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ariadnes-red-thread · 5 months ago

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The Last Word: Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR: SAY NOTHING

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Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fives/OFC

Chapter Summary: Brought face-to-face with Fives after their one-night stand, Mal faces hard choices and harder truths. Meanwhile, Fives knows at least one thing that this new battalion medic is hiding and he's beginning to suspect that there might be more.

Chapter Warnings: Some swearing (mostly in mand'o), Mentions of Umbara/past trauma and past sexual situations, canon-typical violence, character death mention/flashback

Chapter Word Count: 5.8k

Recommended Listening: Say Nothing by Flume feat. MAY-A

A/N: Another new chapter? Within a month? WHO IS SHE?

Ao3

Taglist

She was staring, a sardonic voice pointed out from somewhere deep within her. Mal snapped her mouth shut and clenched her jaw to keep it from falling open again. Fives was here.

For a moment, she glowed. Mal felt herself light up as the night before enveloped her. She thought about the boundless joy of his laugh, the soft friction of his facial hair, the heat of his broad body, the gentle and hungry press of his lips. Then, she caught the dull reflection of her green eyes in the durasteel wall behind him.��

Panic rippled through Mal’s body, casting any lightness into deep, dark shadow.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“This is Tup.” Mal’s heart was racing as Kix went down the line, oblivious to the inner turmoil that she’d been thrown into. “And this is Fives, our resident ARC.”

“And resident pain in the ass,” Jesse added.

Fives pressed his lips together in a smirk. There was no doubt he recognized her. The ripples of panic swelled into waves that threatened to pull her under any moment. She did the only thing she could think of.

“Nice to meet you.” Mal quickly spoke, a bit louder than she meant.

Tup gave a cheerful reply that she only faintly heard. Instead, Mal stared at his brother. Fives’ eyebrows shot up. His eyes flashed over her and he frowned before he finally nodded. Mal let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Likewise.” Fives’ reply was pointed, but only to her.

“Come on,” Kix said as he took a step forward, oblivious to the thousand little unspoken words that had just passed between his new civilian medic and his brother. “I’m starving.”

The small group moved together to the mess hall. Around her, Jesse, Kix, and Tup joked and laughed. Only she and Fives walked in silence, sweating under the unforgiving lights.

The waves of panic had passed, turning into a heavy rock that sat in the pit of her stomach. While Mal waited for his move, she ruminated on her bad luck. The chance of Fives being in her battalion had to have been a million to one. But here he was and now she was about to eat dinner with him. She half-listened to Jesse as he made a joke about GAR food and let out an obligatory laugh when she was supposed to, but inside, Mal was reeling.</p>

No Jedi, no medics, and especially no clones. She had that rule for cycles, and now one slip-up, fueled by alcohol and momentary passion, could undo everything. To begin with, it was unethical and unprofessional. She was already an outsider in an army of brothers. While the 104th was her family, the 501st wasn’t. They didn’t know her and she didn’t want them to make assumptions before they did. Then there was the moral failing of sleeping with her patient. She would have to care for him and now she risked her position being compromised. Any care she gave him or any of his brothers would be scrutinized to make sure she wasn’t showing favoritism, misusing resources, or wasting GAR time. The upper management of the civilian volunteer force would descend on her like a pack of danchafs. And that was if they didn’t just discharge her.

And that, she thought, as her. stomach began to turn, would be unthinkable. This was supposed to be her chance to make things right. The 501st was where she was going to find answers. But now a single mistake threatened it all.

For one weak moment, Mal wondered if there was still time to transfer back. She missed the 104th more than ever. Sinker would think this was hilarious and do that thing where he laughed so hard he snorted. Boost would roll his eyes. Mal let out a small sigh to herself. She needed that right now. She could even go for one of Crux’s lectures.

The mess hall was loud and crowded. It pulled her back to her surroundings and away from the spiral of her inner monologue. Kix checked in to make sure she was familiar. After she reassured him, he and Jesse took off for the dessert station.

She gathered her tray and got in line. Involuntarily, her eyes drifted over the soldiers, trying to find Wolffe’s scowl, even though she knew it was light years away. Instead, she found only unfamiliar, familiar faces. Protein cubes turned her stomach in a good day and today she almost retched as it was plopped onto her plate.

“Not a fan?” Tup asked, making her start. She hadn’t realized he’d followed her in line. “Can’t say they’re my favorite either.”

“I uh…” Mal grimaced as she tried to fix her face. “Yeah.”

“Look at it.” Tup poked at the jiggling block before he shot her a commiserating look. “We got real meals on Kamino. 'Bout the only thing I miss about that soggy planet. But you get used to ‘em.”

You get used to ‘em. Mal nodded. She thought about telling Tup that no matter how many GAR meals she ate, the protein cubes would always taste of metal ore to her. But she didn’t say it. She opened her mouth just to make sure she could.

Mal followed Tup over to the table where the four other clones were waiting for them. Kix and Jesse were arguing over something that sounded like a battle strategy but also could have been a drinking game. Tup sat next to Jesse, and as Mal slid onto the bench beside him, She found herself face-to-face with Fives again. He was still watching her carefully.

Her hope for answers, everything she was here to do could shatter right before her eyes. She shifted her jaw as her mind raced. She could do something. Mal had to do something.

“I’ll grab water for the table.” She put her tray down. “It’s Fives, right? Want to give me a hand?”

Fives raised an eyebrow at Mal as he hesitated, but curiosity seemed to get the better of him.

“Roger, roger.” He said as he stood, his umber eyes never leaving hers.

For a moment, she hesitated, wilting in his dark look. Something in her wanted to make him laugh just so she could hear it again. Seconds passed and Mal felt the other three watching her curiously. She spun on her heels, and the table soon turned its attention and debate quickly pick back up. Fives was hot behind her, catching up to her pace in just a few strides. A moment of silence passed as Mal waited until she was out of earshot from the table.

“I’m sorry about the greeting.” Mal’s words were hushed, falling stuttered from her lips as she made her way across the mess with the ARC trooper. “I was caught off guard.”

“That makes two of us.”

His low voice was right in her ear. Her breath hitched just a little as she realized how close he was.

She finally reached the water fountain. Mal took five cups from the stack piled on the counter and handed two of them to Fives. This gave her a moment to look at the man. He stood less than a foot away, one armored hip leaning up against the counter as he waited on her next move. Mal swallowed. He was so very close. The last time he had been this close, his lips had been pressed against her cheek. She blinked, pushing the memory away.

“I just think it’s best if we keep things professional.”

“You made that very clear.”

Fives’ voice was still low and it was becoming increasingly unfriendly. A part of her stung as she realized she never would have thought it came from the same relaxed, warm man who was in her apartment just hours ago. Focus, Mal thought to herself, You have to do this.

“I’m sorry, I don’t…” Mal started before Fives cut her off.

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika.” Fives’ tone returned to casual as he began to fill the glasses in his hands with water. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Despite his reassuring words, she couldn’t help feeling like she’d fucked up again. His attention never left the glasses and, after he finished, he took a wide step away, giving her plenty of space to fill her three cups. Mal walked silently back to their meals, several steps behind the clone. The men at the table had seemingly settled their debate, and decided to turn their attention to her.

“So you’re from the 104th, huh? What’s Wolffe actually like?” Jesse asked as she sat back in her seat. “I bet he’s a big softie.”

“You thought Fox would be a softie and how did that turn out?” Fives scoffed at his brother as he slid him a cup of water.

“I’ll win him over yet.” Jesse grinned.

“Not with that lifetime ban from the Senate you won’t.” Kix prodded Jesse with an elbow to the side.

Jesse waved off his brothers as he turned back to her. Mal quickly began to stuff the protein cube into her mouth to avoid his questions, only retching a little at the taste.

“Were you on Khorm when he lost his eye?”

Mal coughed, choking on the gelatinous mouthful.

“Jesse, shut the fuck up,” Kix ordered.

Mal shot Kix a grateful smile as she carefully swallowed. She hadn’t spent long with Kix, but she had a feeling he didn’t take that tone with Jessie often. Jessie, for his part, suddenly found himself preoccupied with his protein cube, a slightly sheepish look on his face.

“So what planet are you from?” Tup asked, trying to find a more friendly topic.

Her stomach clenched. Another subject she wanted to avoid. Mal hadn’t considered that this new squad wouldn’t know her from Chancellor Palpatine. There was a privilege in not having to explain herself and it was gone now.

She weighed the answer for a moment.

“Takodana.” Mal finally answered truthfully.

Fives snorted. Mal’s eyes shot to him as she waited. He just shook his head. Then he paused for a moment before he lifted his eyes to hers.

“Takodana? Why do I know that name?” Fives looked at her for the first time since they had both sat down.

She held her breath for a moment. She watched as he frowned, deep in thought. While Fives was distracted, Jesse spotted an opportunity. He snatched the cake from Fives’ tray while the clone was frowning at Mal.

“Hey!” Fives swiped at air as he realized the theft.

“That’s for the caf this morning.” Jesse grinned at the ARC trooper.

Mal sighed in relief as Fives also excused himself quickly after. She watched out of the corner of her as he walked away. He didn’t look back. The conversation devolved into brotherly harassment as the boys lost all interest in grilling the new girl.

Mal stayed through the meal and long enough for Kix to give her a digital tour of the Venator med bay, but soon he released her with praise for her first day that mostly involved how well she put up with Jesse, and instructions for reporting bright and early tomorrow. The 501st was shipping out again.

It wasn’t until her apartment door slid shut behind her, Mal realized she had made it back to her apartment. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had left it. The shadows seem longer, jutting out at strange angles, like the place wasn’t quite hers anymore. She didn’t bother to turn on the light as she dragged her body across the small studio, the city offering enough of its own through the windows. Mal stripped the jumpsuit from her body and threw herself into bed, exhausted emotionally and physically. Despite the tiredness that clung to her bones, she immediately sat back up. A spicy, sweet scent of whiskey, smoke, and heady sweat invaded her nostrils. It was Fives. He was still lingering on the sheets.

She tossed for a few moments and tried to ignore it but, no matter what position she lay in, he followed her, his memory wrapped around her just as he had earlier that same day. She couldn’t escape it, no more than she could when she fumbled her greeting to him. She’d slept with one of the men she was supposed to protect, to help. Fraternization was specifically against the rules for civilians and GAR soldiers. She’d be discharged without a second thought.

On the bedside table, the small Wolfpack pin glinted in the moonlight. She would fail Wolffe, Crux, and even Tye. And, worse, she would fail the twins. She turned again, but a new wave of Fives and a memory of his arms wrapping around her suddenly was suddenly all around her.

Mal huffed and threw the blankets back. She swung her legs off the side of the bed, sitting up. Mal hung her head, letting it fall to her palms for a moment. Too tired to change the sheets, she pulled her duvet behind her as she dragged herself to the chair.

The nightmares came again that night.

Mal’s words were a bucket of ice down his spine. Cold and formal. He scanned her face but there was no hint of recognition. Fives reeled. For a moment, he teetered on the edge of calling her out. Nice to meet you? Did my dick give you amnesia? But then he thought about his vode. He didn’t need them to see this rejection. No, for all they knew he had a one-night stand who he left breathless and reeling and totally in love with him. He was going to keep it that way. For now.

“Likewise.” He finally settled on the curt reply.

“Come on,” Kix pushed forward, his mind on food as usual. “I’m starving.”

He watched her from the corner of his eye. She was laughing at something Jessie had said, but he could see that she was watching him too. Probably scared he was going to air her dirty little secret. Tup noticed something was wrong right away. He shot Fives a look as they were swept up in the mess hall crowd. A wordless conversation passed between them. A look of concern. A shrug of unconcern. An eyebrow of skepticism. A smile of reassurance.

Relax, Fives reminded himself. Time to watch and see how this plays out. Think like an ARC.

He piled his tray with fortified protein and settled into the table with his friends but no sooner than he had sat down, his eyes found her again.

Mal trailed behind Tup. She shifted as she walked. A wiggle of her fingers, a soft clench and unclench of her jaw, a slight roll of her neck. It was like she was taking roll call of her body. A red curl escaped her hair tie and hung down over her eyes. She glanced at it and huffed, blowing it to the side. She glared at the errant lock as it fell back into her face, the dusting of freckles on her nose wrinkling. Tup led her to their table, sliding in next to Jesse, leaving enough room for Mal next to him, and right across from Fives.

She didn’t seem to realize where she was sitting until she was almost at his eye level. Finally, her jeweled orbs met his. Mal blinked as she stared at him for a moment. He tried to hold her emerald stare. Why, he wasn’t sure.

“I’m going to go grab water for the table.” She quickly announced to the table before she turned back to him. “It’s Fives, right? Want to give me a hand?”

The hesitancy was a nice touch. Smart. Fives raised an eyebrow as he considered her invitation. Half of him wanted to reject her immediately, but he wanted to see where this was going.

“Roger, roger.” He rose, stepping over the bench to follow her.

Fives trailed behind her, watching as other clones turned, sometimes slowly and others obviously, and elbowed each other when they took notice of her. He couldn’t blame them, but a frown still snuck across his face. The gray jumpsuit with its long blue stripes along the seams swallowed up most civilian medics, but hers gently hugged her curves, showing the lines of her body that he had traced just hours ago. Luckily, before his mind could wander too far, Mal tilted her face up towards him. She had waited until they were out of earshot of the table.

“I’m sorry about the greeting.” Her voice was quiet. Something about that irritated him even more. There wasn’t even anyone else around and she was still scared of being noticed with him. “I was caught off guard.”

“That makes two of us.” Fives thought it was a measured response.

“I just think it’s best if we keep things professional.”

She wasn’t wrong. Fraternizing with civilian members of the GAR was strictly forbidden. He didn’t think Rex would care, and Skywalker… well that was a more unpredictable reaction, but he suspected the General would look the other way. Clones trapped under lesser Jedi would be at risk of reassignment or worse. Still, that didn’t excuse her and Fives pulled no punches with his tone.

“You made that very clear.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t…” She started.

Mal shifted under his blazing look. Fives decided that, whatever was coming next, he wasn’t going to hear it. She didn’t get to apologize to him. He didn't want it and he didn't need it.

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika.” Fives kept his voice as even as he could as he turned to start filling up water glasses. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He turned back to the table, spilling water over his hands in the rush. He told himself to slow down. Breathe. He wasn’t going to let her ruin his mood. Ruin this day. Fuck that and fuck her.

He could sense Mal as she scurried behind him, trying to keep up with his long steps. They rejoined the table. Fives debated moving down next to Tup. He looked up at her again and she wilted under his stare. No, he decided. He was going to have to get used to this. His vode started in on her as soon as they got back to the table. Fives felt a flare of annoyance.

“So you’re from the 104th? What’s Wolffe actually like?” Jesse jumped at the new girl. “I bet he’s actually a big softie.”

Fives snorted at Jesse, half-tempted to throw his water to him instead of pass it.

“You thought Fox would be a softie and how did that turn out?” Fives rolled his eyes.

It was only last month that Fives had to go get Jesse from the base prison. Fox had glared out at him under hooded eyes, and stood still with crossed arms as Fives tried to bargain for Jesse’s release. He knew that Fox knew that Fives had been involved with the plot to steal the Corrie Guard’s mastiff for the night, but that, unlike Jesse, they hadn’t been able to catch him. Eventually, Fox wordlessly punched a fist into a button, releasing Jesse from his cell, and then, with a single pointed finger, directed them both out of the brig. Fives wasn’t looking forward to the next time their paths crossed.

“I’ll win him over yet.” Jesse grinned, undeterred by the same memory.

“Not with that lifetime ban from all Senate buildings you won’t.” Kix prodded him with an elbow to the side.

Fives shook his head. He thought they had gotten away with their failed prank as they crawled back into their bunks, trying to get an hour of sleep before roll call. His eyes had just started to drift closed when Rex burst into the barracks, erupting and swinging his datapad at them. Somewhere in the scramble away from his momentarily deranged captain, he learned that Rex had woken up to several colorful messages informing him that Fox had banned Fives and Jesse from all Coruscant Guard-held spaces for life. It had taken twenty minutes and the promise of latrine duty for two weeks to soothe the Captain.

“Were you on Khorm when he lost his eye?”

“Jesse, shut the fuck up.” Kix snapped in a warning tone he rarely took with Jesse. Fives’ eyes flashed to Kix. Interesting. He was protective of his new medic already.

“What planet are you from?” Tup said mildly, carefully changing the subject.

“Takodana.”

Fives snorted. A hick from a rural backwater planet. Then he heard it. Takodana. Fives’ spine stiffened at a memory he couldn’t quite grasp. That sounded familiar. He knew a lot of planets at this point. Ones he’d been to and ones he hadn’t. But there was something about that name that tugged on some recollection or information buried somewhere deep in his databanks of training.

“Takodana? Why do I know that name?” Fives finally let his eyes meet hers again.

Her beryl eyes widened and he watched as a flash of fear rippled across her face. It was gone in the next second. He might have even imagined it. He wanted to dwell on it, to hold the moment and tear it open until he understood, but a motion from the corner of his eye caught his attention.

“Hey!” He said, as Jesse snatched his cake from his tray.

Fives tried to swipe out to grab it but it was too late. His vod planted his fork into the stolen dessert.

“That’s for the caf this morning.” Jesse stuck his tongue out at Fives with a victorious wink.

Fives shook his head at Jesse and waved his hand in surrender.

“Savor it, vod.” He forced a laugh as he stood. “See you all later.”

Leaving the suffocating din of the mess hall behind, Fives followed a familiar path to Rex’s office. The durasteel hallways were empty while everyone was at dinner, and the only sound was the rhythmic echo of his boots against the floor. Usually, Fives appreciated these quiet moments alone. He loved his brothers, and he knew he could be as loud as any of them, but moments where he could hear himself think were precious and far apart when in an army of millions. There was nothing solitary about this moment, though. His thoughts marched beside him, louder than the clang of his footsteps, with memories as all-consuming as the vacuum of space. It wasn’t until Fives reached Rex’s door that he snapped out of the deep trance. There were voices on the other side.

The blast door slid open just as Fives raised his hand to knock. He stepped back to let General Skywalker and General Kenobi walk out.

“Hello there, Fives,” Kenobi greeted him as Anakin nodded.

“Evening, Generals.” He saluted the Jedi. “Commander Tano.”

The Togruta followed behind the Masters, buzzing with an excitement that Fives knew could only mean a new mission.

“Be nice to Rex,” Ahsoka winked at Fives and he felt his icy mood melt just a little. Ahsoka’s good moods were infectious around the 501st. When she was happy, they all tended to be. “He just spent two hours trying to rein in Skyguy's battle plans.”

Her master shot a look of annoyance at the padawan and the clone before he chuckled and shrugged.

“She’s not wrong.” Anakin flashed a brazen grin at the ARC trooper.

“I’m shocked, General.” Fives smiled back before he turned to Ahsoka with a wink of his own. “And when have I ever been mean to Rex?”

All three Jedi laughed at that.

“Have a good evening, Fives.” Anakin bowed his head before the three Jedi turned back to their journey, likely back to the Temple.

“You too, Sirs.”

Fives stepped into the dark office space. Rex sat at his desk, massaging his temples, as he frowned at a holomap glowing in the dim light.

“Tano and Kenobi act like Skywalker’s the crazy one, but they’re all just as bad.” Rex groaned, not looking up at Fives.

“We’ll make the most of their plans and take whatever the Seppies throw at us.” Fives settled into one of the chairs across from Rex. “You know that, Captain.”

“Of course,” Rex pressed his thumb to a button on his desk, and the holomap disappeared. The lights returned to the room, and he leaned back into his chair, taking on the quiet calm that came from being alone with an old friend.

“How’d the debrief with the council go yesterday?” Fives asked. He didn’t want Rex to think he rushed in here to ask about Mal.

“As well as expected,” Rex grumbled. “Most were supportive. A couple of them tried to press me. Didn’t got over well with me or General Skywalker though.”

“We saved the galaxy from one of Dooku’s pawns, and there's Jedi out there pushing back against us?”

“Just a one or two. General Billaba had some hard questions.”

“Billaba's been out of the fight too long. I know she went through it after Haruun Kal, but to be questioning us? That's kark, sir.” Fives crossed his arms. "She just got that seat back anyways."

“They’re allowed to ask questions. It was certainly a… unique situation.”

“Well, if you need someone to take out another Jedi…”

“That’s not funny, Fives. You’re just dying to get that court martial.”

“I was going to suggest Tup.” Fives wiggled his brows.

“Di’kut.” Rex muttered under his breath as his eyes shot upward.

Fives chuckled, enjoying the little victory of pulling an eye roll from Rex.

“The briefing’s not why you’re here, though.” Rex’s serious look melted into a wry smile. “What’s on your mind, Fives?”

Fives sighed. He never could keep anything from Rex. Maybe it was because they were brothers, or maybe it was because Rex had known him since he was a shiny on his first mission. Sometimes, he suspected it was because he was similar to Rex in ways the older clone would never admit. Whatever it was, Rex could tell he wasn’t just in his office for a nightcap.

“The new medic… what’s her deal?” Fives asked, hoping his voice was more neutral than he felt.

“Amal Darroch?” Rex raised an eyebrow at him. “Comes highly decorated and recommended from the 104th. Took everything I had to pry her from Wolffe.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he hung up on me the first three times I asked.” Rex chuckled to himself. Fives sometimes forgot that Rex was a younger brother too.

“We need medics that bad?” Fives frowned.

“Not just medics. We need the best medics.” Then Rex eyed the arc trooper. “Come on, you know that better than anyone. Kix is ready to ban you from the medbay.”

Fives tried to smile at the joke but found it refused to come. Instead, he kept thinking about Mal.

“And she’s the best?”

“What’s on your mind, Fives?” Rex repeated. “You’re usually not this shy about sharing.”

“Dunno…” She’s hiding something. Maybe multiple things. He wanted to shout it, grab Rex by the shoulders and shake him until he could see what Fives saw, but instead, he hesitated. They did need medics, and they needed good ones. If she was that good, his brothers would be better off with her around. “Just have some questions about her, is all.”

“Well, I’m here if you need anything.” Rex reached for his datapad, sensing the conversation was over. “Just try not to kill her or kriff her.”

Fives finally forced a laugh as he stood with a small salute.

“Roger, roger.”

Fives shut the door behind him, leaving Rex to his plans. The silent hallways that lined his path back to the barracks were even louder on his return route. Mal’s face swam before him. A flash of her laugh and the parting of her full lips melted into the image of her stoic greeting. And if she was hiding this, what else was she hiding? Why did a civilian join the war when most of them prefered to stay safe on their cities and planets far from the battle lines? What game was she playing here? This wasn’t a game to him. This was his life and his brothers’ lives. He thought of how she shifted in her seat at the mention of Takodana. There was no doubt about it. Mal was hiding more than just their night together, and Fives would have to keep an eye on her until he found out what it was.

…

Her paddle sliced through the inky glass of the water with the precision of a beskar blade. She quickly lifted the wooden tool, letting the canoe propel forward with the smallest wake. Despite the exactness of her strokes, Mal never looked down. Instead, she frowned at the horizon. It was dark and the air still held the wet chill of the night before it turns to dew, but the midnight blue at the very edges of the sky had started to pale, a sure sign that she had stayed too long. She wasn’t late. Not yet. But she paddled with a speed that she hadn’t practiced in a long time. Her shoulders ached, muscles that had long been forgotten in the mines, called out in protest of her neglect but she never winced or paused.

She stepped out into the shallows without a splash and pulled the boat into the overgrown shore where she covered it in the browning large leaves and the ivy, damp from yesterday’s rain. Mal wiped the soil on her palms along the edges of her poncho before she reached a hand into the bag at her side. She felt the delicate petals of the nysillin and finally let her shoulders fall from her ears.

The path was overgrown, disused in the last year since the Mining Guild came, but she knew it by heart. Her feet led on as she scanned the dark underbrush, one hand on her blaster and the other one on her bag.

She’d only made a few steps into the dark woods when a sound made her stop. Someone or something had coughed. In a flash, she pulled her blaster from her hip, gripping it at the ready as she scanned the trees.

“How did I know I’d find you still here?”

Her eyes finally landed on the source of the sound. Leaning against a large oak a few yards up the path was a tall man, his muscled arms crossed in front of his broad chest, cutting a stern profile in the shadow of the woods. Her eyes focused on the shape and, in the last throes of starlight, she began to make out a familiar profile.

“Couldn’t help me with the boat, huh?” Mal raised an eyebrow as she lowered her blaster.

“As I recall, last time I tried to help you with the boat, you hit me with an oar.” The sandy-haired man gave a small sideways smile and for a brief moment, she recognized the boy she grew up with.

She snorted, “I forgot about that.” She watched the smile evaporate from his face and the boy she knew was gone and replaced with a soldier. Before she could wonder if he something similar had passed through his mind, she let her eyes fall to her side as she lowered her weapon. “I could have shot you.”

“You probably should’ve.” Niall’s tone was suddenly stern. “But you’re still too slow on the trigger.”

“I’m cautious,” she bit back. Mal walked past the shadow.

“Not cautious enough. What are you still doing out here?”

Mal sighed, stopping to let him catch up to her. They walked side-by-side but they both carefully watched the woods around them as they went, blasters still drawn.

“Which one?” Even though she knew the answer.

“Taron, of course.” Niall tutted, knowing she knew.

“He shouldn’t have worried you.”

“What if Aavia was out here? You know she senses these things. She wouldn’t think twice before killing you and your brothers just for fun.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Mal snapped. “She’s not even planet side. I checked.”

“Still a risk.”

“I needed nysillin.” She stopped short as a tree swayed, but it was only the wind. “Maz hasn’t been able to get anything through the blockade in weeks.”

“Well that’s up to me to worry about.” Niall turned to her and reached out. He gripped her shoulders a little too hard. “Mal, your Da told me to keep you out of this fight.”

“That’s not his decision anymore, is it?” She took a step back as she shrugged.

The step back became a step forward and then another until she fell through the familiar wood doorway.

A pair of green eyes met her. Taron was sitting at the table with his blaster trained at the door. She didn’t have time to wonder where Cadex was. The door shut behind her and she knew if she turned, the other twin would be behind with his own blaster.

“You’re late.” Taron snapped with all the angst of a teenager as Cadex threw the bolt with a click.

Mal tossed the nysillin on the table before she sprang forward to take advantage of her sitting brother. She ran a hand through his hair, something that always drove him crazy, but was much harder now that he was taller than her.

Taron scoffed and quickly flattened his red locks back down.

“Stop, you’re so annoying.” Taron huffed.

“That was stupid.” Cadex frowned, circling around the table to lecture her. “You cut it too close.”

Mal knew it wouldn’t help his mood, but she smiled as Cadex crossed his arms. He was doing his best impression of Jonan Darroch, even if he didn’t realize it.

“Okay, Da.” she giggled.

Mal blinked and then started, laughter dying in her lips.

Where Cadex had been standing, Jonan Darroch now stood. Where their house had been, the town center had filled in the gaps, leaking through the floorboards like quicksand, pulling their house down to reveal only gray stone and boarded-up shops. Mal knew what came next. A red lightsaber already glowed in her Da's belly.

“You were supposed to protect them.” Da’s voice filled the square and echoed off the cobblestone as it filled her ears, his face contorting as his last breath twisted his words into a piercing shriek.

Jonan Darroch, a tall blue woman stepped out, letting the man collapse to the ground as she drew back her blade. Mal watched as her Da crumbled, lifeless. She tried to run to him, to scream for help, but she found herself frozen. Again.

Aavia smirked, her red eyes sparkling with a cruel mirth. Behind her, the twins stood still, arms behind their backs. She forgot how much taller Taron was now. When she looked up at him, she could see the emerald lodes running out from his dark pupils.

Not irises. Veins. She could see the veins of the leaves, even on the gray day. Rivers of water ran along its creased center and fell off in heavy droplets onto her face. Aavia’s gleeful voice cut the patter of the rain.

“And you called me a murderer.”

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mrs2224 · 2 years ago

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Woof Woof! 🐺🖤

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toomanybandstocare · 1 year ago

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{Wolffegirlsunite's Polaroid Album}

[ ◉¯] ✧˖° - Polaroid Album

Mood board of a character and situation of your request. @wolffegirlsunite requested a sweet piece of fluff with a bakery setting, and I think about this pairing SO often. Thank you for celebrating with me! <3

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Baker, GN! Reader

Counselor Notes: They live in my mind rent free. Grumpy and sunshine...I'm sobbing I love them.

-> Celebration Announcement Post <-

-> Celebration Masterlist <-

-> Camp Resolute Masterlist <-

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wild-karrde · 1 year ago

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Karrde's Fandom Friday Rec #2 (8/4/23)

My second rec this week has to go to @cyarbika for her fic Walk Me Home. I've written Bee entire book reports about how good this fic is, but words honestly fail me. Bee has created a cast of original characters that are so wonderful and rich that they fit perfectly in with canon while also being immensely relatable. The way she writes Wolffe is absolute perfection, and I already loved Cherise based on NSA (I know she wasn't technically Cherise then, but she already felt like a fully-flushed out character even then), but I have fallen even more in love with her with every chapter of WMH. Bee has written such a devastatingly beautiful story about love, perseverance, and finding your way in a galaxy rocked by tragedy, and I cannot recommend it enough, even for those that aren't necessarily Star Wars fans. I could go on and on (and have done so in Bee's comments lol), but I just gotta say that everyone should check it out for themselves.

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

#FANDOM FRIDAY #creator appreciation #fic rec #fanfiction #fan fic #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #nsft #lemon #lemony lemon #commander wolffe #OC Cherise #commander wolffe x oc #commander wolffe x original female character #commander wolffe x ofc #wolffeheart

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teletraan-meets-jarvis · 2 years ago

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Pieces - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Pairing: Commander Wolffe/OC Issa Straun

Warnings: Swearing, drinking.

Word Count - 9.2k

A/N: ALRIGHT NERDS! I'M BACK HAHAHAHA.

After what feels like the world's longest hiatus, my personal life is back on track and this fic is ticking over once again. To apologise for my absence may I present a 9k chapter that I spent far too long agonising over. Biggest of thank yous to @wild-karrde - Karrde my friend, you are the reason this fic continues to live, thank you for all your help, advice, and for battling through my lack of commas <3, one day I will learn 😁.

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Steam clouded Issa’s lenses as she wrapped her thin hands around the mug of tea before her, lifting the red liquid to her lips. The Jedi took a sip and gave a content sigh as the warm drink did its work of fighting off the cool from the ship’s air supply.

It was her first moment of peace in little over a month she realised. The fighting on Antar 4 had been relentless, and the only reason for the battalion’s sudden respite was the fact that their initial campaign had been a success. They’d managed to push the Separatists out of the main city, and established a secure perimeter to keep them out, which gave Antar 4’s elected government the chance to begin their defence efforts against the local terrorists. There were a few moments where things had been tight and times when casualties had been higher than anticipated, but overall, their success had been noted by the Jedi Council and higher ups in the GAR.

That recognition is what led them to this point, being aboard the Triumphant and heading back to Coruscant. It seemed now that the 104th had proven themselves, Issa, her master and the battalion were being reassigned to a more pressing fight in the war.

This morning they’d welcomed the 182nd Legion and their general, Master Kolar. They spent a few hours bringing them up to speed on their surroundings before beginning the process of packing up and shipping out. It’d been a long day, but the troops were looking forward to sleeping in their own bunks again on the Venator.

As was she.

Fighting on the frontlines of a war was something Issa had truly had to experience in order to gain some semblance of understanding of what it would be like. Words and stories didn’t hold a candle to the real thing. It’d been grinding, dirty, and exhausting to the bone. The fear and uncertainty she felt each time she got a chance to close her eyes pushed rest and ease far from her mind.

It had been an odd feeling, not being able to slow her mind for such an extended period of time. Everything had felt thrown together and reactive, no matter how long they’d spent hunched over a holotable, strategising into the early hours of the morning. The Pantoran also didn't remember a time when she’d been among other people’s company for so long, having spent years in the calm and steady presence of only Master Plo on their extended research missions. She’d always found solace on her own, in her own safe spaces where she could unwind. But out there, she’d had no escape, especially with every sense being pushed to the extremes. It’d been overwhelming to say the least.

But, in spite of it all, she and a majority of their men survived.

We’re still here.

Since they’d returned to the Triumphant, Plo had given her the green light to retreat to her quarters to take stock of herself and what they’d all been through together the past month, while still fulfilling her new command duties but from a distance. It’d been a couple of days since she’d seen anyone really, but it had helped, so she was thankful for her Master’s understanding as always.

Having gotten used to sleeping for short bursts while on the frontlines, Issa was struggling to readjust back to a normal sleeping pattern. She’d spent a good hour that night tossing and turning in her bunk before giving up and hunkering down in the mess hall with a cup of tea and a few datapads.

Might as well use the time to get some new scenery and do some work.

As another smooth sip of tea warmed her throat, it hit Issa that it’d been nearly a year since the last time she’d had this particular blend, and for a moment she was transported back in time. She was back in Obi-Wan’s quarters at the temple with him and one of her closest friends, Anakin. The Jedi Master was a connoisseur of teas from around the galaxy, always trying to stop off and pick up different recipes while away on missions. He’d been particularly excited about the one he’d finally managed to source from a small village on Karlinus. The three of them sat in his sparse room while the steam of freshly boiled water drifted through the small space, quietly chatting and joking amongst themselves. She remembered Anakin’s face behind his Master’s back as he grimaced at the drink’s sweet taste, sticking his tongue out dramatically in a way he knew would have Issa chuckling. He'd always been one who sought out the more bitter flavours in life, like the ten cups of caf he drank each day.

With a knowing smile as he turned back around to the pair, Obi-Wan shook his head as he caught the way Anakin tried to hide his reaction from him. “I feel as though your palate might be a lost cause, my Padawan.”

The Pantoran smiled, shaking her head in amusement at the memory of Anakin’s failed antics. Issa couldn’t believe that the young Jedi she’d spent half her life training alongside had recently been promoted to the rank of Knight, making history as one of the youngest in the Order aged just nineteen. She was truly proud of her friend. It seemed he was truly destined for greatness, and Issa could think of no one more deserving. I’ll have to congratulate Obi-Wan on finally being free of his Padawan too.

As the feeling of nostalgia settled in warmly within her chest, Issa placed down her cup and grabbed her abandoned stylus so she could continue her notes on Antar 4. She’d been studying a battle plan when the door to the mess swished open. Issa noticed someone paused in the doorway for a moment before entering the room with a huff. “What are you doing up?” the new entrant questioned.

“Hello to you too, Wolffe,” Issa replied, not lifting her eyes from the work before her. “I’m going over those strategies we drew up with Book and Master Plo. I want to make sure I know them inside and out for the briefing on Coruscant.”

“Well you’re not going to be of any use to us half dead on your feet. You should get some sleep.”

“Could say the same to you, Commander. What are you doing up?”

Wolffe just grunted at her before making his way over to the caf machine and pouring himself a strong cup. Still maintaining his silence, he leaned back against the counter and stared down into the dark liquid before him. Issa chanced a moment to look her commander over. He was clad in his black body glove he usually wore under his armour, and his eyes were heavy with the beginnings of dark circles blooming beneath them. Her eyes traced up to his hair, which was slightly mussed, and his frown was even more downturned than usual, which was really saying something.

Wolffe had something on his mind, that much was obvious. Though it was also kyber clear that he didn’t come in here to talk. In fact, he was surprised to have seen her, which meant he’d likely been looking for some solitude.

Do I check on him anyway? Issa asked herself. She knew she would likely be met with a biting response demanding she mind her own business, but as her eyes flitted over to Wolffe once more, his sombre expression gave her the final push of concern she needed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered quietly, averting her eyes so that they remained firmly on the datapads before her so as to not put him off with any unwanted attention. Issa and Wolffe weren’t exactly close. The clone commander was rather rough around the edges, and they were still finding their feet with whatever working relationship they were forging, which added a nice layer of uncertainty to many interactions between them.

“No,” Wolffe grumbled. Though he didn’t say anything else, which was more positive than Issa was expecting.

“Okay.”

Maker, this is awkward.

With a small nod, Issa pushed her frames higher up her nose and returned to her work while Wolffe began sipping at his hot caf. A good few minutes went by, and they settled into a rocky silence while Issa lost herself in strategies and plans. She became so engrossed in the data before her that when Wolffe spoke, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“We lost some good men in that last battle.” Wolffe’s voice wasn’t loud. In fact, it could probably be called a whisper, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like he’d shouted into the quiet room.

Issa knew her eyes had widened in shock, confused and relieved that Wolffe was actually talking about what was bothering him. She peered up at him through her lenses and settled the datapads away from her, giving the commander her full attention. “We did. Wrexler, Vick, Kip, Dino and Zander were all great guys.”

Now it was Wolffe’s turn to look shocked. “You remember all their names?”

“Of course. Master Plo and I said we’d learn everyone’s names that first day we all met. We don’t say things we don’t mean. You’re people Wolffe, not droids. The lives we lose aren’t so easily swept away for us either you know.” Wolffe grunted again and fell silent, staring back into the mug in his hand as if it held the answers to whatever questions he was torturing himself with.

Feeling brave and maybe stupid, Issa took a steadying breath before choosing her next words carefully. “Do you… blame yourself?”

Wolffe’s eyes shot up to meet hers, his amber irises burning with something she couldn’t pinpoint, making Issa swallow. Shit, okay too far. Feeling her face flush with embarrassment, she held her hands up in an apologetic manner. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.” Great, that’ll set us back nicely. Smooth Straun.

As Issa mentally kicked herself, she noticed that something in her reaction to his heated gaze had caused Wolffe’s frustration at her to cool. His glare softened, and he averted his eyes to stare at the wall to his side as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the galaxy while bouncing his leg ever so slightly.

“Yes,” he eventually replied, biting the word out as if it went against everything in him to utter it. It took Issa a moment to realise he was responding to her question. So he does blame himself. Wolffe continued. “I’m their Commander, my choices lead to their deaths. I’m the person who's supposed to protect them.”

“That’s not your job alone, Wolffe. If that’s your logic, Plo and I are equally as to blame as you.”

“It’s different.”

“How so?” she asked. Her question wasn’t fuelled by impatience or frustration at Wolffe’s mindset but by genuine curiosity. Issa wanted to understand exactly the reason why he was putting this responsibility solely on his shoulders.

“Because you’re not one of us,” he snapped, eyes burning brightly once more. His harsh tone appeared to be an accident as a sliver of regret slipped onto his features while he flexed his jaw.

Issa gave him a soft smile. “It’s okay, I know what you mean. You don’t have to explain yourself. I'm not offended.” Every soldier lost is another member of his family gone, another face identical to his that was taken too soon. “It’s personal for you, I understand.”

Wolffe scoffed and lifted a hand to rub at his jawline, his fingers scraping across the rough, growing stubble there. “I don’t need a lecture on the losses of war, just so you know.”

Issa’s smile grew. “I wasn’t planning on one. I was just going to say that should you ever want to share that burden, Master Plo and I are carrying it as well, maybe in a different way, but we are. We’re here to support you, Wolffe, as much as you are us.” He didn’t have a reply to that, but Issa was happy that she’d been heard. She chanced a look down at the chrono on one of the datapads and realised it was very early in the morning.

“Hey, since we’re both up, fancy a spar? Might help tire you out.”

Wolffe took another sip of his drink with a raised eyebrow. “A spar?”

“What? Don’t think you can handle a Jedi?” Issa teased, which earned her one of Wolffe’s signature eye rolls, slow and exaggerated, and she couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his dramatics.

“Fine. But I'm not explaining to the general why his padawan’s pride is in pieces tomorrow.”

“Understood.”

The pair made their way to the training room. The open space was cast in shadow until the sensors detected their presence and triggered the lights to roll on. In the centre of the hangar was a blue mat, which Issa stepped onto gently. The plastic covering was cool beneath her feet as she stretched her arms above her head, sighing as some of the bones in her back popped. Kriff, I’ve been sitting down for too long. Across from her, Wolffe shook his limbs out and rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“What sort of spar did you have in mind?” he questioned as he pulled an arm behind his back, stretching the Republic cog in the middle of his shirt even further across his broad chest.

Issa shrugged. “You’re my military teacher. I thought you could decide.”

“Fine. Hand-to-hand it is. You know the rules?” Issa shook her head and he continued. “Mostly anything goes, though no career-ending hits, and if your opponent taps three times you let go and the match is over. Clear?”

“As transparisteel.” At her confirmation, Wolffe locked eyes with her and met her in the middle of the mat. The area they were fighting on was rather large; the hangar the mat sat in was designed to house multiple gunships, and the mat itself was almost the size of one. Issa took a steadying breath as she tracked the strong commander in front of her.

“Sure you wanna do this Straun?” Waves of confidence rolled off of the clone as he stepped closer.

“I’m not going to break.”

“Alright.” The word had barely left his lips before he darted forward with a swing of his right fist. Issa managed to duck just in time to miss Wolffe’s punch, but her confusion left her open, which Wolffe utilised by delivering a swift kick to her ribs, winding Issa and forcing her back a few paces.

For someone so bulky, I thought he’d move a hells of a lot slower than that. Unfortunately the universe wasn’t that kind. It seemed the commander had plenty of training on keeping his speed up in a fight. The Pantoran heaved a few ragged breaths before she willed her breathing back under control.

“Sure you want to carry on?” The question was genuine, but the slight upturn on the corner of his lips made Issa bristle.

“Only just getting started, Wolffe.”

They traded blows back and forth fairly evenly from then on, Issa decidedly not underestimating her commander any further. She might not have had military training, but the ways of the Force lended well to combat, and her years at the temple hadn’t all been studying and katas. She’d trained on how to fight without her weapon just as much as she had with it. It was just a skill she hadn’t had to call upon in a real world scenario in a while. As she analysed Wolffe’s movements and opportunities for attack, her training slowly came trickling back on how she could lean on the Force to make her movements more swift, her attacks hit harder, her defensive positions more fortified.

By the time they were bone-tired and sweaty from their fight, Issa had managed to get a few good hits in on the clone commander, including a kick to his cheek that left the skin bright red. Overall, Wolffe had bested her more times and was the clear winner of the fight, but it was progress, both in her training to become a better commander and also in her relationship with Wolffe. This had been the longest the two of them had been left unsupervised, and they were both still talking to each other, which Issa felt was a great victory.

“Not bad, Straun, though you’re thinking too much. I can tell you were holding back at times. You don’t trust yourself. You’ve got to get more comfortable with your abilities if you want to throw your all into a fight.”

“Right.”

“We’ll try again when we stop off on Coruscant, bring a few of the men in so I can point some things out to you.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Wolffe.” The commander nodded at her and the room descended into silence until an almighty yawn tore its way through Issa before she could stop herself. She met Wolffe’s gaze, a look of exasperated confusion conveyed through his raised eyebrow as she gave a sheepish chuckle.

He huffed at her with a shake of his head. “Let’s go back to the barracks.”

The pair of them walked in silence through the halls of the Triumphant, passing the odd pair of patrols on their way who always stopped to salute their two commanders. Finally they arrived at their neighbouring rooms and bid each other goodnight before Issa collapsed onto her bunk and drifted immediately off to a dreamless sleep.

—

The next day the 104th arrived on Coruscant. Issa, Plo, Wolffe and Admiral Coburn had been holed up in a meeting room for an in-person debrief of the situation on Antar 4. They’d spent hours divulging everything including their findings on the enemy, loss ratios and any future battle plans they had drawn up which could be passed onto the 182nd, who would be taking over the protection of the Republic-aligned moon.

It’d been a long day, but Issa felt confident that she’d been able to contribute to the meeting where appropriate rather than just listening and learning. They’d also been told that they’d be heading to the Outer Rim to Scariff. Apparently the Separatists were planning to build a factory on the planet and were shipping in large portions of materials for the development. The 104th’s job would be to disrupt the delivery of the materials and take out as many of the enemy forces as they could.

Since landing on Antar 4, it felt as though everything had been non-stop for the battalion. They’d barely had a moment's respite in the month they’d been fighting, and it was starting to show among the troops. Thankfully, Plo had convinced the council to extend their layover in the Republic’s capital for an extra couple days, giving the full squad some well-earned downtime.

The news of their first night off had sent shockwaves of celebration through the ranks of the 104th, which warmed Issa’s heart. They’d fought hard in tough terrain and deserved the time to themselves to revel in their victory and remember the brothers they’d lost. What had sweetened the deal even more for the soldiers was that the Republic had created a bar dedicated to the clones right here on Coruscant where they could drink for free and enjoy their downtime in peace amongst their brothers.

The Wolfpack were truly overjoyed with the news of a night partying and had even kindly extended the invite to their two Jedi to join them. However, Plo and Issa decided that the troopers deserved a real night off, away from their natborn commanding officers, as Issa had learned they’d been called.

At the GAR headquarters, Issa was chatting pleasantly with Admiral Coburn as they exited the meeting room, the pair trailing behind Master Plo and Wolffe. The padawan watched as the two men in front of her talked amongst themselves. It was clear to see in Wolffe’s presence how he respected his general, and while Issa was on the road to earning that respect herself, it warmed her to know that Plo had the same effect on other people as he had on her. From her few conversations with Wolffe over the past couple months, Issa had been gaining snippets on Wolffe’s views and the weight of responsibility for his brother’s safety that he shouldered, and it was clear that his trust was rarely given out. Issa was glad he at least had someone of seniority who he could truly put his faith into beyond the respectful level of courtesy he automatically gave as clone commander.

Admiral Coburn cleared his throat politely, drawing the small group to a stop. “Padawan Straun, Master Plo, Commander Wolffe, I’m afraid I will have to bid you a farewell here. Please enjoy the rest of your shore leave and I look forward to our first mission together in a few days.”

“Thank you Admiral, we shall see you soon,” Plo replied, nodding in goodbye as the naval officer turned on his heel and down an adjacent hallway, his shiny black boots clacking on the metallic flooring as he walked away.

“Issa, I believe we should head back to the temple.”

“Yes of cour-'' Issa was cut off by her comm chirping, the light flashing up at her from her vambrace. Her forehead creased as she clicked the button on the device. “This is Commander Straun.”

“Sir, it’s Sinker. We were hoping you could come down to the barracks with Commander Wolffe after your meeting.”

“Do I dare ask why?”

“Probably best you didn’t.” Issa could practically hear Sinker’s smirk on the other end of the line, picturing his silver eyes sparkling in mischief, likely with Boost and TP hanging over his shoulders.

“Alright, we’re finished now so we’ll head down.”

“Well it appears you have other business,” Plo suggested fondly. “Enjoy your evening Commanders.”

Issa’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’ll be back at the temple after this, Master,” she assured.

The Kel Dor said nothing as he inclined his head at the both of them and began walking towards the exit, leaving Issa perplexed. She chanced a look at Wolffe to see if he could elaborate on what had just transpired. Unfortunately all she received was a restrained eye roll before he silently led the way to the turbo lift, leaving her to trail after him.

During the battalion’s stay on Coruscant, their troopers were given bunks at the Guard’s sleeping quarters. The lower levels beneath the HQ practically acted as a clone hotel; there were levels upon levels of rooms for any visiting soldiers to use alongside the resident red and white troopers.

As the lift skid to a halt, the pair stepped out and made their way to where the 104th were staying.

—-------

The slow and deliberate thump of footsteps sounded. Followed by the scrape of something metallic being dragged across the floor.

The man held his breath, hands clamped over his mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping him as the attackers' steps sounded ever closer.

Suddenly all noises came to a halt, and the man could do nothing but wait… Until–

“Booooook, come on it’s going to be morning by the time you put that ‘pad down, vod,” Boost whined as he clipped his now polished vambrace back into place.

The strategist locked his datapad reluctantly and sighed. His perfectly crafted world for his story in his mind had now officially been shattered at the interruption. Can’t get a minute's peace in this place. A heavy weight fell onto the mattress next to him, causing the clone to bounce slightly.

“Yeah Bookworm, we want some attention for a change,” Two-Pint teased, wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulder and yanking him into his side for a crushing hug.

Book scowled as he fought the stronger man for his freedom, his copper hair ending up more than a little ruffled as he broke away with a half-hearted frown. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

The heavy gunner grinned. “I do.”

“Come on short-ass, be nice,” Boost challenged with a mischievous smirk, which only widened at Two-Pint’s pout at his own nickname. Serves him right, Book thought smugly.

“Alright alright, reign it in you lot,” Wolffe chided as he made his presence known with a humoured Commander Straun standing at his side.

“Commanders! Perfect timing,” Sinker called out pleasantly as he pulled his gloves on.

With one last ruffle of Book’s hair, TP and Boost moved away to find their boots. The strategist carded a hand through his red curls to try and tame them while his Jedi Commander walked over to take TP’s spot at his side.

The Pantoran bumped his shoulder lightly with her own and gave him a small smile. “Whatcha reading?”

“Ah, it’s nothing, just a thriller novel.” He tried not to sound too deflated, but he couldn’t help it. He loved reading, but moments of jabs with his brothers served to remind him that he was a bit of an outlier in their group. He wasn’t crazy about weapons like TP and Cloud, or strong like Boost and Sinker. Instead he favoured learning and reading as his method of developing his skills as a soldier. Book knew his squad didn’t mean anything by their teasing; it was their way of showing that they cared, but even still, it did a good job of highlighting just how different he was sometimes.

Of course, the Jedi next to him was somehow able to figure all this out without him even having to utter a word. With a gentle look in her eyes behind her lenses, she placed a blue hand at his shoulder bell. “You know, as much as the ‘Pack love to wind you up, your interests are what make you you Book. Your brothers would never want you to change or be ashamed of them. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah… I know.” He gave a small smile of thanks. Because he did know. But it was nice to have the reminder every now and then he supposed.

Seemingly content that she’d eased his worries, the Jedi looked up at the rest of the group. Their previously battle-worn armour had been cleaned and polished, not the the point of shininess as each scrape and scuff ingrained in the plastoid was a sign of each battle survived, but clean enough to not be caked with the mud and blood of their last campaign.

“So Sinker, you called?” Issa questioned as she caught the sergeant’s eye.

“Yeah, we’re going out sir, and you’re coming with.”

Still sitting next to Book, Issa sighed. “Guys we went over this-”

“Yeah but we’ve decided to overrule you, so there you have it,” Boost explained, leaving no room for argument.

“We want you to come along, Commander. It’ll be fun. You’re one of us anyway. Your insides were christened with TP’s brew,” Cloud added with a soft smile.

Smirking, Issa replied. “Oh so there is a reward for suffering through that.”

The heavy gunner in question somehow managed to pout even harder, which given his intimidating exterior, only served to make the room chuckle. “Hey! Don’t you all come crying to me when you want a night to unwind.”

“We’re kidding ‘Pint.” Sinker huffed as he threw his arm around his shorter brother’s shoulders and pulled him into a loose headlock.

Eventually the Wolfpack stopped rough housing and were ready to paint the town red, as it were.

—---

79’s was a beacon of life. Neon boards decorated the walls while the sound of laughter and chatter wove through the notes of the heavy bass music reverberating through the venue. The dance floor was already packed, clones and natborns alike dancing their troubles away, connecting with new souls as their inhibitions faded and bodies moved to the beat. At the bar, a group of pilots were sharing a round of shots while a squad of commandos in their heavy duty armour took quiet sanctuary in a booth in the corner, flirting with the beings who’d captured their attention.

Issa couldn’t quite believe that the Republic was providing such a normal place for the troopers to unwind. I suppose it’s the least they can do. After all, they are heroes fighting for the civilians across the galaxy, protecting their way of life.

As the Wolfpack made their way towards an empty table, Issa noticed a few of the patrons whispering as they passed. While most of 79’s was full of plain white armour, she supposed a maroon, wolf-stylised commander and Pantoran Jedi were a bit of a giveaway as to which battalion they were. It seemed their success on Antar 4 had been passed through the other ranks.

Next to her, Boost nudged her with his elbow, smirking. “How’s it feel to be famous, Commander?”

“Famous is a bit of a stretch.” Issa rolled her eyes at the sergeant who chuckled next to her.

“I don’t think that’ll be our last big win, so you best start getting used to it.”

Once the group had settled in their spot, Issa had offered to get the troopers their first round of drinks, allowing them to relax for a moment while she navigated the sea of bodies to reach the bar. After finally clearing a space for herself to lean forwards, the Pantoran drummed her fingers on the neon surface as she waited to be served. She was minding her own business until the being next to her gave her a nudge, knocking the Jedi off balance. Frustrated at the person’s lack of awareness, she spun around to confront them. That was her plan at least, but unfortunately the person she came face to face to made her pause, her fiery words dying on her tongue.

“Quin? What are you doing here?” Issa breathed.

There he was, Quinlan Vos, Jedi Master and Shadow, back from his extended mission like he hadn’t just disappeared for a year without a word. It’d been a while, but it appeared his flare for the dramatic hadn’t changed.

“Issa! I was supposed to meet Aayla but she got stuck doing General things, so I stayed for the free booze and pleasant scenery. Fancy seeing you here.” His honesty and cheeky smile were so familiar that it nearly made her heart ache. It’d been too long since she’d last had a chance to spend time with her friend and despite all of his bravado, Issa had missed him dearly. He looked well, a few new scars littered his bare upper arms and his dreadlocks had grown, extending to his jawline, but he was in one piece. A weight the Pantoran didn’t know she had been carrying suddenly lightened, and she smiled fondly at the Kiffar’s antics.

“The drinks aren’t free for you, you know,” she chided.

“Ah but surely they’ll have to take pity on a poor religious figure like me. Remember young Padawan, Jedi can have no attachments, which means no material items, which means no credits to buy those items, which means free watered-down Corellian ale,” Vos explained while lifting his drink in the air in a ‘cheers’ motion before taking a satisfied sip.

“That’s not how that works, and you’re incorrigible.”

“Thank you,” Quin replied with a beaming smile of pride.

Without another word, Issa launched herself at the man, locking her arms tightly around his neck and catching him by surprise. “I’m glad you’re home safe.”

Issa felt it as Quinlan relaxed in her hold and wrapped his own glove-clad arms around her middle, smiling into her shoulder. “Missed you too, kid.”

Issa was finally able to place her order and while she waited, she spent the time catching up with the man she’d come to look up to as a brother. His mission had been a success, as they always were, and he managed to take down a critical drug ring in the outskirts of the Mid-Rim.

Smiling with pride, Issa nudged the man beside her. “Sounds like another job well done.”

“Yeah, it went about as well as the Council would allow.” The end of his sentence was slightly muffled as he lifted his glass to his lips, but Issa heard him all the same.

She took a moment, trying to unpick the meaning hidden in Quin’s words. “The Council? I thought you were heading this as a Shadow?”

“Let’s just say if it was up to me, I’d still be out there.”

“Why?” Issa’s brows were furrowed as she tried to navigate Quinlan’s vague hints.

The Shadow Jedi seemed to have noticed her questioning look and snapped out of his mood with a heavy sigh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. Let’s talk about something else. How’s the war going, Commander?”

His sudden change of topics perplexed Issa. Whatever Vos found at the end of his assignment had him on edge, and seemed to be straining his already tenuous relationship with some members of the council. Not wanting to spark a debate about the politics of the Order at that moment, Issa let him off the hook for now and launched into her experiences of leading an army for the past month.

“You’ll have to come meet the Wolfpack. They’ve heard all about you.”

“All flattering things I presume.” Just as Issa went to reply, a light began blinking on Quin’s forearm, pulling his attention. “Ah I better get this, but I’ll see you over there in a bit.”

While Vos trudged through the many bodies to an exit, a striking Mirialan placed a tray of drinks in front of her, which Issa took with a quick ‘thank you’ to the bartender before using all her concentration to avoid spilling the ale as she finally reached the 104th’s table for the evening.

Now that everyone had a drink in hand, the Pantoran allowed herself the chance to relax, sliding into the spot Sinker had made for her at the edge of the booth, facing Wolffe across the other side of the table. His permanent frown was unsurprisingly still in place, but it was slightly softer than usual which was nice to see. This may be as relaxed as I'll ever see him.

After a round of ‘cheers’ and the first few sips of their drinks, they asked about Quin after having seen the two of them during their reunion.

“Do all Jedi make fashion choices alarmingly unsuitable for battlefields?” Wolffe cut in sarcastically, making Issa bark out a laugh she wasn’t expecting, nearly choking on her drink.

“Actually if Quin had his way, he would probably rather have a lot more of himself on display, but he needs things like the gloves he wears to prevent accidental use of his Psychometry. It’s a power that lets him see impressions or events tied to an object based on who’s touched or used it previously. As you can imagine, that can get quite invasive quite quickly.”

“Woah, can you do that?”

“Unfortunately not. Jedi all have similar basic skill sets, the standard things we’re taught at the temple, but some of us excel further in some areas or are born with special abilities. Quin was born with Psychometry. It’s a common gift among Kiffars, and it runs in his family. He’s grown incredibly skilled in it, but it can be quite overwhelming at times, hence the gloves. While psychometry is one example, some Jedi have been known to have deep connections with animals, plants, space matter and even technology, making them easier to read or utilise with the Force.”

“Have you got a fancy skill, sir?”

“I’ve always been quite good at illusions. In fact it’ll probably start to come in handy during the war so I’ve been working with Master Plo on pushing my skills a bit quicker than we normally would.”

Wolffe raised a suspicious eyebrow. “What do you mean by illusions?”

“Care to be a volunteer and find out?” At Issa’s challenge and smirk, Wolffe scoffed.

“Fine.” He was clearly intrigued but trying his damndest not to show it. The Jedi humoured him and took his feigned indifference as consent for her demonstration.

Issa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Using all her concentration, she manipulated the molecules around her using the Force, picturing as each one shifted and changed to mimic the image she set in her mind. As she let the air out of her lungs, she allowed her eyes to flutter open once more and took in the clones surrounding her.

“No way.”

Issa spared a look down at herself, and sure enough, she was clad in white and maroon plastoid, the skin of her hands no longer blue, but a beautiful tan.

“That’s creepy, two Wolffes is the stuff of nightmares, turn it off!” Two-Pint squealed as he tried to hide behind Book, who rolled his eyes at the heavy gunner.

Vos chose that moment to slide into the Wolfpack’s booth, smirking and elbowing Issa in her side, breaking her concentration and shattering the illusion. “I see you’re doing your-” Quin paused to do a little waggle of his fingers, “-magic show.”

Huffing, Issa shoved the Kiffar back, making him chuckle and throw an arm around her shoulder. “Yeah well we can’t all read emotions like you. Gotta find my ways to be useful somehow.”

Quin then infuriatingly chose that moment to ruffle her hair, making her bristle slightly in annoyance as her troopers chuckled, Wolffe notably was taking great joy in her embarrassment at the hands of the Shadow as he smirked slightly behind his glass.

“When I tell you guys that your commander got us into some trouble over the years at the temple using those little tricks of hers.”

“Ha! I knew I liked you sir!” Two-Pint exclaimed with a beaming grin.

Soon introductions were made, and the rest of the evening was spent in pleasant comradery with the Wolfpack and Vos. Issa realised now that she’d been worried about nothing. Spending an evening with her troopers hadn’t seemed to have stopped them from being able to enjoy themselves and relax, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy spending her free time hanging out with them. They were a fun group; even Wolffe had gradually loosened up ever so slightly as the night dragged on, matching the boisterous energy of his brothers around him as they joked and wound each other up.

It’s nice to see.

—----

Much to Book’s dismay, the Wolfpack and two Jedi had eventually gravitated to the dance floor as the alcohol in their system began to do its work. The strategist had cut himself off a few drinks prior to that, not interested in losing control of himself that evening. Subtly, Book had managed to excuse himself from his dancing battalion, giving him the chance to escape to the sanctuary of the bar where he could take a moment to himself. He even managed to snag an empty stool, pulling himself up and trying to catch a glimpse of one of the bartenders so he could place his order. Unfortunately, it was still fairly busy, so he was left to his own devices for a moment. To keep himself occupied, he spent his time eyeing up the liquor on the back shelf of the bar and trying to guess if he could name each luminous bottle. He’d definitely read up on enough world exports by now to be able to identify most of them, so he began cataloguing each spirit quietly to himself as he waited.

For not the first time that day, the peace in his mind was once again shattered, but instead of the cause being his squad, it was the result of a loud crash of a server droid clattering into one of the beer taps. Every being in the vicinity scattered in fear of being drenched as the tap went up in a dramatic fountain display, leaving the now damp Mirialan bartender to deal with the situation.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit.” The bartender cursed as the battered ale tap continued to spew everywhere despite them attempting to use their hands to stop the spray. Unfortunately, the tactic only served to push the liquid to the floor as opposed to up in the air.

Looking around and noticing that no one was coming to help, Book pushed off of his stool and walked over to the scene.

“Excuse me, do you-”

“Look I’ll serve you in a sec, can’t you see i’m a bit busy?” the Mirialan snapped, huffing a breath to try and move their damp claret fringe from where it had fallen across their face. The sheer look of concentration as they attempted to fix their predicament caused the black geometric facial tattoos trailing down the centre of their forehead to crease between their brows. Book knew it wasn’t the time or place, but he dared to think that the bartender looked rather cute while flustered.

No, that is not helpful right now. Wise up, Trooper. Book cleared his throat, gearing himself up to try again. “Um, sorry, I was just going to offer some assistance. Your method of stopping the leak isn’t the most efficient. I’m happy to help.”

Those bright green eyes snapped up to his face, and he froze under the sharp gaze. Oh Maker I’ve stuck my foot in it haven’t I?

After a few dragging seconds, they finally relented, nodding behind them towards a cupboard. “Fine, there’s a wrench in there. Once you’re back we can get this sealed off and I’ll start cleaning up this mess.”

Book nodded and set about getting the tool as suggested. He ended up shoulder-to-shoulder with the bartender as he tried to get the pump to seal off while they protected his face from being sprayed with alcohol.

It seemed they made a rather good team as after a few seconds of fiddling, Book managed to stop the flow, making the Mirialan sag in relief as they were finally free to move once again. “Thank the Maker for that… and you, I guess. What’s your name, Trooper?”

“Oh, uh Book, and you are…”

“Jae, Jae Tevv.” They reached a soaked hand out towards him before realising what they’d done and retracting with a nervous chuckle. “So Book, huh? How’d you manage to end up with a name like that?”

“It’s unfortunately very simple. I always had my head in a book while growing up on Kamino.”

“I suppose I should’ve guessed. What kind of books? I’m always looking for some new things to add to my reading list.” Suddenly, Book found himself engaged in the most wonderful conversation about literature as the two of them fell into the flow of working as a team to fix the mess from the broken tap. Jae was incredibly well-read, enjoying a variety of genres that they spoke about with a deep passion. Book was pretty sure he had a dopey smile on his face, but Jae’s enthusiasm was infectious, so who could blame him? He could listen to them talk for hours, their hands gesturing wildly, eyes alight with excitement as they relieved one of their favourite romance novels, clearly excited to finally be able to discuss the story with another reader.

All too soon, the mess was cleaned and Book found himself running out of machinery behind the bar that he could tinker with to prolong their conversation. With a sigh, he slid the wrench back into the borrowed tool box and extended a hand to Jae to help them back to their feet from where they were scrubbing the floor.

“Thank you, Book. Both for the help and the conversation. I think I've finally met my reading match,” Jae said with a kind smile. “Now that the tap’s working again, can I buy you a drink as a thank you, something a bit more upmarket than that cheap beer the Republic is feeding you boys?”

“Ah there’s no need to thank me. Plus I best stop with the drinks now. Someone has to make sure my battalion gets home in one piece, and something tells me it won’t be my commanders.” Book spared a pointed look at his two superiors. Issa was on the dance floor with General Vos, Two-Pint, Sinker, Cloud and Boost, giggling and dancing without a care in the world, her drink sloshing dangerously close to the edges of her cup. Wolffe was seated a few tables away with one human and one Zabrak woman hanging off each arm as the three of them sank a shot each before he sat back and let the two shower him with attention. Jae followed his eyes and chuckled warmly.

“Well… If not a drink, how about dinner?” Their deep emerald eyes sparkled with the offer, making Book swallow nervously as his stomach fluttered. When did my collar get so tight?

“Uh, dinner?” he choked out.

“Yeah, dinner. Give you a chance to eat something that isn’t rations maybe. My treat, I can cook us up something.”

Book felt his face flush bright red as he averted his eyes. “Dinner. Right… yes. Dinner is good. Let’s… let’s do that.”

Jae beamed at him before grabbing his datapad out of his hands and tapping something into the notes. “Great, well, here’s my comm frequency. Drop me a message next time you’re planet-side, or if you have any more books you’d like to recommend in the meantime.”

“Yes… I'll definitely do that. Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Book.” And just when Book thought he couldn’t get anymore flustered, Jae leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. That was the moment Book’s brain finally short-circuited. “Stay safe out there, I'm holding you to that dinner.”

Jae disappeared across the bar, set on a mission to serve the backed-up requests of orders, leaving Book standing there like a tooka in the headlights as his hand lifted up to ghost over his cheek where Jae had kissed him.

—

It was 0300 by the time Book decided to corral his brothers, Jedi, and apparently General Vos. The Wolfpack and friends collectively stumbled out of the front of 79’s, giggling amongst themselves as TP told another Maker-awful joke.

As the laughter died down, Issa strolled up next to Book and swung an arm over his shoulder. Her dark eyes were sparkling with mischief, and the strategist shook his head in anticipation. “Soooo Book, where did you run off too?”

To his right, Sinker crept up and also threw an arm around him, officially trapping him for their questioning. “Did my eyes decei-” Sinker’s question was abruptly interrupted by a chest-shattering hiccup, “...ow… anyway, did my eyes deceive me, or did I see you talking to that cute bartender?” The silver-haired clone waggled his eyebrows, making the Pantoran to Book’s left cackle loudly in his ear.

“Well actually, I was. And um, I think… I think I’m going on a date?”

At his admission, the whole group paused and spun around to face him. Book felt his face begin to heat under their teasing gaze, and just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, TP launched himself at him to crush the slighter clone in an almighty hug, knocking his previous two captors aside.

“Look at my little Bookworm, all grown up, going out on dates. It’s so karking cute it nearly brings a tear to my eye,” TP announced loudly while clutching Book to his side and wiping fake tears from his face, making the strategist flush with embarrassment as he shoved the heavy gunner off.

Everyone extended their congratulations to Book and finally continued on their way back to the barracks. As they walked the lower levels, Book chanced a look up to the sky above, littered with the shimmering lights of speeders flying in all directions, and he couldn’t help the smile that grew across his face until his cheeks hurt. Despite the cheeky comments, Book felt everyone’s genuine excitement and happiness for him which warmed his heart, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he was more than just a soldier bred to die on the battlefield. Because surely no cannon fodder could feel the sheer peace he felt in his chest at that moment.

—--------

Finally they reached the GAR HQ, and Quin cheerily went to bid them all a goodnight. But as he turned to Issa, his demeanour changed slightly. Issa had seen that look before during her years growing up at the temple. He was plotting something, and she had a bad feeling about just what was going on in his head.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

With an air of nonchalance, Quin shrugged and lifted his hand to examine his finger nails before answering. “Do you remember that time you broke Obi-Wan’s favourite tea pot?”

The question sent a wave of guilt coursing through Issa, bringing the memory alive in her mind as she tried with all her might to push it away. It was years ago. She’d been trying to do something nice for Plo as Master Fisto had let it slip that the Kel Dor’s birthday was coming up. So Issa had decided that she’d try and make her Master his favourite tea as a surprise. She knew Obi-Wan had a full set that he brought out when he had people over, and she would’ve asked his permission but of course the young council member was stuck in the same meetings for the day as Plo. So, she’d made the decision to borrow it and leave a note, thinking Obi-Wan wouldn’t mind. But as she went to leave his quarters, she tripped and couldn’t get her hands out from under the tray quick enough to use the force to catch the fragile items, leaving her to watch as they hit the ground and shattered into a hundred pieces. She’ll never forget the image of Obi-Wan’s sad blue eyes as he cleaned the broken porcelain from his floor later that day.

The Pantoran cringed. “You know I do.”

“Well, you know how I covered for you and got a twenty minute lecture on my lack of appreciation for other people’s property and you said, and I quote,” Quin paused to clear his throat before his voice changed to a higher pitch, attempting to mimic Issa. “Oh Quin, my hero. Thank you, I owe you big time.”

“That’s not verbatim and I do not sound like that,” Issa huffed.

“Well the gist is there. The point is, I’m looking to cash in that favour. I know I said my mission is over and the council is moving me on to another problem, which is great and all, but I don’t think my job on this one is done just yet.”

“Well, did you tell them that?”

“Yeah, but they weren’t exactly happy with me. Apparently because of the war we’re spread thin, and they need me to move on. I’ve gone against their word one too many times now, so they’re watching me like a Blood Eagle this time. Listen there’s a guy on the lower levels here, level 1313. He’s got connections to the Narkabb family and there’s been rumours that the crime lord’s cousin is looking to take over while there’s a power vacuum. I just need you to go down there and find out if that’s true so I can put it back on the council’s radar for someone else to pick up.”

“Maker Quin, that’s a big ask. Plus I don’t exactly want to go around pissing off the council. The same council where my Master, who is freakishly good at telling when I'm lying, is a member.”

“Yeah well, you do have the sabacc face of a Tooka in Plo’s defence,” Quin conceded with a chuckle, before shaking himself and guiding the conversation back on topic. “But seriously Issa, this information could help us save some lives later down the line. The Narkabb family is bad news, and if they’re coming back with a vengeance. People are going to pay and it won’t be me; it’ll be innocent people.”

His words were starting to affect her, wearing down her resolve. “Surely there’s someone better suited for this. Have you not heard back from Desh yet on when he’s coming home?”

Quin sobered for a moment at the mention of his closest friend. “I still can’t get hold of him,” he admitted with a frown that looked far too out of place for the usually easy-going Jedi. The admission that Desh was still out there alone, his status unknown, sat heavily on Issa’s chest.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t ask you for this if I thought I had any other option,” Vos insisted.

Issa gnawed at her bottom lip as she weighed her options. She’d never gone against the council’s wishes before. There’s rules and hierarchy in place for a reason. But the urgency in Vos’s dark eyes was tearing at her logic. This means a lot to him, to save the people this family has hurt.

I’m so going to regret this in the morning.

“Ugh, fine, I'll do it. But I swear if I go down in front of the council for this Quin-”

“Kid, you won’t, I promise. I’ve got you covered. You're a lifesaver. Thank you.”

Issa crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the man before her. “Are you ever going to stop calling me ‘kid’?”

“When you stop being younger than me maybe.” Quin smirked at her before sweeping her up in a hug, mumbling his thanks again into her shoulder.

The pair bid each other goodbye and Issa jogged to catch up with her troops. The Pantoran just managed to join the clones in the lift before the doors sealed shut.

She allowed herself a moment to catch her breath as she tilted her head back against the durasteel of the lift and closed her eyes.

Maker’s sake, Quin. It’s been nearly ten years since the teapot incident, I can’t believe he’s been sitting on that for so long.

Next to her, Issa heard the small clang as one of the troopers copied her stance. Cloud quietly leaned a few centimetres closer before whispering. “Hey, everything okay? You seem tense.”

The quiet ones are always the most observant, Issa thought fondly.

“Yeah Cloud, I’m good. It’s just been a long day.” She didn’t expand further and he didn’t push, which Issa was beyond thankful for. The two of them stood in companionable silence as they observed the rest of the Wolfpack chatting amongst themselves while the lift continued to plummet down floor after floor to their accommodation.

The troopers had been kind enough to provide her one of their spare bunks for the night to save her having to sneak back through the temple in her inebriated state. Gracelessly, Issa nosed-dived into her bed for the evening, all background noise falling away as she settled into the hard mattress and flat pillow. As the dark bliss of sleep closed in around her, a final thought drifted through her mind, in particular an image of her Master’s amused, all-knowing look earlier that day when Sinker had first called. Issa smirked to herself at the reminder.

He knows me too well.

Taglist: @misogirl828

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cloneloverrrrr · 11 months ago

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How cute is my amazing @lune-de-miel-au-paradis for making this lil video for my next chapter with Wolffe & my OC🤩🥰🫶🏻 ( photos from google or Pinterest ) ✨

#clone thot #commander wolffe #talk to me about clones #104th battalion #commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe x ofc #commander wolffe x OC Crystal #wolffe and Crystal

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touchstarvedasclones · 2 years ago

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Hmmm... To add Mando'a to my Medieval AU focused on Wolffe and an OC...

Could give background to where the Wolfpack are from...

(story idea was based on the Medieval drawings of Jake Bartok on ig, if you were wondering)

#star wars #Wolfpack #commander wolffe #clone cuddles in the barracks #fanfic idea #clone wars #medieval au #clone troopers #Wolffe x OFC

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 10 months ago

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Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 1

Cover art by: @pinkiemme

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Plo Koon, Cara (child OFC)

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, OFC is not the spouse, grief, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 816

Author's Note: I came up with this sad short fic while I was on my social media hiatus. If I have to suffer, then y'all are going to suffer with me. It's sad. It's really sad. I might make this into a full-length fic at some point, where Wolffe hires a nanny for his daughter and they fall in love, or something sappy like that. As always, please enjoy 💚

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Wolffe stood frozen in the med-center hallway, staring down an endless sterile corridor with a small hand wrapped tightly around his finger. A pulmonary embolism, they said. A blood clot in the lungs, they said. She was so young, they said. Could've happened to anyone, they said. But it didn't happen to anyone. It happened to his wife. Within moments, and by no choice of his own, Wolffe became a single father in a galaxy torn by war. The light of his life, snuffed out like a candle.

"Daddy?" his daughter said while tugging on his hand.

Wolffe snapped out of his daze and looked down at her. "Yeah, baby?"

"Where's mommy?" she asked.

"Mommy…" Wolffe paused, biting his lip as he looked anywhere but her face. "Mommy had to go."

"Go where?" she asked.

"Far away," he said.

"But why?" she asked. "I love mommy."

"I love mommy too, baby," he said, barely able to keep his emotions at bay.

"Then why'd she leave?" she whined.

"Listen to me, Cara," he knelt down onto the ground in front of her. "Sometimes… Sometimes people have to leave and there's nothing we can do about it."

"When's she coming back?" she asked.

"She's not," he choked.

"I want mommy!" she yelled.

Wolffe picked up his crying child and held her against his chest, letting his own tears fall silently out of her view. "I know, baby. I know. I want her too."

"I'm not leaving without mommy!" she wailed.

"Please, baby," he soothed as she cried, inconsolable.

"Hush little one," a soft voice came from behind Wolffe.

Wolffe turned around and sighed in relief. "General."

"I came as soon as I heard," Plo said. He placed a gentle hand on Wolffe's shoulder. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Wolffe said while bouncing his daughter to try and calm her down.

"Come here little one," Plo said as he stretched out his arms to take Cara from Wolffe.

Wolffe peeled his distraught daughter off of his chest and handed her to Plo, then collapsed down onto the bench against the wall. He hung his head in his hands and sobbed quietly. His first real moment to fully process the loss of his wife.

Plo stepped away from Wolffe to give him some privacy and continued to bounce Cara to soothe her.

The little girl's crying echoed throughout the hallway, sending sharp pains through Wolffe's already broken heart. He wanted her to stop crying so he could stop crying. She was just a child, and she didn't understand what was happening, which made the situation all the more difficult. How could he console her when he could barely hold it together himself? The last time he felt this helpless was the Malevolence incident, and even then he held it together better than right now.

He didn't know how to be a mother. He was a soldier, a commander. How was he going to fight in the War and raise a child? It was practically impossible. He couldn't just quit the War either. No clone could. His wife was a saint. She took care of everything while he was away on campaigns. The only thing he needed to do when he came home was hug his little baby girl and dote on her until he had to leave again. He gave his family everything he had, and everything he didn't have.

He always knew he was going to be an absent father because of the War, but he didn't in his wildest imagination think that his wife would die before him. They had contingency plans for if he died, but they didn't make any plans for if she died. That entire scenario came out of left-field and blindsided him. They were eating dinner like they always did when he came home for shore leave. How in the universe did they go from eating dinner to her being dead? He'd never understand it.

"General," Wolffe said through his tears. "What do I do now?"

Plo studied the devastated commander and softened his eyes. "You take each moment as it comes."

"But what do I do?" Wolffe pleaded with a hitch in his throat. "The funeral, my kid, my troops, my–"

"Arrangements are being made as we speak," Plo interrupted. "You are not alone in this despair, Wolffe."

Wolffe looked up at his general and a menial, barely noticeable smile formed at the corner of his mouth, but it was betrayed by the streaks of tears that lined his flushed cheeks. He said nothing in response, afraid that if he uttered even one more syllable, he'd lose the last bit of composure he'd maintained. However, the words of his general rang true. He was not alone. He had never been alone. He had his general and an entire battalion of brothers to lean on. His family was here for him.

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enigmaticexplorer · 11 months ago

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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Part I - Chapter I

Masterlist | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.8K

“The risk of love is loss and the price of loss is grief. But the pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of never risking love.” - Hilary Stanton Zunin

16 Telona

Kazi would never again visit the lighthouse with her sister.

The place where they peeled citrus-stars, watched oceanic storms, danced in puddles, played and laughed, and smacked the other when they argued. It was their sanctuary. And, of course, the ragged lighthouse overlooking Outlook Harbor preserved their culture—the eldest of Ceaian legend.

The legend of the dragons.

As legend claimed, a dragon guarded each Ceaian harbor, its fire a source of light for ships navigating the rugged surf and rocky cliffs. Without the dragons’ guidance, sailors would crash and drown, and the Ceaian population waste away.

When the last of the dragons died, lighthouses replaced their source of light and guidance. But a lighthouse could never replace the security and warmth of a dragon.

A lighthouse could never replace the visceral reaction of seeing a dragon. Of knowing you were home.

Dominated by childlike wonder, Kazi decided, when she was six, that she would buy the old lighthouse and fix it up. Beside it, she would build an inn. And one day her inn—adorned with her sister’s flowers and succulents—would be the most lauded across all of Ceaia.

For years the dream sustained her and her sister. She would run the inn and manage the finances, meanwhile her sister would oversee decorations and meal planning. Nothing else mattered. Except for a rowdy sailor here or there. But Kazi would handle them too. Because she would protect her sister. She would always protect her little sister.

And so those girls dreamt of their future and planned for endless happiness.

But life never cared much for dreams.

Nowadays, Kazi tried to forget the lighthouse’s existence. It made it easier to ignore the ache in her heart and guilt in her mind.

Slashing rain warmed her fingers as Kazi snapped the final window shut, securing the house from the onslaught of the torrential rainstorm. The sunroom’s windows—spanning the entirety of the wall—overlooked the rolling hills of Eluca’s endless jungle, the planet’s three moons hidden behind clouds pregnant with more rain.

Housing a small couch, four armchairs, a game table, and a handful of potted plants Daria fawned over, the sunroom was Kazi’s favorite place in the house. It boasted the best view of sunrises, and the best views of Eluca’s near-daily rainstorms.

Tonight, the storm was the worst Kazi had seen since arriving on Eluca two months ago. It wasn’t an oceanic storm, but it was close enough.

Thunder boomed, loud enough to rattle the windows. Rain harshened its upheaval; lightning spider-webbed chaotic rictuses across the blackened sky.

Kazi started to smile—the awe and terror of raging storms a memory buried—but the muscle movement strained. Her half-smile fell away. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she last smiled. At least two months. Probably the day before the Purge—

“I met a man at the marketplace today.”

Kazi stiffened. From the corner of her eye, her sister approached the windows, hands clasped loosely before her stomach. A healthy distance—a meter—separated their bodies. Daria seemed to maintain the distance instinctively. Kazi both noted and despised it.

There was a time when Daria would sneak into her bed late at night. Usually scared from the storms, her sister sought refuge beneath her bed covers. She hadn’t minded. What else was a big sister for?

Now, the distance was a physical phenomenon. Tangible; representative of the emotional distance built over the last decade. Kazi held the blame and responsibility. But she still craved the missing connection. The muffled laughter in the middle of the night; sneaky grins; warm hugs.

Daria observed the lashing rain with a blasé countenance that belied her usual calculation. “He’s kind but also ambitious, and his financial situation is sound. I want you to meet him—”

“No.” Kazi crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve told you, repeatedly, that I won’t entertain arranged dates—”

“This one is good,” Daria interrupted, facing her. “Give him a chance—”

“I said no.” Kazi kept her voice quiet and controlled, refusing to yell and risk waking Neyti. “I’m too busy with work and taking care of you—”

Daria recoiled. A flash of lightning emphasized the blush staining her cheeks. Kazi bit her tongue. Her sister was sensitive to any mention of her illness.

“I only ask that you consider meeting him.” Daria straightened, her gentle poise sharpening, like a vibroblade sparking to life. “I’d like to see you married before I die.”

Kazi bit back her annoyed groan, opting for a glare. Currently, she had three goals, and marriage was not one of them.

The first goal was treatment for her sister’s illness. It should have been simple to accomplish, and while she had found a healer specialized in palliative care, Daria’s symptoms were still ubiquitous and worrisome. Even now sweat beaded her sister’s forehead, and her fingers spasmed unintentionally.

The problem laid with ineffective medicine, according to Healer Natasha’s most recent report.

“As I’ve told you,” Kazi said slowly, “I’m not interested in wasting my time on arranged dates—”

“How are you not lonely?”

Kazi scoffed. “Loneliness is not a reason to get married.”

“Maybe not,” Daria said, “but you have no one to rely on. No parents. No friends. No husband.”

A hollow sensation gaped in her chest but Kazi ignored it.

Daria took her silence as permission to continue. “Marriage is a necessity in life. Humans desire companionship—women desire the stability a man can bring to our lives. We’re not meant to be alone.”

Kazi took a few seconds to organize her thoughts and counterarguments. After years with a mother who shared Daria’s sentiment, she was prepared for this specific debate.

“Marriage isn’t something you can force between two people who don’t know one another,” Kazi started, forcibly calm. “Marriage should be based on love. Not desperation or settling out of loneliness. Marriage is about two people who realize they want to share life together. Who feel life is complete when the other is in it.”

Daria snorted. “That’s quite the idealistic notion of romance I wouldn’t expect from you.”

“It’s not idealistic—”

“But it is.” Daria quirked a manicured eyebrow. “Marriage is a pact to maintain the traditions and ideals of two families, and to implement those beliefs in a future generation. It’s more than just love.”

At the condescension in her sister’s tone, Kazi gritted her teeth. She wasn’t an idealist; she preferred realism as her chosen form of analysis. But love wasn’t an idealistic notion for hopeless romantics. She had read the stories and myths. Love was attainable. Maybe not for her, but it still existed. And she refused to settle for a marriage borne out of duty rather than respect and trust and emotional connection.

The argument represented the sisters’ different lines of thinking, and Kazi couldn’t help but wonder: if their father hadn’t died when they were so young and their mother imposed Reformist teachings on an impressionable Daria, would Daria have shared Kazi’s beliefs?

Then again, Daria was the perfect mold she was trained to be: a dutiful wife. And nothing more.

“Think about Neyti,” Daria said. “She’s a child who needs stability in her life—who needs the stability a man can provide.”

Kazi sniffed. “I don’t need a man to provide stability to Neyti’s life. I can provide it.”

“I know you feel responsible for upholding your promise to her mother,” Daria placated, “but you need to think about this situation logically. Neyti needs a family. She needs two parents. She needs emotional support and love.”

“I can be her family.” Kazi frowned at her sister. “I can raise her. I can love her. I can take care of her.”

“Oh, Kazi.” Daria gave her a sympathetic look that itched. “Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes.”

“You have no emotional capacity for a child. You can’t take care of her the way she deserves to be taken care of. Not when you’re alone.”

Kazi resisted the urge to flinch, and instead, shifted her attention to the game table where a bedraggled stuffed dog laid. The toy belonged to a six-year-old girl—a girl shoved into her arms when she was fleeing Ceaia. A child who no longer spoke and remained an enigma she couldn’t figure out. Neyti.

The second goal was to find Neyti suitable, loving parents. Parents who could raise the sweet child in an insecure world fraught with instability and fascism. However, the goal was proving difficult.

Entering a child into a credible adoption center required extensive documentation. Medical records, education certificates, familial-history records. Kazi didn’t even know Neyti’s last name, much less have access to any of the required documents.

Their first week on Eluca, she enrolled Neyti in the local primary school, and she secured baseline medical tests. The medical tests proved useful for Neyti’s therapy. Still, the adoption process was slow and arduous.

Daria wasn’t aware of Neyti’s impending adoption. She believed Kazi was committed to raising Neyti herself. It was a secret Kazi wanted to maintain. Still, Daria’s concern for her lacking competence to care for Neyti hurt.

“I have emotions, Daria.” Her voice was too strained and Kazi grimaced, clearing away the twinge of hurt. “I’m passionate, I feel things, I experience a wide range of emotions. Just because I don’t allow them to dictate my decisions doesn’t mean I’m unfeeling and emotionless.”

“I never said you were.” Daria waved a dismissive hand. “All I’m saying is that your emotional capacity is not sustainable nor durable for a child. You work all day; you work late into the night. You aren’t physically around much for her, and you’re too aloof to provide her the emotional stability she needs. Have you ever considered why she still doesn’t speak?”

“She’s grieving—she lost her mother two months ago,” Kazi said disbelievingly. “She needs space to grieve, and I’m not going to force her to do something she finds solace in.”

“But have you considered the possibility that she doesn’t feel comfortable or safe with you to speak?” Kazi winced at the accusation but her sister wasn’t finished. “Neyti needs emotional support, which you can’t give if you’re not physically present.”

“This conversation is over.” Kazi uncrossed her arms, fisting her hands behind her back to hide their trembling. “I’m not entertaining a marriage for the sake of a false notion of stability.”

“It’s not a false notion,” Daria argued. “You may refuse to acknowledge it in yourself, Kazi, but I see it. I see your struggles, and I know that you need someone—”

“That’s enough.” She turned away from the windows. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about my own wants. So don’t you dare try to pretend that you’re interested in securing me a marriage outside of your own personal goal of making me live up to Mama’s teachings.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do—”

“It is. Just because you failed to get married and have children, doesn’t mean I want that for myself.”

Daria flinched. Disbelief wrinkled her forehead, and for a long moment, she merely stared at Kazi, as if uncertain who stood before her.

“Every woman wants to be married and have children,” Daria finally said, securing her hurt behind a well-practiced mask. “It’s in our nature.”

“You’re delusional.” Kazi ignored Daria’s affronted glare. “Forget Mama’s teachings. They did nothing to help you, and she was wrong about most things.”

“Don’t disrespect the dead.”

“I didn’t respect her when she was alive. What’s the difference now?”

“Maybe Mama was right.” Daria sneered at her. “Your access to emotions died the day Papa did.”

Kazi opened her mouth—what to say, she wasn’t sure—but two loud knocks on the front door interrupted. A signal. It was a reminder of her third and final goal: to survive the rebel network.

Relations with the rebel network were new and difficult to navigate. Kazi was indebted to them. She owed them her life—and Daria and Neyti’s lives—and for that reason, she served the network’s needs. However, the network wasn’t a benevolent entity, and being indebted to its cause rattled Kazi more than she liked to admit.

Typically, she avoided debts. They forced her into a compromising position, allowing someone the opportunity to control her. She preferred self-reliance to kindness, and when she did indebt herself, she always paid it back quickly.

Her father believed it a question of honor and a true demonstration of character. Her mother took a more cynical approach: “To be in someone’s debt is to give them power over you,” she once told Kazi. “Only fools put themselves in such situations.”

Sometimes she wondered how her mother would have responded to the Purge. Would the Ennari matriarch humble her obstinance to secure a means for survival?

Whatever her mother would have decided didn’t matter. Kazi sought the network’s aid, and now she owed them. So far, she had met Eluca’s five rebels, the cohort a tight-knit group. It was one of many belonging to the larger network slowly establishing a presence in the Outer Rim.

Kazi rarely interacted within the cohort, receiving orders from Fehr or Bash, the network’s main contacts, and acted alone. But that morning, she received a comm from Fehr asking her to join an unexpected meeting. The message left her unsettled, and her arrival at the abandoned warehouse used for most meetings heightened her consternation.

Some days, like that morning, she questioned if she was walking into a trap, wary of Imperial stormtroopers posed for her capture. Today, only the five other rebels were present.

“My contact has informed me that three men want to establish a safehouse out of reach of the Empire,” Fehr said. A human woman at least twenty years Kazi’s senior and the owner of one of Hollow Town’s highest employed farms, Fehr preferred brusqueness to political coyness. It was something Kazi appreciated. “Their operations will be separate from ours.”

Carinthia, a data courier for Moff Harpy of Veridian Sector and a skilled identification and chip saboteur, narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “How do you mean?”

“These men will be running rescue-and-relocate missions.” Fehr glanced across the five other members. “They’re former employees of the Empire.”

Kazi pursed her lips, noting the discomfort of those around her. Bash, Head Treasurer of Eluca’s national bank and a well-respected member of the Elucan government, furrowed his brows. Lore and Sparks, married pilots, shared a skeptical look.

“Former employees of the Empire can’t be trusted,” Carinthia argued, her skin eerily pale in the warehouse’s shadows.

“We trust you,” Lore said casually.

Carinthia sneered. “I never worked for the Empire—”

“But your family—”

“Is of no importance.” Carinthia swiped her hand through the air. “How do we know we can trust these men?”

“The more important question is,” Kazi interrupted, irritated by Fehr’s lack of transparency, “who are these men? You say they’re former employees, but where did they work?”

“Former intelligence workers would be nice to have,” Sparks said. Lore nodded her agreement.

Fehr took a deep breath, black eyes settling on Kazi. “These men are former soldiers.”

Kazi tensed, an unwelcome burst of panic clogging the back of her throat. Fehr wouldn’t risk the dangers of—

“They’re clones.”

In the silence that followed Fehr’s declaration, Kazi forced herself not to react. She bit her tongue until it hurt, controlling her features and ordering her panic to calm the fuck down. She could not appear incompetent nor afraid.

But the panic in her chest was as sharp as an electric shock. Simultaneously heart-stopping and heart-quickening.

“Clones are loyal to the Empire,” Bash said diplomatically.

A silky voice imbued with a calm that complimented Fehr’s usual bluntness, Bash was a difficult person to read. With bronze skin and cunning silver eyes, he and Fehr were the sole rebels indigenous to Eluca. His position within the planetary government, as well as his contacts within the rebel network, made him the most important and powerful member of the cohort.

To learn that Bash wasn’t aware of the clones’ arrival intrigued Kazi. Similar to the Empire’s backstabbing politicking, it seemed the rebel network didn’t share all their information with each of its contacts. Kazi tucked away the information.

“We can’t trust them,” Bash continued.

“Be reasonable, Fehr,” Carinthia said, her smile wan. “Clone allegiance is to whichever government is in control.”

Fehr straightened, and though her tone was collected, it was lined with an edge that could cut. “These men have denounced their allegiances—”

“And their allegiances could switch again.” Sparks shook his head. Even the adventurous pilot was hesitant. “If you need an example: look at the Republic.”

Agreement swept through the small group. But Fehr was staunch in her decision.

“The clones are operating a rescue-and-relocate mission. Our paths will rarely cross, and they won’t be working planetside.” Fehr stared them down, her glare unapologetic.

Shortly after, the meeting dissolved. Kazi made to leave but Fehr motioned for her and Carinthia to stay, the latter throwing a perplexed look at Kazi. The moment Bash left, his eyes narrowed in skepticism, Fehr faced the two women.

“There’s more about the clones that I didn’t share with the cohort,” Fehr said. “The clones will be staying planetside.”

To her annoyance, Kazi noticed Carinthia studying her. They were similar in age, and yet their backgrounds were vastly different. Carinthia hailed from a wealthy family that lived in the Inner Rim, and her shrewd personality bordered conniving.

“They need somewhere spacious to make their base. Somewhere far enough away from the city where they can easily hide.” Fehr squared her shoulders and stared Kazi in the eye. “I offered the men the basement.”

Kazi blinked, uncertain if she had heard correctly.

“The basement…” Her voice hitched and she cleared her throat. “You want the clones to stay in the basement. At the house where I’m living.”

Fehr nodded.

Her hands started to tremble and Kazi clenched her jaw. Clenched it so hard she thought it might break.

“The clones are the reason I’m on this damned planet, Fehr.” The strain in her voice was palpable but she didn’t care. Fehr was the sole rebel she considered somewhat benevolent, and this new information was a betrayal she wasn’t prepared for. “Have you forgotten that?”

“I haven’t,” Fehr said calmly. Too calmly. “But these men deserted. They don’t serve the Empire and they need a place to stay. I considered one of the apartments in town but people will be curious and could start talking. The house is an ideal location.”

The house, not your house.

Because the house didn’t belong to Kazi. It belonged to Fehr who had gifted it to her when she first arrived on Eluca, homeless and penniless.

The memory still rankled her. Her pride cringed at her forced reliance on another person. Her chagrin was further heightened by her financial helplessness. Years of frugality, investments, and savings were made obsolete by the rise of the Empire.

“It’s not that awful, Kazi,” Carinthia said. “The house is large. Large enough for you three to survive cohabitation with a few clones.”

Before Kazi could respond, Fehr raised her hand. “I know your history with the clones isn’t ideal. And if you’re uncomfortable—” Carinthia released a derisive scoff that had Kazi tensing. Fehr shot the younger woman a hard look. “If it’s too much, I can look at other locations. But the basement—”

“Is ideal,” Carinthia cut in. “It’s large enough, and it connects to the communications tower. I assume that’s a necessity for them.” Carinthia twirled a crimson curl around a finger, her expression contemplative. “Eluca’s proximity to a well-plotted hyperlane, and the surgent of Imperial military bases across Veridian Sector and the Outer Rim, at large, make this planet the most effective base.”

Fehr nodded, her attention returning to a still-silent Kazi. “It’s your choice.”

Except it wasn’t. Not really. The house wasn’t even in her name—an attempt to protect her sister and Neyti. To prevent Imperial officials looking into their sudden immigration and ambiguous history.

It was an older yet well-maintained home settled in a forgotten neighborhood five kilometers from Hollow’s Town. The neighborhood stood empty except for two other houses located a kilometer away.

Built a century prior in the midst of a planetary civil war, the basement served as a bomb shelter. One of four designated for the neighborhood. Fortified by duracrete and buried deep in Eluca’s soil, the basement housed five bedrooms with ten bunks each, three refreshers equipped with full amenities, and a war room dedicated to military strategy. The war room was still wired to the communication tower in the capital. The only communication tower available for public use in Veridian Sector with consistent and reliable access to the Mid and Inner Rims.

Kazi had visited the basement once. The darkness, and the knowledge that hundreds of tons of dirt could easily bury her, convinced her never to return. It was the ideal location for rescue-and-relocate missions. Which irked her.

“It’s fine.” She clasped her hands behind her back. She was indebted to Fehr, anyway. “We can make it work.”

Three more knocks, rapid and quieter, followed the first two. The completion of the signal. Kazi followed Daria through the kitchen and toward the front door, her body tensed to a point of pain. Anxiety itched her skin, like thousands of ants crawling along her spine and burrowing in her hair.

She opened the door and then retreated a safe distance. Fehr stepped into the small entryway. Behind her, three males followed. Dark gray ponchos hid their upper bodies and hoods cast their faces in shadows.

Kazi schooled her features into insouciance. One of the few benefits of etiquette lessons: she could control her expression. For the most part.

Rain frizzed Fehr’s ebony hair and the older woman patted her braids, nodding at Kazi. She scanned the kitchen behind the two sisters. “Is Neyti—”

“Asleep.” Her tone was curt and she ignored Daria’s disapproving scowl.

The older woman chuckled. “School must have been exhausting if she can sleep in this weather.”

“The thunder was louder back—” Well, it didn’t matter.

Silence ensued, eclipsed by the echoing thunder and the rain from the clones’ ponchos dripping onto the hardwood floor. Ever the dutiful host, Daria stepped forward, her smile practiced kindness and warmth.

The ease in her sister’s friendliness was a point of jealousy for Kazi. Growing up, she yearned to exude the same gentleness Daria effortlessly managed. She never perfected it.

“Welcome,” Daria said. She gestured to Kazi. “We made up three of the beds downstairs and stocked the fridge with extra food.”

It was a lie. Kazi didn’t shop for the food—only Daria—and she didn’t make the beds. She lugged the sheets and pillow cases from the upstairs closet to the basement but she refused to make a bed for a grown adult.

The clone to the left stepped forward and removed his hood. Beneath the dimmed lights in the entryway his skin was dark brown and his eyes even darker. A white scar threaded itself from his temple to his cheek. Black hair was trimmed precisely, long enough to run a hand through. He looked to be a year or two older than Kazi. Possibly twenty-eight.

“That was generous of you,” the clone said. He gestured to the two other clones. “We’re grateful for this.”

A blush darkened Daria’s cheeks and Kazi almost rolled her eyes. Her sister extended her hand and the clone accepted it. “I’m Daria, and this is my sister, Kazi.”

Kazi didn’t step forward; she didn’t offer her hand. She merely nodded. The clone assessed her for a moment, his eyes flitting from her face to Daria’s, probably noting their differences.

Trained for society, Daria carried herself with an easy elegance. Her hair was honeyed and loosely curled. The green of her eyes was darker than the jungle after a rain shower. Hours gardening over the years had softened the curves of her body.

Unlike her sister, years of swimming left Kazi with an athletic and toned build. A body type undesired by high society Ceaian males, as she was told, repeatedly, by her instructors.

And even though she attended the same finishing classes as Daria, she never mastered her sister’s posh demeanor. She was well-mannered and polite, but she spoke with a bluntness considered too judgmental, further heightened by the darkness of her eyes with their slashes of hazel.

“Like a bird of prey,” her instructor for Poise and Deportment once complained to her mother.

Her mother considered her with a critical eye, and Kazi steeled herself. “I would counter: sunlight in a meadow.”

It was one of the rare times her mother complimented her, and it had stuck with her the last seven years. To this day, her eyes remained her favorite feature.

A throat cleared and Fehr glanced at her chrono. “Kazi, Daria, let me introduce you to former commanders Cody, Wolffe, and Fox.”

Kazi’s heart faltered.

Commanders. The clones weren’t just soldiers. They were fucking commanders.

She shot Fehr a baleful glare. The older woman’s gaze was already on her face, and imperceptibly, she dipped her chin, acknowledgement and confirmation of Kazi’s unspoken accusation.

The woman had known all along the clones were former commanders. She had known and had refused to mention it.

If the situation hadn’t affected her life, Kazi would have admired Fehr’s sly play. Instead, she ignored the woman, fisting her hands tightly behind her back to hide their trembling.

The two other clones removed their ponchos. Kazi tried not to stare but the rumors were true. They were identical. Except for a few distinctive traits.

The one on the right—Commander Fox—bore a scar on his chin; his hair was similarly styled to Commander Cody’s. At her perusal, the clone arched a brow. His eyes swept across her face, in both assessment and curiosity.

She moved her gaze to the last one. Commander Wolffe.

He was observing her with a neutrally-controlled countenance. Narrowed eyes. Rigid shoulders. Calculated expression.

Kazi recognized the look in his face—the subtle wariness and hardened reticence. It was the same shrewdness she practiced. One she relied on to determine genuine from disingenuous; trustworthy from unreliable.

Emphasizing the guarded calculation in his gaze was a stark white scar. Like a bolt of lightning, it seared the skin above his right eye and slashed down to his cheek. Whatever had torn his skin must have ruined his eye, for a silver cybernetic sat in his socket.

“I have business to attend to,” Fehr said, drawing Kazi’s attention away from her analysis. The lack of explanation and the urgency in Fehr’s tone warned Kazi the ‘business’ was network-related.

Once the darkness of night swallowed Fehr’s form, Daria showed the clones to the basement. Surreptitiously hidden behind a white bookcase bereft of personable touches other than a dragon figurine and a few succulents Daria had purchased the last few weeks, the staircase to the basement was dimly lit by a buttery-yellow light. The stairs descended into a blackness thicker than the ocean’s surface on a moonless night.

Few words were exchanged. Kazi didn’t bother with false pleasantries, she left it to Daria, and soon the basement door swung back in place. The bookcase rested snugly against the white wall. Even the most observant soldier would overlook the entrance’s location.

“They seem…nice,” Daria said, shifting the pot of a vibrant blue succulent. “You could have been more inviting.”

“Why?” Kazi gave her sister a condescending smile. “Are you wanting to match me with one of them?”

“Kazi.” Daria released an exasperated sigh. “I’m trying to help you prepare—”

“I don’t need your help. And I certainly don’t want it.”

“Fine.” Dabbing at her forehead, Daria sniffed. “I’m sorry for caring.”

Kazi snorted. “Caring? Is that what you call this nagging?”

“I do care.” Daria started to tremble. “I have always cared and—” She cut off, pressing a palm to her temple, her face screwed in pain.

Kazi reached for Daria’s shoulder, her stomach dipping with concern. But her sister backed away. The dismissal silent yet resoundingly loud. Louder than the thunder rattling the old windowpanes. Her hand fell to her side; she tried to ignore the guilt bittering her mouth.

Lifting her chin, Daria smoothed the fabric of her pale purple dress. She looked Kazi over once, disappointment thinning her lips, and then made her way toward the staircase opposite the bookcase. The old stairs creaked beneath her labored pace.

The moment her sister’s door clicked shut, Kazi collapsed on the bottom step, rubbing her temples.

She didn’t want the clones here. Hell, she didn’t want to be here. On this planet. In this fucking house.

It was too much.

Daria’s disease.

Neyti’s adoption.

Spying for the network.

Three clone commanders.

A disappointment. Incompetent. Indebted. Possibly endangered.

She looked out the kitchen windows toward a clearing sky. Eluca’s three moons peeked through the clouds like a child peering through a curtain. The urge to run—to ignore all of her problems, to avoid the responsibility—hit her.

But she couldn’t run. Not this time.

Masterlist | Chapter 2

A/N: Pronunciations:

Kazi Ennari: kah-zee ; uh-nar-ee Daria: dar-ee-uh Neyti: nay-tea Fehr: fare Eluca: eh-look-ah (emphasis on first syllable) Ceaia: say-ee-uh (emphasis on second syllable)

#I Year and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe #oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe x ofc #star wars fanfiction #commander wolffe fanfiction

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ariadnes-red-thread · 2 years ago

Text

The Last Word: Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE: Burn with Laughter

Prologue [Coming Soon] | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fives/OFC

Series Summary: War makes victims of everyone. This is something Mal knows too well. An enlisted civilian medic with the GAR, she's been able to rebuild with her chosen family, the Wolfpack, and she's found some semblance of peace in a shattered galaxy. But a request from the famous Captain Rex and a night out at 79's sends her world spiraling as she transfers from the 104th to the 501st and dives back into a search for answers that she had abandoned a long time ago.

Mal’s new battalion is in the midst of a struggle of its own, having recently survived the horrors of Umbara. The cruelty of a broken Jedi has eroded the fabric of this close-knit group and left behind scars that are hard to heal. ARC Trooper Fives will do anything to protect his vode, and he's not sure if this new addition can be trusted.

Mal and Fives' struggle to save those they care about comes together in unexpected ways, and they find themselves thrust together in a battle for the future of a galaxy far, far away.

Chapter Summary: After a night out at 79′s, both Mal and Fives have to grapple with their decisions... and any feelings that remain.

Chapter Warnings: Alcohol use, Mentions of sex, Both characters made impaired decisions

Chapter Word Count: 5.4k

Recommended Listening: Dark Bird by Jake Wesley Rogers (St. Lucia Remix)

A/N: We’re finally here! I’ve spent the last few months obsessing over this series and this man, and I finally feel good enough about it to put my first chapter out into the world. Thank you so so so much to the incredible writer/friend/human @twistedstitcher27 for beta reading! You’re an angel, and your encouragement means the world :) I’ve tagged a few people who showed interest in the preview post but please join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters so I’m not tagging people who don’t want to be tagged! I’m hoping to update every couple of weeks.

Ao3

Join my taglist

The green canopy of Takodana’s forests hung low in the rain. The heavy cascade thrummed against the leaves, plummeting from great heights to splash off of Mal. The falling water landed on her arms, her legs, and even rolled down her forehead in large, fat drops that soaked her to the bone. But the steady stream barely registered in her mind.

She was here again.

Mal was locked in her body, just as she had been on the day that it happened. She couldn’t move. She stared into two matching pairs of green eyes, begging them to run. Begging for it to be different this time. Still, the order came, as it always did.

“Fire!”

Mal tried to scream. Nothing came out. She tried to fight. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t change what had happened. Not even in her dreams. Mal raised the blaster and aimed.

The morning sun crept across the studio apartment, ready for vengeance. It reached out with gloating first rays to prod its unwitting victim. Mal was already tossing in an uneasy slumber when the intrusion woke her. She tugged the blanket over her head to escape the sudden onslaught of light, but a quiet groan left her parched throat as she realized there was no hiding. Even though sleep was just starting to leave her body, Mal’s temples were already throbbing, an unfriendly reminder that forgetting to close the curtains had been the least of her previous evening’s offenses. With an inner voice that grew louder and louder, she started to curse the woman she had been the night before.

As she lazed in bed for a moment, the sheet still pulled over her head, visions of the previous night’s celebrations returned one by one. 79’s. The Wolfpack. Her goodbye party. The 104th had come together to send her off and did so with their usual brand of organized chaos. There were fuzzy memories of Sinker buying rounds and rounds of spotchka, Boost trying to drag her to the dancefloor every few songs, and she quietly choked as she remembered a foolish moment where she had challenged the Commander to an arm-wrestling contest. Mal wriggled her shoulder and was almost surprised to find everything intact. Wolffe must have gone easy on her.

A first, she snorted with a slight smirk.

Not tearing her rotator cuff was the closest that Commander Wolffe would get to being sentimental about Mal’s transfer, but she would take it for the compliment it was. She kept stretching small muscles in her body as she pieced together the rest of the night’s puzzle, the edges frayed by sleep and drink. At least, she thought as she searched for an upside to her current condition; she didn’t have to report to her new posting until the afternoon. There was still plenty of time to sweat out this hangover and put a blurry night behind her.

Then, one memory struck her, clear and sharp as a bolt of lightning. Mal shot up in bed, spinning to look over her shoulder. In those slowed nanoseconds before she turned, Mal realized she knew exactly what would be there but still prayed that she was wrong.

She wasn’t. A naked man lay beside her with the pale green sheets tossed carelessly over his bare, tan form. The soft morning light glowed golden around him. Memories came back in swelling, unstoppable waves now. They were more than pleasant, brimming with laughter, smiles, and moans. Yet, Mal’s heart began to race, and dread rose from her stomach up to her throat as she traced her way up his sleeping form. Sheer panic finally set in when her eyes fell on his face. He was a clone.

Fuck.

Mal scrambled out of bed, immediately tangling herself in the sheets and plunging to the floor, the durasteel chilly as it smacked against her bare skin. She was naked, she realized, but this new fact didn’t slow her flight. In a moment, she righted herself, fleeing to the fresher though a haze of alarm and sleep that hadn’t quite worn off.

Mal slammed her palm against the fresher door. The hydraulics moved at their usual speed, but every second was a lifetime. Finally, she could slip through the just barely big enough gap. Mal pinned herself to the wall as the door slid shut again behind her. She quickly locked the door after it sealed as if a sheet of durasteel could protect her from her bad decisions. She threw herself over the sink, flipping on the water before gripping the bowl’s edges.

After letting the water run for a moment, Mal cupped her hands under the sink, collecting a pool in her palms. She closed her eyes and splashed the water onto her face with a quick flick of her hands. As soon as the cool liquid met her skin, she sighed.

Mal let the water run down her face and along her neck in gentle, forgiving paths for a moment before her eyes fluttered open and snapped to the mirror. She glared at the woman staring back at her, loose red hair flying in every direction and green eyes ringed by smeared make-up. She knew better than to sleep with a clone. Mechanics and techs were okay, and, Maker, there was a whole planet of men out there who weren’t in the GAR. No Jedi, no medics, and especially no clones. Those were the rules of engagement.

Amal Darroch, you grade-A idiot, she grumbled to herself as she scowled at her reflection. Kriff a senator next time.

Mal closed her eyes again, raising her hands to rub her pounding temples with her thumbs. The pressure began to soothe her headache. Next, she turned her attention to her breathing.

In.

She let her mind follow the meandering crystal trail of water that still trickled along her chest.

Out.

Her breathing slowed. There was no reason to panic. She had made a mistake, but it would be okay.

Even as Mal tried to tell herself that, dread still roiled in the pit of her stomach. She knew all of the reasons that sleeping with a clone was a mistake. She was a civilian medic for the GAR, after all. She had served alongside the clones for almost two years now. They were her patients, her coworkers, and, more than anything else, her friends. The 104th was the closest she had to a family. Sleeping with one of their brothers was a line she never wanted to cross.

Then there was the position that the clones found themselves in, trapped in service to a Republic that often saw them as little more than cannon fodder. She knew what it was like to be seen as a pawn, and her privilege as a citizen was something she didn’t take lightly. And then, of course, tied into all of the other reasons, there was Tye. That was still too sore to touch, but it was there, floating lazily at the top of a deep well of memories long submerged.

In. Out.

It would be okay. It had to be. Mal tried to focus on something else. Anything else.

What was his name again? She wondered, peering through at the memories to see if she could pick out any details.

One by one, they came back to her as her headache slowly faded. She had been leaving the restroom when another clone, a shiny she figured from the quick glance she had gotten at his armor, had approached her with a little too much enthusiasm and far too much liquor in his system.

“Hey there, gorge-” He started, his words slurring as drink sloshed out of his glass.

Mal cursed as the brown, sticky liquor met the green silk of her dress. Before she could look up, the trooper’s feet disappeared, and he darted into the crowd. Frowning at the crowd that had swallowed up the poor shiny, Mal called out an apology that missed the ears of the retreating clone. She had overreacted… again. But this was her one nice dress, and she had only pulled it out of her closet because she lost that bet with Sinker.

She sighed. Nice going. With the familiar feeling of guilt settling in her brow, Mal looked around to find a small napkin left on a nearby booth. She sat down as she attempted to wipe at the spreading stain, but the fabric quickly fell apart in her hands. She cursed again.

“Need one of these?”

A clone, his face unmistakable even though he was in civilian clothes, appeared before her. Did he have a face tattoo? Mal strained at the memory. He had brought a towel and a glass of fresh water, sliding into the booth across from her. He apologized for his brother and made her laugh as he shared his own worst pick-up line from his days as a shiny.

“You must be from Coruscant.” He flashed a wide sideways grin, his soft brown eyes twinkling in the neon light.

“What makes you say that?” Mal remembered asking as she smiled up at him. He was wrong, but she was curious about where this was going.

“Because I was searching for love in Alderaan places before you.”

Mal’s jaw fell open before she began to cackle, her whole body shaking at his terrible pick-up line. The clone’s grin never faltered as he laughed, both at himself and at her reaction.

“That’s the worse line I’ve ever heard.” She finally pulled herself together enough to speak. “Has it ever worked?”

“Not yet, but I’ll keep trying.” The clone chuckled to himself again before he stood and held out a hand. “Now, what would you say to a dance? It’ll help your dress dry.”

“Now that’s actually the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard.” Mal raised an eyebrow, considering the clone’s outstretched hand for a moment.

“Did it work?” His grin crept out a little bit wider.

As an answer, Mal reached out and claspered his rough palm with her own. She laughed again and then, as he had led her to the dance floor, found she never stopped laughing. As the night wore on, it was as though she’d been strapped to a speeder, along for a ride with this wild pilot. His boldness permeated everything he did. She’d never met someone more comfortable in their own skin.

Transported away from her hangover and her bathroom and back to 79’s, Mal recalled how she had moved with him to the music and the jokes they had shared, lips pressed to ears on the thunderous dance floor. He had pulled a wildness out of her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Last night, the heaviness of the war and the tragedies that came with it were gone, and there was only this man. Whether he was sweeping her off her feet on the dance floor or charmingly antagonizing the poor cabbie that brought them home, the world around them was a blur, and the only thing in focus was him.

Then there was the sex. The more Mal tugged at the memories of the night before, the more she remembered just how great the sex had been. Strong hands coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of her, those same hands on her hips as pleasure entered her from behind, her touch on his rippling core as she rode him, soft kisses, hungry kisses, and eventually, being pulled into strong arms as they both collapsed in perfect, exhausted bliss.

She still couldn’t remember his kriffing name, though.

Mal took another slow, measured breath as she dried her face with the hand towel. Name or no name, it was time to go out and face this man. It will be okay, she reminded herself again. She could come up with plenty of reasons not to give him her commlink, and there were millions of clones in the GAR. What were the chances she would ever run into this one man again? Mal frowned as she realized that the dread was gone, and instead, an odd ache formed in her chest at the thought.

She brushed the ache aside and all of the memories along with it. There were other problems to worry about. To begin with, she was still naked. Luckily, a sleeveless top, a binder, and compression shorts hung next to the shower from her run yesterday. She quickly pulled them on. With a sigh, she glanced in the mirror one more time. She made one last swipe under her eyes to wipe away the smudged makeup, and then she was ready to face him.

Mal stepped out of the fresher with a tight chest that bordered more on regret now than dread. Regret for what, she wasn’t willing to consider. But, as she glanced around the corners of her small apartment, she was alone. The man was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief, loud enough to distract her from the unexpected ache in her heart.

Then he stood up. The clone rose from the ground behind her bed. Mal jumped backward, letting out a cry at his sudden appearance.

“Sorry, sorry!” He waved his hands in innocence, one of them clutching a boot that he held out towards her in explanation. “Just looking for this guy. Got away from me last night.”

“Oh, no problem!” Mal attempted her most casual tone, although she still clutched at her chest, and her heart was pounding furiously.

The clone was clothed now in vaguely familiar dark pants and a white shirt that hung close to his chest. Despite Mal’s best efforts, she found her eyes tracing over him, admiring the man. He was good-looking, born with the same handsome profile as his brothers. He must have been military or at least ground crew, she guessed, taking in his broad, rugged form. He kept his curly hair closely cropped, just a bit longer than regulation, but it was enough to give him bedhead this morning. A dark goatee cut along his sharp jaw, and a smile danced on his full lips with joy that was reflected in his deep brown eyes. Just above his dark brow, a small “5” was tattooed on his temple.

Five. Fives.

That’s right, Mal remembered. Fives.

She locked eyes with him, and a flash of a memory of those honeyed pools staring up at her from between her legs made her toes curl.

“So, uh, wild night.” He let out a chuckle as he rubbed his empty hand along the back of his neck, ducking his head just a little as she guessed he had some similar flashbacks. “Can’t say I was in my best form, but I had fun. Hopefully, you did too.”

His look was earnest, and Mal smiled back at him against her better judgment. Fives was as disarming this morning as he had been last night.

“Definitely,” Mal nodded.

She winced as she realized what she had said. It was bad enough that she had broken her rule, but now she was flirting with him again. She wanted to be cold. Mal wanted to make this goodbye painless and quick. But something inside her pushed back. Something wanted to pull Fives back to bed, give him her comm, and beg him for an actual date.

You deserve to be happy.

A familiar voice whispered in the back of her head. The echo was enough to snap her back to reality. No clones. No relationships. One night and she was already losing focus. Seemingly oblivious to the thundering internal dialogue reverberating through her already-pounding head, Fives dropped behind the bed again. This time, he sank to one knee to pull on his last boot.

“I gotta get back to the barracks before my Captain has my ass.” He kept chatting as he tugged on the straps. “It’s always worse when he doesn’t go out with us. Jealous sheb.”

His voice was affectionate as he spoke of his Captain, and Mal relaxed a bit, thinking of her own squad. Fives rose again, fully dressed. With purpose, he stepped around the bed and towards Mal. Her breath caught in her throat at the movement. She froze, afraid of what her body might do if she let it. He stood over her, his wide figure towering above hers. He looked her up and down with a smile that brought a blush to her cheeks. Then Fives let out a quiet sigh.

“Thanks for everything.”

His voice was surprisingly gentle. He swooped down and pressed a soft kiss against Mal’s cheek, his goatee gently tickling the place where it grazed her jawline. Before she could even register the moment, he spun around and made his way to the door. With that unspoken goodbye, Fives was gone.

That was easy, she thought, but she didn’t move as she stared at the sealed door with a frown on her face and a chest still tense with regret.

Fives threw an arm around Tup as he pointed across the bar.

“Her. I want to go home with her.”

“Good luck,” Jesse laughed, his eyebrows wrinkling as he glanced at his vod’s target, or more accurately, the clone sitting next to the woman in question. “Looks like you’ll have to fight your way through Wolffe.”

Fives blew a raspberry in dismissal. Jesse let out another chuckle as Kix caught his eye. The medic tilted his head at Jesse, who nodded back to him. Oblivious to their plotting, Fives brought himself down to his elbows to lean on the bar and gawk across the way. While Fives was distracted, Jesse reached for the full drink in front of the boisterous clone, and with a carefully trained hand, he slid it down the bar to Kix.

“Hey, where’d my drink go?” Fives frowned as he looked around.

Kix shrugged, shooting a smug smile at Tup and Jesse over the top of a fresh glass of Corellian whiskey he was now sipping on.

“Ahh, kriff it. I need to piss.” Fives declared before he launched himself away from the bar.

“Should someone go with him?” Tup watched with vague concern as Fives meandered away from them and into the crowd.

“Sometimes you just have to release him into the night and hope he comes home in one piece.” Kix waved off Tup’s worry, still enjoying his new drink.

“Maybe he’ll find Coric. That di’kut went to the bathroom hours ago.” Jesse pointed out.

The night came back in bits and pieces to the slowly waking clone.

Fives had found his way to the fresher, the space from the bar and the mission to relieve himself, giving him some time to focus his whiskey-addled brain. He stood by the sink for a moment, letting himself sober up. Through the mirror, graffiti on the wall caught his eye, and he spun to get a better look at it. It was a quickly scribbled Teyrian mesa goat with large words next to it; Fives’ sister.

Kark you, Jesse. He frowned before he took a recording of the art and sent the holo to the obvious offender over his comm.

We’re brothers, you shabuir.

Fives typed into the small machine. He tried to scratch at the drawing to see if it would peel off with just his fingernails, but it didn’t budge. Fives let out a small huff in defeat before he turned for the door.

When he finally stepped from the fresher, Fives was torn between returning to his vode or trying his luck on the dance floor. His brothers often accused him of being a charmer, and they weren’t entirely wrong. He liked flirting with the women and sometimes the men that came into 79’s. There was no risk of anything serious, relationship or otherwise. No talk of the war, no hushed whispers about Echo, and right now, no mention of that ori’dush Jedi. As much as he loved his vode, other company was a welcome break.

He was weighing his options when, like a vision, she appeared before him. It was her, the girl he had made his mark from the moment he had spotted her stunning form from across the bar. Wearing a silky emerald dress that clung to her gentle curves and stopped at her knees, and with long hair that fell over strong shoulders in loose red curls, she was unmistakable. She was alone now, weaving her way through the crowd without Wolffe at her side to fend off any suitors. Fives couldn’t believe his luck. This was his shot, and like a good ARC Trooper, he wasn’t going to miss.

Fives knew all the lines he would have used on her as a shiny. Hey baby, come here often? Hey gorgeous, let me buy you a drink. Those lines had done their job, more often than not. Still, he’d learned over the years that his greatest talent, aside from being a honed and rather creative droid-killing machine, was making people laugh, and that usually worked best.

Before he could make his move, a young clone stepped into his line of site. The young man swayed as he walked, but Fives had to hand it to him; he kept his eyes on his target. Maybe too well.

Soon, the soldier’s drink was down the front of the girl’s dress, and Fives watched with a bemused smile as the poor shiny realized he was in way over his head and quickly tore back into the crowd. The woman looked up after the shiny, and Fives was impressed to see an unheard apology fall from her lips before she turned back to her ruined dress. With all thoughts of chasing after her aside, he went to the bar and came back with a glass of water and a rag to offer her the help that his younger, stupider vod didn’t.

By the time she invited him back to her apartment, Fives’ head was spinning, and it wasn’t from the alcohol anymore. It was entirely her fault. Amal. Mal. Her name was a song clearer than any he’d heard before. She was gorgeous and funny, keeping up with his ridiculous jokes and bold choice of fun at every turn. The cabbie was ready to kick both of them out by the time the speeder had reached her corner. The weequay didn’t find the fact that she and Fives had taken to narrating his driving like announcers at a podrace as amusing as they did.

They both stumbled from the cab, doubled over, and wrecked with laughter. Fives swore he nearly broke a rub when, before the cabbie could take off, she ran to the front bumper of the air taxi, pulled the dark scarf from her shoulders, and waved it like a starting flag. The cabbie flew away, swearing. Unbothered, Mal blew the weequay a parting kiss.

“For good luck.” She grinned as she skipped back to Fives.

He quickly pulled Mal into him. A feeling of enchantment overcame him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She smiled up at him, the city light dancing like stars in her glassy, green eyes. He spun her for a moment, sending them both in a circle just so he could pull one more gleeful laugh from her. Then he raised a hand to Mal’s face and leaned down to capture her lips with his.

Now, as he woke in the vaguely familiar bed, Fives groaned and stretched. He could hear her in the bathroom. The sound of the fresher door had pulled him from sleep, and the rush of the sink had prodded him to wake. Fives rolled himself over in bed and onto his stomach, stretching into the empty space beside him, still warm from her form. Her scent, a spicy-sweet vanilla, lingered on the sheets, and a longing sigh escaped him. Something about her presence in the fresher, the running water, and the soft morning light made his heart clench. He could almost imagine other mornings waking up here, other mornings where he could gather her back into his arms and convince her to go back to sleep, or mornings where he could try his hand at cooking and surprise her with breakfast.

Dangerous thoughts, Fives frowned into the soft dusty green fabric. He pushed himself up on his forearms. It was time to go. He started by gathering his clothes. They were strewn about the studio from the whirlwind of their entrance last night. As he pulled on his pants, he looked around the place Mal called home.

The first thing that caught his eye was the kitchen. Sitting kitty-corner to the bed, a tall wood bar separated the kitchen from her living space. It was the only table she had, and it looked a little dusty. Behind it, the kitchen was empty. A few spices and a couple of pans sat on the dark, open-faced shelves mounted on forest green walls. Otherwise, there was nothing.

A waste, Fives snorted. Nat-borns never appreciated the comforts.

There were two doors along the same far wall as the kitchen. One was a blast door that Fives knew he had entered last night, and the other, he assumed from the sounds of running water, was the fresher. The bed was tucked in the corner of the room, next to a window with crooked curtains, as if someone had tried and failed to close them. On his side of the bed, there was still enough space between the window and the bedframe for a small table and lamp. There, he found that someone- her, if he remembered correctly - had deposited his shirt last night. Opposite the bed, a comfortable and worn brown chair was covered in blankets and a few books, turned down with their pages open as if someone was saving their spot. The rest of the room was lined with more dark shelves covered in more books and countless plants of all sizes and colors. He chuckled a little as he pulled his shirt on. She must like to take care of things. How sweet.

Dangerous thoughts, Fives felt the warning pop up again. Time to pack up. He straightened his shirt and reached for his boots, only to find one missing.

He didn’t hear her come out of the fresher. He was busy grinning victoriously at the erstwhile shoe he had pried out from under the bed. It wasn’t until he heard a sudden cry of surprise that he realized she was there. He snapped his head up to find Mal standing on the other side of the bed, her mouth open and a hand clutched to her chest.

“Sorry, sorry!” He quickly apologized, throwing the boot out in front of him in explanation.

“No problem!” She squeaked.

Fives couldn’t help but grin a little wider. She was trying to act natural, but her breathlessness from the scare still lingered. Then, a memory of her on her back, even more breathless as she writhed on his tongue, came back to him in a flash. Heat spread across his cheeks, and a hand shot up to the back of his neck, which he quickly rubbed as if he could erase the memory from his mind’s eye.

“So, wild night.” Fives chuckled at himself. He felt like a shiny again. “Can’t say I was in my best form, but I had fun. Hopefully, you did too.”

He watched as she relaxed and met his smile with one of her own.

“Definitely.”

His stomach flipped. Mal was as gorgeous as he remembered, standing there with her wavy red hair draped over her ivory shoulders. Toned arms peaked out from a sleeveless top, and black compression shorts hugged the curves of her hips. Fives had half a mind to pull her back to bed. He wanted to hold her heaving chest pressed to his and steal the oxygen from her lips. He wanted to kiss each freckle on her face. He wanted to soothe her worried brow.

Her worried brow.

Something was wrong. Fives kept chatting anyway. Echo had always joked that he was the only trooper who could talk more than Kenobi. He could sense her stiffness. It was the pauses between her words and the stillness of her limbs. She laughed, and she smiled, but something was wrong.

“I gotta get back to the barracks before my Captain has my ass. It’s always worse when he doesn’t go out with us. Jealous sheb.”

Fives finally let himself frown as he bent over to pull on his boot. He wondered if she knew what was coming. It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt Mal. They’d had a great time together, and maybe if things were different, this could end differently, but he never asked for comm links anymore. Some of his brothers had lovers that waited for them. They snuck off to dark corners of the Venators to call home and whisper sweet words of love while their other halves told them how much they were missed. Fives didn’t see the point. Jesse, all high and mighty in his relationship, tried to argue with him, saying Fives would understand when he fell in love, but he didn’t think that was likely. Having someone at home meant making promises you didn’t know if you could keep, like coming home at all.

When he stood, Fives was surprised to see that she had relaxed. Whatever was wrong must have been chased from her mind. He stepped around the bed and paused before Mal for a second, taking her in one last time. He breathed a little deeper. She still smelled like vanilla. She pulled him in like a magnet as Fives leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. His lips grazed her soft skin as his breath quickened. He could see her own lips fall softly open at his touch, and every impulse in him wanted to taste her one more time.

He spun for the door before he could be reckless, breathing out a hurried thank you as he rushed to put space between her and him. Fives pushed aside any thoughts of other mornings, of how her legs had felt wrapped around his waist, or of her shining, spirited laugh. It was time to go. Jesse only could (and would) cover for him for so long.

He stepped out Mal’s front door into a narrow, dark stairwell that led from the entrance of her apartment to a back alley behind a bar below. The acrid smell of the dank crevasse between buildings hit him right away as he descended into the small corridor. He rounded the corner, pausing by the establishment to blink in the sudden sunlight. The divey joint looked just as seedy in the daylight as it had the night before. He frowned for a moment, thinking of Mal living above a place like that, before he shook himself of concern. He had said his goodbyes. A war was going on, and it was time to get back to work. He just had to find his way back to the barracks first.

Where the kriff was he? He wondered as he looked around. Come on ARC, use your head.

He glanced at the time mark on his comm and then looked up at the sun. He turned his attention to the city around him, searching for the level markings notched in the corner of each block of Coruscant. Finally, he examined the way the shadows fell from the buildings. A wave of relief washed over him. He was closer to the barracks than he expected. He might even make it back with time for a shower before the likely chewing-out from Rex.

Fives broke into a jog. He’d run every day since he was a cadet. It was easier on Kamino, with its long winding halls, but he still made time, even if it was just circling the barracks while on distant planets. It drove Echo crazy. His twin would throw pillows at him during tough campaigns, groaning at him to “Cut the shit.” Fives never did, though.

Despite still feeling a little groggy and the fact that he was wearing his one set of civics, it was a nice morning for a run. The sun was just hitting Coruscant’s midlevels, and the thought of a shower before roll call put an extra spring in his step. As his feet beat a steady rhythm against the ground, he focused on the mantra he always repeated as he ran.

Droidbait, Cutup, Hevy, 99, Echo, Hardcase.

The name at the end was new, and it still felt weird and heavy on his heart, but he repeated the names again and again. He wasn’t ever going to forget them. He wouldn’t ever let them be just a number.

tentative taglist: @twistedstitcher27, @baba-fett, @thefact0rygirl, @writingbylee, @wizardofrozz, @wild-karrde, @xopancakeox , @padmeromanoffs, @lunaastars, @shellshooked, @obi-wansorrow, @misogirl828 and @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

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mrs2224 · 2 years ago

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Commander Wolffe Shirtless? Yes I gotchu

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duncans-idahoe · 1 year ago

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I wanna talk about my Star Wars OC SO BAD because I’ve been developing her character and story for about 2 years now and I’m in love with her but ugh idk it feels so personal to share my oc

#star wars oc #star wars the clone wars #star wars rebels #star wars #commander wolffe #commander wolffe x ofc

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wild-karrde · 1 year ago

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Happy Fandom Friday!

I want to shoutout three WIP, OC fics, and a one-shot reader.

A Shattered Peace: (@writteninthesw) Danielle has written such an emotionally tense story between Amara and Wolffe. Both characters are struggling, and their pains are real and raw, and it’s an incredible story with a recent chapter update that left me reeling.

Sweet True Lies: (@sleepingsun501) Within the first three chapters, Erin has created a story that is looking to be both intense and romantically satisfying. Keeda and Fox are so precious, and I’m eagerly awaiting for them to reconnect (and dreading the trauma sure to come).

Unwritten: (@rexxdjarin) Julie has explored depths of emotions that are vulnerable and so relatable. Mari and Rex have a beautiful connection and I’m excited to see how their connection develops amidst the trials of war.

Fireworks: (@imarvelatthestars) I don’t know much about Hound, but this one-shot was so sweet and fun, and now I want to know everything about this man. Anyway, I loved seeing Hound step into training with reader (and his personality), and it was all around a cozy feel.

ALLI THESE ARE ALL SUCH GOOD RECS!!! A Shattered Peace has been on my to-read list FOREVER (I PROMISE I AM GOING TO GET CAUGHT UP ONE DAY, DANIELLE!!). Amara seems like SUCH an awesome OC and I cannot WAIT to learn more about her. I am behind on both STL and Unwritten (notice a trend? I HATE MYSELF I AM SO SORRY), but I am SO VERY INVESTED in both of those stories and the immaculate OCs Erin and Julie have created. And a Hound fic you say??? He's a lesser-written-for character that I always get excited when I find fics for him so THANK YOU for sending each and every one of these in! They are all OUTSTANDING!!!

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

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enigmaticexplorer · 1 year ago

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We’re going to ignore it took me forever to get around to this and that it sat in my drafts for two weeks lol.

Hello?? The tension between these two is immaculate, and their constant banter and challenging one another?? It was SO GOOD. I love how they play off one another, and that they’re both secure in themselves they’re willing to allow the other to take charge. The chemistry between them was so much fun—and intense.

For just a moment, he let her swim in the dangerously dark lust others were too intimidated to ever experience.

Idk what it was about this line but had me losing it. I love seeing Wolffe feeling appreciated and being able to enjoy himself after everything he’s endured.

But the angst of the ending hurts. I just want Wolffe to be happy and loved 😭

Out of Our Element

A Commander Wolffe x Twi'lek OC: Zeeta One Shot

part of the Captain's Log timeline of stories

Summary: Strangers at the Syndulla's have caught the eye of Ryloth most infamous crimson vixen, Zeeta. One brooding, mysterious clone stranger in particular looks like he could use some special attention and she can't wait to figure him out. Our lovely Wolffe (and Gregor who will get his own one of these) has put up with Mari and Rex's x-rated antics on their ship for long enough now. Why not give him some of his own? And boy do I have quite the woman for him 😏

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Twi'lek OC: Zeeta Word Count: 9.6k Rating: Explicit (18+ only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT, P in V sex, blowjobs, dirty talk, rough sex, breath play, dom/sub dynamics & switching, Mature Themes, Language, References to Captain's Log Ch 13, most importantly just shamless slutty smut for our favorite commander

[Captain's Log Chapter 13] [Twi'lek OC: Zeeta Face Card] [Crossposted on ao3]

The muggy haze hung in the stuffy air of the Syndulla’s meeting cavern. Smoke from burning incense and the swell of warm bodies crowding together made beads of sweat pool up on Zeeta's ruby skin. The heavy pounding of kick drums and steel pans echoing around the stone walls filled her head, and her long, blue-freckled lekku carried the thrum of the rhythm through her body. She let the music move her, following her fellow Twi’lek dancers as they headed toward the center of the cave to start their performance for their guests.

Despite all they had suffered at the Empire’s hand, the ancient Twi’lek custom of a large feast and a show for Ryloth’s visitors was something the evil galactic regime could never take from them.

Although, Zeeta had not expected this group of visitors to be so enticing; a beautiful brunette human woman and three ruggedly handsome clones, like the ones she’d come to know very well in the past two years they had occupied her home planet.

The woman stood almost possessively close to the assumed leader of the group, a clone with scuffed, blue-painted plastoid and blonde hair. Their hold on each other led Zeeta to believe that the two had likely been together for some time, so she twisted to follow the choreography and to get a better look at the other two clones that accompanied them.

The first was a slightly wider clone, with massive squared-off shoulders, rounded thighs, and the typical dark hair slicked back on top. He wore a toothy grin, clearly happy to be surrounded by such a culturally rich gathering. The second was as wide and built as the first, but slightly taller and with a deep scar over a silver cybernetic right eye. This clone was definitely less enthused than the other two, his face set in an almost menacing scowl that would intimidate most.

Zeeta knew that she wasn’t like most women, and this clone had her name written all over him. He was edgy, moody, and maybe a little angry if she was reading him right. She was willing to bet he was the kind of intense, brooding man she craved. She could challenge him, endlessly tease him until that scowl broke and he was blubbering her name as he begged for more of her. Oh yes, he was the one she wanted to get to know better tonight.

She watched the four of them converse with the Twi’lek leader, Cham Syndulla, and Captain Howzer, the clone captain assigned to Ryloth. Suddenly, the music and dancing stopped, as Syndulla stood up to address the room.

“My people! Tonight we welcome our new guests. They have come to help us retake our planet with their brothers. With their assistance, Ryloth will be free once again!”

The crowd erupted into cheers for a moment before the drums started up again and the dancing resumed, and Zeeta let her body writhe and twirl as the music crescendoed. Her gaze darted over to the three new visitors every so often, and her most alluring looks were targeted at the scowling clone. Every time she looked, she found her bright green eyes meeting his mismatched ones watching her dance with suggestive intrigue.

Cham’s wife, Eleni had now joined the fold, taking the brunette woman by the hand and guiding her over to join the group of her handmaidens. If there was ever going to be an opportunity for Zeeta to get to know the brooding clone she’d taken a liking to, this was it.

Zeeta quickly separated herself from the dancing troupe in the center of the room and made her way to the group of handmaidens talking excitedly to the new female guest. She could see that the woman was even more striking up close: dark brows highlighting sparkling brown eyes, her face dotted with freckles on her glowing tan skin, and perfectly plush, pink lips in a pleasant smile. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say the woman had the kind of glow one only has when they are carrying life, but she knew better than to ask that of a stranger.

“Ladies, this is Mari. She is our guest. Make her feel welcome and allow her any of the refreshments she requires.” Eleni nodded graciously and made her way to her husband's side, taking her daughter’s hand and heading off to put her to bed.

“Welcome, Mari. You certainly are a lucky woman getting to travel all around the galaxy with such handsome companions,” Zeeta noted, again glancing over at the man who had piqued her interest and finding him staring right back with increasing intrigue. She could already tell he had noticed her flirting from afar. All she had to do now was seal the deal.

The other women in the group giggled their agreement and whispered amongst themselves about which of the three men suited their tastes. Mari laughed appreciatively and smirked as she looked over at them, “I am quite lucky. They’re wonderful men. You can’t go wrong with a clone, ladies. Trust me, my blondie over there is the best man I’ve ever known.”

Zeeta smiled to herself knowing that her instincts were right about the couple and laughing at how casually possessive Mari was over her lover. It was impressive. “What about the other two?” she posited, “because that brooding one over there has been staring at me since he walked in here.”

Mari urged them to move closer to her to keep them concealed from the clones’ prying eyes and shrugged matter of factly, “Well, if you really want to know… the two of them haven’t… been with anyone in quite some time, and I promised them I’d help them out tonight. Are any of you down for some fun?”

“Only if you tell us what they’re like,” Zeeta bargained, folding her arms and looking over her shoulder at her target who had clearly been eyeing her backside.

“The one who has been drooling over you is Commander Wolffe. He’s as intense and rough around the edges as he seems. Though, he’s got a soft side to him. A girl like you might be able to give him the run for his credits he needs. He likes a challenge for sure. As long as you’re down for a little bit of anything,” Mari explained, wiggling her brows as if to suggest he was into things that were not for the faint of heart. As she continued explaining the intimate details about the other clone, Gregor, Zeeta drifted into her fantasy.

The more she heard about Wolffe, the stronger the need in Zeeta’s core grew. Those strong clone hands on her body, the strength of his muscular thighs caging her in, the gruff of his voice calling her whatever filthy names he’d like. Stars, she would let him do anything he wanted, and she’d give all the attitude in the world right back to him. She wanted to be the one who took care of the hulking Commander Wolffe tonight and, by the looks he was giving her now, he wanted her, too.

“I can introduce you all if you’d like. The boys will be so happy to have some company tonight. They deserve it,” Mari offered with a genuinely thankful smile, looking around at two other Twi’lek women, Noola and Ryloo, who were clearly interested in something salacious with Gregor.

“Please,” Zeeta agreed eagerly, following Mari and the other two women as they made their way over to the altar Cham was sitting on. The two clones were both devouring their second bowls of nerf stew as the group of women approached.

Mari waved her hands at her companions, “Boys, this is Noola, Ryloo, and Zeeta. Ladies, this is Wolffe and Gregor. You won’t find better men to keep you company. You can take my word for it.” She turned and winked at her blonde boyfriend suggestively.

Zeeta barely waited for the words to come out of Mari’s mouth before she sauntered over to the illusive Commander Wolffe. She slipped to within his arm’s length and stared down at him. He had such a handsome face, his jawline covered in black stubble, a broad nose, and a furrowed brow outlining the dark, provocative glare he’d been using on her earlier.

“Hello, Commander,” she began, drawing out her vowels in a deep drawl thick with lust. She ran her fingers along his shoulder pauldron and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “We’ll see just who’s in charge later, won’t we?”

Zeeta tucked her dark lower lip between her teeth and pulled back to meet that scowl again only to be met with a devilishly charming smile. His hand shot out to grab her by the waist and he pulled her down onto his thigh.

“Oh, you’re a bad girl,” Wolffe growled playfully as Zeeta began gently writhing in his lap. His hand settled at the exposed small of her back to guide her ministrations.

She hummed and let out a throaty, bewitching laugh, leaning down to lightly trace the shell of Wolffe’s ear with her tongue. “I am whatever you want me to be, and right now I am awaiting your orders, Commander.”

Wolffe grumbled his delighted approval from deep within his broad, barrel chest, and Zeeta could feel his heart pick up its thrumming pace under her delicate, scarlet hands.

“You want me in charge, darling? You sure about that?” His hand slid around her waist, stroking the black lace adorning her exposed crimson skin. “Because I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.”

Zeeta smiled teasingly and wrapped her hands around his on her waist. “I’m not looking for gentle. I’m begging for a challenge,” she shot back, slowly starting to dig her nails into his grip on her. “Unless you don’t think you can handle me?”

“Oh, cyar’ika,” he laughed, reaching up to rest his hand on her neck to pull her close and hold her gaze, “girls like you are my specialty.”

The lust darkening his brown eye was all Zeeta needed to know he meant business and it took everything in her not to ask him to tighten his grip on her neck. A few breathless moments passed as they studied each other, and Wolffe’s jaw worked in frustration as she made him wait for her answer.

Zeeta blinked her long lashes at him as she held her own against his captivating intimidation tactics. It was all a game of tooka and womp rat. A meeker woman would have already given in and submitted to him. Not Zeeta. She was determined to make him antsy, to make him want it so badly that he let this dominant facade go and allowed her to take from him as she pleased. Mustering up every ounce of restraint she had, she let her playful demeanor evolve into something darker and needier. The blazing fire of seduction lit her bright, green eyes and she let a sly smirk spread along her dark lips.

She leaned in close, dragging her touch down his strong jaw and hovering her lips inches from his. “Prove it,” she muttered, both her lekku trembling against her back to portray the excitement coursing through her. She slowly sat back, watching the formidable man shake off his need for the kiss dangling tensely between them. She’d cracked him so easily, his entire body eagerly lunging toward her for more.

“I’ve… uhm… got a guest room, I think. Take me there?” he asked, blinking away the haze of rampant lust still clouding his judgment and making him woozy with desire.

She backed off him and stood up on her feet, watching the man in front of her get taller and taller as he rose to follow her. He was truly a massive man, even amongst clones, and he towered over Zeeta.

She rested her hand on his jaw and laughed, “Just as I thought… desperate boy.”

Wolffe beamed at her in response, bearing his teeth in a saccharin smirk. Both his hands ran down her sides, pulling her closer as he caged her into his chest.

“Ah–you better watch that mouth or you’ll regret it.” He arched his scarred brow at her and motioned for the exit.

“No, I’ll enjoy it,” she teased, letting her fingers trace down his neck, across his shoulder, and down the bulging bicep muscles in his arms until she laced them with hers. He shuddered briefly, holding her hand and patting her on the hip to urge her to move along. “C’mon, your quarters are this way.” she finally relented, dragging him by the hand into the dimly lit corridor they originally entered from.

As the festivities continued loudly behind them, Zeeta navigated down the shadowy halls of the cavernous palace. Just as they turned the corner toward the dwellings, she was pulled backward and pushed up against the wall roughly. The air rushed from her lungs as Wolffe crowded her and stared down at her like a man starved, his chest rising and falling as he huffed. Before she could say another word, he crashed his lips into hers.

Desperately horny and with unrelenting power, he practically consumed her, pressing her hands against the wall when she tried to hold on to him. Her eyes rolled back in her head at him overpowering her so easily, and he broke the mind-numbing kiss with a laugh.

“Can’t just watch all of you bounce in front of me like that. Need a taste of you first. You’re fucking… gorgeous,” he rambled through each broken kiss, spit-slick tongues brushing together each time he went back for more. “Not so much of a tease when no one can see you, hmm?”

“Don’t… count… on that…” she gasped back between kisses, slipping her face to the side, forcing him to miss her mouth. “I’m not going to make it easy for you, Commander.” She could sense his heart rate escalating, his determination to prove himself to her getting him going faster than he was used to. He bit down on his lower lip and groaned impatiently, his eyes narrowing as he calculated what to do next to up the ante.

Slowly, he eased his wandering hands up to cup her cheek, and chuckled softly, “Zeeta. Not a common name for a Twi’lek.” His brown and cybernetic eyes flitted around her face, studying her blue freckles, her enthralled expression, and her electric eyes. He smiled to himself. It was subtle and most would probably miss it entirely, but it was there. “But red skin and green eyes… you’re rare in a lot of ways, aren’t you? It suits you.”

Zeeta blinked back at him in surprise. He knew a lot more than she thought he would. He wasn’t just some back alley hook-up kind of guy–he had depth and intelligence. He was observant, taking in her every last detail and committing it to memory. However, from his grumpy demeanor down to his cybernetic eye, he wasn’t just some ordinary clone either. Maybe that was why she was so drawn to him in the first place.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but Wolffe had finally found a way to knock her off guard and took his chance to strike. He buried his face in the juncture where her jaw met her neck and laved hot passes of his tongue along the corded vein of her pulse.

“W-Wolffe.” Zeeta could say nothing else in response as a breathy moan escaped her deep brown lips.

“Commander,” he corrected, releasing the tension he’d suckled onto her skin with a pop. “I like hearing you call me that. Makes it seem like I have power over you.”

“Only seems that way if I allow it… mmmm,” she tried to scold him, but her outburst earned her a pleasant nip to her collar bone and it made her eyes hood closed. Blood pounded through her veins and overwhelmed her to the tips of her twin head tails as he worked dark hickies onto her skin.

“I think if it feels this good, I might be able to sway you into behaving for me.” Wolffe pulled back slightly to watch himself draw the pads of his fingers along the lacy bra caging her breasts in. “Want to see what you’ve got under this.”

Zeeta inhaled deeply, making him giddy as her breast filled his palm obscenely. “Room’s… first door on the right… if you’ll let me move–”

“Thank you,” he replied, suddenly scooping her off her feet and wrapping her legs around his waist. “If I had to watch you walk another step, I’d take you right here in this hallway,” he practically purred in her ear. He pulled her body close to his chest with one arm, her lekku swaying in the air as he spun around to take off down the hall.

“Impatient,” she giggled, looping her arms around his head to rest on his shoulders. Zeeta rolled her hips against his lower torso, her center grazing him just enough to create the friction she needed to spur them both on. With both his large hands kneading either side of her ass, he lifted her off him and she groaned in frustration.

“Don’t think I’m the only impatient one, darling,” he teased with a scolding lilt to his tone. He shifted her weight into one of his arms, using the other to shove open the door to his room hurriedly. He rushed inside, kicking the door closed behind them and setting her back down on her feet. Slowly, he glanced around the room, taking in his new surroundings and ensuring there weren’t any other doors he needed to lock before they carried on.

Zeeta cocked her head at him curiously. “What? You’ve never been in your own room before?” She folded her arms and bumped him teasingly with her shoulder.

He ran his hand nervously along the back of his neck and shrugged. “Uh, no I haven’t. Not really. Not this nice anyway. Even the private quarters in our barracks were still uh… you know military barracks. Not exactly ideal for having company.”

“But that never stopped you, I’m sure, Commander,” she smiled, resting her hand on his bicep and stepping close to him again.

He shook off whatever memory he was processing and turned toward her, placing his hands on her hips to steady himself. “No, it didn’t. This is just a lot nicer and we won’t have to worry about getting interrupted. Which means my opportunities to try things are limitless. Does that scare you?” The same dark, carnal glare he’d given her all night reappeared on his handsome face.

“Of course not. I’m down for anything,” Zeeta flirted back, reaching up to hold his cheek as she leaned in to kiss him again. With her lips hovering above his, she muttered softly, “Though from what Mari tells me, we should probably establish some ground rules.”

Wolffe rolled his eyes and worked his jaw in annoyance, “That girl… nosy little thing could learn a thing or two about establishing boundaries,” he chuckled, letting one hand travel up Zeeta’s back and lazily stroking her left lekku affectionately. She shivered at the delicate touch from such a severe man and leaned into him for more. “She is right, though. Need to go over safe words and whatnot. Think you know all about that.”

Zeeta hummed affirmatively, starting to get lost in his touch on such a sensitive part of her. If he was someone she knew a little better, she’d probably enjoy laying around with him and letting him be so domestic and caring like this. That wasn’t what either of them was here to do, though, so she’d have to put how much she was enjoying this tender moment aside and listen to him for now. “Uhm… yeah. Y-yes, right. Rules and safe words.”

“The color system. Does that work for you? Green means we’re in the clear. Yellow, slow down, and red, a hard stop?” he asked, his warm palm shifting to massage the back of her neck in an attempt to continue softening her. He pressed impossibly closer, his thighs brushing up against hers as he guided them both toward the large bed in the center of the room.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Non-verbal stop… I tap you anywhere three times, got it?” She let her hands graze down the front of his sprawling chest. He somehow felt even bigger now that she was this close to having him the way she wanted to. He grumbled deep in his chest, holding her in place as he leaned in to rest his forehead on hers.

“Affirmative. Anything you don’t like that I should know about?” He tenderly kissed her forehead, his adept fingers softly stroking where her left tendril met her neck. His lips grazed her temple and kissed down her jawline, showing an impressive level of restraint for a man who had nearly stripped her in the hallway moments ago.

Zeeta let herself melt into his kisses and laughed affectionately, grabbing at the black duraweave material of his shirt. “Don’t touch my asshole. That’s for men who take me on dates first.”

Wolffe snorted, nipping at her neck and soothing it with his warm tongue. “Fine,” he agreed, running his hand underneath the silky black strap of her bra and slipping it off her shoulder. “But I will have you there, too… some other time. After you agree to let me take you out, of course.” His touch followed where the strap fell, peeling one side of the lace top off her breast and gazing down at it.

Zeeta bit her bottom lip to hold back her shaky whimpers. His warm mouth on her neck and his touches traveling wherever he damn well pleased were putting her on edge. “What makes you think I’d agree to that?” she teased, but he interrupted by kneading her breast firmly, a satisfied smirk curling his lips at the corners as she let out a gasp.

“Come on now… don’t pretend you don’t like me, cyar’ika.” He nipped her collarbone briefly, his kisses roaming down her chest as he worked the other side of her bra off her shoulder. With two fingers he gently tugged at her nipple, pebbling it to hardness and waiting until she made any sound in response before stopping.

She watched him enjoy her body while she ran her hands up the nape of his neck and tugged at his dark curls defiantly. Zeeta grinned in delight now that he was preoccupied with her chest and muttered, “Please. I barely know you, Wolffe.” At that, he grunted and snapped the delicate lace along her back in half, the bra falling to their feet.

“You get naked for every guy you barely know? Or just the ones you like?” he challenged, stepping back to stare at her and running his tongue along his lower lip to signal his illicit satisfaction. He exhaled and let out a low whistle. “Fuck… look at you…”

Zeeta stepped up to him and tugged at the hem of his top, urging him to take it off. “Not just guys, Commander,” she muttered seductively “A girl’s got needs, and I’ll satisfy them whether I like someone or not. Now take this off. I can’t be the only one half-clothed, handsome.”

His brows raised in surprise as he pulled his top over his head and let it puddle on the floor beside Zeeta’s. To say he was in impeccable shape would be an understatement. His bronze skin rippled over pronounced pectoral muscles, with shoulders and arms to frame them that were just as gloriously toned and flexing with his every inhale. His lower abs were strong and thick with both his sides carving down into where his hips dipped into his bottoms, but his belly was just soft enough to look lived in, comfortable and healthy. Zeeta would spend all night leaving her mark on every inch of him if she could.

Silvery, faded scars dotted numerous places on his torso making Zeeta ache to think he’d been put in harm’s way this often. A man this jaw-droppingly handsome should be spending all his days between her thighs, not getting his pretty face blasted to smithereens.

“You are quite something, Commander.” She inched closer, tracing down his lower abs to loop her fingers in his waistband. “I could have a lot of fun with all of you.”

“So ask for permission and we will,” Wolffe said, reaching for her waist and dipping down to guide her hand down his bottoms a bit further. Zeeta grinned up at him slyly and spun them both around, pushing him down onto the bed behind him with as much of her strength as she could muster.

“I don’t need your permission,” she laughed tortuously as his eyes went wide, watching as Zeeta slowly hovered down between his legs. “You need mine, baby.”

Wolffe propped himself up on his elbows and watched through hooded eyelids as she settled herself between his thick thighs. He didn’t have it in him to fight her right this second, not with her so close to where he’d needed her all night. “We’ll see, darling. Remember how impatient I am...” he trailed off, groaning softly as she slipped a hand past his waistband to palm him over his underwear. “Fuck.”

“So mouthy… what am I going to do about that?” Zeeta cooed, palming him agonizingly slowly and watching his chest heaving in an attempt to keep his composure. He looked so sexy all worked up and Zeeta had to keep herself from drooling whenever their eyes met. She was supposed to be the one in control here, she had to focus.

With her other hand, she tugged on his bottoms and slid them down his thighs enough to get them out of her way. Both her lekku trembled with excitement as she leaned forward to press kisses into the soft hair and skin just below his navel.

“I know what I want you to do with yours,” Wolffe said gruffly with a wicked grin, rolling his hips up into her hand.

Zeeta could feel the ache of him against her palm, every thick vein throbbing with need. He was just as big as she expected and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t eager to see it.

“I don’t hear you asking me very nicely,” she teased, sucking a deep mark on his v-line.

He hissed in response, punching his fist into the mattress below him. Relenting and relaxing back onto his right arm, he let his other hand trace her cheekbone. “Suck my cock…” The pads of his fingers caressed her face, slipping underneath her chin to tip her face up to meet his lust-laden gaze. He rolled his eyes and mumbled softly, “Please?”

“That’s a good boy. Now you’ve earned it.” Keeping her eyes locked with his, she hooked her fingers into his waistband and slipped his briefs down. His thick cock sprung free, slapping up against Zeeta’s cheek. She dropped her jaw in awe and smiled excitedly. “You have the right to be a little arrogant, walking around with this.”

He laughed, curling his hand around the side of her neck and guiding her face toward him. Wolffe held her gingerly, doing his best not to push her. “So show me what you can do, gorgeous.”

Zeeta pressed him down onto his back and helped him slide his briefs the rest of the way off. She brought her fingers to her mouth and twirled her wet tongue between them, her dark lips curling into a teasing smirk as she watched him squirm, and snaked her fingers around the base of him, lazily stroking him with the same rhythm as before as she settled herself between his thighs.

“You’re so wound up, huh? No one’s touched this pretty cock in a while. I’m so lucky I can make it all mine,” she said softly, carefully bringing his tip to her lips. She kissed it, letting her tongue dart out to flick a bead of precum from his slit.

“Cyar’ika… fuck–please…please do,” Wolffe panted, scowling down at her as his brows furrowed together in focus. He practically whimpered as she flattened her tongue, pressing his tip on the width of it and glancing up at him feigning innocence. Wolffe grumbled his enthusiastic approval, probably relishing in the sight of her like this before him. “Hmph–don’t tempt me or I’ll stuff that bold little mouth full of me.”

Zeeta arched her brow defiantly, slapping him on her tongue twice before suckling another wet kiss around the sensitive tip and taking him in her hot mouth. He sighed, his jaw dropping and his dominant ire melting away as she bobbed her head gently, swallowing more of him each time. Veins throbbed against her lips as all the blood in his body seemed to swell at his center. She closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the pounding sensation of him on her tongue and his desperate grip on her right head tail.

She hollowed her cheeks, increasing the tension pulling on him as her plush lips glided along his shaft. Her hands jerked and twisted the rest of him and she hummed around him to signify how much she was enjoying this. Every so often, her bright green eyes flicked up to meet his, watching her hungrily as his pleasure increased and his muscles flexed as he relaxed into it.

“Filthy fucking girl,” he swore as she swallowed, her throat contracting around him making him outright moan. “You love that cock, don’t you?” he asked, stroking up the back of her neck and trying anything to keep up the battle for control. He certainly knew where to touch her and how to make her brain go fuzzy.

The heat licking in her core flared up with every press of his fingers into her working muscles. She couldn’t help but give in a little and nod her confirmation as she popped off him.

Saliva trailed from her lower lip to the rim of his tip, leaking down his shaft and coating her fingers obscenely. It was sloppy, explicit, and sexy and Zeeta was sure the wave of desire for him now clouding her thoughts was making her drawn-out worship of his cock even slower. She slipped her tongue over her swollen lips, tasting the remnants of him.

“I could spend all night swallowing you down until you fill my throat, but now I’m impatient, Commander. I need more.”

Zeeta sat up on her haunches, admiring the astonishing width of his perfectly toned torso and walking herself up to his face. He watched her crawl up to him, stealing a glance at where the globes of her breasts dangled over his chest. She giggled, straddling his center with her own and allowing him to feel her drenched heat through the thin material.

Wolffe groaned at the contact, his hands flying up to grip the plush of her upper thighs. He maneuvered her against his cock, the dragging friction of her still-clothed center intoxicating him. “Then you won’t be needing these.”

Before she could slow the bucking of her hips, his large hand smacked against the round of her right asscheek and he laughed depravedly as she gasped. He smoothed his hands down the curve of her lower back, slipping her tight bottoms down her legs, panties and all. “If this little pussy’s as good as that mouth… fuck I’m going to pound you. Not used to a sexy little brat ordering me around.”

She shuddered in delight at his words. She was used to taking charge and getting what she wanted, and she was absolutely going to with Wolffe. Yet, something about that deep grit in his tone made Zeeta want to spiral out of control. He was such a cool bastard, so demanding and powerful, exactly how she always felt she was. But for some reason, with him, she felt just as safe letting him be that way for a change, too. He’d have to earn that, of course, because Zeeta would never have sexual relations with anyone without the thrill of ever-shifting power dynamics, but she was starting to consider what it would be like to let him have the reins.

“I thought you knew how important it was to follow orders, Commander,” she replied, resting her palms on his chest and dipping forward to kiss him tenderly. He hummed softly, trying to come up with a response when Zeeta slid her fingers around his neck. “Color?” she reminded in a whisper, stroking his cheekbone with one hand before allowing the other to close any tighter.

“Green, darling,” he winked, bumping her nose affectionately with his to egg her on. His hands roamed down her sides gingerly, making her shudder now that nothing stood between his touch and her crimson skin. ‘But getting more urgent. You’re killing me…” Wolffe smirked, his complaints making her chuckle.

She tightened her grip on his neck, erotically pressing the pads of her fingers against his pulse points. “Good. The less you listen to me, the longer I’ll drag this out.” Zeeta finished her scolding with a quiet moan, rubbing up against his cock with her slick folds. Her clit throbbed with need as she denied herself, too, trying desperately to ignore the tightening knot of desire in her lower belly. “Bet everyone thinks of you as such a tough man, hmm? Always in charge, doing as you please…” she giggled cruelly just beside his ear.

He shifted to reach for her hip, but she grabbed his arm and pinned it beside his head. “And usually…” his voice strained as he gulped under Zeeta’s grip, “always getting what I want.” Wolffe challenged her, tipping up to kiss her again and whining when she moved out of his reach.

She sat up, her grip on his neck holding him still beneath her, and smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Wolffe, you will.” Zeeta turned to watch herself line up her entrance with his tip and then back to face him, maintaining the tantalizing eye contact that had drawn them to each other in the first place. “But not before I get what I want first.” She jerked her hips forward, sinking halfway down onto his cock and eliciting a garbled grunt from Wolffe as her walls suffocated him.

Zeeta’s jaw dropped open and a filthy moan escaped her lips as he split her open. She tested a few shallow bounces on him, letting him sink deeper and deeper within her heat each time. Her chest heaved and her tits bounced, making Wolffe’s mismatched eyes roll back in delight.

“Take… whatever–whatever you want,” Wolffe muttered through gritted teeth as his face hardened to show his restraint. It had been a while for him, she could tell by how viscerally his body was reacting to being touched. It was taking every ounce of strength and discipline within him to stave off the inevitable, which meant he was capable of withstanding her ruthless teasing. He just had to try.

She whimpered in delight, bearing her pointed teeth as she smiled through the mixture of pleasure and pain. “That’s more like it, Commander. I like it when you comply. Such a good boy, for me,” she cooed salaciously, shifting her grip on his neck to instead hold his jaw. Wolffe’s cock twitched inside her and she hummed in surprise. “You like that, huh baby? When I tell you how good you are? How much I love what your big, pretty cock does to me? Tell me…”

“Fuck… yeah I love it. ‘S so hot, Zeeta. Love how much you enjoy me,” Wolffe replied, grinding his hips with hers as she sunk down onto him again. “Ride me fucking harder when you fuck me. I need it… harder.”

The heat from his mismatched gaze swirled hotter in her belly, so she picked up the pace, lifting and slamming down on him faster. She released his arm from where she’d pinned it on the bed and both his hands quickly found their place on the thick of her round hips. She rose and fell on top of his cock as fast as she could, her hips grinding into his and the lewd slapping sound of skin against skin filled the room.

Zeeta’s heart hammered in her chest as she reveled in the drag of him inside her. He was thick, spreading her swollen walls apart and spearing into her deeper with every thrust. “Gods, Wolffe you’re so good. So good for me,” she huffed between gasps for air, exerting all her energy to bring him closer to his climax.

She brought both her palms to rest on the width of his broad chest again and smiled in satisfaction as she felt his heart pounding beneath them. She could tell he wanted to speak and was probably used to being a lot more chatty when he was in control. Instead, he bit down on his lower lip to hold his tongue and quiet his grunts of ecstasy.

He watched in silent awe as her body bounced on top of him, alternating between gripping her plush hips to help her ride him and massaging her breasts to make her erupt in goosebumps.

Wolffe’s quiet confidence and intimidating glare were maddeningly attractive to Zeeta. As much as she wanted to maintain her dominance over him, the coiling pressure he was coaxing tighter with each heavy stroke had her teetering far too close to finishing for her liking.

She couldn’t help but feel that this was what he wanted—to give her the illusion of control while he got to reap all the benefits of watching her work herself into a frenzy over him. He was quite the mindfuck, even for someone like her, and was so much more than he seemed.

Suddenly, Wolffe’s large hand spanked her right cheek and gripped hard, shifting her further down on top of him. The delightful sting on her ass made her whine and she dug her nails into his chest.

“Fuck me like you mean it, darling,” he growled lowly, twisting his hips to grind into her. Zeeta lost her rhythm as his tip speared into the deepest part of her walls, her jaw dropping and his name spilling out. “And if you can’t anymore, I’ll gladly take your role. Though, you do it so beautifully.”

Zeeta scowled down at him, her determination and unbreakable will giving her new strength. “We go until I finish, Commander. You can’t sweet talk your way out of this,” she chuckled devilishly. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here.” She slowly gyrated her hips, relaxing the pace and tightening her walls around him torturously.

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled, continuing to guide her hips. Any other remarks he had queued up melted away as she contracted around him, and he threw his head back into the pillows beneath him, the corded muscles in his neck and shoulders begging to be nibbled.

His hands on her ass pulled her down onto him further, holding her in place as he thrust up into her brutally. He was losing all patience and restraint as his orgasm drew nearer, and his grip tightened on her skin, which would probably leave dots of purple bruises all over her backside.

Zeeta could feel every ounce of strength he possessed just begging to be unleashed, and his resolve only increased the more she tortured him. She could only hold on a little longer before the drag of him inside her would pull her under the wave building in her belly.

Before she could lift her hips again, Wolffe slid his hand up the curve of her sides, circling his grip around her throat. He smirked up at her, knowing what this would do to her. He knew how much she enjoyed it all along; he was waiting for the right moment to spring it on her. “Cum, cyar’ika. I can feel how much you want to. Let go for me. Give up. Let me take over.”

Zeeta felt the heated tension boil over inside her, as the pads of his fingers pressed into her pulse just enough to make her head spin delightfully. She dug her nails into his chest, her entire body flexing as she let him crash into her spot one final time.

The lick of fire in her gut exploded into stardust, overheating her from the inside out and making the beads of sweat on her skin tingle as it soothed the sizzle within. He won, bested her without even breaking a sweat. No one had ever done that before. No one ever made her cum first.

Her jaw slackened as she called out his name in a high-pitched whimper. She couldn’t take her eyes off the way he looked at her, ravishing her body with that same passionate gaze. Finally, she relinquished her control and let him take her.

With his grip on her throat grounding her, he buried himself to the hilt and sat up to press his forehead to hers. For just a moment, he let her swim in the dangerously dark lust others were too intimidated to ever experience.

“Love it when you look at me like that. You’re fucking fearless,” he growled, his lips just inches from hers, “and such a good girl, too. Feels so good when you take it so rough huh?” He tipped forward to kiss her tenderly, holding her tight to his lap and biting her lower lip playfully.

Zeeta moaned into the kiss, resting her hands on his jaw and letting him consume her. As the explosion of tingles slowly eased through her last nerve, she felt the spark between her thighs ignite once again.

He watched her move now just like he watched her dancing before—as if fucking was an art form and she was his muse. His dark gaze was glued to where their bodies meshed as he watched her desperately rut against him.

“M-more, Wolffe. More. Please. Please, more,” Zeeta rasped with every exhale. The rush of feeling him all around and inside her was irresistible and addictive.

Wolffe laughed almost cruelly, running his thumb along the underside of her jaw. “Ok, darling. I’ll give you more. I’ll give you everything you could ever want. But we do it my way this time and like I said before, I will not be gentle.” He let go of her throat and held her face in both hands. “Color?”

Through the post-pleasure haze still clouding her head, she flashed Wolffe that same searing, sexy grin and batted her dark lashes at him. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she relished in the anticipation.

“Green,” she uttered with a shaky exhale.

The wicked grin across Wolffe’s handsome face made all the muscles in Zeeta’s core clench with want. He tipped her forward to kiss him slowly, far more tenderly than what she knew would be coming next.

“Good girl,” he whispered as he pulled away, stroking her cheekbone with the back of his knuckle.

In a second, he slipped out of her, rolled her over, and instructed her onto all fours while he rose to his feet against the side of the bed. The wall of hulking muscle that was Commander Wolffe now stood behind her, his large hands stroking down either side of her and massaging circles along the tense muscles of her back. Lower and lower the touches went, making Zeeta keen for more of this unexpectedly gentle side of him.

Suddenly, his hands gripped the plush of her hips roughly, positioning her center higher into the air and opening her folds up right in front of him. A deep laugh rumbled through his chest as he ran a thumb through the glistening wetness already coating her from before. He brought his glossy digit to his mouth and savored her on his tongue for the first time with a low groan of delight.

Zeeta whined impatiently, turning to get a better view of him behind her threatening to overtake her. Both his eyes rolled back in his head, his eyelids fluttering briefly before noticing her eagerly waiting for him. She rolled her hips back into his thighs, trying to spur him on and make him resume at a faster pace.

“I thought you weren’t going to be gentle,” she teased, both her lekku slowly entwining together in enjoyment.

“Is that a challenge, pretty girl?” he groaned, his hand running over the globe of her ass before striking a well-placed slap onto it.

Zeeta squealed excitedly, the anticipation sizzling over her every goosebump as the pain swelled into pleasure across her skin. “I told you that’s what I wanted,” she retorted, completely unafraid to push her luck with him. Before she could say another word, he pulled her by the hips across the silky sheets and dragged her glistening folds over the width of his throbbing cock. His tip bumped her aching clit perfectly, the pleasure already building in Zeeta’s burning core. She emitted an illicit moan, looking back at him desperately.

“Since you’re such a little brat all of a sudden,” Wolffe scolded, sighing as he felt the pull of her warmth so close to him again, “I’m going to fuck you like one.” He jerked his hips back, notching his tip with her entrance and plowing into her so hard it made her mind blank. The most delightfully sharp pain sent sparks through her system and spots behind her eyes as he bottomed out inside her.

“Wolffe!” she screamed, her fingers digging into the sheets for purchase as she held on for dear life. It was like all the restraint inside him had dissolved. Faster and faster his hips snapped, sending his cock barrelling into her deepest spot so many times Zeeta could no longer remember any other feeling but the burning sting of pleasure.

“Commander,” he corrected, swatting her left cheek this time and leaning over to press his chest to her back. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here,” Wolffe hissed against her neck, mocking her with the same sentiment she’d used on him earlier.

The front of Wolffe’s powerful thighs slapped into the back of Zeeta’s over and over again, filling the room with the explicit slapping sounds of skin against skin. He wrapped his arm around her torso and slid his hand across her belly, feeling for where his tip bulged with his every thrust.

Zeeta could only cry out in quiet squeaks of ecstasy, feeling the heat in her body flooding to lubricate the length of him prying her open. He groaned and whispered praises along her overheated skin, his hips never slowing and his never-ending endurance keeping up the brutally erotic pace. His kisses traveled down the delicate curve of her slender neck until he bit down on her shoulder hard enough to leave teeth-mark-shaped bruises for days.

She wanted to mouth off or say anything she could to one-up him and regain control. Yet, there was nothing left of her but the resignation of her will to him. His breath on her neck, hot and heavy, matched the girth of him filling her truly full for the first time. Every time she exhaled, all the space inside her was filled with more of him.

“Harder,” she mewled, reaching back to pull at the curls at the nape of his neck. He let out a drawled groan, gripping her hip tight enough to bruise. “C'mon, Commander. Fuck me like you mean it,” she challenged using his words, teasing him exactly like he did her. He snarled in amused delight and let go of her hips, holding her up with only the strength of his core and thighs.

“You don’t know what you do to me, cyar’ika,” he hissed, lifting himself off of her and running both his hands down the length of her lekku. He had noticed they were sensitive earlier and hadn’t passed up the chance to stroke her there. She gasped at the touch, her body spasming as he gripped either of them in his hands and tugged just hard enough to be pleasurable.

“Fuck!” Zeeta moaned loud enough for all of Ryloth to hear, dropping to her elbows as her hands slid out from under her with her knees not far behind. “Fuck, right there, Commander. Don’t stop!” she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes and edging down her cheeks.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. You feel too fucking good, my dirty girl,” he laughed affectionately, his thrusts becoming deeper and more languid as he pulled her into him repeatedly. She could feel him pounding into her puffy walls, the squelching sounds of her wet core making her hotter than she could ever recall feeling. The dull ache of his cock thrummed against her collapsing walls, the most beautiful groans she’d ever heard coming from this impossibly handsome man. It was perfect. Way too perfect.

The tension in her belly coiled tighter as she caught sight of them both from the reflection of the mirror across the room. He was menacing, controlling, broad, and gorgeous, the only man she’d ever relinquished control to like this and she fucking loved it.

Wolffe followed her gaze, guiding her up to a kneeling position by both head tails. “Since you want to enjoy the show so much…”

Zeeta’s piercing green eyes were clouded with mesmerizing lust and the tension finally snapped the second they made contact with him in the reflection. She screamed, her hands searching for anything to grab onto and finding the strong sanctity of his arm circling around her waist. He bounced her on top of him, balancing her and carrying her to heights unknown. “I’m so close… so close, Commander.”

He buried his head in her neck, groaning curses and nipping along her pulse. “Me too. Little more for me, darling. Just a little more,” he egged her on, his hand sliding down to play with her clit. She turned her face, desperate to lose herself in him, to let him completely consume her. She rested her forehead against the side of his temple, peppering tiny kisses along his clenched durasteel jaw.

“Be a good boy and cum with me. Together,” she whispered, feeling herself rocketing over the edge toward her climax quickly. She wasn’t going to last much longer with Wolffe’s hips stuttering against her backside. His thrusts were becoming erratic as she begged for him so sweetly. “Cum for me, Wolffe.”

Wolffe let a deep, throaty moan rip through his broad chest and he reached for her face as delicately as he had before. With her chin pinched between his fingers, he rested his forehead on hers and locked eyes with her. “Fuck, cyar’ika.”

He traced another few circles along her clit and Zeeta finally let go. The bright tingles of her climax spread through her, her insides locking down around him as his cock twitched hard. Wolffe’s breathing was ragged, his furrowed brow focused on the ecstasy written all over her beautiful face, and it sent him over the edge.

A few shallow thrusts in and with one final snap, he buried himself as deep as he could bear and painted her insides full of his warmth. He held her to him, the strength in his bulging biceps refusing to falter even as his climax ripped through him emptying ribbon after ribbon inside her walls and the comforting, steadying warmth collecting there.

“D-don’t move, Wolffe,” Zeeta panted, stroking his cheekbone with her fingers and kissing him desperately. She smiled happily and relaxed into his arms as her body went boneless. “Feels so good to be full of you. Fuck.”

He carefully lowered her to the silk sheets beneath them, balancing his body weight on his forearm and coaxing her still-spasming body through her climax. As he hovered over her, he bit his bottom lip, admiring her curvaceous frame and leaning down to kiss parts of her he’d bruised and bitten.

He massaged her clit gently, overstimulating her just enough to make her opening quiver as he pulled out, and she finally stilled with a whimper at the loss of him. His spend followed, dripping down through her folds to pool on his bedsheets.

“Took all of me like that… so fucking hot, Zeeta,” he cooed, running soothing circles across her inner thighs.

She watched him with intrigue as her exposed chest rose and fell in front of him. The brooding man she knew before was gone and replaced by someone even more alluring. He was worshiping every inch of her, kissing wherever he could reach and not wasting a single breath without telling her how beautiful she was. It was the kind of aftercare she always craved. She reached for him silently, whining with what was left of her voice.

He understood immediately, scooping her up in his arms protectively as he rolled over beside her and pulled the sheets over them for warmth. Zeeta shivered at his featherlight touches along her blue-dappled shoulders.

“You win,” she giggled, resting her head on his shoulder and running her hands through his hair. For the first time, Zeeta realized just how exhausted he looked. His eyelids hooded as he got more and more drowsy in the afterglow of their shared climax.

“Only ‘cause you let me, gorgeous.” Wolffe smiled from ear to ear, affectionately brushing her cheek with his thumb.

“Maybe,” Zeeta relented, smiling more shyly than she ever had before, even with a partner she had laid naked beside.

There was something about him that made her giddy and nervous, and it felt so foreign, but she also realized that she had never felt safer with any other partner before either. She had let him win because she wanted him to. Her heart soared as she watched how happy and at ease he was compared to when she first met him. She liked feeling like he needed her or he’d been waiting for her. “I think I like it when you win.”

Wolffe’s eyes had fluttered closed, the groggy pull of sleep threatening to take him away from her so soon. He hummed his agreement, “I knew you would.” He slowly drifted off, his fingers drawing lazy circles along her back.

For a few quiet moments, Zeeta just watched him breathe with a tender affection for him growing in her chest. He must’ve been through unimaginable pain, given the circumstances, and she was glad she could give him a moment of respite.

It could only be a moment, though. He would probably have to move on soon because staying on any planet too long couldn’t mean anything good for him. And from the looks of him and his crew, they had a mission to carry out. She couldn’t get in their way even if she wanted to.

Zeeta sighed, knowing her time with this unbelievable man was quickly coming to an end. She slowly eased forward to trace the line of his strong jaw into her memory before placing a tender kiss on his lips. Just as she began to back away he muttered, “Stay,” and his grip on her waist tightened with desperate need.

“Please stay.” His eyes cracked open again, and a twinkle of hope shone in his one dark pupil at the gentle admission. He was much softer than he’d like to admit, just like Mari said.

She couldn’t deny this dark, mysterious clone such a beautifully simple request. Not when he looked at her with the innocence of a man who had never quite known love before but was mustering all the courage in the galaxy to ask for it anyway.

“Okay,” she whispered softly, tucking herself into the crook of his neck.

Wolffe’s arms curled around her much more delicate frame protectively as if he could keep time itself from taking something so precious away from him. His hand cupped the back of her neck and cradled her into his chest. She could feel the steady beating of his heart beneath his skin and figured if she was the only one he ever exposed his gentle heart to, she might as well safeguard it while she could.

She watched over Wolffe as sleep drifted him away, just as the galaxy would eventually, too. Zeeta knew better than to fall for a man who could never be permanent, and yet watching him before her now, she so wanted him to be. Someday, maybe—when the war with the Empire was over and its warriors, both clone and Twi’lek, were free.

She lay there with him until the sun started to rise. Slowly, she slid out of his grasp and gathered last night’s clothes off the floor, dressing while he slept peacefully for the first time in perhaps his entire life. Zeeta smoothed a delicate hand along his cheek and kissed his temple. “Take care of yourself, Commander. Find me when this journey ends, I’ll be waiting.” With a quiet spin on her heels, she padded out of the room.

When Wolffe woke a few hours later to an empty bed his heart sank, the sobering truth of the loneliness of war hitting him like a ton of bricks. It was time to move on, with only a few tattered bits of her black negligee and half-moon-shaped claw marks dug into his skin to remember the most amazing woman he’d ever been with. He left for their next mission with an unspoken promise hanging in the air, left unsaid in the dense Ryloth haze.

notes: finally got around to this lil expansion piece from CL ch. 13 as promised for my fave grumpy boy. Zeeta just kinda came to me and honestly? im obsessed with her. she's spicy, sweet, sexy...i mean just perfect companion for wolffe during this time when he's been needing it most. I hope you all love her as much as Mari. 🥺

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the biggest thank you in the world to my beloved bestie and beta reader @sleepingsun501 I literally couldnt do any of this without you honestly💙

tags: @the-cantina @samspenandsword @baba-fett @marierg @ulchabhangorm @queenquazar @wild-karrde @ariadnes-red-thread @inparanormal @aerangi @starstofillmydream @daimyosprincess @literallydontlook @pinkiemme @ashotofspotchka @fett-djarin @thefact0rygirl & of course my wolffe girlies who started it all for me tbh @enigmaticexplorer @cyarbika

#commander wolffe smut #commander wolffe x ofc #commander wolffe

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