring that you were capable of defending yourself in the heat of battle. But it was also the beginning of your downfall.

You had managed to keep a professional distance up until then. Sure, you got close when you were patching him up, and the others had no problem with your occasional use of Wrecker as a giant pillow after a hard-fought battle. But training sessions were different. Having Hunter watch you during target practice with Crosshair, his eyes never leaving you, his voice low and encouraging, it was enough to make your pulse race. But it was the hand-to-hand combat training that really did you in.

His hands were on you constantly, guiding you through moves, showing you how to defend yourself, and it left you hot and bothered beyond reason. His touch, firm but careful, sent sparks through your body every time and left your skin burning. You could feel his breath on your neck when he got close, his scent surrounding you, making it impossible to focus on anything but him.

You'd leave those sessions flustered and on edge, your body aching for something more, something only he could give. Nights became torture. You'd wait until the others were asleep, until the sounds of their soft snores filled the ship, and Tech had retreated to the cockpit, closing the door for some peace and quiet. Only then would you allow yourself the release you so desperately needed. You'd slip a hand down your body, rubbing your pussy with feverish need, trying to imagine it was him. You'd fuck yourself on your fingers, your mind filled with thoughts of Hunter-his hands, his mouth, his cock.

You'd listen carefully, straining to make sure no one woke up, praying that your sounds were swallowed by the hum of the ship. Sometimes, you thought you heard a groan, something low and rough, but you convinced yourself it was just your nerves playing tricks on you. Your fingers would clutch the sheets, your teeth sinking into your pillow to muffle the moans and whimpers that threatened to escape. You didn't dare moan his name, didn't dare let anyone know how far gone you were.

But it was never enough. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you brought yourself to the edge and over, it never satisfied you.

Because what you really wanted-what you craved-was Hunter. You wanted him buried deep inside you, wanted to feel his cock stretching you, filling you in a way your fingers never could. The need for him consumed you, until you knew without a doubt that you were damned.

He was in your thoughts constantly, day and night, and you prayed to the Maker that he would soon be satisfied with your training so you could get some distance. But it only seemed to get worse. Every day was a struggle, every touch, every look a reminder of what you couldn't have. And the worst part was, you didn't know how much longer you could hold out before you snapped, before you threw caution to the wind and let the hunger take over. Because the truth was, you were already in too deep, and there was no going back.

***

The oppressive humidity on Thyferra was like a suffocating blanket that wrapped itself around you, making every breath feel thick and heavy. You had been on this forsaken planet for far too long, monitoring a nearby military base that was suspected to cooperate with Separatists and waiting for new orders that never seemed to come. The air was stifling, clinging to your skin, and the temperature was wearing you all out. Tech and Crosshair were out, trying to scavenge supplies and something edible other than ration bars from the next settlement, leaving you with Hunter and Wrecker. Wrecker, with nothing better to do, was snoring loudly in the shade of a massive tree, blissfully unaware of the discomfort the rest of you were enduring.

Hunter, however, was determined to continue your training, despite the unbearable heat. He seemed unaffected by the temperature, his focus solely on sharpening your skills. But you weren’t so lucky. The humidity made it hard to concentrate, and the fact that Hunter had discarded his shirt halfway into the session only added to your distraction. His caramel skin glistened with sweat, each movement highlighting the toned muscles beneath, and it took all of your willpower to keep your eyes on the task at hand.

You tried to focus, determined to finish the session with dignity, even as your body screamed for relief from the weather and the heat burning in your core. You countered Hunter’s next attack brilliantly, moving swiftly and with precision, managing to get a good grip on his arm. But just when you thought you had the upper hand, your sweaty hands slipped. Hunter didn’t waste a second, using your falter to his advantage. In one fluid motion, he had you pinned to the ground, the impact knocking the air from your lungs.

For a moment, all you could do was gasp, struggling to regain your breath. The world spun slightly as you blinked your eyes open, only to be met with the intense gaze of Hunter staring down at you. His knife was pressed lightly against your throat—a reminder of how easily he could have taken you down in a real fight—but it wasn’t only the weapon that had your heart racing. It was him. The weight of his body on yours, the heat radiating off of him, the musky scent of his sweat. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, you felt heat pool low in your belly and your control slipping.

Your breath came in short, shallow pants, and you could see that Hunter was breathing heavily too, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweat dripped from his wet hair, landing on your skin and mixing with your own. You suddenly were hyper-aware of every inch of him pressing down on you, every muscle in his body coiled and tense as he kept you pinned beneath him. The proximity was too much, the physical contact too intimate, and you felt something inside you snap.

Without thinking, you balled your fist and punched him in the gut. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt him, but it was enough to surprise him, causing him to loosen his grip just enough for you to roll to the side and escape. You scrambled to your feet, your chest heaving, and you threw your knife to the ground in frustration.

“I’m done,” you spat out, your voice sharp with a mix of anger and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“It’s too hot for this.”

You are too hot for this - you added in your thoughts before you turned and stomped away, not waiting for his response, not wanting to see the confusion—or worse, the understanding—in his eyes.

You stormed back toward the ship, your emotions a chaotic swirl inside you. It seemed Hunter had no idea what he did to you, the pure torture of having him so close, the way your body ached with need every time he was near. And even if he did know, you were convinced he didn’t feel the same. If he had, surely he would have made a move by now, right?

The thought brought tears to your eyes, and you blinked them back angrily, determined not to let them fall. You needed to get to the fresher, needed to cool down and take care of the throbbing between your legs that had become a constant reminder of what you couldn’t have.

You forced yourself to breathe deeply, trying to regain some semblance of control. You couldn’t keep going like this, couldn’t keep torturing yourself with what you could never have.

You knew what you had to do. As soon as this mission was over and you were off this cursed planet, you were going to request a reassignment. Maybe you could go back to the Wolfpack, or find a spot with any other battalion. Anywhere, as long as it got you as far away from Hunter as possible. You liked being with the batch, you had grown to care about them all deeply, but staying would only lead to more suffering and you couldn’t keep acting like a little desperate tooka in heat, couldn’t risk that one day you’d get distracted on the battlefield and someone would get hurt.

The decision made, you felt a sense of resolve settle over you, though it did little to ease the ache in your heart. You’d do what you had to do, for your own sanity. But until then, you had to endure, had to find a way to keep your distance and survive this mission without letting your feelings get the best of you.

But you heard footsteps behind you already before you even reached the top of the ramp, your heart pounding in your chest.

When he called your name, you turned to face him, struggling to maintain your composure. Hunter's face was a mix of emotions, and you couldn’t quite decipher the expression in his eyes.

Was it concern? Frustration? Something else entirely? The turmoil boiling within you made it difficult to think clearly.

"I'm sorry if I pushed you too far," Hunter said, his voice low and sincere.

You let out a huff, trying to mask the storm raging inside you.

"It's just the climate," you answered, forcing a casual tone, "I need to calm down and take a shower."

But his gaze didn’t waver. It was intense, pinning you in place and making you squirm under its weight. For a split second, you thought he'll turn and leave, that this conversation would end with you retreating to the fresher to relieve the throbbing in your core and try to forget the way he made you feel. But then, he spoke again, and your brain short-circuited as you processed his words.

"Stop lying to me, I know where you’re going" he said, his tone firm but not unkind. "It's not the mission or the climate. It's me."

You stared at him, your heart hammering in your chest. You didn’t know how to respond. His words hung in the air between you, heavy and charged. For a moment, you half expected him to turn away, to say he doesn't want to put up with your drama any longer, to give you the reassignment you were wishing for just moments ago.

But when he spoke again, his voice was soft, laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

"I heard you," he admitted, his eyes searching yours.

"Do you know how much torture it was, listening to your sweet whimpers, your muffled moans of my name? How often you made me make a mess in my own bunk, unable to do anything about it because I didn't want to let you know I noticed and risk making you uncomfortable?"

His words left you speechless, your thoughts spinning. You thought you’d made sure they were all fast asleep, karking hell, Hunter and his heightened senses. You’d never imagined he knew, let alone that he might feel the same way. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and all the carefully constructed walls you've built to protect yourself came crumbling down in an instant. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but there was also a flicker of hope, a small spark of something that made you want to step forward, to close the distance between you.

You tried to speak, but your voice failed you, the words catching in your throat. All that came out was his name, a whisper, barely audible. Finally, you managed to choke out,

"I'm sorry."

Hunter's expression softened, and he stepped closer, his presence comforting despite the heat that threatened to consume you.

"Cyar’ika," he murmured, the endearment made your heart flutter.

"There’s nothing to be sorry about."

He paused, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"But I can’t handle it anymore, one more night of listening to your sweet sounds, one more day on the ship, filled with the scent of your arousal without any relief and I will go crazy," he continued, his voice thick with a mix of desire and restraint.

"Please, just let me watch you. *Gedet’ye*."

The mando’a term send a flush straight to your cheeks, the vulnerability in his voice, the raw need—how could you possibly deny him when he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the galaxy?

"I won’t touch you if you don’t want it, just want to see you, want to see what I could only imagine all those nights listening" he said, his voice a little softer now, almost pleading.

"That’s enough for me."

It’s then you noticed the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, the faint tremor in his words. He was afraid—afraid that maybe he was just a fantasy for you, a secret desire you indulged in but never intended to bring into reality.

For a moment, the power dynamic shifted. The usually confident and composed sergeant seemed vulnerable, exposed in a way you’ve never seen him before. This side of him, this raw honesty, made you fall for him even more deeply, your heart aching with the need to give him everything.

You couldn’t find your voice, so you nodded, your body moving on instinct, your mind still reeling from the weight of the moment. You had no idea where this would lead, but you did know one thing—you wanted him completely. But if watching you is all he wanted, you’d give it to him, without hesitation.

Hunter took a quick glance outside to ensure Wrecker was still snoring away under the tree. Once he was satisfied that you were alone, he squeezed your hand gently and guided you into the cockpit. The door slid shut behind you with a soft hiss, sealing you both inside the dimly lit space.

He led you to the pilot's chair, and you couldn't help but think of Tech's reaction if he knew you were about to do something so... filthy in his sacred cockpit.

Hunter sensed your hesitation and hesitantly cupped your face, his touch warm and steady, anchoring you to the moment.

"It's just us, cyar'ika," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

"No one has to know what happens between us if you don’t want to."

He guided you to sit in the pilot's chair, his presence overwhelming in the small, enclosed space. You pulled him down with you, taking his hands in yours encouraging him to touch you. Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as he knelt down in front of you, his hands sliding up your thighs, urging them apart. You let out a shaky breath, your nerves and excitement tangling together in a heady mix.

Hunter's hands slid down your sides, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants. He searched your gaze for confirmation pulling slightly. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you lifted your hips, allowing him to slide your pants and panties all together down your legs.

He inhaled deeply and when he looked back up at you, the golden brown in his eyes was almost gone, replaced by dark pupils blown with lust.

“Fuck”, he hissed through gritted teeth “so beautiful. Show me how you've been touching yourself, thinking about me. Let me see you fall apart for me."

Your heart raced as you slowly started to rub your clit, circling it with your fingers, your other hand sliding down to tease your entrance. You let out a shaky breath, your hips moving in time with your fingers, but it was not enough.

You whimpered, your fingers sliding over your slick folds, it just wasn't enough. Not now, when he was there, watching you with that intense gaze, his breath ghosting over your skin. Your fingers didn't satisfy you the way you needed; they never had.

You let out a pathetic whine, a sound that was part frustration, part desperate need.

"I want you to make yourself come for me”, Hunter said, his voice a low growl that sent a thrill through your entire body.

You shook your head, your breath hitching in your throat.

"I can't”, you whined, your voice breaking with the intensity of your longing.

"It's not enough, Hunter." the words slipped from your lips before you could stop them.

The plea hung between you, heavy and loaded with meaning. There was no going back now, not after this.

Whatever happened, you couldn't just walk away and pretend nothing had changed. You were too far gone, too wrapped up in him, in this moment.

"Please”, you begged, your voice trembling, as every last bit of your restraint left you.

"I need more. A kiss, your fingers-just something.”

Hunter's eyes darkened with desire, and a slow, knowing smile curved his lips. He stood and, with deliberate slowness, pulled down his shorts, revealing his rock hard cock. It was even more glorious than you had imagined - thick, long, with a slight curve that promised to hit all the right spots. The sight of precum beading at the tip made your mouth water.

You gasped, your eyes locked on him, taking in every detail, every inch of him. It was like a fantasy brought to life, and you could hardly believe this was really happening.

"If you really want me, cyar'ika”, he said, his voice rough with desire, "you have me and I’ll give you everything you want. But first..."

He stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

"I want to see what I missed out on all those nights."

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you nodded, your body trembling with anticipation.

"| want you," you breathed, the words spilling from your lips in a rush.

Hunter's smile widened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered,

“Then you know what to do."

Your hand slid down between your legs again, fingers circling your clit as your eyes locked onto his. His gaze was dark, intense, and filled with a hunger that mirrored your own. You started to move your fingers, slow at first, building up the tension again, the pleasure, under his watchful eyes. His cock twitched, and you could see how hard he was holding himself back, waiting, watching, letting you take the lead. But you hoped, deep down, that he wouldn't be able to resist for long.

You continued to fuck yourself on your fingers, the sensation of your own touch heightened by the sight of Hunter in front of you. His cock was fully on display now, thick and hard, just as you'd imagined so many times. Your eyes were glued to it, watching as he wrapped his hand around the base and gave himself a few slow, deliberate pumps. The way he handled himself so confidently, so naturally, made your mouth water and your core clench with need.

All you could think about was how it would feel to have him inside you, stretching you, filling you completely. The thought alone made the coil in your core tighten deliciously, your body already teetering on the edge of release. Hunter seemed to sense how close you were. His eyes, dark with lust, locked onto yours, and his voice came out in a low, velvety command.

"Look at me, cyar'ika."

Your gaze snapped to his, and what you saw there was your undoing. His face was a mix of raw desire and something deeper, something almost tender. His cheeks were flushed, a warm color against his caramel skin, and his pupils were blown wide with lust, all of it for you. That look - hungry, wanting, and completely focused on you was all you needed to push yourself over the edge.

When the first wave of your orgasm hit, you let loose and moaned his name loudly, your body arching off the chair. The moment your release flooded through you, Hunter was there, his strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you into him. His lips found yours in a kiss that was both hungry and sweet, swallowing your moans as his hands roamed over your body, grounding you as you rode out your high.

His touch, his scent, the feel of his solid body pressed against yours - it was overwhelming, like floodgates had opened, and everything you'd been holding back rushed out all at once. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you gasped out the words that had been burning inside you for so long.

"I want you Hunter," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I want all of you."

Hunter's response was immediate, his voice a deep, soothing rumble against your ear. "You have me”, he said, his lips brushing against your skin. "you've always had me, cyar'ika. It's always been you."

His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, and you couldn't help the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. It was too much - too intense, too perfect - and yet, it was everything you'd ever wanted. You nuzzled into his neck, breathing him in, letting the reality of his words slowly sink in.

"…thought.." you struggled to find the right words, your voice catching in your throat. "I thought maybe you didn't notice...me, or didn’t want me."

Hunter pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression softening.

"How could I not want you?" he said, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. "I noticed every look, every touch. I noticed how you made excuses to be near me, how you lingered in the room just a little longer after everyone else had gone. And then suddenly it felt like you were running away from me, avoiding me and it drove me crazy, because I didn’t know what to do."

You inhaled sharply, trying to steady your shaking hands.

"Hunter... I don't think you realize what it's like to watch you from a distance. You walk into a room, and every head turns. People flirt with you -boldly, shamelessly- and you don't even flinch. Meanwhile, I thought I was just... invisible to you. Just part of the team. And I couldn’t handle it anymore.”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze.

He chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

"You think I don’t see the way other women look at me and sometimes men too? All the attention in bars, in the markets?"

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I noticed them all, but I didn't care. None of them were you. From the moment you were assigned to the squad, all I wanted was you."

His words hit you like a freight train, and you were left reeling from the intensity of his confession. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb tracing the lines of his tattoo.

“You remember the Jedi general we had with us for two missions shortly after you’ve been assigned to us?” he said.

“Did you notice how she looked at you? I always thought it’s not the jedi way but she quickly sensed how I felt for you and she was jealous.”

"Hunter..."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as if savoring the feel of your hands on him. "I’m yours, cyar'ika," he murmured, opening his eyes to meet yours again. "And you can be mine. If thats what you want."

You pulled him into another kiss, your heart soaring at his words. It was everything you'd ever dreamed of and more. The man you'd been longing for, craving, was finally yours, and he wanted you just as badly. You deepened the kiss, pouring all your emotions into it, and you felt him respond equally, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that matched your own.

When you finally broke the kiss, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting together as you shared a moment of quiet intimacy. It was a connection that went beyond just the physical - it was something deeper, something that had been building between you for so long. And now that it had finally been acknowledged, there was no turning back.

Hunter's hands slowly slid under your shirt, lifting it over your head.

"Let me see all of you”, he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

"Want to worship every inch of you."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you helped him get off your training bra. You were bare before him now, exposed and vulnerable, your nipples instantly hard, but there was no fear - only anticipation, only need.

He reached up to cup your breasts, his thumb ghosting over your nipple and you leaned back in to kiss him again. His tongue pleaded for access and you let him in, let him explore your mouth, his taste sweet and intoxicating. One hand tangled in his hair you let the other snake down his chest until you reached his cock, giving him a few lazy pumps, earning a few groans from him in return.

But just when you were ready to lose yourself completely in him, Hunter broke the kiss, pulling back slightly.

He looked down at you, his breathing ragged, his dark eyes full of desire and something else - something deeper, more meaningful.

"Wa…want to do this right," he said, his voice low and husky.

You blinked up at him, dazed and trembling with need, but his words made your heart stutter in your chest. He wasn't just looking for a quick release; he wanted this to mean something, to be something you would both remember.

Before you could say anything, he glanced quickly out of the viewport, checking to make sure Wrecker was still peacefully snoring outside. Satisfied, he turned back to you, and with a few quick taps on the console, you heard the soft hiss of the ramp closing.

The ship was now sealed, offering you the privacy you desperately needed.

Without another word, Hunter scooped you up into his arms, holding you close against his chest as he carried you to the bunk area. There was a determination in his movements, a focused intensity that only made you want him more. He set you down gently, then quickly began to rearrange the bunks, pulling two mattresses together and throwing a few blankets and cushions onto the floor to create a cozy, makeshift bed.

"Perfect," he murmured, almost to himself, before turning back to you.

His hands were on you again in an instant, pulling you down onto the mattress with him.

“When we're out of here, I’m going to take you some place nice …but for now this is all I can offer you”

“Hunter…I don’t need anything else, just you.”

He kissed you everywhere - your lips, your neck, your collarbone, working his way down to your breasts. His tongue was hot and wet as he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping at the sensitive flesh, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

"Hunter," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as he moved to your other breast, giving it the same attention. The way he touched you, the way he kissed you, it was like he was memorizing every inch of your body, committing it all to memory.

He let his head dip down between your legs, kissing and nibbling along your soft inner thighs until he reached your wet pussy and liked a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit. You felt him shudder and you let out a soft whimper when he flicked his tongue against your swollen bud, still sensitive from your first orgasm.

"I've wanted this for so long," he growled against your skin, his voice thick with need. "Wanted you for so long."

You could only moan in response, arching your back as he positioned himself above you.

His cock was heavy and hot against your thigh, and when he dragged the tip through your soaked folds, your whole body trembled with anticipation. You were so wet for him, so ready, and the sensation of his cock teasing you, brushing against your clit before dipping back down to your entrance, was almost too much to bear. He bit your neck, not hard enough to hurt but enough to leave a mark and to make you shiver with desire.

"Hunter, please," you whimpered, your hips bucking up, seeking more.

He reached up, his hand cupping the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. He held you like that, firm but gentle, and his eyes locked onto yours, intense and unyielding.

"Look at me," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "I want you to look at me when I take you”

You nodded, your breath hitching as he slowly began to push into you. The stretch was delicious, the feeling of him finally filling you was overwhelming. Your eyes never left his, the connection between you electric.

As he sank deeper into you, his eyes never wavered from yours, and you could see the raw emotion there - the desire, yes, but also something more, something that made your heart ache with its intensity.

"Maker" he groaned, his voice strained as he bottomed out inside you. "You feel so good, cyar’ika. Better than I ever imagined."

You clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried to hold on, your body adjusting to the fullness of him, reveling in the feeling you had yearned for far too long.

"Hunter,” you breathed out, your voice trembling with the depth of your need for him.

"Move, please."

And then he did, pulling back slowly before thrusting back in, and it was like nothing you'd ever felt before.

The pleasure was overwhelming, all consuming, and you couldn't help the way your body arched up into his, seeking more, wanting more. You were intoxicated from a heady mix of chemicals and hormones your own body produced and you couldn’t get enough of.

He watched you the whole time, his gaze never leaving yours, and you could see the way he was fighting to keep control, to hold back from losing himself completely in you.

"Say you’re mine" he gasped.

You moaned, your hands clutching at him, needing to feel every inch of him, to be as close to him as possible. You angled your hips to allow him to reach deeper.

"I'm yours, Hunter. Always yours."

His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more forceful, and you could feel yourself hurtling towards another orgasm, the coil in your core tightening with every movement of his hips. He reached down where your bodies were joined and began to circle your clit.

"Come for me," he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

And with those words, you were gone, your body shattering as your orgasm crashed over you, your walls desperately clenching around him. Hunter's thrusts became frantic as he neared his release, his breath ragged in your ear.

"Where do you want me?" he asked, his voice low and desperate, teetering on the edge. His eyes searched yours, filled with lust and need.

"Inside”, you whispered, breathless, and the moment the word left your lips, it was like something snapped within him.

His body reacted instantly, a guttural groan escaping his throat. He pushed as deep into you as he could, burying himself completely, ensuring he was filling you in the most intimate way possible.

The warmth of his release surged inside you, and you gasped at the overwhelming sensation. His cock pulsed, each wave of his cum shooting against your cervix, sending electric shivers through your entire being. You clung to him, trembling as your walls tightened around him, pulling him in further, savoring every last drop he spilled inside you.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into you, holding you tight like he never wanted to let go. You felt utterly filled, connected, the sensation of his heat mixing with the deep satisfaction of having him this close. The world had narrowed down, leaving only the two of you.

Hunter's lips found yours again, soft and lingering, filled with a quiet happiness that made your heart swell. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, his breath mixing with yours in the peaceful aftermath. You smiled at him, your fingers tracing light patterns on his chest as he pressed a tender kiss to the tip of your nose.

His cock slowly softened and slipped out of you, leaving a tender warmth in its wake. The room was quiet, filled only with the sound of your shared breaths as you remained close, tangled together in the afterglow.

He glanced down between your bodies, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as he watched his cum begin to ooze out of you. Without a word, he gently took two fingers, gathering it and pushing it back into you with a quiet hum of appreciation.

You giggled at his playful possessiveness, your body shivering at the intimate sensation of his fingers moving inside you, even after everything you'd just shared. The sound of your laughter made his grin widen, a soft chuckle rumbling from his chest.

Hunter's hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin as he whispered,

"I love you, cyar'ika. More than anything."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned into his touch, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

"I love you too, Hunter," you replied softly, your voice full of emotion.

He smiled, his forehead resting against yours.

"I'm never letting you go," he promised, his voice low and filled with tenderness.

"Come on," he whispered, leaning in to kiss your lips again before he stood and scooped you up effortlessly into his arms.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head against his shoulder as he carried you towards the fresher. He handled you with such care, his strong arms making you feel light as air.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said, the warmth in his voice unmistakable.

You let out a contented sigh, feeling utterly safe in his embrace as he carried you into the fresher.

He carefully adjusted the water, making sure it was the perfect temperature before gently setting you into the warm stream.

"I'll clean up the ship real quickly," he said with a playful smirk, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Don't want to deal with an angry Tech later. I'Il be back in a moment, cyar'ika."

You nodded, leaning back against the wall of the fresher, the warmth of the water soothing your body as you watched him leave. A soft smile crept onto your face, feeling content in the peaceful aftermath. It all still felt like a fever dream, something your mind had come up with to cope with the burning desire that had slowly driven you crazy. If it wasn’t for the faint rustling of bedsheets you heard you might have believed you had fallen victim to your own imagination.

But Hunter returned moments later, true to his word, stepping back into the fresher with you. He pulled you into his arms, and kissed you, the water running over both of you as you melted into the moment once more, feeling safe and cherished in his embrace.

As you pulled back from the kiss, Hunter rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm and steady. His eyes, filled with quiet intensity, searched yours.

"I'm sorry I didn't make a move earlier," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I've wanted you for so long... but I was afraid, afraid that you wouldn’t want me and what it meant for the squad. I love you so much, cyar'ika. More than you know."

The sincerity in his words made your heart swell, and you gently cradled his face, your fingertips tracing the lines of his jaw.

"I love you too, Hunter," you whispered, your voice barely audible but heavy with meaning.

It was a confession you had been holding onto for so long, and now that it was finally spoken, it felt right-perfect. His lips curved into a small, tender smile, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

"I'll request your permanent assignment to the squad,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. "If that's what you want. I might even try to fill out a report here and there."

The thought made you chuckle but without hesitation, you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I want that... more than anything."

Hunter kissed you again, slow and deep, pouring all the love and longing you had both been holding back into the kiss. His hand slid down between your legs, fingers brushing gently over your sensitive skin. You gasped into his mouth, your body responding instantly to his touch, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you both like a cocoon.

He pressed himself closer, and you could feel the hard length of him against your thigh, already ready for you again.

"I can't get enough of you, I’m sorry." he whispered, his voice husky with desire, his fingers teasing you, drawing out soft whimpers as your body burned with need for him all over again.

You sank slowly to your knees, your gaze never leaving his as your hands trailed down his body. Taking him into your mouth, you savored the feel of him - big, warm, heavy on your tongue and throbbing with need. His taste filled your senses, and the low, deep moan that escaped his lips sent a shiver through you. You traced the underside of his cock from the base to the tip, following a thick vein. He was incredibly hard, his tip already leaking and every contact made him twitch. Hunter's hand came to rest gently on the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he groaned softly, the sound making your pulse quicken. But after a few moments, he gently tugged you back up to your feet, his hands firm on your shoulders.

"Come here," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

He guided you toward the fresher wall, your back pressed against the cool durasteel, letting his hand trail lower, carefully stroking through your folds. You were very sensitive, his cum was still oozing out of you but your body betrayed you and you couldn’t stop the downright filthy moan from slipping from your lips.

“Tell me if it’s too much.” he rasped.

“N..no. Don’t stop…can’t get enough of you either.” you stammered as he dipped two fingers into your soaking wet pussy.

“P…please Hunter…fuck me again.”

His mouth found yours in a heated kiss as he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, his cock deliciously pressing against your core. He paused, eyes locking with yours for a brief, intimate moment before he buried himself inside you in one deep thrust. You gasped, your body still sensitive, clenching hard around him immediately. The sensation of being so full, so close to him, was still overwhelming.

Hunter groaned deeply, the sound vibrating against your lips as he began to move, slow at first but quickly building into something more intense. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your hips meeting his with each thrust as he fucked you, hard and steady. The room spun around you, all of your senses focused solely on him, on the way he filled you, the way he made you feel. The coil in your core tightened rapidly, your pleasure rising to a peak you couldn't hold back any longer.

"Hunter," you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

He groaned, lowering his forehead to yours as he picked up the pace.

"I feel you, mesh'la," he murmured, his words shaky but full of intent. "So close, aren't you? Let me take you there."

His teeth grazed your lower lip, his body driving you closer to the brink with every thrust.

You cried out, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity, your nails raking down his back as the pressure inside you reached its breaking point. The position allowed him to thrust deep and he did, pushing up against your most sensitive spot.

That was all it took. With a final, powerful snap of his hips, you shattered into a million pieces, your body trembling as your orgasm washed over you. Hot white pleasure surged through your veins, pulling the rug of reality from under your feet and sending you spinning. Your walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper as Hunter groaned your name, his release following yours. You felt him pulse inside you, his second release mixing with the first, filling you to the brim, as his head dropped to your shoulder, his breath ragged against your skin.

You stayed like this for a while, you held onto him tightly, both of you catching your breath, the connection between you deeper than ever. Your shallow pants and the falling water were the only sounds for a while. You nestled your head against his neck reveling in the warmth radiating from his body until his cock slowly softened and slipped out of you followed by a rush of his cum.

Hunter carefully set you down, your legs still trembling and unsteady beneath you. You giggled softly, leaning against the wall for support trying to come back to your senses.

"I think... I… we should probably give the ship back," you said, your voice a mix of exhaustion and amusement.

"The others are probably outside, waiting-and annoyed."

He chuckled, his hand brushing tenderly over your cheek.

"You're right. Shouldn’t keep the big guy waiting when he’s hungry," he teased, his eyes still full of warmth.

But then, his gaze softened, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss.

"One last moment," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and intimate, "just us.”

You melted into the kiss, your heart swelling with the closeness of the moment. Hunter's hands moved with careful precision as he lathered you both with soap and helped you clean up, his touch so gentle it made your chest ache with affection. Every small gesture spoke of his care for you, and you couldn't help but smile, feeling the love radiating between you.

After you both emerged from the refresher, Hunter grabbed a towel and gently dried you off, his hands lingering on your skin, pressing kisses here and there as if memorizing the feel of you. There was something tender in the way he handled you, a softness that made your heart swell. Once you were both dry, you reached for fresh clothes from the overhead compartments, dressing in a comfortable silence that was filled with glances, smiles, and the warmth of what you had just shared. Hunter gave you the softest, most loving kiss before he pressed the button to open the hatch.

You were immediately greeted by the sight of three familiar faces. Wrecker’s grin was as wide as ever, Tech looked slightly annoyed, and Crosshair... well, Crosshair had that usual smirk of his, but there was a glint of something else in his eyes too.

"Finally," Crosshair spat out, throwing the toothpick he had just dangled from the corner of his mouth to the floor, his voice dripping with his usual sarcasm.

Tech, ever the meticulous one, adjusted his goggles and said, "If what Crosshair suggested is true, I am pleased for the two of you, but I sincerely hope you cleaned up after yourselves."

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead he strode up the ramp to inspect to ship, his ship, as he had made clear more than enough times.

Wrecker’s grin widened even further when you stepped out of the ship. “Does this mean you’re stayin’ with us for good?” he asked, his eyes shining with hope.

You nodded, and before you could say another word, Wrecker scooped you up in a massive bear hug, whirling you around with such enthusiasm that you couldn’t help but laugh.

Tech reemerged from the ship, seemingly satisfied with the state you had left the cockpit in. “Good,” he said, his tone crisp and professional. “I’m glad to see you took care of that. We brought back better food, by the way.”

“Oh yeah, I’m starving” Wrecker said, setting you back down.

As they walked past you, Crosshair reached out to pat Hunter on the shoulder, his smirk turning into something more genuine.

"Don’t mess this up, Sarge," he said, his tone carrying a rare note of seriousness.

"Because if I have to hear her suffer again, listen to her desperate whimpers one more night... I’ll take care of it myself."

You couldn’t help but smile, knowing this was Crosshair's way of showing he cared. Beneath that tough exterior, there was a hint of concern and affection, even if it came out in his own twisted way. But as soon as the full meaning of what he’d just said found its way through your still foggy and cock drunken mind, you turned to Hunter with a question look, your cheeks hot and a perfect shade of pink.

Hunter just grinned.

“Nothing wakes Wrecker as soon as he’s snoring and Tech stays in the cockpit most nights, but yeah…Cross heard you.”

“More than once.”

You looked back into the ship where Crosshair had just disappeared. He gave you one of his signature smirks, clearly amused.

You groaned, your face burning as you turned and hid against Hunter’s chest, hoping the ground would swallow you whole.

Crosshair chuckled lowly, enjoying your reaction.

“You know, it’s not that embarrassing. At least you’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that.”

“Crosshair,” Hunter warned, but his hand moved to rub your back soothingly.

“What?” Crosshair smirked, his tone softening slightly. “At least Hunter finally did something about it, almost though he’d watch you leave. You’re good together. Just… maybe keep it private next time? For my sleeping schedule…and my sanity.”

You peeked out at him, mortified but catching the flicker of genuine affection in his gaze.

“You’re awful.”

“Maybe,” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching. “But you’re lucky I like you, or I’d never let you live this down.”

You sighed.

As Hunter wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, pressing you into his chest, you couldn’t help but feel that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

The easy camaraderie between the five of you made you feel like you were truly home.

#the bad batch #the bad batch smut #tbb smut #bad batch hunter #hunter bad batch #tbb hunter #sw tbb #tbb #star wars #bad batch #hunter x you #hunter x reader #hunter smut #the clone wars

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imaginingmanyfandoms · 4 months ago

Note

how does the volturi guard react when human mate asks for them to turn her ??

trying to dust off the old headcanon muscles ;) send me some volturi, wolfpack or letterkenny requests ;D

ALEC:

he knew it was coming

he couldn't keep a human in volterra forever, not only was it dangerous being around all the other vampires all the time, but you were basically locked in your bedroom when he was away

it was like locking the most beautiful art behind a door and not letting anyone see it

it was a crime for you to be lonely

but

he liked that you were his, and his alone

your time was his, your protection his, and your love was all his

his worry was that you'd have an ability aro would want, and be expected to join the guard

but if that was the case aro may very well send you out alone, or worse, with demetri

but at the end of the day he needed to spend forever with you, he wouldn't want to live in a world without you in it

so he began to plan the date

DEMETRI:

he was just excited to spend the rest of eternity with you

realistically he knew this day was coming sooner rather than later as you'd lived in the castle for almost a year and aro was starting to side eye demetri about it

he was excited, wondering what you'd be like & who you'd grow into

"my beautiful petal, an eternity with you will still never be enough,"

he would be happily chatting about when and where

he would be the one to turn you of course, his flower, his responsibility

being the pest that he is, the whole talk would have him so so excited, and he'd be pinning you against the wall, whispering about how he'll miss having strength over you

he'd kiss you all over, gently right over the veins in your neck

licking his lips at the idea of the games you could play when you were a newborn

FELIX:

there is a large part of him that would be disappointed that you didn't change your mind

he thought of himself as the evil in your life, the shadow to your light

and now you wanted to become like him

he never, ever thought of himself as a monster before he met you, so soft & sweet & kind

but he'd been selfish - and it was too late to let you go now, aro would never let you live in peace now

"of course, puppet, anything for you,"

and he meant it, but he wish, he wished, he had the strength to leave you alone when you'd met

he felt like he'd plucked a flower right out of a garden instead of letting it grow

but... he loved you

he loved you so so much and spending forever with you would be a blissful dream

JANE:

she was genuinely relieved

she loved you, but she didn't really like humans, like at all

and now she could feel better knowing it was your idea and not hers

she wanted you to be powerful with her

wanted you to stand tall next to her while you & her traveled the world for aro, keeping everybody in line

aro already agreed to letting you team up with the twins the moment you were ready

having something to hold over jane was important, you know, her strength was legendary

#twilight imagine #twilight imagines #alec volturi #alec volturi imagine #alec volturi imagines #demetri volturi #demetri volturi imagine #twilight #demetri volturi imagines #felix volturi #felix volturi imagine #demetri volturi headcanons #alec volturi headcanons #felix volturi headcanons #jane volturi #jane volturi headcanons #jane volturi imagine

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rei-ismyname · 28 days ago

Text

X-MEN #9 Review - Raid on Graymalkin 3/4

Crossover events always have a lot of moving parts, keeping track of them while driving the story forward in a coherent fashion has to be a mark of success. X-Men #8 started the event off elegantly, keeping the momentum up until the very last page when the two X-Men squads came face to face. Uncanny #7 muddled that up and didn't get a lot done by slowing down, but X-Men #9 is a worthy successor to the previous issue - it's kinetic and always moving forward, with enough variation in tension to make the big moments hit. Mackay seems to be hitting his stride, which makes me happy.

'They're not just mutants. They're X-Men.' Damn right.

Uncanny #7 put the brakes on by recapping and introducing petty conflict, though it did recontextualise the planning phase of the raid. Rogue came out of it looking petulant and irresponsible - something that I think it's healthy to just accept - I'll discuss that in her book. Here and now it's a problem that our Alaskan team have to navigate, the recklessness of allies blown up in everyone's faces. At least they've stopped fighting. As I said at the start of the event, one of the metrics I'm judging on is how well this event fulfills its promises - primarily a much hyped ideological divide between Rogue and Cyclops.

Immediately we follow up on where Kurt and Psylocke teleported to, after some posturing Kurt theorises that they're being manipulated. They start working together. Nice! This will pay off later without taking up too much space. Call it the C plot. The B plot is the POV of the Graymalkin command centre, with Ellis being the worst and downplaying the X-Men's effectiveness. Captain Ezra disagrees, while Scurvy confirms he's tampering with the X-Men's emotions. Importantly he can't do that and control the Trustees, implying that he was speaking through the Blob and Siryn last issue.

The fight between the two teams of X-Men and Graymalkin's forces takes up quite a lot of the issue. It's well executed with cross-team bonding moments and shows how well they can work together.

Ransom redeems himself a bit after starting this fight by stepping in after Temper is knocked down. There seems to be some chemistry there, which is cute, and also shows that Rogue's team isn't following her lead unthinkingly. It's a good character beat and a reasonable side effect of her poor leadership. The joint X-teams take out the trustees and Wolfpack easily, allowing conversation to resume.

I will say that Marvel has a habit of pairing dark skinned characters romantically, enough to give a slight creepy miscegenation vibe to me. That's probably its own post though, after my white ass does a lot of research.

The argument continues in the command centre, with nobody having changed their mind. Scurvy especially has a defeatist attitude, so Ellis slaps the shit out of him and lets him off the leash. It's revealed he claims to be the equal of Xavier telepathically, with Chuck conceding that he's a concern in the Infinity Comics, but what we've seen in this event has been pretty weak (except for controlling multiple people.) His offensive utility has been underwhelming.

Kurt and Psylocke agree that they shouldn't free Omega Red. Presumably they didn't read X-Force where he'd made a lot of progress reforming and responded well to not being manipulated or controlled. Kinda like Wolverine. I hope that's not undone.

The two X-Men teams are bonding even further, calling back to the old days. They reach a tentative agreement to collaborate, but then the sticking point from Uncanny #7 resurfaces. Ignoring Scott's valid question of whether freeing Charles is a good idea, Rogue insists they free him with no explanation.

Scott doesn't just disagree, he meets Rogue's absolute stance and refuses to allow it. They've both flipped to the opposite of their original positions. Scott wanted to break the prison and Rogue just wanted her people back. This is explicitly the leaders butting heads and Rogue escalates into accusation and chest poking.

Scott keeps his cool and explains his position, removing Rogue's finger from his chest. He makes an excellent point though it could be explained better. The guts of the argument is present, but he doesn't mention the many examples of Charles' oversized influence. He shouldn't really need to, though, and the closeups we get of Logan, Gambit, Magik, Temper and Juggernaut implies they at least think he has a point if not outright agree.

This is an ideological difference between the two, as promised, but it doesn't look like Rogue is coming from a place of reason. She doesn't respond to his argument or show any empathy for his uniquely informed position. Scott knows better than anyone what Xavier is like, having been his child soldier since he was 15. Rogue should absolutely know he has a point, too, but she's not interested in hearing it. Rogue delivers a violent ultimatum and Scott pushes back, standing his ground by putting his body in between her and Charles. It's disappointing in the sense that it's a bad outcome, but it's consistent with Rogue's cowboy characterisation so far. She knows best and isn't interested in talking about it. We don't actually know if Scurvy is still affecting them, as he's not controlling the trustees anymore.

Then this clown shows up, interrupting the argument. Scurvy makes a badass boast, though it's not quite clear what he's actually doing beyond 'psychic attack.' Nobody attempts to use Red Triangle protocol but maybe it doesn't work that way. It's implied he's a telekinetic as well, though his reason for believing in this 'dream' isn't fleshed out just yet. Working with Ellis I'd assume would be against his interests, and a new psychic rivalling Chuck should be significant. Maybe he's a product of 3K. My question is - if he can do this, why bother with weak emotional tweaks? He seemed reluctant to enact White Light Protocol but we don't know why.

Famously, The Juggernaut has impeccable psychic defences while wearing the helmet, so he tries to get the door open thinking they need Charles to take this guy down. I wonder if Quentin would be able to thrash him? Probably, though he was taken out last issue.

Surprisingly, Charles Xavier casually strolls up flanked by Kurt and Psylocke. Interestingly their faces are pointedly covered by hair, so I'm not sure this can be taken at face value. Chuck reveals he's not Inmate X and does a heavy handed title drop for the reboot line.

The issue ends there on another cliffhanger with Raid on Graymalkin to be concluded in Uncanny X-Men issue #8. X-Men #9 was solid, a slight step down from #8 but with the inherited responsibility to follow Uncanny #7's chaotic plotting and sluggish momentum. I give it a pass for that, though it would have been nice to continue the Rogue/Cyclops discourse in a linear fashion. That wasn't possible without leaving out crucial information and development so I give it a pass on that. Importantly, the promised ideological divide was actually developed. It felt like a genuine disagreement the two might have, and I loved the atypical layout that gave us the team members' reactions to Scott's reasoning. That's important as these people all have extensive experience with Charles Xavier and a stake in the outcome. Rogue came across as unreasonable and impetuous as she's been characterised this era. While I don't think it's a good look for her, I can appreciate the consistency. If this is where Rogue is at right now there's plenty of conflict and drama to be had there.

Part of the problem with this event's tension is rampant editorialising. We more or less know how this ends so the execution needs to be excellent. Mackay and Stegman have done their part really well, though I'll be reserving my judgement on the promise that needs paying off - the Rogue Cyclops Schism - for when Uncanny finishes the event. If that is actually Xavier I'd expect him to dominate the narrative but I expect he'll choose to stay as @mkpersephone theorised. That will be a problem for selling the ideological divide believably, but it's on Simone to land that plane. My one complaint about missing story beats is Scott's team being acutely aware of the consequences for the Raid. I think a reminder would have been helpful, preferably said to Rogue's face.

Looky look, a blanked out data page! How very Krakoan of them :). Who's your guess for Inmate X? Shaw? Legion? Colossus? Omega Red? xZibit? Exodus? Angus MacWhirter? Briar Raleigh? I've got no idea. Exceptional X-Men #4 review coming soon! ❤️

#x comics #x men #raid on graymalkin #charles xavier #cyclops #rogue #corina ellis #Scurvy #juggernaut #wolverine #gambit #nightcrawler #psylocke #marvel #comics

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autumnmobile12 · 7 months ago

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My Hero Academia: Ambush Simulation AU

The remaining Vanguard members minutes before Final War.

Spinner: So what's the plan? We all put our hands together in the center for one last cliché or are we running out of the warp gate screaming like mad Vikings?

Dabi: I'll run out screaming.

Shimura: Hey, if you wanna blow out your vocal chords for the third time this month, far be it from us to stop you. By the way, if I don't make it back, I promised Eri my dog.

Toga: We're totally coming back alive.

Mr. Compress: Are we shouting a battle cry in our Old Norse impressions or are we incoherent? Classic 'Charge!' perhaps?

Shimura: I was thinking 'Fuck 'im up!' is brutally concise and gets the point across. I know it's a little crass, but we're vigilantes, not heroes. We have some liberties.

Spinner: Totally shoulda brought war paint.

Mr. Compress: *tipping his hat* It's been an honor, Vanguard.

Toga: For Mag and Jin!

Spinner: No funerals today, people. We want the hospital, then home.

Dabi: Survive if we can, take them with us if we can't. See you on the other side, morons.

Shimura: *visibly tearing up* I just wanna thank all of you for being the best and worst people I've ever met. Battle stations?

All: Battle stations!

...

Shouto: *hearing the shouting* They're having fun over there.

Deku: Well, I'm not surprised. These are the same people who were invited to crash a high school summer camp and then they did it because they thought it was hilarious.

...

I'm picturing the vibe of a rowdy wolfpack of pissed off vigilantes charging out of the warp gate.

And then Kirishima all:

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 1 year ago

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Hello. It's Talita from Ao3 here, I said I would come. 🤭😂 So I'd like to request Hunter x shy fem reader with the last smutty prompt: ❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜ Maybe the reader's inexperience might come to the surface when they're all in 79s and a drunken Crosshair suggests she get someone to f*c*? But reader waits for the right partner. ♥️

Hey Talita! Thanks for the request and all the love you’ve been sharing 🥰

Shy readers seem to be the flavour of the moment, as I just went out with one for Crosshair!

This one ran away with me. It’s my longest to date. Hope it's okay 😊

Waiting for You

A night out at 79’s leads to a revelation that surprises the whole batch, and with feelings becoming increasingly more difficult to hide, it was only a matter of time before you and Hunter reached a crossroads. (Pre Echo)

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 6.8k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: friends to lovers (🤌), Cross is a shit stirrer (what else is new?), alcohol consumption (but both parties are sober for spicy time), sibling teasing/banter, sweet sweet tension and yearning, sexually shy!reader, virgin!reader, first kiss, first time together, oral (f!receiving), light fingering, unprotected PiV, reassurance and comfort, pet names, praise, sprinkle of dirty talk, soft aftercare.

Translation: (Mando'a) Gar ru'lis ganar kaysh. – You could have her.

The thump of the music wasn’t so heavy, tucked away in a back booth of 79’s. It wasn’t often you visited, preferring to frequent other bars and clubs whenever you and the boys had shore leave - there were perks to them not looking like Regs. However, 79’s was close to where you were all staying and cheap enough that the few credits you’d all managed to save would go much further than they would anywhere else.

Wedged between Wrecker and Hunter, with Tech and Crosshair taking up the seats on the opposite side of the booth, you watched as Wrecker pried a well-worn card from the pile in the middle of the table. During your last Venator stop, you’d made a few trades with some of the Regs and had walked away with a small pile of loot, including a set of ‘drink or do’ cards. They were common amongst the clones during downtime, providing distraction and intoxication.

Wrecker flipped the card over, huffing as his eyes skipped over the text. “Let the group message anyone on ya datapad or take two shots.” He read the card aloud.

Crosshair’s hand immediately extended for the datapad, fingers curling in a ‘give it here’ gesture. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and you laughed as Wrecker huffed, handing over his device to his younger brother.

“You are aware this is a group effort, yes?” Tech asked, leaning in towards his twin to look at the screen. Out of all of you, Tech had elected to stay sober, hating the way his mind went fuzzy with the effects of alcohol. One of you needed to ensure you all returned to the hotel in one piece.

The deadpan look Crosshair gave him pulled a giggle from you. You were several drinks deep by now – some of the cards you’d drawn had been wholly inappropriate, so shots had been the only option. Everything felt good, your inhibitions lowered, and you knew you were safe. Your men would look after you.

A year you’d been with them, traversing the galaxy, trying desperately to keep them alive. Nat-born medics were a rarity in the GAR, but sometimes they were called in. You’d been head-hunted from Coruscant Medical after the Batch had been out in the field for a few months –they hadn’t gotten on well with the Reg medics initially assigned to them.

“Please pick Fox.” You insisted, leaning a little across the table. Gasping, you had a new idea. “Wait, no! Wolffe.” You leaned back with a wide grin, enjoying Wrecker’s groan. Knowing Crosshair, the message would be salacious, and you knew a few of the men in the Wolfpack who would absolutely fill you in on their Commander’s reaction in the morning.

Crosshair lifted a finger, pointing it at you. “I like the way you think, doll.” He complimented. Only when he was several drinks in did his tongue loosen and compliments flow more freely.

“That’s why you keep me around.” You tease, watching as the sharpshooter taps out a quick message. A gentle hand on your knee has you turning your attention to Hunter, your smile widening at his touch and how he pushes a glass of water closer to you, encouraging you to hydrate properly to stave off a hangover in the morning. Warmth seeps through you at his care, and you’re grateful for the cacophony of sounds and stimuli in 79’s that mask the way your heart rate spikes a little.

Although Hunter indulged a little this evening, he knew his limits. He’d been nursing a Tsiraki for most of the night. If he wasn’t careful, it didn’t take much to frazzle his senses and cause a two-day migraine. Keeping his wits about him also meant he could look after you.

Nestled between Wrecker and himself, the laugh lines on your face and the glint in your eyes told Hunter that you cherished these moments despite the chaotic nature of their lives. He appreciated how you fit into their world, understanding their quirks and unspoken communication. You navigated the challenges of their unique existence with a grace that fascinated him. To him, you weren’t just their medic; you were their companion, their confidant, a source of solace in a gritty galaxy.

Hunter’s gaze lingered on you as Crosshair added the final touches to the message. The playful banter and easy camaraderie were the moments he adored the most. Yet, beneath it all, there was a yearning, a quiet ache that he couldn’t quite put into words.

He saw the weariness that sometimes lingered in your eyes – chased away this evening by liquor and laughter – and wished he could erase the shadows that sometimes clouded your gaze. It fuelled his desire to protect and shield you from the harsh realities that had become their norm.

Taking a sip of his Tsiraki, Hunter let his gaze linger on the curve of your profile. The way your hair fell, and your fingers traced absentminded patterns on the table while you chatted with his brothers stirred something within him. Something that he wanted to grab with both hands and hold close.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the moment you turned to him, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that sent a shiver down his spine. “What do you think?” You asked. “Suitable enough?”

Hunter blinks once, twice, and then nods. “Sure, sounds good.” He answers, having no idea what you’d been asking about. As you turned back to face the others at the table, Hunter caught the knowing look Tech sent him. Try as he might to hide that ache in his chest, his brother was too smart to miss it.

“Ya can’t send that!” Wrecker protests, mild panic in his eyes as Crosshair, eternal torturer of his siblings, grins at his brother as he pushes the send button. “Ahh, I don’t wanna know if he responds.” Wrecker shakes his head, though a smile also tugs at the corners of his lips. He turns his head towards you. “You’re next.”

Reaching for the stack of cards in the middle of the table, you pry the top one free and pull it towards you. You scan over the instructions, grimacing. “Name five different places you’ve had sex or take three shots.” You read it aloud, tossing the card down onto the table.

Beside you, you feel Hunter shift, Wrecker and Crosshair break into laughter, and Tech offers you a sympathetic smile. With a resigned sigh, you reach for your glass. But before you can grasp it, it’s snatched away from you.

“Cross!” You gasp, jaw slackening as you watch mischief dance in the sniper’s hawkish eyes.

“You’ve skipped out on nearly every ‘do’ task tonight. But you’re not skipping this one.” Crosshair insists, dragging your drink away so you can’t take it back. His motives were two-fold. One, he was nosey. And two, he wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the way Hunter had been looking at you for months now, and watching his older brother squirm as you shared your sex life would be fantastic.

With a huff, you cross your arms over your chest, resting your elbows on the table. “Is your sex life so bland you have to live vicariously through mine?” You tease, arching an eyebrow. Boisterous laughter erupts at the table, and you can’t help but giggle along.

Crosshair scowls. “Please. I could have any woman in this place.” He snorts, leaning in and lifting a hand with his five fingers up. “Five places. I’ll count them off for you.” He challenges.

“Nu-uh.” You refute, unfurling an arm to wag a finger at him.

“Only kriff in a bed then. How boring.” He can’t help but bite back, turning the tide onto you.

Rolling your eyes, you huff, used to this song and dance with him. “No.”

“Out with it, then.” He pushes.

Worry curls through you. You trusted these men with your life, knew that their teasing was all light-hearted and they’d never genuinely mock you, but some things were private. “Cross…” You mumble, fingers finding the neckline of your shirt to play with the fabric nervously.

“Pretty little thing like you probably has many stories to tell!” Wrecker laughs, giving your shoulder a light nudge.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to make up some stories on the spot, ones you can quickly sell, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

Curiosity painted itself on Tech’s face – he’d spent long enough studying your body language to aid him in understanding nat-born social cues, to pick up on the subtleties. “You do not have any stories.” He states, with no judgement in his tone.

The certainty of Tech’s comment captures Hunter’s attention, and he tilts his head in your direction, brown eyes taking in the nervousness and mild panic that’s now on your face.

“Don’t tell me you’re a kriffing virgin…” Crosshair is equal parts horrified and amused. There was no way in hell you – you – hadn’t been with anyone.

Embarrassment seeps through you, and you drop your gaze to the table, fingers going back to trace the patterns of the wooden surface.

Crosshair couldn’t believe it; this was wilder than any other confession they had shared during the night. “You’re kidding me…even Tech’s been laid a handful of times, and you haven’t?”

Tech sighs at his twin’s barb, though he’s used to them by now and doesn’t take it to heart.

At your silence, the boys share a glance, trying to hide their surprise at the situation.

Mulling it over, Crosshair looks around the bar. “Plenty of pickings in here. Then again…Regs.” He sneers.

“I don’t want a random hookup. I want the right one.” You admit quietly, shyness taking a front-row seat.

Crosshair baulks. “Oh, hell. You want romance and love.” The idea horrifies him even more. He goes to speak again, but Hunter interjects.

“Crosshair…” Hunter warns, voice low. He’d picked up on your discomfort and wanted to end it.

A smirk tilts Crosshair’s lips at the reprimand. He’d opted not to say anything or show his hand in the past, keeping his knowledge about Hunter’s affection for you quiet. “Gar ru'lis ganar kaysh.” He teases with a toothy grin, unleashing that hand.

Tech and Wrecker can’t hide their snorts of laughter at his words. Hunter’s lips press together, and he huffs, reaching for a card to bring the focus back to the game and off you. Crosshair’s dark chuckle seeps into the air, delighted at getting a small rise from his older brother.

The Mando’a catches you off guard – you didn’t know enough to understand what had been said, but the laughter and Hunter’s reaction had you frowning. The boys had only taught you the odd word or two as they didn’t use it as much anymore. As Hunter pries his card from the pile and flips it over, he places his hand back on your knee under the table, reassuringly squeezing it. Reaching down, you give his wrist a light squeeze, appreciating that he’d taken the heat off you. His hand stays in place as he reads the card aloud, and the game continues.

Your shore leave had been a welcome reprieve, especially as six back-to-back missions had followed it. You’d wrapped up the latest hours ago, and the Senator you’d helped had been exceptionally grateful for the assistance. He’d offered for you all to stay on the planet for a little while to rest in one of his many hotels. A quick comm to Command had seen it okayed for two days, so here you were, hanging out on the balcony of Hunter’s suite.

You’d accidentally discovered that you had connecting rooms, having knocked on a random door in your suite and been amused to find Hunter on the other side when it had opened. He’d immediately invited you in, and you’d headed for the balcony to watch the city go by while he finished the last report. Crosshair and Wrecker had gone off searching for food, while Tech had decided to tinker with his latest project.

Leaning against the railing, laughter from down below captures your attention. Eyes falling to where the sound was coming from, you watch a couple embrace on the side of the street, sharing lingering kisses. From your vantage point, you can make out their broad smiles.

An ache settles in your chest, that old pesky feeling of yearning tugging at you. Unconsciously, you tug your cardigan around you a little tighter – whether to keep out the chill in the wind or offer some comfort, you don’t know.

In the suite, and with the reports finished, Hunter pauses at the doorway, unable to pry his eyes off you. Something about how you’re standing, the expression on your beautiful face, makes unease sink into his gut. He wants to chase away whatever is making you look so sad.

It was becoming harder and harder for him to ignore his feelings, to tamper them down, especially as he knew his brothers were all aware. How long would it be before you picked up on it, too? That blasted night at 79’s kept replaying in his mind, his fingers itching to reach for you at every opportunity and to make a move before someone else snapped you up and took you from him. Hunter knows he doesn’t have much he can give you and can’t promise a safe or long life together – anything can happen in a war – but he knows he can provide you with romance. He knows he can make you the centre of his galaxy, and you’ll never have to question his devotion.

But would you want that from him, though? It was the one thought that stopped him.

Realising he’d been watching for a while, Hunter joins you on the balcony, moving to your side. You don’t startle; you’re used to him and his brothers silently approaching by now. He follows your focused gaze, watching a couple on the street share kisses before flagging down a taxi. “They look happy.” He comments quietly, wondering if that was the cause of your sadness.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement, wondering for a moment longer what it would be like to be so carefree and in love. Before falling too far down the ash-rabbit hole, you focus on the man at your side. “Plans for the evening?” You ask, changing the subject while hoping to lighten your mood.

Not wanting to push, Hunter lets it go and instead lifts a hand to count off each element of his plan on his fingers. “Room service, a holodrama, and sleep.”

“Okay there, Grandpa.” You tease, the wind whipping around you a little more as you break out into a smile.

Hunter’s pretty sure your smile could end this war if you turned it on the right people. With a fond shake of his head, he chuckles. Unable to help himself just this once, he reaches out and gently tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

The action makes you pause, smile faltering, lips parting slightly in surprise. For a moment, you look at one another, the air seeming to crackle with something. Hunter had always been soft with you, but he’d been even more attentive since the night at 79’s.

“Join me?” He asks, not willing to let you go just yet.

“Sure.” You reply with a soft smile, not even needing a moment to think about it, and Hunter leads the way back into the suite. The balcony door closes behind you, muffling the sounds of the bustling city outside.

You settle onto the couch and Hunter orders room service. As you wait for the food to arrive, you fall into easy conversation, discussing missions, the state of the galaxy, and anything else that comes to mind.

The food doesn’t take long to arrive, the aroma filling the room, and you both enjoy a quiet dinner. Between you, you select a holodrama that turns out to be surprisingly entertaining. But as it progresses, you find yourself drawn to Hunter’s presence. His arm casually rests against the back of the couch, not quite touching you but close enough to send a shiver down your spine. A fluttery feeling erupts in your belly as your brain helpfully supplies that this kind of thing always happens in the trashy romance novels that clog up your datapad.

Nearing the end of the holodrama, a feather-light touch brushes against the nape of your neck and you instinctively lean into it. Hunter’s fingers trace gentle circles, and you feel a warmth spreading through you. Glancing towards him, you find his gaze fixed on you.

“Sorry.” He murmurs, withdrawing his hand slightly.

“No, it’s... nice.” You respond, surprising yourself with the admission. Hunter’s hand returns and the soft touch continues.

Hunter is at war with himself – if there was ever a time to make a move, it would be now. His senses are on overdrive, homed in on you, picking up every errant breath you take, the heavy thud of your heart, and your soft swallows.

The weight of the moment sits, the holodrama becoming background noise as you witness the conflict in Hunter’s gaze. It doesn’t last long, though, and the subtle touch on your neck becomes bolder, his hand shifting around to cup your cheek as his thumb brushes against your lower lip.

Inexperience makes you nervous, heart thumping wildly. You go to dip your head to break the eye contact, but Hunter’s pointer finger hooks under your chin to stop the movement.

He leans in slowly, closing the distance between you, giving you time to pull away if you’re uncomfortable. But you don’t. You remain still, those pretty eyes of yours focused on him even as your heart rate spikes and your breaths turn a little shallower with anticipation. “Cyar’ika…” He murmurs, a hair’s breadth away from you, gaze dropping momentarily to your lips.

The flood of feelings instead of you is overwhelming - excitement and nervousness, worry and anticipation. It’s hard to single each one out. You’d been telling the truth in 79’s - you were indeed waiting for the right man - but you’d omitted that you were sure it was the man now sat at your side, letting you decide whether to push your friendship into something more.

You lean in ever so slightly, and finally, his lips brush against yours in a tentative, exploratory kiss. It’s soft and sweet, testing the waters. Your eyes flutter closed, savouring the warmth that spreads through you.

The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate, and you respond eagerly. The taste of him, the feel of his hand on your cheek, it’s much more than you expected.

Hunter’s other hand moves between you and the couch, resting on the small of your back, pulling you closer. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers intertwining with the fabric of his shirt as he draws you onto his lap.

Breaking the kiss, Hunter pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he finds his desire mirrored. “You okay?” He double-checks quietly, his breath mingling with yours.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “More than okay.”

Hunter grins, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Good.” He whispers before capturing your lips in another kiss, the intensity growing between you. The holodrama plays on, completely forgotten, as you lose yourselves in the moment.

The touch of his lips and the warmth of his embrace all feel right. Hunter’s hands explore your back, and you feel the gentle press of his fingers as they slide under your shirt, sending shivers down your spine. Eventually, you both pull back, foreheads resting against each other as you catch your breath. The air is charged with electric energy, and the room feels warm.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Hunter admits, his voice a low, smoky murmur, but conflict shines in his eyes. “I can’t give you the things any other man could. There’s no guarantee of tomorrow. I know it’s not right an-“

You meet his gaze, feeling warmth in your cheeks. “It is right.” You cut him off softly, breaking eye contact, focusing instead on the slight hollow of his throat as nervousness sweeps through you. “This... with you, it feels right.” You confess quietly.

Delight simmers in Hunter’s veins, and his fingers trace patterns on your back. He still feels guilty, but if this is what you want, and you’re sure it’s right, then who is he to protest? Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he smiles. “Then I’ll do everything I can to ensure you always feel that way.”

Your fingers find his chest, the buttery softness of his shirt doing nothing to conceal the firm muscles beneath it. A slight hum of contentment slides from him as you brush your fingers up and down his sternum. The nerves are back, your eyes flitting up to gaze at him, noting how his own are closed and contentment is painted across his face.

On your next stroke down, your fingers dip slightly lower, catching the first few ridges of his abs. A deep rumble vibrates his chest, giving you courage. Head tilting down to watch your actions, your heart pounds as your fingers skirt close to the hem of his shirt – and the waistband of his pants. A tattooed hand wraps around your wrist, stilling your motions, and you look up from under your lashes.

Meeting your gaze, Hunter’s thumb rubs small circles on your pulse point. “Feels good, cyar’ika. But there’s no rush.”

“I know, but…” You trail off for a moment, averting your gaze. “I want this. I want you.” You confess quietly, feeling warmth return to your cheeks as you chance a glance at him. “I’m tired of waiting, and I-I want you to be my first…”

Hunter was a good man, a strong man, but hell if he didn’t crumble at your confession. His fingers find your face, tilting your head upwards so he can look at you properly. He was touched by your admittance but didn’t want you to regret anything. “Promise me?” He asks gently, knowing how much value you placed on promises.

Meeting warm brown eyes, you couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed your lips. You were nervous, yes, but this felt right. “I promise.”

Leaning in, Hunter’s lips capture yours in a heated kiss. His hands shift, moving to cup your ass, and he lifts you up as he stands. The small noise of surprise you let out and how you grasp at him for stability draws a deep chuckle from him, though the sound is muffled by the kiss. It’s only a few steps over to the bed, and as he lowers you down gently onto the plush surface, he follows, hands smoothing across your hips as he rests a little of his weight against you.

Lips trailing from yours, he drags kisses across your cheek and down to your jawline, following the curve of your throat, giving a light nip as he reaches the juncture where your shoulder and neck meet. How your hips buck at the contact, breath catching, clues him in to how much you enjoy it. Your hands shift down Hunter’s body, and he can feel the nervousness rolling off you. Propping himself up above you with one hand, he uses the other to guide your hands towards his body, encouraging you to touch him in return. “There’s no reason to be nervous. We only do what you’re comfortable with.” He tells you, wanting to make that abundantly clear. “And we can stop anytime.”

You nod, chest rising and falling with each quick breath as your hands meet Hunter’s body. Encouraged, you explore the ridges and planes of him, fingers smoothing over him before gripping his narrow waist. His mouth is back on you, dragging across your throat, pulling soft noises from your lips as you familiarise yourself with the man above you. As your hands shift, a flash of courage rips through you, and you reach down, one hand landing squarely on his ass, giving the firm muscle a soft squeeze.

Hunter startles, not expecting the action, and warm puffs of his breath fan across your neck as he chuckles. “Cheeky.” He murmurs against your skin, the vibration of his laughter sending pleasant shivers down your spine. The atmosphere in the room is charged with a mix of desire and nervous excitement as you continue to explore each other.

Hands pull at clothes, material discarded, fluttering to the hotel room floor as acres of skin are revealed. You’re warm to the touch, the earlier chill from the balcony chased away by Hunter’s hands. Self-consciousness creeps through you as your underwear is cast aside, thighs pressing together to try and hide yourself.

“Cyar’ika…” Hunter tuts, strong hands moving down your body until he can rub and squeeze at your thighs. “Don’t hide from me. Wanna see all of you.” He murmurs, kisses trailing down your body. Tongue gliding across your breasts, he draws a nipple into his mouth, the corners of his lips curling upward as you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Pleasure rolls through you as you tug gently at Hunter’s brown curls, back arching to press more of yourself against him. He’s warm against you, bronze skin and dark ink pressed as close as possible, and it’s difficult to ignore the weight of his half-hard cock against your thigh.

Switching his focus to your other nipple, Hunter lavishes it with the same attention before he starts to creep back down your body. “Wanna taste you.” He breathes against your stomach, lips drawing across soft skin, fingers teasing your thighs. “Make you feel good.” He adds, pausing to glance up the length of you, finding your eyes focused on him. He can see your trepidation but also your burning curiosity and desire. “No one’s done that for you, have they?” He asks with no judgement.

Embarrassment burns through you, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you shake your head.

Hunter’s heart aches. How had no one loved on you before? Their loss was his gain, he supposed. “That’s okay.” He reassures you, pressing a kiss to the juncture where your thigh and hip meet. “Only if you want.” The reminder is gentle, fingers skirting back up your body to not put pressure on your decision.

You know you could say no, and that would be the end of it, but you’d seen many women enjoying it on the holonet, and they certainly seemed to like it in the novels you vicariously consumed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try. “Please.” You push out the word, embarrassment still sitting in your chest, though it evaporates when you meet Hunter’s hungry gaze.

He hadn’t been expecting your agreement, content to work you up in other ways, but that soft little plea from your lips sent fire through his veins. Hands finding your thighs once more, Hunter slowly pushes them apart. “A little wider, baby.” He encourages, a deep groan vibrating in his chest as you follow his order, and he shifts to lay between your thighs, greeted with the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen. Dropping soft kisses to your inner thigh, his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Eyes flitting up to gauge how you’re faring, his cock twitches where it’s trapped between his body and the mattress as he catches you watching him. Holding your gaze, he leans forward, nose pressing against you as he inhales, committing the intimate scent of you to memory.

He starts slow, a gentle press of his tongue against your entrance, dragging it up through your folds until his tongue flicks over your clit. You jolt, letting out a small keening noise that he’s desperate to hear again.

Spurred on, kitten licks accompany broad, sweeping tastes, soft open-mouthed kisses dropped against heated flesh as Hunter closes his eyes and focuses on bringing you pleasure. His tongue drags across your clit again, and he grunts as your fingers, tangled in his hair, try to drag his face impossibly closer.

You’d watched for as long as you could, engraving the sight of Hunter between your thighs into your mind. Head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut, warmth coils through you. Letting out low whimpers and quiet gasps, your hips rock, chasing the pleasure he’s so beautifully giving you. Now you understood the fuss, why all those women on the holonet and in the novels adored this.

Lips wrap around your clit, and your grip on Hunter’s hair tightens as the pleasure curling through your body climbs, the light suction and the rapid flick of his tongue across the sensitive bud pushing you ever closer to the edge. The warm wetness of his mouth was better than anything you’d ever been able to achieve with your fingers.

“Hunter.” You moan out his name, enjoying the groan he lets out in response. One of his hands slides up the bed, fingers interlacing with those on your free hand as he doubles-down his efforts.

Most of the time, Hunter considers his heightened senses a curse rather than a blessing, but right now, with the scent of you in his lungs, the taste of you on his tongue, and his name falling from your lips like a prayer, he’s never been more grateful for them. Tuning into your body, to every thud of your heart, every sharp inhale, and the little whines you let out, he uses them to guide him until you’re close, teetering on the edge.

Two fingers enter the mix, pressing against your entrance, slipping in with ease as Hunter laves kisses and licks across your folds. His lips find your clit again, applying light suction as he crooks his fingers right against that sweet little spot.

Caught off guard, you come with a cry, the noise echoing in the room as the pleasure that had been building crashes into you. Thigh’s quivering, tiny trembles coast through your body as you pant through the high, body going pliant as your release works out of your system.

Enraptured, the pride Hunter feels is undeniable as he pries his fingers from your pussy, sliding them into his mouth to clean them off and savour the taste of you even more.

Staring up at the ceiling as you drag your breathing under control, a small snort of laughter escapes you. “Oh, stars, you can do that again whenever you want.” You vow quietly, enjoying Hunter’s chuckle as he shifts back over you, capturing your lips for a deep kiss, the tang of you lingering in his mouth.

As Hunter pulls back, he rests on his knees between your thighs, soaking up the sight of you naked. He still can’t believe this is happening, that you’d chosen him.

Your gaze travels over his body – broad shoulders, firm chest, defined abs. He was gorgeous enough to be a carved statue in a fancy Naboo garden. Eyes roaming lower, you swallow at the sight of his cock. Hard and flushed, it twitches with his heartbeat, girthier than you’d expected.

“It’ll fit.” Hunter can’t resist teasing, tattooed hand shifting down so he can give himself a few lazy strokes. The way you watch the movement gives him ideas for the future. “Still want this, love?” He checks in.

Your earlier nervousness is still there, but it’s smothered by anticipation. Eyes flitting up, you meet Hunter’s gaze, parting your thighs just that little bit more.

Delight flares in Hunter’s eyes, and he moves to rest back over you, one hand supporting his weight as the other stays wrapped around his dick. Holding your gaze, he drags the velvety head between your slick folds, enjoying the way your breath stutters as he brushes against your clit.

“I’ve got you, princess.” He coos, lining up before pressing forward. “Doing so well.” Hunter praises, focused on your face and your body’s reaction as he bottoms out, hips flush to yours.

The sensation is unlike anything you’d experienced before. The stretch burns slightly but gives way quickly to pleasure as he feeds the last inch of his cock into your heat. Love and adoration weave through you, that earlier sense of rightness rearing its head as you squirm a little beneath him.

Hunter’s now free hand drops to your hip, grip firm as he holds you still. “Just…give me a second.” He murmurs, voice strained as his eyes close. “Been dreaming about this for a long time, and if I don’t take a few breaths here, I’m gonna kriffing embarrass myself.”

The revelation that he’s dreamt of this moment makes you involuntarily clench around him.

“Not helping…” He growls quietly, words lacking any bite. You feel like heaven, like everything he’s ever wanted and desired.

Mirth dances in your eyes as you lift a hand to trace along his inked jawline, still unable to comprehend that he wants you and that he’s buried inside you, the two of you connected in the most intimate of ways.

Dark eyes snap open at the contact, and Hunter takes you in, soaks in the sight of you sprawled underneath him, hair fanned on the pillow, lips plush from kisses and eyes still a little hazy from your orgasm. “Kriff, baby. I love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. They don’t get to have you, but I do.” He rasps, letting the last fragments of his feelings for you eke out of the box he’d kept them locked away in for far too long. “Feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He groans.

Hand leaving your hip, Hunter tilts your head back up as he sees it start to dip down. “Don’t go getting shy on me now.” He whispers. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.” He slowly draws his hips back, watching as your lips part and the sweetest sound slides from between them as he pushes himself back inside. Hunter takes his time, building up the pace, focusing on every noise you make, every shift of your body, every flutter of your heart.

With every roll of Hunter’s hips, that earlier pleasure starts to build again. Hands grasp at his sweat-dampened shoulders, providing leverage as you move with him, the harsh sounds of your breaths filling the room alongside the noise of your bodies meeting. The air feels hot, matching the heat inside you as Hunter’s lips crash against yours, devouring you. A whine escapes you as his tongue presses forward, tasting you. It’s unrefined and needy, his usual self-control long thrown out of the hotel room window.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it. You can give me one more. I know you can.” Hunter whispers against your lips, pulling back just enough to slide his free hand between your bodies, thrusts never faltering. Dragging his lips across your jaw, he peppers kisses down your throat as his fingers circle over your clit once, twice, and on the third round, he nips at your throat.

The building pleasure slams into you, tipping over into ecstasy as you cry out his name, back arching, and body clenching around him as the high washes through you. Panting for breath, nails digging into Hunter’s shoulders, you coast through the feeling, small shakes rocking your body as Hunter’s hips snap against yours a little roughly.

The way you’d tightened around him, the sound of you crying out his name in the throes of pleasure, it was all too much for Hunter. “Kriff, cyar’ika. Where?” He asks between ragged breaths, thrusts sloppy as he closes in on his own climax.

It’s probably a stupid idea and could go very wrong, but it’s the first one that comes to mind. And you’re desperate to experience it. “In me. Come in me. Please.” You insist.

Hunter crumbles for the second time this evening, unable to deny you anything, consequences be damned. A few more rough thrusts and he’s growling out your name, pressing himself into you as deep as he can get, lips finding yours for a passionate kiss as he finds his own release, cock twitching as he fills you.

His hips slow to a stop, and your kiss turns softer and more reverent as the haze of lust dissipates. Hands stroke across each other’s bodies reverently, lips parting as Hunter mouthes down your throat to the spot he’d nipped earlier, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin. He sucks lightly, just to leave the slightest mark, so faint that unless someone was standing right beside you, they wouldn’t see it.

Contentment curls through you, hand brushing Hunter’s hair, fingers snagging on his bandana. Feeling cheeky, you pry it off, wrapping it around your wrist, enjoying how his eyes darken.

“Playin’ with fire again, cyar’ika.” Hunter murmurs, lips moving up to ghost across the shell of your ear.

A smile paints itself on your lips. “If that was me getting burned, then tie me to a stake and call me a Nightsister.”

Hunter’s whole body shakes with his laughter, amusement shining in his pretty brown eyes. “Oh, one day I’ll tie you to something, don’t worry about that.” He vows.

A thrill shoots through you, your own laughter joining his. As it fizzles out and the room falls silent, you’re left staring into each other’s eyes.

“How’d you feel?” Hunter asks, slowly shifting you both down onto your sides. The movement has him slipping from you, and you wince a little. Hunter’s arms loop around you, drawing you close.

“Loved.” You answer honestly.

“Good.” Hunter smooths a hand across your hair, pushing it back from your face. He captures your lips for another soft kiss. “Because you are.” He shares as the kiss breaks.

Warmth sweeps across your cheeks again. He was getting too good at pulling this reaction from you. “As are you.” You reply, wanting to ensure he understands how much you care for him in return.

Hunter’s smile is blinding as he draws you closer, suffocating the space between you, tucking you safely under his chin. Burying his nose in your hair, he inhales deeply, picking up on your combined scent.

As the night draws on, the two of you lay entwined, finding comfort in the shared warmth of your bodies. The soft glow of the cityscape filters through the window, casting a gentle illumination in the room as you share quiet conversations.

As sleep begins to claim you both, you whisper a quiet promise into the stillness of the night. “No matter where the stars take us, I want to be with you.”

Hunter holds you a little tighter, kissing your forehead in silent agreement. Together, you drift into dreams, wrapped in the warmth of love and the certainty that, no matter what challenges awaited, you would face them together.

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tbbs-best-hair · 18 days ago

Note

ever met wolffe and the wolffe pack? thoughts on them?

Wolffe and the Wolfpack? Yeah, I’ve crossed paths with them a couple of times. Commander Wolffe’s got a reputation for being tough as durasteel—and it’s well-earned. @cybernetic-side-eye is a no-nonsense kind of leader who keeps his squad sharp and focused, even in the middle of the chaos.

The Wolfpack operates like a well-oiled machine. They’re tight-knit and reliable, and they’ve pulled off some impressive missions under Wolffe’s command.

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ireadwithmyears · 9 months ago

Text

a flight risk with a fear of falling

pairing: commander Wolffe / fem reader

|Visually impaired reader masterlist

Word count: two.4K

Tags/warnings: mostly fluff and hurt/comfort, but suggestive at times. Sketchy fair rides, fear of falling summary: you and Wolffe attend a local fair. You have a great time, all goes well, until you’re stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel and are pretty convinced that you’re about to fall and die. Notes: reader is implied to be visually impaired here. However, of course, that does not mean you won’t enjoy if you’re not. This was just based off of a real life experience I had, and I couldn’t imagine writing it and the fear I felt without blindness being incorporated into it. Title is based off of the lyrics of mine by Taylor Swift.

You aren’t afraid of heights.

And really, you think, it would be silly for you to be, considering how little vision you have to look down at the world as it whizzes beneath you as you fly by.

You and Wolffe had eagerly scrambled to get on the roller coasters with the highest peaks with barely a second thought, been on the drop zone more than once in a row, and the whole time, you had only been screaming with delight and adrenaline fuelled anticipation, your commander only rolling his eyes fondly, unable to conceal the upward curve of his lips or the crinkle of amusement between his eyes as they gleam, bearing witness to your unbridled display of excitement with quiet satisfaction.

“As much as I love watching you becoming a little speed demon, meshla,” he says lowly, tucking you beneath his arm as you stumble, slightly woozy and breathless after your most recent ride, “maybe we should take a break from these.”

He indicates the line of brightly coloured roller coasters that stretch in front of you, loud Carnival Style music blaring from many of them, accompanied by the ambiance of constant shrieks as they speed above.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t love me if I threw up all over your new boots?” You ask with a pout, letting your head drop against his chest with a sigh.

“That’s not what I said,” he chides, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “But do you really want to share a speeder with me on the way home if I smell like that?” he gives you a slight poke, and you wrinkle your nose with a shake of your head.

“Fiine,” you say with a dramatic roll of your eyes. “Boost told me that a wolf plushy is up as a prize at one of the games. We should try and win it, to show some pride for the Wolfpack, you know?.”

His lips pull into a slight smirk as he gazes down at you. “Aren’t you actually suggesting that I should waste our precious tokens on a game that is probably a scam to try and win it for you?” he huffs, folding his arms across his chest as he gives you a playful scowl with a raised eyebrow. “Because no offense, but I don’t think your skill set lies in aiming rings at bottles, meshla,” he remarks, brushing a slight kiss against the tip of your nose.

Your pout transforms into a full on grin. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant,” you confirm, completely unashamedly, with an enthusiastic nod. “You win the game, and I’ll be your personal cheerleader.”

“Hm,” Wolffe tilts his head, considering. “That would be more tempting if you were wearing the outfit,” he says, voice dropping, fingers lazily trailing down your side, idly making their path to your waist.

Your breath catches and you smack his arm playfully. “I don’t have a cheerleader outfit,” you announce, with a toss of your hair, placing a hand on your hip

You raise yourself up onto your tiptoes, leaning in and letting your own voice drop suggestively with a teasing smirk. “But, if you win the game, I’ll make sure that the night ends with my outfit scattered on the floor.”

There’s a moment of dead silence, tension crackling in the air as Wolffe’s eyes rake over your form, both hands reaching out to settle against your hips.

Then, he unexpectedly hoists you up into his arms, causing you to squeak with surprise, steadying your self by grasping at his shoulders as your eyes dance.

“Teasing little thing,” he hums, breath inches away from your ear as he speaks, making you shiver. “I’ll do it, then. But you better be prepared for us to lose all of our tokens on this, sweetheart.”

When he does actually manage to win, you’re pleasantly surprised.

Not because you had any doubt in him, of course. But because you genuinely believed that all of the fair games were scams. Wolffe is ceaseless in his determination, though, as evidenced by the very limited amount of tokens you have left. He lines up each shot with as much precision as you imagine he does on the battlefield, his natural confidence in his abilities riling up the games supervisors, as with their increasing befuddlement, they try to make it harder for him, especially, in the end, when his confidence is proven to be not unfounded in the slightest.

“Here you are, ner cyar,” he says, easy smile on his lips as he passes you the very large, gray wolf stuffed animal.

“Thank you,” you say excitedly, wrapping your arms around the plushy and jumping up to give Wolffe a chaste kiss.

Your lips pull into a smirk, holding up the stuffed animal with pride. “Looks like I’ve got a new favourite cuddle buddy, Wolffe,” you tease. “You were great, but, I think I just found your replacement,” you chuckle, and are abruptly cut off when swiftly, Wolffe reaches out, effortlessly plucking the wolf from your arms and holding him high above your head.

“Don’t even joke about that, meshla,” he warns, tauntingly dangling him just out of your reach as you desperately try to grab for him. “Uh uh,” he tsks, look of mock disapproval settling over his features as he holds the plushy above your head by his ear. “You take that back first, and I’ll give him back to you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Lucky for you, the stuffed wolf won’t be able to replace you as the big spoon. So please, can I have him back?”

“Good,” he says, smug smile on his face. Gently, he drops the stuffed animal, taking care to make sure that he lands in your arms without incident.

“We still have a few tokens,” you report, counting over the admittedly meagre supply. “We should go on the ferris wheel.”

“I hope you’re not trying to put off us going home so that I don’t get as much time to partake in the other part of the winnings you promised me,” he quips, tilting his head quizzically.

“Of course not,” you defend, holding up the last ride tokens. “I just don’t want these to go to waste. Besides, I’ve never been on one before.”

Wolffe gives you a grin, suddenly mischievous, pulling your arm through his and bending his elbow almost out of habit, so that he can guide you.

“I haven’t either,” he admits, beginning to walk. “Let’s fix that for both of us.”

You are not afraid of heights.

This, you are now reminding yourself, quite sternly as the ferris wheel lifts you higher and higher by degree.

And maybe, you rationalize, that is still true. Because though watching the world blurring out of focus below you with your already limited vision is, unsettling, to say the least. It’s really the Ferris wheel itself, with one support bar around your waist being the only thing that stops you from plummeting face first Back down to the Earth below.

Being blind can alter or throw off your sense of balance and centre of gravity, and although this isn’t something you’re reminded of often, this is one of the times where it hits you full on, how unsteady you are, how close to teetering and falling all the way down you feel, even if, logically, you know the odds of that happening are small. You can’t convince your brain of that, so you freeze up completely, thinking that if you don’t move, that if you don’t even breathe, it’ll make it easier.

It doesn’t.

“What’s wrong?”

Wolffe is watching you, eyes intent, observant. At first, you’re not entirely sure as to what has tipped him off to your impending sense of doom. But then, looking down, finding that your hand has locked itself around his with an iron grip, you suppose it’s quite obvious. What’s more, your other arm is tightly wrapped around the stuffed wolf he won for you at the ring toss, your face hiding against its soft fur, eyes squeezed shut.

At your lack of response, he shifts, wanting to get a better look at you. Unfortunately, though, this causes the cart you’re into jostle, and even though the movement is slight and fleeting, you still let out a noise of distress, eyes going wide.

“Are you, scared of heights?” He asks, voice slightly incredulous and tentative.

You shake your head vehemently in denial. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s, I.”

You’re cut off as the wheel begins to move again, pulling you closer to the top before stopping. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you think that the sun must be about to set, and it must be a nice view, for those who can appreciate it. For those who don’t feel like they’re about to die right now.

“It’s not how high we are, Wolffe,” you try to explain, hating the way that your voice comes out in more of a whimper as you stare down at the ground. “It’s just I just feel like I’m going to fall. It it would be so easy,” you point with a shaking hand at the support bar, distrustful. “And what if something goes wrong and I...” you trail off, eyes blurring with unshed tears, to your utter mortification.

“It it’s not like the roller coasters, Wolffe,” you try to explain, clutching at the stuffed animal in your lap with anxiety. “On those, I didn’t have time to think about falling.”

All sense of logic and rationality has fled your mind like birds, leaving you feeling unstable, each heartbeat that pounds within the cage of your chest convincing you further that the slightest breeze is going to push you off, send you falling down off this precarious ride and to your certain demise.

A single tear tracks its way down your cheek and carefully, Wolffe raises a hand to gently wipe it away. “Oh, ner cyar,” he breathes, movements slow and deliberate as he reaches out towards you, keeping it cautious, predictable, so that you know exactly what he’s doing. “C’mere,” he coos at you softly, arm reaching around you to easily pull you to him.

His other hand delicately smooths over your hair, before settling to cradle the back of your head, securely tucking you against his chest.

Miraculously, the feeling of his body, protective as it curls around you, Creating a safe cocoon for you to nestle in, Immediately begins to ease the all consuming fear inside your bones. Somehow, you feel less unsteady, isolated, and on the verge of falling as soon as he’s safely tucked you in his arms.

“Do you think I’m gonna let you fall, ad’ika?” He asks, voice a low rumble as he looks down at you, the stuffed animal comfortably wedged between the both of you.

The feeling of his strong arms holding you securely against his broad chest, the way his heart is beating steadily against your ear, is much more reassuring than the seemingly flimsy support bar, and your intrusive thoughts. In spite of yourself, you find your muscles beginning to unwind, melting into him as one of his hands, large and warm, caresses over your back, pressing firm, grounding circles in between your shoulder blades.

“N no,” you say, unable to conceal the slight tremor that runs through you as the ferris wheel moves again. “B but what if.”

“Shh, meshla, focus,” he gently Chides, redirecting you’re over thinking mind back to him, giving one of your shoulders a slight squeeze of encouragement. “I want you to close your eyes, and breathe, and all you have to do is focus on me, alright? Nothing else, just you and me, right here,” he continues, voice a calm, steady stream.

You give him a small, shaky nod, before turning your face against his chest, relieved when you can no longer see the world growing smaller when you’re tucked against him like this. Slowly, hesitantly, you let your eyes close, and you’re surprised and relieved to find that the impending sense of dread is beginning to fade.

You’re rewarded with Wolffe lowering, a slight dip of his chin, peppering several kisses to the top of your head as he holds you tightly. “Good girl,” he praises, voice a quiet breath against your ear.

The ferris wheel begins to move again and before you’re given time to think about it, he speaks, derailing the panicked thoughts that begin to stir.

“Your hair is so pretty,” he remarks, slowly running his fingers through the strands. “And so soft,” he murmurs, dropping another kiss to your head. “How do you get it to be like that?”

Somehow, your lips pull into a small smile. “With a lot of work,” you mumble with a slight laugh and shrug.

“And?” He prods, lightly poking you in the side. “I want details, meshla. Give me your full routine, with the products you use. Give me a step-by-step guide.”

You know that he probably doesn’t actually care. You know he’s making you talk to distract you from the movements of the ferris wheel around you. In spite of that, though, you give in, beginning to speak and explain exactly how you maintain your hair.

To his credit, he seems to be listening attentively to everything you’re saying, eyes never leaving you as you speak, always prompting you with questions when you seem to not know what else to say.

Before you know it, the wheel has brought your cart to the ground, and an attendant is releasing the support bar from around the both of you, allowing you to get down.

Wolffe clambers out first, getting down to offer you a hand, helping you down off the attraction. Taking one look at the expression on your face, he wordlessly holds out his elbow, beginning to guide you both towards the fairgrounds exit.

“Are you that eager to get us home so that you can claim your winnings?” You ask teasingly as he pulls you behind him with long, purposeful strides.

He stops, turns to face you and catches your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to look at him as he idly runs a calloused thumb over your bottom lip, causing goosebumps to rise on your upper arms.

“Hm,” he says, expression contemplative as his other hand grazes down your side, experimentally dipping beneath the material of your top to trace teasing circles against your hip.

“Truth be told, meshla,” he muses, the low baritone of his voice slightly husky with desire. “I think you’re the one who deserves rewarding tonight.”

Your face breaks into a smile, even as you arch against his touch, with your breath catching in your throat.

“Well,” you start to say, finding you have to swallow several times as a blush creeps into your cheeks before you can respond properly.

“I certainly won

#star wars fanfiction #the clone wars fanfiction #wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe #the clone wars #tcw #star wars the clone wars #clone wars #sw the clone wars #tcw fanfic #cc 3636 #reader insert #x reader #Fanfiction #fanfic #star wars fanfic #Ireadwithmyears masterlist #Ireadwithmyears fics

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clu-ven · 2 years ago

Text

The Closet

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

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

TW: small spaces, claustrophobia, panic attack

Word Count: 4.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The person doesn’t reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what I said”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why is your face so red?”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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