#commander wolffe fic

[waiting-for-motivation]

jealousy, jealousy

summary: A night out with the wolfpack at 79s takes a turn as the bad batch enters the bar, and a certain sniper flirts with Wolffes medic.

pairings: Commander Wolffe x Reader, Sinker, Boost, Crosshair

warnings: alcohol, unspoken feelings, fluff, cross smokes

words: 1351

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

His arm rests on the back of her chair, his fingers play with a strand of her hair. In this crowded bar, they share a few moments alone. Wolffe just enjoys (Y/n) calming presence, while they both keep an eye on his brothers on the dance floor. There is no need for much talking. The night is perfect.

“How is your forearm?“, (Y/n) asks over the loud music and takes a sip from her colourful cocktail. She throws a glance at the Commander next to her. With a grin on his lips, Wolffe rolls up the sleeve of his leatherjacket to reveal a bandage. It‘s clean white.

“Thanks to your skillful hands it doesn‘t hurt at all“, Wolffe answers with a wink and lets his sleeve cover the bandage once again. Two days ago, he stepped inside the med bay with blood dripping from his arm. (Y/n) instantly ran to take care of him, her touch immediately soothing his pain. Now the worry leaves her eyes. “It will soon be only another battle scar to add to my collection.“

There is a sad smile on (Y/n)s lips as she turns her body towards Wolffe, reaching a hand for his face. Out of instinct, he leans backwards but knowing he can trust her, he let‘s her rest her hand on his cheek. Slowly, (Y/n) caresses the bottom of his facial scar.

“I‘m so sorry this had to happen to you, all of this“, she whispers, barely understandable over the loud music. A shiver runs over her whole body as she notices Wolffes delicate touch on her lower back, pulling her closer.

“I‘m not, otherwise I would have never met you“, Wolffe returns with a soft gaze and leans forward carefully. He closes his eyes as they are so close they can feel the other’s breath. For a millisecond their lips meet, but then a loud scream interrupts their intense moment.

“What the kriff are they doing?“, (Y/n) asks confused as she has now turned all the way around to take a better look at the crowd. In the middle are two clones, most likely Boost and Sinker, singing loudly. One is sitting on the others shoulders and waves his shirt in the air.

For a few seconds Wolffe remains the way (Y/n) left him, with closed eyes and an halfway opened mouth. Then he gives his brothers a death glare. “I‘ll get them and you better organise a few glasses of water, love.“

Wolffe will have the boys on cleaning duty for the rest of their lives for destroying this sweet moment between him and his medic. He waited too long for this kiss to happen to have his brothers interrupt it. Clenching his fists, Wolffe pushes through the crowd towards Sinker and Boost, grabbing them by their necks and throwing them on two chairs.

“You two will drink some water and then go back to our barracks, end of discussion“, Wolffe growls at his brothers who watch him with wide eyes. Then, without reason, Sinker and Boost start laughing like maniacs. They can‘t take anyone serious, until (Y/n) returns with two glasses of water.

“As your medic and friend I want you guys to drink this water, please“, (Y/n) says as she places the glasses in front of Sinker and Boost. She bats her eyes sweetly at the two and watches them gulp down their water in one go. Stepping behind them, she places her hands on their heads to get their attention once again. “And apologise to your Commander. I‘ll get some fresh air.“

Wolffe watches (Y/n) disappear in the crowd, then looks back at his brothers who are already planing something foolish once again. While Sinker is trying to balance the two empty glasses on his forehead, Boost stands up to return to the dance floor. Wolffe forces him back on the chair and takes the glasses from Sinker.

“I‘m done with you di’kuts. You are on cleaning duty for the rest of the year and you will take all the night shifts“, Wolffe lets his anger free and takes a seat in front of his brothers. They are silent now, knowing they have done something severely wrong. Although they might be drunk, they can put one and one together. Something did, or more likely didn‘t happen between their Commander and medic.

“I think we cockblocked our Commander“, Sinker realizes and laughs erratically with his brother. Wolffe can only sigh and hide his face in his hands, no longer wanting to be a witness to their stupid conversations. He would rather have different company, so his mind wanders once again to (Y/n), wondering what takes her so long.

Finally stepping outside, (Y/n) takes a deep breath and leans against the next wall, closing her eyes. Although she really enjoys every free second with her battalion, 79s can be a bit too much once in a while. Her peaceful moment gets interrupted by smoke filling her lungs and making her cough. She throws a death glare towards the man, but he doesn‘t seem to mind.

“You know that will kill you“, (Y/n) mumbles, not really expecting the soldier to actually answer her. He is taller than most clones, but his facial features give away his true heritage.

“I don‘t think I will grow old enough to experience that, doll“, the clone smirks with the cigarette inbetween his lips. He walks towards (Y/n), crowding her against the wall. After taking one last long drag, Crosshair crushes the cigarette under his boot.

Lowering her gaze in shame and remembering the clones accelerated ageing, (Y/n) almost awakens some pity in Crosshair. He places a finger under her chin and forces ehr to look him in the eyes. “Don‘t worry, this is nothing new to all of us, but this also means that we can appreciate moments like this more.“

(Y/n) widens her eyes and presses her lips together, surprised by how forward this clone is. A quick look towards his shoulder, reveals a small skull on a red plate. This clone must be part of the famous clone force 99, their sniper at the looks of it.

Before Crosshair can make another move on the girl, another clone exits the bar with a stern expression which quickly forms into a frown. “Hands off, Crosshair!“ Rather slowly, Crosshair removes his hand from (Y/n)s face and turns his attention towards a jealous Wolffe.

“Commander, didn‘t take you for the party type“, Crosshair comments as he places a toothpick between his lips. His gaze moves from the medic next to him to the furious Wolffe clenching his fists. He realizes there is something unspoken between them and his instinct tells him to leave them alone, so he winks one last time at (Y/n) and then enter 79s to join his brothers.

“Cocky di‘kut“, Wolffe mumbles and leans against the wall close to (Y/n). She only throws a disapprovingly look at him, then watches the city in front of them. Why would Wolffe act like that? She was only talking to Crosshair. Maybe the sniper was closer to her than needed, but that didn‘t bother her.

Their shoulder touch, so she can feel Wolffe taking a deep breath to gather his courage. Wolffe steps in front of (Y/n), standing exactly where Crosshair stood a few moments ago. One arm still supports him, his hand resting right next to (Y/n)s face. As Wolffe opens his mouth to confess, he can almost see the realisation in (Y/n)s eyes. She finally understands why he got so angry about Crosshair. Wolffe was jealous.

Without wasting another second, (Y/n) jumps forward into Wolffes embrace and finally presses her lips to his. Both her hands find their place on his cheeks, while he wraps his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer. They have their kiss at last, and not even Sinker and or Boost could interrupt this perfect moment. They won‘t part that easily now.

taglist: @gwenebear @skippyhopperwisdom @littlemisscare-all

[toomanybandstocare]

{Sweet Whiskey}

Program: There are some people who come into our lives who are meant to be there through the worst and best of times. Their hearts are entwined with one another and beat in rhythm like it's the only why they know how to exist. A connection that makes so completely sense that it causes us to doubt ourselves and our partner.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Bartender, GN! Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Length: 4015w

Warnings: Alcohol + bar setting, swearing, heartbreak, drinking when emotionally / mentally unwell, miscommunication kind of? they let their insecurities/fear get the best of them more like it ... I think that's it? Let me know if I missed anything (minus the usual, not edited / work shopped as much as I had hoped)

Camp Resolute Masterlist

Song Request: "You're too sweet for me" {Too Sweet // Hozier}

Counselor Note: For the amazing @starboytech! This is a part of the @cloneficgiftexchange hosted by Ghost - thank you so much for hosting as always. Daisy, I hope you enjoy! I'm sorry it's on the later end of the day. I've been in an absolute rut with all my creative hobbies, so I'm afraid it's not that good. I hope you're doing well, and I was so excited you were my partner for this exchange. I miss our chats and being a part of this community. <3

Post Script: As usual, as much as it terrifies me to write Wolffe - I'm always curious about exploring his character and how to express a vulnerable side to him since he's always conveyed as confident and domineering. I don't know if I achieved well, so may be possibly out of character. And honestly, I'm okay with that. I think for the past year I've been so nervous to write again because I saw and experience first hand how people reacted when their favorite character isn't portrayed how they wanted, and I let that add onto my writer's block. So fuck it - writing is learning how to hone your craft and style. Not everything you or I write will be a masterpiece, and not everyone will enjoy. We're write because we have an itch to communicate what it means to be human through our perspective and how others may view the same experience in a completely different lense.

Shifting your weight on the cool durasteel stool, you take a swift sip of whiskey from the chilled glass in front of you. It kisses your lips with a bittersweet sting, and you let the amber liquid overcome you with little struggle. As you swallow the drink, your gaze sweeps the noticeably larger crowd that surges through the club tonight in a melancholic haze. Your throat constricts in combination of the whiskey’s burn that flares through your system and the all faces who bare too much of a resemblance to the man who left you sitting at this very bar with a broken heart a year ago. Yet after all this time, a pang punches your chest through the walls you’ve built without fail when your mind drifts back to the memories of him.

Everyone, nat-born or clone trooper alike, carry a refreshed air of hopefulness that feeds the electric energy coursing through the club. It weighs down on your weary muscles and sticks to your skin as the air thickens with every new patron who enters 79s. You sink further into the impassive, catatonic stupor you’ve become all too familiar with and avoid anyone’s eye. Fear churns your stomach as you recalculate the odds of anyone recognizing you and the inevitability shoots an arrow of panic through you. Unable to hide from the live reports and battle coverage, the Republic’s latest victory has been impossible to ignore alongside the footage of Commander Wolffe and the 104th battalion who lead the charge. Cries of excitement and cheers ripple through the crowd as club-goers are quick to find their partners for the evening while you cozy up with a bleeding heart from the glimpses of gray armor plates that catch your attention on the opposite side of the bar. The back of your neck stings in an increasing flare of unease. In a bout of potentially misplaced confidence, you swallow the lump of anxiety crawling across your tongue with another sip of whiskey and refuse to cut your evening short. The odds of the battalion choosing 79s as their destination for their night out on the town was unavoidable, but you liked your odds of Wolffe opting out of their celebrations like he used to do a hell of a lot better. A bitter, melancholic laugh wisps past your lips, and you shake your head with another indulgence of the amber liquor. The echo of his words rage and crash against your skull slicing a fresh cut across your heart that catches the alcohol in its wound. Its sting spreads across your chest and makes it difficult to breathe as that night overcomes you.

“This isn’t working”. A low rasp breaks through the uncharacteristically quiet music playing at 79s.

“What? Did they switch whiskey suppliers without consulting you first?” you nervously chuckle. You fiddle with the straw to your fruity cocktail and peer up at Wolffe from across the glass’ edge. The pin pricks that have been present all evening now sting your skin in a sudden alarm. You’ve been clutching onto your rose colored glasses as all the signs seem to have begun to show up over the past few weeks. Insecurity tangles with the adoration you hold for Wolffe as you stand by the commander’s side on nights out when you notice all the glances and giggles sent his way. Out of anyone in the galaxy, he’s chosen to be with you yet you struggle to find your place in his world. Never uttering the fear to Wolffe knowing there are so many more concerns than the irrational thoughts that bite at the back of your mind. “ Maybe they have your beer on rotation. Kiva -” 

“Us, cy’are” Wolffe swiftly interrupts you before you can call the attention of your friend on bartending duty tonight. “We… aren’t working,” he quietly clarifies yet he leaves little room for argument with the stoney expression he struggles to maintain. Wolffe’s gaze scans your face for any reaction in a last act of desperation, and his heart squeezes with the slow realization slipping over your radiant smile. The crease between his brow deepens when your expression stills with a detached vacancy. Stuck looking up at him with eyes - those fucking eyes he searches without fail for in every crowd - void of emotion. Wolffe’s heart thunders against his chest and begs him not to go through with this irrational decision.

Everything around you goes still. The neon lights cut through the tension in the air in a slow haze as other patrons beam and laugh all around you. Nothing goes through your mind as the warning sting ignites into an all consuming inferno of betrayal. Its flames burn through your veins as your breath comes out short and forced. "Why?" you quietly push further.

 Wolffe's expression pinches for a moment. Your determined gaze cuts through him, and Wolffe has to fight the urge to not shudder. For all the hardship and tragedy he's faced, Wolffe has never felt a bone chilling dread like he does standing before you. “We're too different, cy’are” he clips back. The words come out tight as they roll off his tongue with difficulty. Wolffe clutches his glass as your gaze narrows, and he raises the amber drink to take a slow sip. His usually cool bravado cracks under the tension, and he tries to wear a similar mask to avoid revealing the fears that gnaw at the back of his mind. Wolffe bites down the all too familiar wince that accompanies his vice. Not even the sting of whiskey can warm him.

“That's what works best with us. We compliment each other,” you bite back. Your knuckles bleach as you tightly grasp your cocktail glass. “From the minute we’ve met, we’ve always gravitated to each other to the point where everyone asks where the other is if we’re not together. Don’t you dare try to push me away when it’s obvious to ourselves and everyone around us that we’re meant to share our lives together. I know there’s something else going on, so you don’t you fucking bullshit me. I want to be with you, Wolffe, and I know what I’ve signed up for. Nightmares, phantom pains, long distance with no promise of the next time we’ll see each other - I have no reservations about navigating this with you. When everything feels like it’s crumbling underneath you, you without fail come to me to remind yourself that there is some hope left for the galaxy. That there are people who want to see you and your brothers return home. So don’t you dare say we’re too different when all I want is to stand by your side and love you”.

Wolffe lets out an airy chuckle, “You're too sweet for me”. With a control that he no longer believes he possesses, Wolffe places his glass on top of the bar and out of the corner of his eyes he catches how your body stills at his words. Your sudden passion to fight back wavers, and Wolffe lunges at the opportunity with a difficulty he forces down. “You know what you’ve signed up for?” he slowly repeats. “I don’t think you really do, because you’re not the one facing clankers and cannons every day fighting to survive. I spend every single fucking moment of my existence watching my brothers die by my side and sometimes even taking their last breath in my arms,” Wolffe spits out. It takes everything in him to swallow the waver in his voice and allow the pent-up devastation of war to consume him - to weaponize himself against the one person who loves him unconditionally. “While I live in the uncertainty of the next time I'll be planetside, you spend your days disconnected from the sacrifices so many have made to keep the system safe. To keep you safe. I wanted to break things off kindly, but clearly you're so delusional that you can't tell when someone's grown tired of your fantasy. I’m sick and done spending my limited days of freedom playing house to entertain you. I need you to come back from the clouds right fucking now and listen closely. You're, too, sweet, for, me,” Wolffe all but growls. His hand screams in agony as he clutches the empty glass with white knuckles. There's a morbid humor that the crystal-like glass stands strong against his chokehold as his heart shatters in time the tears that softly trail down your face. His chest burns with regret that singes through him as he carves this moment in his memory. Without daring to meet your eyes, Wolffe turns his back on you.

Your glassy gaze stings as you recount that devastating night. You shake your head abruptly while rapidly blinking back the new onslaught of tears and try to collect your shaky breaths. You hastily bring the whiskey glass to your lips and take a sharp gulp. Bitterness blooms over your tongue and overpowers the burning desire for the amber liquor that you normally find solace with. With an elbow on the bar to lean your head on the empty glass, you raise your other hand to pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes shut. Melancholy and drunken fatigue sit heavy on your shoulders as you fall into the ritual like haze. It's not a storm of emotions that overcomes you. No, that's stopped at the one month mark. In the months after that, your heart began to slow into a dull rhythm that drew out all of life’s vibrancy. Self destruction swiftly wrapped its claws around you and beckoned you into this dark, unfamiliar place. By the six month mark, you stopped struggling against its ghostly touch and sought its company in it rather than your friends'. Not a single one of them could break through to pull you out of this fog as you slipped further and further from them. The silent agreement came into contract after the eighth month when they realized there was very little they could do that would actually help you rather than break you anymore. You would only indulge in your weekly ritual during Kiva’s shift at 79s. Speeder card was left at home as you rode in with him to work, and he would  bring you back to your apartment at the end of the night. A fresh sheet of sheets would always be made up for him, so he could spend the night in your guest room to ensure you were safe.  Should anything alarm him during the night, Kiva would immediately send a message to the group chat and your ritual would come to an early end with a severe reality check.

A dull clunk vaguely registers in the distance as you take a slow breath. “Normally, I'd be in a rush to close out and get us to home,” Kiva murmurs from across the bartop, “but I can wait this one out. Just try to enjoy the company of a person for a change”.

Your eyes flash open, and Kiva's back has already turned away from you before you can even open your mouth to call him back. Cool condensation causes goosebumps to rise over your skin when your hand bumps into a freshly made cocktail, and your attention snaps to the bar top. Your posture stiffens at the sight of what was once your favorite sweet beverage for nights out. Nausea rocks through you as you set your empty whiskey glass next to it with a shaky hand.

“C’yare,” he quietly calls out.

You take a sharp breath. Nearly a year to the date since the last time you heard his voice, and Wolffe still manages to make your skin flush from the pet name alone. But the warmth of past memories and alcohol can’t defend itself from the sudden chill that overcomes your body. An uncomfortable understanding overwhelms you, and his voice rings alarms in your mind once more in a mournful sense of deja vu. 

“Wolffe,” you force yourself to acknowledge.

Dread floods Wolffe, and the skin at the back of his neck stings. He takes a cautious step closer to you - sweeping his gaze over your stiff posture. The sharp glint that catches him from the coroner of your eye reminds him of a wild animal assessing a threat. Wolffe's heart rate spikes, shooting blood to the surface of his skin and burns. Everything is wrong. This is wrong. This is not you. This is not the same sweet love who he adores even with all the guilt and anger he holds for himself from the last time he saw you. “What's happened?" he cautiously asks. Though he already knows the answer, Wolffe holds on to the waning hope that he's wrong. For once in his life - Wolffe desperately wishes for his instincts to mislead him in this moment. 

It could be the remnants of your tipsy haze. It could be the disbelief that punches you to your core. It is most certainly a fucking combination of the two at the very least. Every muscle in your body tenses - ready to pounce. “Excuse you?” you quietly hiss. You narrow your eyes as anger flares through your chest. “What, happened?” you punctuate the words of his question and turn your body to face him dead on. You let your other arm drop to the bartop, avoiding the drink glasses and dig your nails into the cool durasteel. “Did you really care so little for me that you couldn't possibly fathom that your actions have consequences even off the battlefield?” A sickening sense of pride twists inside you at the sight of Wolffe unable to hold back a slight flinch. 

Bile builds at the base of his tongue, and Wolffe carefully slides on to the stool next to yours. Resting an elbow on the bar top, he leans his head on one hand while the other twitches on his thigh. Your stormy gaze holds Wolffe in a suffocating swell. Gliding his tongue across the back of his teeth, he takes a calculated pause before admitting: “I care for you so deeply that I would rather you hate me for the rest of our lives than hurt you. So seeing my cy’are before me as this new person - someone who I can barely piece together just how I was able to recognize - all because of the decision I made in hopes of keeping you safe but actually broke you? I would willingly volunteer for the next no-return assignment, because I cannot live in a galaxy where my sweet love is so bitter - by my marred hand no less”. Wolffe’s chest heaves as his heart crashes against its cage. His skin feels hot from the searing rush of blood cutting him from the inside, and he squeezes his fist on top of his thigh to stop himself from pulling on the collar of his blacks. He doesn't remember when he started to lean closer to you, but as his gaze flickers across your face, Wolffe swallows the lump at the back of his throat. Unease crawls over the stony façade of his usual confidence as the seconds slip by in deafening silence under the pulsing lights. 

A new wave of tears sting at your lash line, but you don't hide them. A part of your past self screams for you to listen and to believe in Wolffe’s words. “Liar,” you hiss. Hope cracks through your hard demeanor, and you desperately want him to prove you wrong.Your former self sobs, and it breaks past your snarl. “Why come back then?” you push further with a watery waver to your voice. “Just to revel in the consequences of your actions? To punish yourself for letting fear break your code of conduct that you so proudly follow on and off the battlefield?”

Wolf bows his head while flexing his hand across the scratched armor. Why is he doing this? Why did he run away from you in the first place? He can't remember a moment in his life where he was so overcome by a flood of emotions like that evening where he couldn't think rationally. Seeing you across the bar tonight as a shell of the person he loves, it felt as if his entire world had been blown to pieces. With a slow exhaled breath, Wolffe dares to look up at you. His stomach knots when he's met with the trails of tears that dance across the plains of your face. The wind is knocked out of his lungs in a sucker-punch when he pulls his gaze to look you in the eye and is met with a glimmer of his cy’are pulling through the broken mask. 

“Because I had hoped I would find you again”, he explains with a steady calmness despite the dizzying rush overcoming him. “For the past year, I laid awake in the dead of night wondering if I had done the right thing. It didn't matter what was happening around me - if I was in my cabin suffocated by silence or surrounded by the onslaught of blaster guns and bombs - I just needed to know that you would be safe and taken care of in a way that I couldn't promise you”. Wolffe pauses for a moment before cautiously reaching out to cup your jaw with his hand. A laugh of disbelief slips past his lips from how even through the thick, ballistic material of his glove he can still feel how soft your skin is beneath his touch. “The next time I saw you, I had hoped you would be tucked under the arm of some nat-born who’d be there for you each day and be able to come home to you every night without worry. In all the scenarios I came up with and constantly replayed in my mind, I never imagined we'd meet again here or like this. But that’s just who we are it seems”. Wolffe pauses to take you in with uncertainty in his eyes and tries to etch every detail of your face into his memory in case this is truly the last time he sees you. “Two very different people who are terrified of losing each other to the point where they push it out of mind until it rears its ugly head and makes us believe the irrational thoughts. So I’m telling you now - pushing you away that night is what keeps me up at night with guilt, and I promise to keep you safe, even from my own fear of losing you, if you’ll let me”.

Tears freely streamed down your cheeks and everything feels too much. Your skin prickles across the entirety of your body all except where Wolffe so carefully cups your jaw. As much as you want to shove him away and to scream at him and to leave him sitting here humiliated like he did with you one year ago - you can't. For the first time in such a long time, you feel things past the passize haze. “All I wanted to do is stand by your side and show you what it feels to experience a gentle love. Even when I was afraid that I wasn’t enough for you, I wanted to push that to the side to focus all my care and attention on us. Those insecurities felt so small in the grand scheme what you had to, and still have to, carry the burden of that I didn’t want to confide in you for the very reasons you used against me. I despise you for what you did to me”, you sob as you let yourself fall into his chest. The moment his arms catch you and envelops you with his body entirely, you let the mask fall completely. One hand clutches your hip and pulls you into Wolffe’s chest and the other rests on your shoulder as he supports you. Your head spins, and for as much as you should try to speak up and continue voicing how you'll need time to heal - you let yourself sink into the near forgotten feeling of comfort. The rods of tension that had cemented into your bones snap, and you press your face into Wolf's neck while wrapping your arms around him. His usual cologne still grounds you while shooting a dizzying sense of happiness through you. “I don't want to keep feeling like this, Wolffe. But I also don't want to let you back in if you're going to just shut me out. I can't do this again - I barely made it through this year. I can't survive another heartbreak so soul shattering. Especially from the same person who's now promised to keep me safe twice now”, you sob. 

Wolffe brings his hand up from your hip to rest at the nape of your neck. He gently sweeps his thumb back and forth as you try to reign in your uneven breathing. A dull throb hammers against your skull and grows at a rapid pace when a fresh wave of troopers cheer nearby and break through your private conversation. You wince, and Wolf glides both of his hands carefully to cover your ears. He moves one hand slightly to lean in close to your ear.

“There are not enough ways for me to express how sorry I am for not making the space for you in our relationship to feel like you could talk to me when you needed me, but I will show you in every possible way because an apology could never give you the justice you deserve for betraying you like that”, he quietly murmurs, “Let me walk you home as the first. I'll write my comlink connection for you, and when you're ready, you can give me a call to continue this conversation. Only if you want to speak to me again - we’ll do this on your terms. Just let me have the privilege to know you got home safely one last time”. 

Your fingertips press harder into his chest plate and trail down to where his blacks peek out between his body and leg armor - yearning to find contact with the man you adore and not the war that’s stolen everything from him. “I still have your com-connect”, you sheepishly admit. “I wasn't ready to say goodbye to you, either in the sense I would call you in a rage demanding … exactly this … or in hopes you would call saying it was a mistake … like this”. You feel the rumble of Wolffe’s chuckle where your chests press close together as the warm fan of breath that tickles the skin just underneath your ear. “I just want to go home, but I don't want to let you go though”. 

Wolf doesn't bother to stop the smile curling at the corner of his lips. He carefully leans into your embrace, and for once he's grateful for the armor separating the two of you as he’s sure that you would have been able to feel his heart crashing against his ribs to try and find its way back to yours. “You're still at the same complex, right?” he asks quietly. Barely catching your hum, Wolffe slowly nods and suggests: “If it's okay with you - and I mean that, only if it’s absolutely okay with you - I could stay in the guest room or on the couch. If it would help you rest easy knowing that I'm not going anywhere. And we can get breakfast to talk through things in the morning, because there's nothing that could keep me from you if you allow me the chance to prove myself to you”. 

You take a sharp inhale and pull yourself away only slightly to meet Wolffe’s soft yet determined gaze.”Promise?” you ask breathlessly.

 “I will live the rest of my life picking up the pieces of you that I broke, and I will stand by you as you learn to be yourself again. I promise, my sweet love, I'm not going anywhere without you”.

[starryevermore]

all those chickens ✧ commander wolffe

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Star Wars request?  reader making Gen Z references while infiltrating a base and everyone is just “wtf” but as soon as they stop it’s all hands on deck coz reader is just silent and that ain’t normal so ⭐️PaNiC⭐️ turns out…there was a lil porg and they turned comms off to save it  - anon

pairing: commander wolffe x fem!reader

summary: wolffe does not understand all of the strange references you make to the culture of your home planet, earth. but, when you go silent on a mission, wolffe finds himself worried at the lack of communication. 

word count: 1,835

warnings?: reader is from earth, i’ll be honest there’s a fair mix of both millennial and gen z references in this but whatcha gonna do about it, not proofread

Commander Wolffe didn’t pretend to understand you. Trying to understand you was like trying to understand the Force—it only ever gave him a migraine so intense he would rather listen to C-3PO talk for hours on end without interruption. Or, perhaps, that was a bit extreme—no one could listen to that droid talk that long without wanting to bash their head through a wall. But, nevertheless, whenever Wolffe attempted to understand the strange things you would say, the references you would make to a culture only you were familiar with, it left him with more questions than answers.

After all, why were you doing something for the vine? What the hell was a “no bones” day and why was it being determined by a geriatric animal? (A pug? What the kark was a pug?) Why did you pick up a glass of blue milk and mutter “what is wrong with you? why are you blue?” before laughing like you told the most amazing joke in the galaxy? And never mind the words and phrases themselves you would use—“rizz”, “stan”, “yeet”, “bussin’”, “vibe check”, “I’m weak”, “main character energy”, “borg”. And don’t get him started on how you would end words with “-ussy”! 

It was one of the very few times that Wolffe questioned the Jedi General Plo Koon in his decision to have you join them. In Wolffe’s view, no matter what benefits you might bring to fighting the war, it was all substantially lessened by the fact that you didn’t make a bit of sense half the time. And don’t get him started about how you always seem shocked when he or his brothers didn’t understand whatever bantha shit you were going on about. 

“You wouldn’t last a day on Earth,” you’d muttered once when he questioned why you put on an accent and said “airport? I’m not going to the airport.” when Wolffe said you needed to report to the hangar. 

“I would sooner walk into an active battle zone without any weapons than I would step foot on your planet,” he’d said. 

“Weird flex but okay.”

He didn’t miss the flash of hurt on your face, though, he said that. It was that day that he learned your planet, in a galaxy far, far, away, had been destroyed and you were one of the very few survivors. And, well, while Wolffe might not have experienced a loss on the scale of billions, he did know loss. And he knew a thing or two about trying to keep the memory of lost loved ones alive. So, while he might not have understood every strange thing you said, he didn’t give you as much of a hard time about anymore. 

That said, it still confused the hell out of him everything you referenced something from your culture. Even now, as you joined the 104th on a mission and kept going on and on about things Wolffe could never dream of understanding. For a brief moment, you had even ran ahead of them, chasing after a group of porgs, until Wolffe ordered you back to his side. He couldn’t let you run out into a trap, after all.  

“Look at all those chickens!” you said, looking out the porgs roaming around. The little buggers seemed to have infiltrated the Separatist base on their own. It was almost funny, actually, imaging the little critters annoying the clankers. 

Comet looked at you, his head titled. His bucket shielded his facial expressions, but Wolffe was almost certain that Comet was looking at you like you said that the porgs were rancors or something equally wild. “Those are porgs?”

“It’s a reference to something on the foliage app,” Sinker said. He looked at you for confirmation. “Right?”

“It’s called Vine,” Wolffe grunted. When he looked back at you, he saw a smile on your face. His heart stuttered. (Why? You smiled all the time. It was almost annoying, how smiley you were.) “What?”

“You remembered. I thought you didn’t care when I babbled on about Earth things.”

“I neither have to care nor understand what you’re talking about to listen to you,” Wolffe said.

“I think you care,” you said. You bumped your shoulder against his. “You act like a big, strong wolf, but really you’re a sweet, little puppy. All bark, no bite.”

Wolffe barred his teeth, snarling at you, but it did little to stop the laughter echoing throughout the Wolfpack. You lifted your chin, smiling widely at him. Then, you raised your arm, your hand resting on top of his bucket, before you tapped it once, twice—pat, pat!

The Wolfpack’s laughter turned into near howls. Comet nearly doubled over. Booster slung an arm around your shoulder, tugging you closer to him. A spark rose in Wolffe’s chest. He wasn’t sure what he was more upset by—your teasing or one of his brothers touching you. 

“Warthog, Y/N, go find the control room and extract the information we need. The rest of us will deal with the clankers,” Wolffe grunted, trying to stamp out his frustration as they neared the control room in the Separatist base. 

He had no right to be upset, after all. Why would he? You were another member of his squad. You were a friend. That was it. Surely, there had to be some other reason that Wolffe was so bothered by this. Maybe it had something to do with it being so long since they were on leave. Maybe he was just missing companionship in general, and that was making him feel things toward you. You were, after all, the only woman he saw on a day to day basis. Yes. That’s what it was. It was nothing personal. 

…Right?

Wolffe kept his focus on scouting ahead, ignoring the laughter from his brothers. As he put some distance between himself and you, Comet jogged up to join him. Kriff. This wasn’t going to be good. 

His younger brother bumped his shoulder against Wolffe’s, and practically crowed, “Oh, Wolffe! You’re such a little puppy!”

“Watch it,” Wolffe growled. His grip on his blaster tightened, his knuckles turning white. “Focus on the mission.”

Sinker laughed. “C’mon, vod, how can we take you seriously when you’re all bark, no bite?”

“Oh, lay off him,” Boost said. Wolffe wanted to believe his brother was on his side, but Boost was, perhaps, probably the worst about teasing him. He knew Wolffe long enough to know all the ways to get under his skin, and he always took full advantage of it. “He just cares so much, he doesn’t know what to do with himself!”

Wolffe stomped ahead, feeling something akin to a petulant child, as his brothers’ laughter echoed around him. Why did they have to make this something it wasn’t? Why did they act like there was something there? 

But, why was there this…uneasy feeling settling over him? Wolffe’s hand dropped to his comm. You hadn’t said anything for a long time. Why was that? Usually, he couldn’t get you to shut up. You always had some sort of commentary, whether it be those ridiculous Earth references or it be you just babbling on about whatever it was you were doing at the moment. 

“Y/N, do you copy?” he asked into his comm. 

Silence. 

Panic settled deep in his chest. He repeated the question a second, then a third, time. He never got a response. 

“Warthog, is Y/N with you? She’s not answering her comm.”

“Uhh…”

Wolffe almost preferred the silence. An unsure answer…Well, that usually meant there had been some sort of trouble. And if you were caught in that trouble…Wolffe shuddered at the thought. You were part of his squad. You were someone he was supposed to look out for. Wolffe wasn’t sure if he could stand it if something happened to you. He didn’t want to lose another member of his squad. 

But…Well, it went deeper than that, didn’t it? If something happened…If he never got to see you smile again, if he never got to hear you laugh, if he never was left scratching his head at some strange thing you said, Wolffe’s life would feel incomplete. He would miss you. He would more than miss you. He would tear apart the entire galaxy if it meant getting revenge on whoever would hurt a hair on your head.

“Yes or no, trooper?” Wolffe barked. 

“Well, she was just here, sir. And now…she’s not.”

“What the kark is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know! I just looked up and she was gone!”

“Well, find her!” Wolffe snapped. 

As Wolffe turned to look for you, too, he shot at a couple of clankers that had rounded the corner before taking off in search of you. Kriff. Was he the only one whose brain fully formed? Why the hell would you just wander off like that? Why the hell wouldn’t Warthog immediately report that? Why the hell didn’t Warthog keep a closer eye on you? Anything could happen out here!

“What’s wrong?” Comet asked, firing at a clanker, as he saw Wolffe double back. “Are we retreating?”

“Warthog lost Y/N,“ he growled.

“Damn. Better go find your girl then,” Comet said. 

“She’s not—just, watch my six, okay?”

Thankfully, he didn’t need to go far. As he neared the control room, he saw blaster fire and a clanker fall, then heard your voice as you said, “There ya go, baby. Evil droid is all gone!”

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing?” Wolffe asked when he got nearer. 

“Was saving this little fella,” you said. You were cradling the porg in your arms as if it were a baby. When you looked up at Wolffe, your eyes were wide, your lips in a pout. He fought the urge to reach out, grab you by the face, and kiss you until you couldn’t breathe. “Can we keep him, please? He could be the mascot of the 104th!”

“…I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that.”

“He’s just a baby! Say hi, baby!” you cooed. You lifted the porg, which squawked in Wolffe’s face. 

Wolffe reached out, grasping your arm in his hand, and began tugging you away. “C’mon, we got what we needed. Let’s get outta here.”

“But the baby—”

“…Take it up with the General.” Wolffe paused, then took a moment to look you over, make sure that you didn’t earn any injuries in your impromptu rescue mission. “And, Y/N…?”

“Yes?”

“…don’t ever go silent on me like that again.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Even if it means you have to listen to my silly little Earth references?”

Wolffe almost held back, almost didn’t say what he was thinking. But, well…He really didn’t like it when he thought something had happened to you. And so he said, “I would rather hear your strange references than never hear from you again.”

And he meant every word. 

[cloneloverxoxoxox]

Something I’ve never had

Commander Wolffe x fem!reader

unsure of the word count ( this is my first ever mini story , not proof read so I apologise now )

This is literally my own fic so somethings tie in with The Clone Wars some don’t

Warnings : nothing too major just some awkwardness & abit of flirting ☁️

If you want a follow up let me know 🥰

Day 1 : You meet through work & instantly you are attracted to him but does he feel the same?

You spend ages in front the mirror in your fresher room your bright blue eyes shining back at you as you carry on with your morning routine , ensuring your makeup is just right but not too much, slicking your long black wavy hair into a ponytail , faffing with your shirt & taking the last sip of your morning caff, as you leave the room and head to the kitchen to place your empty mug on the side you take a deep breathe and begin to leave your apartment to catch a speeder to the GAR base where you start the first day of the rest of your life. Usually you work within the senate fighting for the rights of clones as does your farther , he is rather friendly with Padme who you’ve been introduced to a few times , attended dinners & conferences with her , you’ve also met Anakin Skywalker , Ashoka, the boys from the 501st and Master Obi wan Kenobi and his troops, so really this so getting the job of accompanying certain Jedi Cruisers to see how they are being treated how the Admirals treat them etc is down to your father. But you don’t mind you kinda like the excitement plus seeing all those good looking clones. A short while passes and you are introduced to Master Plo Koon , he warmly greets you and welcomes you aboard , you both are chatting away discussing the war amongst other things as you walk by you get a few cat calls from the Shinys nothing you did not expect being the only female on this cruiser , as you step into the Bridge that’s when you first notice him… he seems to tower above the other clones with his distinct grey and white armour , so broad , so handsome you can feel yourself blushing a deep pink , your insides are tingling. Master Plo Koon walks you over to him

“ Commander Wolffe this is Crystal , you will address her as Senator , she will be joining us while we carry out the Relief Mission to Aleen, please introduce her to the Pack and make her feel welcome … which I trust you will “

You give him a very small smile whilst holding your hand out ready to shake his and all he does is look you up and down letting out a small grunt.

“We are needed in the main hanger , it’s time we start the landing procedures, if you’d like to follow me” says Commander Wolffe in a firm deep voice “er..erm ok yes of course please lead the way Commander” you stutter out softly; Wolffe leads the way as you try to hurry your pace to catch up with him, your small 5’5 legs are no where near as quick as him you both reach the elevator down to the main hanger Wolffe stepping in first you follow suit. An awkward silence fills the small compartment with just you and him until a further 3 floors down 6 troopers pile in with a quick greeting but you loose your footing and fall back into the tall handsome Commander , your curvy behind gently brushed across his codpiece and you feel his hands against your hips steadying you , an even bigger awkwardness fills the elevator then Wolffes hands after lingering for a few seconds let go.

OH MY MAKER did that really happen you think to yourself , he already thinks you shouldn’t be here on his cruiser now you’ve just pushed your ass into him…

Wolffe leads you over to one of the hun ships where you meet R2-D2, C3PO , Boost , Sinker & Comet all of them greet you warmly especially Boost who gives you a cheeky grin and a little wink you can’t help but smile. As you land into Aleen Commander Wolffe begins debriefing everyone , but you and Boost find yourselves having some slightly flirty banter much to Wolffes disapproval.

As the hours go on your back in the Gun Ship typing notes on your Holopad when you hear a deep clearing of the throat you look up to see Commander Wolffe staring right into your soul

“can I help you at all Commander?” 𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗘𝗥 He is so good looking urhh why am I even thinking this!

“Do you have everything you need?” His voice knocks off your own trail of thought “Yes I have everything , thank you Commander . I’ll be sure to come to you if I do need anything” it sounded sexier in your head than how it sounded aloud

“Well we should be leaving soon , that damn translator droid is still out here somewhere and we can’t leave until he is back, I’ve sent Sinker and Boost to try and locate him”

“Ohh if you lost C3P0 I know Padme would be most upset.. Sorry Senator Amidala” you say rather embarrassed , you see out the side of your eye Wolffe is giving you his famous eye rolls you’ve been told about from Boost

“Yes well my orders were to come here to provide support and aid which my men have done , once we leave this planet I will be off loading those too” he says dryly.

“ Right well, if you would excuse me Commander I have a few more things to attend too and a few troopers to speak too” and on that note you get up and leave

Wolffe watches as you walk away, the way your ass jiggles in those skin tight black pants you have on, the way your beautiful long black hair gently sways in the wind , he notices you turn back ever so slightly just for a second catching your glance holding it for longer than he cared to admit… those bright blue eyes those big full lips wow he can feel himself become flustered… that isn’t him so he carries on with his work to get you off his mind. Yet he can’t seem too. An hour so later C3P0 and R2-D2 have still not returned however Wolffe notices you and Boost have been laughing and chatting near some rocks , he could of sworn he saw Boost place his hand on your thigh , that riled him up storming over to you both “TROOPER Did I not ask you to find those damn driods ? Not sit here and try chatting up the Senator ! Find them and report back “ he almost growled out Boost stood to attention and a quick “Yes Sir!!” He walked away leaving you and Commander Wolffe alone again … which you didn’t mind

“Err err Commander Wolffe Boost erm was not speaking to me in any appropriate way he was just telling me about your missions you’ve all been on” “ I’m sorry if I was keeping him from his duties” you say looking up at him batting your long dark lashes lips slightly parted

“Senator but my men have work to do so if you can keep your questions to a minimal” he snarls then walks away

𝘄𝗼𝘄 𝗼𝗸 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻𝘁 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝗵𝗲

that thought keeps running through your mind as you all leave the planet and head back to the Cruiser even as your walking down to your personal quarters, it’s not a good feeling you don’t like it

Dinner time soon comes around so you make your way to the mess hall only to be greeted by the smiling faces of Boost, Sinker and Comet “come and sit with us Senator we may as well get to know each other abit better eh “ Sinker let’s out with a gleem in his eye

“ ok ok thank you I will sit with you “ it comes out sounding so shy and sheepish but you do feel welcome , just as your tucking into your food Commander Wolffe enters holding a Holopad as he’s walking over to the table you can feel his eyes on you again but you can also feel that heat building up inside you “my office now Senator “ as he reaches the table said in a cold manner

“ok Commander” you stutter out … barely

𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗼???

On the way to Wolffes office there is a deadly silence apart from the odd com going off or the voices of troopers from the 104th , as you both enter his office Wolffe sits down you stand there nervous but trying so hard to keep your composure

“at ease” he says very monotone

“I just wanted to go over some of your notes from todays mission so we are both on the same page”

As you lean down closely next to him to go over the notes he can smell your sweet floral perfume lingering , he can hear your soft little breathes, the way you play with your hair and the delicatiness in your voice as your speaking..it’s driving him crazy

You are just about to turn to the last page of notes regarding todays mission on the Holopad when you and Wolffe both go to touch it at the same time your fingers ghost over his thick gloved digits and linger for just a few moments , he makes no attempt to move neither do you , the sexual tension in the air is almost unbearable until Wolfee harshly snatched his hand away

You let out a small cough “ Apologies Commander it won’t happen again Im just very tired, if that’s all you need me for then I will be retiring to my quarters for the night” the words spoken so quietly from you, your confused not sure what just happened but you know you need to leave

Commander Wolffe steps up from his desk “That is all Senator” said again so coldly as he watched you leave his office , watching the sway of your perfect curvy hips and perfect ass

𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗿𝘂𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗻 ⠀

That’s all he can think about all night as he’s laid in his bed staring up at the grey walls , you the girl he met earlier today, the girl his brothers especially Boost had been flirting with , the girl he wants and feels like he needs to protect but wants to ravage at the same time

𝗡𝗢 ⠀ 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴⠀ 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀….

[izzystizzys]

As High Marshall Commander, a title foisted on him by the Galaxy’s fakest bitch aka Chancellor Palpatine, Fox theoretically has privileges and authorities like no other clone. In practice, he has a headache and gets ignored more obviously than before.

What he also has is a fancy new function on his personal comm unit modified to broadcast GAR-wide to all commanding officers, up to and including Jedi. It gathers dust next to his own modified button that sees much better use - a private channel to Stone, the only vod that will let Fox bitch at him to his heart’s content without hanging up (Thire) or bitching right back (Thorn).

It’s been a long shift of 72 hours, the maximum Stabby allows him to do without a well-placed hypo to the neck, when Fox finally collapses on his rickety cot in the Command quarters and hits the private comm connection to Stone without looking. He’s already rolling his eyes so hard it tweaks at the migraine that’s been building since hour 18 and heaving a put-upon sigh.

“Everyone is stupid, Stone, and asking to be thrown face-first from the Dome balustrades”, he begins, settling into a low, dead tone of voice to warm to the building monologue. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. “I swear to haran I’m going to wring Amedda’s stringy neck one of these days. I don’t know what magical Force gods his mother pissed off, but they made sure to punish her and the Galaxy at large a hundred times over. He sucks the joy and competence out of every room like a black hole of stupid. I’d call him a has-been, but I trust in the power of nepotism and also just don’t believe he ever was. I swear he’s doing it on purpose and - oh, kriffing Sith-damned hells, you know who’s definitely doing it on purpose?! The kriffing Chancellor, that wrinkly ass-faced ballsack!”

Taking a deep breath, Fox lets that sit in his chest for a moment, indulging in the feeling of bright weightlessness. “I swear he’s trying to keep the war going - no one man can be that incompetent and still draw breath, not even Amedda or Taa. Goddamn Taa - but anyways, kriffing hell, Stone, either the senility isn’t an act or he’s a bad cartoon villain from Dooby Scoo. Yes Sir, sending Senator Amidala to a Seppie-infested planet for negotiations is a great idea after her fourth bomb threat of the week. No Sir, I can’t hear you cackling evilly with Count Dooku under your lame two-credit robe as you’re definitely not colluding with the Republic’s enemies. What, you have a red lightsaber?! Oh, of course I don’t know what that means, I was dropped on the head as a tubie!”

Barely pulling in a harsh breath, Fox continues, palms pressing into his eyeballs hard enough to cause sparks. “And speaking of lightsabers and senile fucks, haran smite my ass off but who the kriff thought it’d be a good idea to give absolute tactical and military authority to the kriffing eldritch space monks! The Force didn’t bless them with the collective good sense it gave to a kriffing rock, and I’m tired of pretending otherwise! Has anyone kriffing read the Theed Convention of Sentient Rights in Wartimes?! NO?!! Well, color me UNSURPRISED, because war crimes ARE NOT! GOOD! BATTLE! TACTICS!!”

“They run around in crop tops, Stone, in crop tops! Oh, the Force provides - WELL I’M GOING TO PROVIDE MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS, AND IT’S GOING TO HURT BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT WEARING KRIFFING ARMOUR!”

“Sure, let’s send the preteens into active warzones under heavy artillery in kriffing party wear! Surely nothing will ever go wrong! And give them commanding positions equivalent to CC-clones, WHO WERE LITERALLY GENETICALLY CREATED FOR IT! WITH A DECADE OF INTENSE TRAINING! LET’S DO THAT, BECAUSE WE’RE ALL KRIFFING STUPID!”

He’s gesturing wildly at the ceiling now, face heating up as his blood boils beneath the surface. “And you know what really gets my lowers in a twist, apart from the preteen commanding officers and blatant kriffing high treason and war profiteering?! Is it the complete lack of recognition? Gratitude? Basic sentient rights?! No, Stone, no, I would take all that in stride if it meant I never had to see Skywalker and Amidala kriffing canoodle right in front of me again, and pretend like it isn’t the galaxy’s worst conflict of interest case in the making!”

“By all levels of Sith-hell, what the kriff is wrong with that woman? You have it all, you could have anyone, and you choose that twatwaffle?! And then they have the gall to lock themselves in a broom closet for twenty minutes straight and have me guard it! ‘Oh yes, Senator, naturally we all go rattling brooms with our good friends! Nothing dodgy happening at all! I definitely believe you were looking for detergent and have used a washing machine before!’ The absolute nerve on those two! And then last week - you’ll never believe this - High General Windu passed by, and I swear he looked like he wanted to throw himself off the roof! I’ve never been less impressed by anyone in my life, and I’m batch-mates with Bly!”

“Speaking of Bly, that little bitchtit - if I have to edit one more, one more kriffing propaganda piece of him staring at General Secura’s bits, I’m going to stab my eye out! And if I have to edit one more of Secura staring at his bits, I’m going to stab the other one out! The only good thing I have to say about them is they’re more subtle than Skywalker and Amidala, which means nothing really. I will never understand that woman - but then she’s worked with Jar Jar Binks for a decade and not had a nervous breakdown, so she either has nerves of steel or is on some good-ass drugs.”

“Girl, your choices. And you know what else is a choice? Kote kriffing roundhouse-kicking heads off droids when he has a perfectly good blaster right there! I don’t know what the Longnecks put in his tube, but I hope to kriff it’s not contagious. I’d say I’m glad he has Kenobi to keep him in check, but that man wouldn’t know common sense if it punched his nose clean off his face. Flirting with General Grievous, ugh. I’d say he can do better, but honestly, they deserve each other.”

“And Wolffe - “, panting, Fox pauses, considering. “Well, Wolffe is an asshole and stupid, and I hate him because he’s stupid and has a stupid face. Also he keeps drunkenly submitting adoption paperwork on General Koon’s behalf - I wish I could say something mean about that, but honestly, his existence is roast enough. Anyways, bitches are trying me today, and by bitches I mean everyone. Commander Fox signing off to go not commit treason, unfortunately.”

Thoroughly powered out, Fox sinks into his hard mattress with a deep sigh. Several seconds of silence reign, and then his comm unit starts blaring in alarm.

Somewhere in the Jedi Temple, Mace Windu is knocked flat on his ass by a gargantuan shatterpoint exploding.

[moxie-girl]

still workshopping some of these a bit, but here's the current mando'a name chart for the CCs (plus rex!)

green words are ones I took directly from the mando'a dictionary, yellow words are technically non-canon but are basically real words, orange are words I made up that could probably be real words, and red ones are the ones I just mashed words together and they don't always make the most sense

I'm taking constructive criticism on some of these names! If you have a better mando'a name for a character (esp. one w a red name) I'd be happy to hear it!

edit: other name lists can be found here: 501st 212th !!

[threebea]

I'm sure someone has made this joke before but:

Fox: welcome to my brother my brother my brother my brother my brother my brother and me an advice show for the modern clone. I'm your oldest brother CC-1010, Fox.

Wolffe: What up Wolffe-Verse!? It's the leader of the pack ow ow awooo! CC-3636, Woooooolffe!

Cody: Hi Wolffe-Verse, it's me, your highest ranking clone brother, and Marshal Commander of 7th Sky Corps, CC-2224, Cody.

Fox: ..........you know we did discuss how we were going to do the intro. I made notes. Cody you're the second oldest you should be second. Wolffe... I don't even know where to start.

Wolffe: I told my Jedi about the holo-cast and he asked me if I'm an influencer. I decided to go with it. Hi General.

Cody: Hi General Koon. Wait so you've just decided you're an influencer?

Fox: What are you influencing? This was supposed to be a general advice show about armour maintenance and regulations soldiers are unclear about!

Wolffe: I'm making waves.

Fox: what waves? No one is even going to listen to this!

Cody: 7th Sky is. Because it's an order. Influence away Wolffe.

Wolffe: Cody gets it.

Fox: I don't think he does!

Cody: How about our first question, Fox?

Fox: Fine. Hello Brothers, long time listener first time writer-- this is our first episode.

Wolffe: it's the influence.

Fox: (gritting teeth) I'm a commander and I've gotten close with my Jedi. Really close. Like. Really really close. The Regs say you can't fraternize with civis, but is it cool to fraternize with your Jedi--what the--Bly is this you!?

Cody: Absolutely fine, next question.

Fox: No it isn't! It's a significant power imbalance!

Cody: Listen to Mr. doesn't have his own Jedi over here--

Fox: (voice drops) oh no. I have one now. And if you're listening Vos, I will find you. Mark my words. You can't hide forever.

Wolffe: wait, does that guy want to sleep with his Jedi? They're like our dads.

Cody: not everyone has the same relationship you have to your Jedi, Wolffe... And some of us are into dads.

Fox: I quit the show!

[vodika-vibes]

Hello Vodika!

I don't know if you accept requests, but I would like to make one request. Could I have a request regarding our Commanders (Cody, Wolffe, Fox, Bly, Ponds, Gree, Neyo and Bacara) where they will seen their S/O in 79's dressed in their battalion colors? I wonder how the boys will react to this. 😉😏

I greet you warmly and wish you all the best in your life! ❤

His Colors

Pairings: Commander Cody x Reader, Commander Wolffe x Reader, Commander Fox x Reader, Commander Bly x Reader, Commander Neyo x Reader

Word Count: 2041 in total

Warnings: Some suggestive comments and actions

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: hi there! I do always accept requests, so thank you very much for yours! I made the choice to only pick five Commanders of the ones you listed since I felt like it was going to get repetitive (and I don't know Ponds or Gree all that well).

Commander Cody x Reader - Orange at 79s

Cody’s mouth goes dry when he sees her.

She’s clad in a tight dress. It's tight enough that Cody’s not actually sure how she’s breathing, let alone walking. 

And it’s orange.

The same shade of orange that decorates the front of his armor. 

She sees him, and a blinding smile crosses her face, as she waves at him. He watches her say something to her friend, and then she hurries over to him and flings herself into his arms, “Cody!”

“Cyare,” His voice is slightly hoarse, “You look—” He trails off, not having the right words to describe her look.

Her smile brightens, “You like?”

Cody’s hands settle, tightly, on her hips, pulling her flush against him. He’s still dressed in his armor and, for the first time, he wishes he had something a little more casual to wear.

Her smile, somehow, brightens even more. “Good. I bought it for you to enjoy.”

“Yeah?”

She leans in so her painted lips hover over his ear, “My lingerie matches.” She whispers.

Cody is pretty sure that her comment just broke something in his brain, because the only thing he can think of, now, is pale orange lingerie against her pretty skin.

“Why would you tell me that?” He asks, “Now I can’t think of anything else,”

She laughs, and Cody’s heart swells, “Good. Now I’m sure I’ll be able to keep your attention.”

Commander Wolffe x GN!Reader - Grey at the Park

You’re late. You’re very late. 

It’s not your fault that there was an accident right outside your work, and you were stuck waiting for the traffic police to clean up the mess before you could leave.

But you’re still late.

You didn’t even have time to change. You’re still wearing your boring, grey scrubs. You went and bought a very nice outfit for your date with Wolffe.

And now you aren’t even going to be able to wear it.

It’s enough to make you want to cry.

Hopefully, Wolffe will still be waiting for you. He said he would, but you were supposed to meet an hour ago.

You wouldn’t blame him in the slightest for leaving.

You hurry into the park, heading straight for the meeting point. The meeting point is the bench near the fountain, the bench where you met him for the first time.

And he’s still there. A datapad in his hand, his gaze locked on the small device. You slow from your quick walk as you approach him. He really is so handsome.

He must have a sixth sense devoted to noticing people staring at him, though, because he lifts his gaze and meets yours. You watch as his gaze flickers down to your outfit, and you feel a surge of self-consciousness. 

Scrubs aren’t designed to look flattering on anyone, after all.

You nervously smooth your hand down the front of your scrubs as he stands and walks over to you, an unusual smile on his handsome face. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” You start, “I didn’t even have time to go home and change. I bought an outfit that’s more attractive than—”

You stop when his hand presses against your cheek, and he leans in to catch your lips with his.

He breaks the kiss and you stare up at him in confusion. And then you realize that your scrubs are the same color as the grey on his armor.

“You look really good in my colors, cyar’ika.” He murmurs, “How about, instead of going to dinner, we go back to your place, and I show you just how good I think you look.”

And your face burns with flustered embarrassment.

You suppose he likes it.

Commander Fox x GN!Reader - Red in the Senate Archives

Fox sighs as he folds his arms as he scans the archives.

It’s empty. Of course, it is. No one comes to the archives unless they need something.

He impatiently drums his fingers on his vambrace, seriously considering leaving. He has work to do, he shouldn’t have to wait for them to show up to do their job.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m here!” Fox turns when he hears a familiar voice and the, even more, familiar sound of heavy boots on the tiled floor. He’s not able to smother his smile when they come to a stop in front of him.

“You’re late, little bird.” Fox chides, though there’s no heat in his voice as he looks them over. They ran here from the lifts, obviously, there’s sweat on their brow and their short hair is plastered to their forehead.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. The Chancellor needed me to deliver something to Senator Organa,” They gasp out, pressing their hand over their heart. 

“You need to work out more.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

They scowl at him, and then unzip their jacket and toss it over the back of a chair, “I’m in perfect health, thank you.”

Fox’s breath catches in his throat when he sees the shirt that they’re wearing. It’s silky, and sheer in some places. And the same color as his armor.

His little bird is wearing his colors.

Fox steps closer to them, absently tossing his gloves on the table as well, before he lightly catches the hem of the, surprisingly delicate, shirt. “What’s this?” He breathes out.

They turn so they’re facing Fox, “I bought a new shirt at lunchtime.” Their smile becomes playfully innocent, “Do you like it?”

Fox steps closer to them, his free hand sliding to the back of their neck, “Where’s the archivist?”

“Went home. It’s after closing time,” They reply.

Fox hums thoughtfully, and the hand that was lightly gripping the hem of their shirt moves to the topmost button, unfastening it. And then it slowly moves down the front of their shirt.

“Fox—”

“Well, since we’re alone,” Fox murmurs, as he leans in to hover his lips over theirs and slowly continues to unbutton their shirt, “How about you sing me a song, little bird?”

His comment is rewarded with a delighted giggle, and Fox leans in to seal his lips over theirs. 

His little bird wearing red is just not fair, really.

Commander Bly x F!Reader - Yellow at sunset

Bly’s not sure what he did to deserve the attention of someone as amazing as her. Especially since everyone and their cousin seems to think that he has a thing for his general.

Hell, even his girl thought that he had a thing for his general.

It had been a hassle trying to convince her differently. Luckily, General Secura had been more than happy to talk to her. And tell her all about her amazing girlfriend.

In any event, the conversation had been enough that she said yes when Bly asked her out. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Doesn’t mean that he understands why she wants him, of all men. But he’s not going to question it.

“Bly?”

Her voice, soft and musical, causes him to whip his head around, a broad smile already crossing his face.

And there she is.

Standing several feet away from him, her pretty hair pulled into a loose braid over one of her shoulders, her painted lips spread into a warm smile.

And clad in a dress in his colors.

That, and the way that the setting sun paints her in golds and oranges, Bly finds himself at a loss for words. 

Well, not really.

Only his words are all things like, “Marry me,” and “I love you”. Silly little comments like that.

Absently she plays with her braid, “Well, how do I look?” She asks shyly, “I know I don’t usually wear yellow—”

“You could wear a trash bag and still be the most stunning woman on any planet,” Bly says, once he manages to find his tongue.

She giggles, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

If Bly ever has the displeasure of meeting the person who told her that her smile is weird-looking, he’s going to introduce them to his hunting knife. But he quickly shoves the thought to the side so he’s able to hurry to her side.

She smiles up at him as he stops in front of her, “You really like it?”

“I love it. You look amazing in my colors, you should wear them more often.” Bly lightly takes her hand in his and twirls her, pulling a startled laugh from her lips.

“Bly!”

“I just need to see from all angles,” He teases, as he twirls her again, the hem of her skirt flaring out, and twisting around her legs. “Yeah,” Bly breathes out, “You look perfect.”

“Thank you.”

He sets his free hand on her hip, “Dance with me?”

She averts her gaze, shyly. But there’s a smile on her lips as she nods. “As if you have to ask?”

Commander Neyo x F!Reader - Burgundy at the Winery

You smile politely at the sommelier as he approaches you. You offer him Neyo’s name and mention that he should already be here, and the older man smiles kindly, “He’s sitting in the back. Follow me.”

This isn’t your first date with Neyo, you’ve been dating for well over a year at this point, but he’s been deployed for the last six months, and this is your first proper date since the war ended.

As much as you’d like him to move in with you, Neyo refuses. Claiming that you’ve only been dating for six months and that more time is needed to determine if the pair of you are a good fit.

He’s not wrong, of course.

But he’s been your pick since the first day you met him. It’s disheartening to think that he doesn’t feel the same way.

You take a deep breath and smooth the velvety material of your burgundy dress. It’s new, and it might, very well, be the most expensive thing that you own. You had it specially made to match the burgundy of Neyo’s armor.

Hopefully, he’ll like it.

Hopefully, he still likes you.

You see Neyo before he sees you. He’s wearing a dark burgundy button-up shirt and some nice slacks. If you had to guess, the top two buttons probably aren’t buttoned, because that’s the kind of man he is.

He’s nursing a glass of wine.

You feel your heart clench. You really do love him more than life itself. You hope he knows that.

You can tell when Neyo sees you.

While your handsome Commander would never slouch, he was sitting casually. And the moment he sees you, he straightens in his seat. As you approach, you see his gaze dart down your body, and you see his severe mein fade into something more welcoming.

Well, welcoming for him, at least.

Neyo stands as you stop by his table, “Cyare,” He lightly takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. Now that you’re closer you can see just how much he appreciates how you look right now. “You look beautiful,”

You smile at him, all warmth and affection, and you watch as something soft creeps into his gaze, “Well, I wasn’t trying to match with you, but we do make quite a striking pair, I think.”

He chuckles and brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek, “Well, we certainly look better than some of the people here,” He agrees, and then his gaze sweeps down your body again, and something like hunger slides into his gaze, “I’ll just have to behave myself until we’re alone.”

You tilt your head, questioningly.

“Ah, cyar’ika,” Heat runs down your spine at the molten way he says his pet name for you, “You’re wearing my colors. You didn’t expect me to not react, did you?”

A small smile lifts your lips, “Well, that’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?”

Neyo’s grin is small and secretive, but he lightly releases your hand and pulls out the chair next to him, “Your chair, cyare.”

“Well, thank you, Commander.” You sink into the seat and have to muffle your giggle as he sweeps your hair off your neck to press a lingering kiss against your neck. Tonight is going to be fun.

[batchedzine]

🍪 PREORDERS ARE OPEN!!! 🍪

We are thrilled to announce that preorders for "Batched: A Clone Fan Zine" are OPEN!

https://batchedzine.bigcartel.com

Pre-orders will only run from October 1 thru October 31, so get your copy today!

There are not one, but TWO wonderful collections included in this project: The Batched Zine, which features some of your favorite canon clone characters The OC Showcase, which features art and fic of some original clone characters

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We have 3 bundle options available to purchase (prices in USD): *SINGLE SERVING Bundle - $15.00 - Batched Zine PDF - OC Showcase Zine PDF - Recipes Printable - Printable Recipe Cards - Cookie Clones Phone Wallpaper *BAKER'S DOZEN Bundle - $25.00 - Physical copy of Batched Zine (88 pages, A5) - Batched Zine PDF - OC Showcase Zine PDF - Recipes Printable - Printable Recipe Cards *FULL BATCH Bundle - $35.00

This includes: - Physical copy of Batched Zine (88 pages, A5) - Batched Zine PDF - Batched Zine ePub - OC Showcase Zine PDF - OC Showcase Zine ePub - Printable Recipe Cards - Cookie Clones Phone Wallpaper - Three 3x3” Cookie Trooper Die Cut Stickers (Rex, Cody, and a Shiny) - Two 2x6” Prints (Bad Batch and the 501st) - One 2.5” Acrylic Charm (Hardcase)

IF UNLOCKED, THIS BUNDLE WILL ALSO RECEIVE THESE STRETCH GOAL ITEMS WITH THE ORDER: - One 3x3" Clone Trooper Soda Die Cut Sticker - One 2.5” Acrylic Charm (Delta Squad) - One 2.5” Enamel Pin (Trooper Vacation)

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*This project is not sponsored by, endorsed by, or affiliated with Action Against Hunger, Lucasfilm Ltd. LLC, or The Walt Disney Company. All Star Wars canon characters, locations, and references contained in this zine are the intellectual property of The Walt Disney Company.

[sadiecoocoo]

Thinking abt an au where Rex and the 501st adopts Boba instead of letting him go to jail… I feel like Rex has a lot of the mando genes urging him to adopt feral children

Fives would tease boba and say that he’s like a little angry tooka

Tup would be happy to not be the youngest anymore and would be really sweet to him

Hardcase and fives would both help him cause chaos

Echo would try to teach him some of the regs but end up letting him do whatever because he has cute little tooka eyes that works very well

Rex would treat him sort of how he treats the domino twins, but would probably be more openly affectionate and would make sure that he’s never on the field (he totally doesn’t steal boba from the barracks and lets him sleep in Rex’s quarters and holds him like a pillow… it’s okay Boba likes it, he missed having a dad)

boba would try to sneak out on campaigns, but the 501st all collectively agreed that clone or not Boba was their baby brother and he is not going to an actual battlefield

they also have a teensy bet on who boba actually listens to the most (it’s echo but Fives refuses to accept it)

Anakin, to Rex’s dismay, would teach him how to be a pilot

Ahsoka would help with any chaos

The 212th would try to get him transferred to them because they want a baby brother too but Cody would just say “we already have a baby brother (Wooley) and they’d probably kill us if we took Boba”

Plo Koon would start trying to get the Wolfpack placed in more campaigns with the 501st and Wolffe also starts helping with a bit of chaos (both Wolffe and Boba are biters and you can’t convince me otherwise)

A lot of them would ask what Jango was like and Rex would storm up and cuff them on the back of the head because “wtf this kid is still grieving give him a god damned minute”

And yes they put him in the center of the clone piles when Rex doesn’t steal him (Rex will join usually anyway)

But the bad thing abt this would be when one clone doesn’t come back… after the citadel Boba would’ve been devastated to hear about Echo. After Umbara he would’ve been crying himself to sleep from all the deaths. When Ahsoka left he would’ve clung to Rex or one of his brothers because what if they leave too?

Boba is a hurt child and needs his brothers to fully heal, but when he’s with his brothers he can still get hurt

[oceansssblue]

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!

[mandos-mind-trick]

F*** Diplomacy

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

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

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

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

MASTERLIST

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

It was no secret your commander hates relief missions. 

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

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

You would have chosen anyone but Wolffe for this mission. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kriff. 

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

Oh kriff. 

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

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

You know he's big. You just know it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" Wolffe asks in disbelief.

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

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

You don't realize he's been talking. 

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

"What can I do?" He asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you need, baby. Tell me." 

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

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

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

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

You practically preen under him, legs shaking in anticipation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist:

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

[toomanybandstocare]

{Candy Cane Cupid}

Program: Holidays come around every year with mixed emotion. Excitement buzzes as clones celebrate their first Life Day with their partners after the war. Disappointment is pushed to the back of your mind as you keep yourself busy at work while your riduur is away. Mischief is in the air when Cupid finally reveals his holiday surprise for you.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Bartender, GN! Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Length: 2017w

Warnings: Mention of candy cane, alcohol + club scene, bittersweet emotions around the holidays, barely edited bc my brain is v smooth from work, probs slight out of character Wolffe (see counselor note below), barely edited as usual oops

Camp Resolute Masterlist

ClonexReader Masterlist

For the lovely @sinfulsalutations - Happy fic exhange and holiday season! I hope you enjoy. ^_^ I tried to make it a lil Hallmark moment. Part of the Life Day Exchange for @cloneficgiftexchange hosted by Ghost.

Prompt: 79s For @clonexreaderbingo event hosted by Ghost.

Counselor Note: I apologize if it's not that festive or good. Been in a funk as of recently, but I had fun writing this and trying to explore Wolffe as a character more. I know he's more stoic and serious in canon, but I wanted to explore how he would balance happiness, relaxation, and the familiarity of pulling rank during post war.

It seems like all of Coruscant has decided to spend the evening out amongst the city levels for holiday celebrations. Still only a year since the Clone Wars were won, everyone carries a warm happiness and joyfulness as they weave through club lines with their friends. Former troopers gather in boisterous groups outside of clubs, eagerly waiting for their first Life Day celebration. The usual clubbers are surrounded by new faces who easily share their nervousness and excitement for what the night may bring.

79s, normally vibrant with yellow and orange neon lights, now welcome tonight’s guests with more festive colored lighting and music. Even the tired club staff seem to be able to find one last bit of energy to push through the night with the holiday cheer.

The tips of your fingers sting from gripping the chilled shaker as your gaze flits across the crowd of dancers and party goers. The small semblance of hope that you kept tucked away deep in your heart slowly sizzles when you can’t find a gray battalion ribbon in the crowd of troopers. Red ribbons pack tightly into a booth as they play a game of Sabbac and try to teach their partners. Blue ribbons spread across the dance floor as they find dates for the evening. Orange ribbons stick close to the end of the bar as they share a flight of beer and stories. Not a single gray ribbon in the crowd to be found tonight. Your chest constricts, squeezing all the air out of your lungs in disappointment. The last flicker of hope fizzles and stings your heart. Hitting the shaker against the bartop harder than intended, you pour a bright blue cocktail into its glass and slide it over to a giggling patron. You watch with yearning as she’s pulled into the side of her partner, who sports a green ribbon, before they maneuver through the growing mass of people to join their friends.

“Still no sign of Wolffe?” Kiva carefully asks. Walking past you from the side entrance of the bar with a crate of seasonal beer, he squats down to the small fridge at the base of the bar shelves. He looks up at you with a concerned expression as he slides the fridge door open.

“He said he wasn’t even sure if he was going to be in the system even after Life Day,” you casually explain. Darting your tongue over your bottom lip, you shrug and turn to grab a new drink slip. Unable to meet Kiva’s all too familiar sympathetic gaze, you grab the mixers and spirits for the next order. Your heart races out of rhythm to the upbeat songs pulsing through the club. As the liquids spill into your new shaker, your stomach knots and twists leaving agony to swim through your body.

“I don’t even know why I’m bothering to look for him. The last we spoke, he and Plo Koon were just summoned to attend the peace accords on Soreno,” you breathlessly ramble. Once the final words tumbles past your lip, your throat tightens and you slam the top of the shaker shut before Kiva can reassure you.

Guilt stings the back of your neck as you shake the drink above your shoulder. The day that Wolffe shared that he was reinstated as a Marshall Commander, you immediately called for celebration. All his closest brothers and your friend group filled into a bar just down the street from your shared home. It wasn’t until the two of you fell into bed and silence separated you from Wolffe’s bliss that you realized the two of you wouldn’t have a different life after the war. Wolffe would still be systems away from you a majority of the time. The realization sank in further when he couldn’t wish you a happy birthday in person with the rest of your loved ones. A solemn understanding was made when he missed your two year anniversary to help with an aid mission. The mundane moments and memories you had hoped to create with Wolffe were nothing like the ones that your friends share of their partners' first year away from the GAR.

Not even realizing that you had slowed your actions, a gentle hand takes the shaker from yours and pours it into the glass in front of you. With a sigh, you face Kiva’s kind, understanding expression after he slides the drink over to a trooper with a yellow ribbon.

“Give him a call. Maybe you’d be surprised by the answer?” he softly encourages. Hope and mischief dance across his face while he grabs your hand to pull you away from the order line.

“Why would I do that when I already know the answer?” you tiredly push back. Fatigue and numbness wrap around your bones, and you can only stumble after Kiva out of the bar. “It’s not even my break yet for the second half. Not to sound too pessimistic, but I’d rather just work the doubles if I can’t spend the holidays with my partner”.

“Well,” Kiva exclaims, “Call me your candy cane cupid, because I have a surprise for you.” He winks and pulls you through the group of women with glittering dresses and warm sweaters.

Your heart hammers against your eardrums at Kiva’s words. “What do you mean?” you hastily ask. Kiva’s laughter mixes with the music while the two of you weave through the clusters of clones towards the CO table, a now long standing tradition at 79s even after the war. When you break through the last wall of party goers, the entire club blurs around you.

Kiva steps to your side, and the booth is empty with all but one person sitting behind the table with two glasses of Corellian whiskey. Ambient lighting dances across Wolffe’s tired expression, and you can just make out the small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. One that only makes a fleeting appearance when you’re nearby or mentioned in conversation.

“Happy Life Day,” Kiva expresses with a beaming smile, “Now go celebrate and enjoy the holiday festivities”.Before you can even thank him, Kiva shoots you a wink and disappears into the crowd once more. 

You watch in disbelief as that rare smile grows across Wolffe’s face while he moves out of the booth.Without a second thought, you stumble through the last few troopers wearing gray ribbons to throw yourself into Wolffe’s arms. “I thought you said you weren’t going to be home until after the holiday,” you choke out into his chest. Warm amber and musk mix to create Wolffe’s signature cologne, and you press yourself further into his embrace. His calloused hands roam across your back leaving sparks in their wake even when separated by your clothing.

“Your friend cupid has his ways,” Wolffe chuckles. His heart hammers as he reacquaints himself with your touch. How it feels to have his riduur in his arms once more. How the sound of your voice eases every worry from his mind. How being with you feels like home. Sliding his hands to your waist, he carefully pulls you from his body to fully be able to see you. Wolffe admires the small changes in your appearance as hues of blue, gold, and purple dance across your face. For just a moment, everything feels at peace. The anxiety of moving to another system in a few cycles disappears. None of the teasing remarks from his younger brothers get under his skin. Only you matter, and all the tension from his body dissipates. “Sorry, I got distracted. How are your eyes so pretty?” he murmurs almost to himself.

“Didn’t know you could be such a sap,” you sniffle with a light laugh. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Wolffe’s smile softens with remorse. “I know I haven’t been around as much as either of us had hoped. And I know I’ve let you down when I’ve missed important milestones for us this year. I wanted to make sure we could spend our first Life Day together,” he explains.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’ve done anything wrong,” you rush to assure him. Tears sting your lasline from the overwhelming storm of emotion raging inside you. When you move to wipe the stray tears escaping, Wolffe tenderly cups your cheek with his hand. His calloused fingertip carefully traces the planes of your face and wipes away the tear from your cheek.

“I don’t,” Wolffe reassures you. “I know that this isn’t what we had imagined for either of our lives after the war, and I don’t want us to drift apart because of that. I’m here because I need you to understand that nothing is going to stop me from coming home to you. Nothing was going to stop me from spending Life Day with you this year or any year in the future, alright?”

All the loneliness and yearning from the cycles spent alone crash down onto you. Tears freely fall down your cheeks as you tuck yourself into the crook of Wolffe’s neck. “I’ve missed you so much,” you admit. “I didn’t want to say anything, because I know how much Plo and the GAR means to you, but I’ve missed you so much.” Your voice breaks at the end of your confession, and you pull away from his body to wipe your tears from your face.

“I’ve missed you, cyar’ika. More than you could imagine,” Wolffe mumbles into the top of your head. His heart stings at your cries, and he wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. “I’m home now. It’s going to be okay, yeah? We’re going to figure this out”.

You let Wolffe guide you into the booth, and the two of you settle into the far corner. Draping your legs over his lap, you tuck yourself into his side and look at him in adoration. “We’re both a mess without each other, huh? Have absolutely no idea what to do without the other,” you tease. Wolffe chuckles and nods after taking a sip of his whisky. He ducks his head to press his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers: “Tell anyone and we may just have to leave early.” His warm breath tickles across your neck, and he squeezes your thigh as the rest of the Wolfpack join you with their partners.

For the first time during the holiday season, you’re able to sink into Wolffe’s arms and enjoy the company around you. Not a single member of the pack or their partners neglect to see how you’ve been. Plans begin to easily come into creation to squeeze in a few more holiday outings for you and Wolffe to join. A glimpse of the life that you hoped to create with Wolffe after the war finally playing out. Yet, it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t where you were currently at in life.

During a bout of laughter, you look over to Wolffe and find him already gazing at you with that all too familiar smile tugging at his lips. You cup his jaw and press a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. Pulling away, the two of you share a look of adoration before sharing a soft kiss in the privacy of your own world. The two of you fall into rhythm with each other as if no time had passed. Lost in the moment, it’s not until his brothers start to howl and their partners tell them to leave you and Wolffe alone that the two of you break from the kiss.

“Mind your damn business,” Wolffe barks back to his snickering brothers. “How many times did I turn a blind eye to when you brought back your cy’are to the barracks?” Instantly the snickers silence as the older brothers laugh at the young clones.

Rolling his eyes as the conversation redirects to tomorrow’s outing, Wolffe pulls you closer into his side. Pressing a tender kiss to your temple, he rests his forehead against yours. “Happy Life Day, riduur”.

[dickarchivist]

Lullaby of the Wolffe

Wolffe × GN!Reader

Word Count: 1087

Playlist: Lullaby of the Wolffe

Rating: PG Fluff, but as always Minors DNI 🔞

Contents and Warnings: Insomnia, growing panic due to Insomnia, service animal (charhound), intrusive thoughts, swear words, soft Wolffe, potentially OOC Wolffe, fluff, hurt/comfort, soft sleepy singing

Summary: plagued by anxiety, you can't sleep. Despite your best efforts, Wolffe wakes up beside you. Instead of being angry, he offers you a Lullaby to try and help calm you down.

Author's Notes: The other night I had really bad panic Insomnia and I wanted a comfort fic tailored to my bullshit. I decided it would be a good idea to make a playlist of songs I felt like Wolffe would sing to me in a soft baritone while rubbing my back and trying to soothe me out of my panic. Now that I've made it through the night, I'm writing the fic to go with the playlist. Please enjoy both! I hope you get some rest.

Taglist: @anxiouspineapple99 @wolffegirlsunite @wizardofrozz @eclec-tech @dystopicjumpsuit @clonethirstingisreal @wings-and-beskar @multi-fan-dom-madness @starrylothcat @n0vqni @sev-on-kamino @mythical-illustrator @523rdrebel @littlemissmanga @atomickidsoul @moonwreckd

You can't sleep.

You went for a run. You hit the gym. You walked your charhound. You read a whole book, from start to finish. Cooked meals for the whole week, cleaned the house top to bottom, The laundry was even folded.

You can't sleep.

It wasn't for lack of trying. You'd lay in your bed, but as soon as you'd turned off the distractions, you were alone, and everything else came rushing in to attack you.

"You left the stove on. No. Not the stove, the oven. What's that smell? Are you burning the house down!?" You jump out of bed, run to the kitchen, and there's nothing wrong. The place is just how you left it. That burning smell was the crisp charcoal smell of your service charhound, Soot. You mentally kick yourself, how could you be so stupid? You know that smell, you've known it since she was a pup...

Back in bed. Okay, you think, okay this time will be it. This time you'll sleep.

"You forgot to feed Soot. Useless stupid owner how could you do that to your own baby?" But Soot is asleep at your bedside, her belly warm with her meal. You lay back down. You try to sleep.

You. Can't. Sleep.

Tears well in your eyes and you scream. You're so tired. You can't believe how exhausted you are and yet not a single moment of rest finds you. Soot gets up and puts herself in your arms to keep you from getting distructive. Her higher temperature keeps you warm, but all you feel is cold. You don't sleep a moment all night.

You feel sick, you're sluggish all the next day, because of course. You couldn't sleep. It's been 52 hours. The first day you could hide it, the second it started to show, but today... today you're with the wolfpack. If Plo Koon doesn't bring it to anyone's attention first, you know that Wolffe won't let it slide when he sees you. You've never wanted to stay away from the steely eyed commander more than today.

"You look like hell." Wolffe actually takes his helmet off to get a look at you, and it makes your stomach hurt when you see the concern on his face.

You sigh, roll your eyes, "Thanks. Go away." and turn away from Wolffe, trying to focus on your own work.

"No." His voice is hard, and you want to lash out, but when he grabs your wrist and turns you around, all your anger dissolves at his orders, "Tell me what's going on. Now."

Tears welling in the corners of your eyes, you try to blink them away, try to act tough, but you break under his gaze. "I can't sleep!"

You sob, hard. Wolffe jumps when you rush forward to close the gap, pressing your face against his chestplate, arms clinging around him, and openly sobbing. He hesitates, but eventually puts his arms around you, rubbing your back. It's so comforting, but it only serves to make you cry harder. It makes you realize just how touch starved you've been...

"Alright Cyar'ika, why can't you sleep?" You didn't know his voice could be so soft...

"I d-dont- dont know!" When you pull back, he holds your cheek, rubbing away tears. You close your eyes, and try to breath a little more evenly, "I h-have Insomnia, a-and it's been a few days since-"

"Days?!" Wolffe barks, now holding your face in both hands, "Kriff- you're coming with me."

He grabs your wrist, hauling you through the hallways of the ship. He opens a door to reveal a vacant sleeping quarters, and your stomach drops. "N-no, Wolffe, you don't get it... nothing is going to help, and especially not without Soot here, I won't be able to fall asleep. It's hard enough with Soot, but alone, I can't-"

"Shut up." You do, looking away bashfully, until the door closes behind the two of you, at which point Wolffe starts to take off his armor, "Get in the bed."

You blush wildly, covering your eyes, "Wolffe I'm sleep deprived, not- not sex deprived, I'm really sorry if I misled you but- s-stop laughing!"

"Cyar'ika, we are not having sex. Just getting my armor off so I'm comfortable too. Get in the damn bed, you'll see." Wolffe takes your hands from your eyes and leads you over to a bunk.

He helps you down, takes off your boots, and guides you to lay down. Your face is still hot when he gets into the bed with you, and he earns a squeak from you when he handles you into a cradled position. Your head rests on a pillow between yourself and his arm, comfortable for both of you. His other arms curls around you and you feel his hand rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

"I could use a rest, and you definitely need one. Get some sleep... that's an order." He chuckles at the last part, and for a moment, you think this might actually work.

Unfortunately, as soothing as it is, Wolffe's presence did nothing to stop the panic Insomnia. As soon as it's quiet, your mind starts racing. Thoughts of guilt, of shame, thoughts that this is all pity, that he didn't want you because you're undesirable, that-

"Cyare, quit squirming. What's going through that head of yours?"

"E-everything..." damn it. You didn't even notice your movements, but they'd been enough to wake Wolffe, "Once it's quiet, I can't sleep... can't stop the thoughts..."

There's a long, painfully quiet moment where you think you've said something wrong, until you hear Wolffe take a very deep breath. He kisses your forehead, whisping on your skin, "If you tell anyone about this I swear..."

It starts as a hum, a familiar tune rumbling in his chest. Eventually it builds, and he's whispering the song to you. You pull away a little, looking at Wolffe in awe, "Are you... singing me to sleep?"

"If it works." He kisses your forehead, encourages you to get comfortable again, and then picks up his song again once you're secured to his chest.

You don't even notice when you fall asleep. And you don't know how long you slept, but it was peaceful. Restful. You don't even remember the dreams you had, if you had then at all.

"Hey there Cyar'ika, sleep well?" Waking up in his arms, that's what really felt like a dream.

"Thanks to you, I did."

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Mimi ❤️!! Congratulations on hitting 450 followers 🥳!!

If you'd like, could I suggest Commander Wolffe and the prompts: 18 and/or 35?

😘

Awww @ulchabhangorm thank you, love!

I realized on my previous post, I didn't put a warning. Oops. Anyway, I'll include a warning this time.

Enjoy.

Just Breathe

Warnings: anxiety, slight panic attack, mentions of death, broken finger, surgeries, medical procedure, kissing.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

You took a deep breath, needing to calm down your mind. There’d been just too many injuries, too many bloody soldiers, too many you couldn’t save. It was just all too much. You just needed peace and quiet. Needed to remember you were more than just someone who stood by and watched soldiers die. 

Wolffe was looking for you, he knew in battles like this, you always suffered the most. You always made sure everyone else took the time to recoup, while you ploughed through the difficult carnage. He smiled when he saw you standing outside of the camp looking up to the stars, he loved the way the moonlight illuminated your face, your bright eyes that were full of sadness pulled on his heart strings.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

It was the only reprimand he would give you on a day like this, he walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in close to his chest. 

“I know. I just … I just needed to breathe.”

He rested his lips on the side of your head, pressing a gentle kiss, “Hmmm, and did you?”

You swallowed the anxiety, fighting back the tears, “I think so…”

“Doesn’t sound like it”

A shuddering breath escaped your lips; you hated how much Wolffe really knew you, how much you tried to be strong. You turned in his arms and held him close, burying your face in the crook of his arm and shoulder, wanting to escape from the reality that was this world.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika. I got you.”

You simply nodded, letting your tears escape, and finally finding the comfort you had been so longing for, as you felt Wolffe bury his face in your hair, his breath on your neck, and his hand rubbing your back up and down. 

You shifted when you realized he kept his left hand elevated and away from you. You wiped your tears as you looked into his warm eyes that would always be your home.

“Wolffe, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, ignoring the pain in his hand. He looked at his cyar’ika’s face which told him you didn’t believe him. He let out a sigh, he didn’t want you to be worried about him, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it, cyar’ika.”

“Now, I know there’s something wrong,” you pulled back and looked at him, holding out your hand for him, “Show me.”

“Cyar’ika, let’s worry about you. I can wait.”

“I’ll keep standing here, and not saying anything until you show me your hand.”

“Well, I can play that game too, cyar’ika.”

You nodded, and stood in front of him, hand raised, keeping your eyes locked on his, with an unimpressed face. You stood there staring at each other for a good ten minutes before finally he caved, “Alright, alright. Here.” He placed his left hand in yours, his glove was off, his middle finger  bent at an odd angle.

“Wolffe, your finger is broken!”

“Like I said, not a big deal.”

“I swear…” you started mumbling under your breath as you looked at his finger, “you need to thank the force, you didn’t have a pinched nerve or something. Otherwise, we would’ve had to amputate this, you do realize that!”

“As I previously stated, not a big deal” he smirked as he looked at you. He knew how much it drove you crazy, when he downgraded an injury, simply because he wanted to see how angry you got. Plus, it had the added benefit of making you stop thinking about your anxiety.

“Come with me,” you took his other hand in yours, interweaving your fingers. Shaking your head as you walked back to the med tent. Forcing him to sit down, as you tried so hard not to laugh at his best, ‘What did I do?’ face. You grabbed your supplies, pulling over a cargo crate so you could sit on it. 

“Just so you know, this is going to hurt, okay?"

“You always say that, but how can it hurt when I’m looking at the most beautiful face in the galaxy.”

You smirked as he tried to distract you, “Keep it up.” You challenged him, as you looked in his eyes and held on to his finger.

“What, you think, you can make me cry?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Not possible, my most beautiful cyar’ika. Your eyes are … AHHH! Son of a nerf herder!”

You laughed as you straightened out his finger and braced it, wrapping the splint around his finger. “You’ll have to keep this on for three to four weeks, and no strenuous activity for two weeks after.”

“Doesn’t really work on a battlefield, cyar’ika.”

“Hence the splint.” You smiled as you leaned forward pressing a kiss to his lips, “Better?”

“Mmm, I think I need a little more” he threaded his good fingers through your hair and pressed your lips to his again.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

[izzystizzys]

TW: discussion of something approximating suicidal tendencies but with the usual crack programming of this blog

“Ah, High General Windu”, says Fox, pleasantly. “So we meet again.”

High General Windu raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, Fox thinks, though it’s getting hard to tell with all the blood rushing to his head. “If I let you go, will you try to throw yourself out of another window?”

Fox makes a vague shrugging motion - or tries to, anyways. It’s hard to tell where any of his limbs are going, hanging upside down in the air as he is. “I am willing to discuss terms.” A bridge will do just fine.

Impossibly, the High General’s eyebrows climb even further up his forehead. “A compromise, then, esteemed Commander.” And so, he righths Fox the head way up in the air, but leaves him floating just above the ground, at which point several painted shells come skidding around the corner followed by billowing robes and screeches.

“WHAT”, says Kote, calmly, “THE BANTHA-KARKED, FORCE-LOVING KRIFF, FOX.”

“You’ll short out your helmet mic”, Fox advises him, sagely. Fondly, he thinks back to decimating his own on only his second time in the newly-christened official Coruscant Guard Scream Closet. He’d just received the comm about the Zillo Beast being transported to 000, and made sure to take his bucket off thereafter to improve the quality of his closet time.

High General Windu’s face does something complicated between sympathy and constipation.

Because the Galaxy doesn’t hate Fox enough already and Cody wasn’t enough on his own, Wolffe elbows his way through their batch to plant himself in front of him, shoulders squared and shaking with repressed rage. “If you try that again, dickhead”, he begins, in a low growl that quite frankly sounds more cringe that intimidating, “I’m going to resurrect you and then kill you again.”

“Ah, Wolffe”, Plo Koon says, in his deep, shivery timbre, “Remember our conversations about effective conflict resolution and communication of needs?”

Wolffe’s eyes narrow at Fox, because all non-Guard are sweet summer children who walk around buckets off on 000 like absolute lunatics. Fox prays they never have to find out why that’s a bad idea. “I feel”, his ori’vod presses out between clenched teeth, “that if you make me watch you throw yourself out of another window, I’m going to jump after you and strangle you on the way down, you little bitch.”

“That’s fair”, says Fox, and watches High General Kenobi bury his face in his hands. Wolffe twitches in place and makes an aborted groaning noise, the hypocrite.

“Excuse me, High Marshall Commander Fox, but I fail to see what’s so dire about this situation that the Jedi High Council and your brothers cannot help you solve”, says Windu, the only sane one left on this Force-forsaken bloated corpse of a planet. Behind the gaggle of Jedi and ori’vode already gathered in front of Fox, the rest of them come veering around the corner in a commotion that’s quite frankly embarrassing. High General Yoda is mounted on Skywalker’s back like he’s a race-Eopie, which is Fox’ only consolation.

He got up this morning at 0300, bleary-eyed and with a pounding headache as always, and all was right in the world. And then Fox got called into the Jedi High Council’s chambers and was ceremoniously informed that in the wake of Chancellor Palpatine’s unfortunate demise (hah), and through the emergency state of the Senate, as well as several invented promotions foisted on Fox to make the delegation of any and all paperwork less shady, he was now next in the chain of command and-

Well, Fox is the acting Chancellor, in short.

Haha, he had said, and been meet with several seconds of silence, until it got both awkward and exceedingly painful. Wait, he’d said. You’re kriffing serious.

Kriffing serious, we are, had said High General Yoda, and thus Fox launched himself out the first best window with a maniacal cackle of, you’ll have to catch me first!

And catch him, High General Windu sure did.

“The will of the Force this is”, Yoda interrupts Fox’ train of thought. He scans him thoughtfully from beneath his wizened brow, and hems to himself. “Shake things up, this will. Determine the fate of the Galaxy, this shall. A feeling, I have, that a good Chancellor you will make. A better one, hmmm.”

“That’d be high praise, if not for the fact that a dead lemming would make for a better Chancellor than the last one”, says Fox, drawing and indignant gasp from Skywalker. He doesn’t bother with either that or the green goblin’s cackle, lost in the deep sense of resignation that settles over his shoulders like a suffocating blanket.

“Alright, then, get me Thorn on the comm. As my first act in office, I’m firing all the Jedi. No offense, but you’re kind of a disaster. Then, someone get me to the Chancellor’s office, I’m calling Dooku to let him know the war’s off. And please get me Judicial, they’ll be up all night working on my datafolders - I’m having the Senate arrested.”

“Who - is - arresting - “, Bly pants, hands on his knees from where he’s just come sprinting around the corner with his Jedi.

Underneath his bucket, Fox smiles a smile that’s all teeth. “The Senate”, he says, sweetly, wondering if he’s just imagined the shiver that’s gone through the room. “I’m suing the Senate, and taking them all into temporary custody for abuse of sentient rights.”