#plo koon x reader x commander wolffe

[meshla-cyarika]

I'm just gonna leave this here 🤗

"Do you think it hurt?" The question had been eating Wolffe alive, ever since he had deserted the Empire and realised what he did.

Rex turned to him, "Did what hurt, Wolffe?"

"The general..." Wolffe couldn't bring himself to say anymore, as he felt the bitter bile stir in his stomach.

"No," Rex tried to sound reassuring, tried to sound like everything will be alright when it ultimately won't and will never be, "I think it was quick, painless."

[oceansssblue]

SW REQUESTS:

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

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

"RADIO SILENT" –WOLFFE/F READER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips pull up on a tiny smirk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give Sinker a firm nod.

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

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

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

You open your coms to inform of the new situation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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

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

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

There was only static.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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

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

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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

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

"Are you hurt too, Wolffe?"

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

"No" he simply answers, observing you quietly.

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

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

Wolffe's expression doesn't change.

"You went radio silent" he answers, quietly.

You arch an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His voice is a secret whisper as well.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyare".

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

You imprint those five mandalorian words in your soul.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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

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

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

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

Xx,

Sky.

Back to main masterlist here!

[mnnulat]

Room for More

TBB x fem!reader (platonic)

Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch

Summary: A Jedi padawan of Master Plo Koon, you'd been on the run since Order 66 was executed after the Wolfpack betrayed your master. Mostly hiding out in Ord Mantell, you soon encountered Clone Force 99. After helping out with some of their missions for Cid (and always hanging out with Omega), the Batch welcomed you under their wing. However, you don't talk to them that much if it isn't mission-related. A certain mishap may change that.

Warnings: mentions of death, minor angst, metions of Order 66, mentions and description of vomit and GERD (PLS DO NOT READ IF THAT BOTHERS YOU)

A/N: Not proofread or edited. Reader should be around 20 years old. Also, reader's experience with GERD is based on my experience with it (I'm no medical professional so disclaimer!!)

The journey on the way back to Ord Mantell is not always vibrant, but this time, it is. Blue streaks decorate the blackness of space as the Havoc Marauder travels back to Ord Mantell. The energy in the ship is unusually jolly after a mission; you could feel everyone's energy.

Cid's client this time was a sheriff. He hired you and the Batch to act as temporary bodyguards to drive away mercenaries from his town on a tropical planet. While you were there, you and the Batch befriended the local villagers. As a thank you gift, they gave you tons of food—enough for a real meal for the five of you—for the journey back to Cid's.

It seems they packed you some sort of noodles. It's incredibly saucy—almost a vibrant red—not that you mind. The smell is delicious, mild enough for Hunter to enjoy it properly, but enough that you can smell the blend of several different spices. Chopped out pieces of vegetables and meat are mixed into it, as well.

You sit on your bunk, quietly observing the Batch as you heartily eat the noodles. Wrecker, who practically wolfed down his big portion of the food, is now playing dejarik with Omega, who is multitasking between eating dinner and playing the game. The girl giggles as she continues to beat the gentle giant.

Tech and Echo are both seated by the ship's console. You could sense that they're relaxed and satisfied, as opposed to their usual tired state after a mission. They both eat the food while chatting with each other, a smile on each of their faces.

Your glance finally lands on Sergeant Hunter. With his food in hand, he leans on the wall as he watches over his crew. Looking at him, you can feel warmth radiate through your body, and you know that feeling to be Hunter's; it's just the Force's way of telling you how happy he is for the time being.

You smile to yourself, it's not every time that the Batch could enjoy like this. Your heart feels light just by watching them. They reminded you of the Wolfpack.

Oh.

Your heart turns heavy. You're quite past being angry with them: about turning their backs against the Jedi Order; about betraying the cause they fought for; and about killing Master Plo.

No. You just miss them. You miss how things were. You miss the warmth they brought with their presence. You crave for Master Plo's fatherly advice and care. You want to feel Wolffe's comforting hug after a failed campaign. You want to hear Sinker's and Boost's corny jokes that would distract you from the horrors of the war.

You just want them back—just like the old times.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you feel a lingering sensation. Looking up, you find Hunter looking at you with worry. It still surprises you, that after months of being with them, you still can't quite figure out how his enhanced senses work.

Regardless, you send him your signature tight-lipped smile. That awkward smile that graced your features upon your introduction to your new master. The one you gave the 104th battalion at your first campaign as their Commander. The one—

You huff, internally berating yourself for going there again. You really should control your thoughts better.

You quickly finish your food, before properly disposing of the container and utensils. Quickly, you head to the fresher to brush your teeth. Once you're done, you feel something in your stomach, as if you're still hungry, as if something is bubbling inside. You ignore it, just wanting to sleep so that your mind won't be plagued by unwanted thoughts. It's hard at night, the dark thoughts always seem to get worse then.

Heading to your bunk, you collapse on it; everything you and the Batch did the past few days finally catching up to you as your adrenaline drops. It doesn't take long before you're curled up on your bunk, asleep.

You don't even know how long it's been, but suddenly you sit upright and swing your legs over your bunk. Without thinking, you walk briskly to the fresher, slamming the door shut before hunching over the toilet and immediately expelling your dinner.

You groan, slumping down on the fresher floor. You could feel something bubbling in your stomach again, forcing it's way up, along with a strong pinch in your abdomen. The aftermath of your vomit tastes like dinner and something sour.

Just then, a knock is heard. "Are you okay?" Hunter's gruff but calming voice calls out.

Shakily, you stand and flush the toilet before washing your hands.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you reply calmly, masking the pain that you're feeling.

Hunter suddenly opens the fresher door, making you jump. He looks at you worriedly.

"I can hear your stomach, doesn't sound good."

You walk past him into the direction of your bunk. You feel Echo's and Tech's eyes on you as well, but you just want to go back to sleep.

"I think I just ate too fast. Don't worry about it," you mumble tiredly as you resume your slumber.

Echo, Tech, and Hunter all look at your sleeping form but decided that perhaps it's best you get some rest.

The peace continues for around half an hour. You wake up again, hurriedly walking to the bathroom. You don't even notice the worried glance Tech gives, or even the fresher door that you left open before throwing up in the toilet again.

You groan, slumping on the fresher floor.

Someone pulls you up gently by your arm.

"It's alright, I got you," you hear Hunter say as you see Tech flushing the toilet.

You sigh as he brings you back to your bunk, laying you down on it.

"Sorry, Hunter. Did I wake you?" You ask.

He just chuckles. "Yeah, but don't worry. How're you feeling?"

You slump back on my pillows. "Tired."

Just then, Tech suddenly appears, typing away at his datapad. He looks at you before talking.

"It seems that the contents that you expelled included acid, aside from the food you ate for dinner," he then looks at Hunter, "you said you could hear her stomach?"

"Yeah, it sounded like something was bubbling upwards."

Tech nods, seemingly satisfied. "Figured as much," comes his robotic-like voice. He looks at you again, with one eyebrow raised. "I had a theory, so I looked for your medical files from the GAR. You have gastroesopheagal reflux disease. It is most likely that the noodles that we ate triggered it."

"Yeah, kinda figured that out after I threw up the first time," you mumble. You bring the blankets up to your chin, wishing that you could disappear from their scrutinizing gaze.

"I've also checked our medpacks—we do not have any antacid at hand. We'd have to wait till we arrive at Ord Mantell to restock."

Hunter frowns. "Do you need anything?" He asks you.

Your gaze lingers a bit longer on him than you would've liked. His eyebrow are arched upwards, causing lines to appear on his forehead. While crouched, you could still tell that his torso is slightly leaning forwards towards you. He keeps one hand on your bunk, too. For a brief moment, you see a man with a GAR-standard haircut, a cybernetic eye, a scar over it, and white and grey armor. But it's as if your vision shifts, and you see the man with long hair, face tattoo, a red bandana, and colorful armor.

"No, nothing. I'm fine," you reply dryly.

"No, you are not," Tech bluntly points out.

"I'll sleep it off," you mumble, rolling over to your side as your eyes begin to droop once again from exhaustion.

Hunter and Tech both sigh as you quite literally turn your backs on them. At this point, they're quite used to you being closed off, but this is the first time they've seen how you're like when your sick. You're more distant than you usually are.

After some time you feel the familiar pinch in your stomach and your labored breathing. The acid quickly rises in you, and it feels as if it were knawing through its pathway.

You quickly turn to the other side of your bunk in hopes to reach the fresher again. Instead, your eyes meet a metal bucket beside your bunk. Unable to hold everything in, you expel the acid in the bucket.

You cry out in pain; the muscles of your abdoment working overtime to push the acid out of you. Your hair drapes around your face as you throw up, getting in the way of the vomit that not only comes out of your mouth, but also some through the nose.

You vaguely feel a hand gathering your hair and holding it away from your face, and another hand gently rubbing your back.

"Hey, it's okay. I got you," it says soothingly.

Warm tears stream down from your eyes, to your cheeks, and pour down to the bucket.

You lie back down, breathing heavily. The bitter-sour aftertaste of the acid makes you cringe. Your eyelids flutter heavily, and you drift in and out of sleep. You don't even notice that Hunter disappeared until you hear the fresher door open and the bucket being settled down beside your bunk again.

"I could've done that myself," You mutter tiredly.

Hunter crosses his arms over his chest, a big frown on his face. "No, you need to rest. Let me help you."

"It's my problem. I'm the one who's sick."

"Uh-huh," Hunter grunts, looking very unimpressed. "C'mon, ad'ika. Let me help."

Ad'ika.

As he says that, you could hear Wolffe's voice. Your eyes dart around the room, trying to find him. But the only other person you see is a concerned Hunter looking down at you.

Logically, you knew you needed someone to help you with the bucket, and other things that may come up. Your heart clenches at how you wished it was Wolffe, or Boost, or Sinker, or Comet, or Master Plo. But deep inside you, you know that if you try to do this all by yourself, you may end up vomiting on the floor or elsewhere where you shouldn't be. You wouldn't want that.

"Fine," you concede. Your voice no longer holding the fight it had previously.

Hunter flashes you a faint smile as he leaves. Your head lolls on the pillow as your eyelids close on their own and your mind becomes blank.

You wake up once again to someone tapping your shoulder. In your hazy vision, you see Hunter holding out a bottle of water to you. Sitting up, you take it gratefully, taking a few sips. You hand it back to him before resuming your slumber.

And so under the lights of hyperspace, the cycle continued until you reached Ord Mantell. Every thirty minutes or so, Hunter would wake up after you throw up in the bucket; he would flush it before returning it to you clean. Occassionally, he would refill the bottle with water, as well.

In your delurious state, sometimes you would see Wolffe instead of Hunter moving about. And it would seep into your dreams, too. You would see the blur of grey and white armor of the Wolfpack instead of the colorful armor of the Batch. You would hear Wolffe's voice—gruff and strict—telling you to take it easy.

But as the hours tick by, you no longer see or hear anyone from the Wolfpack, whether it be in your dreams or reality. You don't see the grey and white. Instead, you see flashes of color; you see flashes of grey mixed with yellow, red, cyan, and orange. You don't hear Wolffe's strict voice, Boost and Sinker's jokes, or Master Plo's comforting advice. You hear Hunter's gruff but caring remarks, Wrecker's booming laughter, Echo's gentle reminders, Tech's steady comments, and Omega's soft greetings.

And as you arrive at Ord Mantell, you accept their assistance without protest as you disembark from the Marauder. You know that Master Plo and the 104th would always have a place in your heart, but you know now that there's room for five more colorful people.

[arctrooper69]

hiii! i just found your hurt/comfort dialog prompt list you had tagged and i'm such a sucker for that kind of stuff. could you please do prompt 34. "you're covered in blood, need to tell me something?" with wolffe? maybe even a little bit of prompts 20 and 35 from the the hurt/comfort sprinkled in there too? i absolutely adore your work and your such a fantastic writer, i look forward to everytime you post, and you do such a beautiful job on your writing that i can't wait to read this once it is done (if you decided to do it) . feel free to change it how you want, and thank you for taking time out of busy day to read this. love you <333

Hey! I'm so glad you've been enjoying my work! Sorry it took me awhile to get this out to you. I had so many ideas for it but I couldn't decide what I wanted to do. Hope you enjoy it! 😁

Prompt# 20: "How long did you think that you could hide that?"

Prompt# 34: "You're covered in blood, need to tell me anything?"

Prompt# 35: "It's just a headache, I'm fine."

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Love is a Battlefield

The new General doesn't want to ask for help. Commander Wolffe does so anyway.

Warnings: Blood. Angst. Battlefield scenes. Hurt/Comfort.

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"Okay, today officially sucks." You grumbled under your breath, cursing whatever cosmic Force led you to be in your current state. Groaning you dragged yourself back over the ledge and collapsed in the mud. Everything hurt. Your clothes were stiff with dried and drying blood and at this point, you weren't sure if it belonged to you or to those damn splox who's nest you'd fallen into. Probably both.

Ok, now to find the rest of the company. You were sure that you hadn't strayed too far from the battlefield when you'd been drug off by battle droids and thrown from a cliff in the resulting fight. But hey, at least you took them down with you. You thought, cracking a smile. Master Plo would've been proud. On the other hand, you frowned, you had gotten separated from everyone else - so maybe not so much.

You drew a sharp breath between your teeth. A burning, grating feeling radiated from your side as you stepped over a rock and nearly fell to the ground. You paused for a moment to let your tunneling vision focus again, fighting back the urge to throw up. Maybe some of the blood was actually yours. The trek back to camp was going to take much longer than you expected.

Good. Maybe that would give you time to mull over the conversation you'd had yesterday morning with the commander of you battalion.

You were sure it was the reason that Commander Wolffe was ignoring you earlier today.

***

You'd chosen to continue on with the battalion after Master Plo had received an urgent message from the Council, recalling him from the field. Wolffe disagreed.

"You're injured!" He snapped, more forcefully than intended.

You sighed rolling your eyes. "It's just a headache. I'm fine. You know I've had worse, Commander." It was more than a headache, probably a concussion due to the nausea and dizziness that currently plagued you. But he didn't need to know that.

Wolffe pinched the bridge of his nose.

"General, I saw that spider droid fling you halfway across the battlefield. Can you at least go to medical to get checked out? I need you-" He froze, then coughed quickly, trying to pass off his slip-up as though he'd been interrupted mid sentence. "We. We need you. Your men need you at your best, general."

He coughed again and quickly left the room, leaving you frozen in place.

***

Did he really say that? You replayed his words in your head over and over again.

"I need you."

You couldn't deny that it had shaken you. You couldn't deny that it had hit you in such a way that made your whole body tingle and flood with warmth. As much as you tried to suppress it and convince yourself it was nothing, you had found yourself staring at the Commander a lot recently. The way he confidently carried himself, the subtle spark in his eye, the way he cared for his men even though he hid it behind that abrasive and sarcastic front - it was all so perfect. So attractive. So him.

No, he couldn't have meant it like that. You were his superior and even more importantly, you were a Jedi. No attachment allowed. He definitely couldn't have meant it like that. It was simply a slip of the tongue. He felt nothing for you and you felt nothing for him. You told yourself that your infatuation wasn't real. Commander Wolffe was a good solider and your fondness for him was simply a professional sense of pride. That's all.

Distant voices interrupted your brooding. Several clone troopers were searching high and low, calling out for someone but you didn't quite catch the name.

"Who are we looking for?" You walked up to the trooper closest to you. His shiny white armor was streaked with mud and ash - one of the new guys. Splash, they'd christened him on account of the puddle of mud he'd landed in immediately after jumping from the gunship into the field. It was hard to believe you'd only been here for three days. It felt like three years.

"We're looking for the General!" He explained hurriedly, hardly giving you a side glance.

Your heart dropped. Surely not Master Plo. Had he not left for Coruscant after all? Your hero and former master had seemed invincible ever since he'd chosen you to be his Padawan.

"General Plo Koon?" You asked hesitantly.

Splashed grunted as he stepped over a log. "No, the other one."

A wave of relief washed over you. You could've laughed out loud if your head wasn't so cloudy. Your side screamed with every step. You took a shallow breath, trying to ground yourself.

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me.

Supplementing with the force wouldnt last long and it was draining, but it was better than the agony you'd been in. You took a deep breath, allowing the pain to become a whisper and looked back up at the clone.

"Well you found her!" You joked.

"What?" He stood up looking confused. Then he looked over at you.

Splash straightened up upon realizing that he had indeed found the General. He was glad he was wearing his bucket because he could feel his face turning red with embarrassment. He scrambled stiffly to attention. "Uhm, sorry Sir. I mean Ma'am. Uh, General." He stuttered, trying to compose himself. You chuckled, wincing as the movement pulled at your wounded side. Splash looked alarmed as if he'd just realized that his General was covered in blood. "Are you injured, Ma'am?"

You grit your teeth to hide the pain. "No, I'm fine, thank you. I believe it all belongs to the splox that I killed. Fell into a nest of em."

He looked at you, unsure if you were being serious or not, trying to recall if the regulation manuals told him what to do in a situation like this.

"We should probably make our way to medical, all the same." He concluded. "Just to be safe. Get you checked out and all." He offered his arm.

You shook your head. "No that's alright. They're much too busy right now, seeing as the battle has just ended."

"Well I'm sure..."

You put a hand up to stop him. "It's fine, Splash. I can take care of myself. Let's worry about making our way back to camp."

"Of course, General."

***

You made your way back to camp and bid Splash a farewell. Exhausted, you yawned and slowly made your way back to your tent, passing the Commander's tent on your way there.

"General!" Commander Wolffe sprang to his feet the moment he saw you. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

His eyebrows knit tightly together with a frown. If you didn't know better, you almost thought he looked concerned. Worried even. But that would be stupid. You were reading too much into it. He was simply a solider looking out for the welfare of his commanding officer. That's it. Nothing more.

"I'm good!" You grinned, hoping he didn't notice the way your teeth ground against the pain in your head and now your side.

Wolffe's face became unreadable.

"Just good!?" He growled. "General, you are covered in blood. 'Good' does not even begin to cover it. Do you need to tell me something?"

Yes. I think I'm in love with you.

"No not really." You nonchantly shrugged. "It's not mine. Fell into a nest of those giant splox beetles and had to take em out before they ate me. You know how it is."

Wolffe rolled his eyes. He didn't believe you, but what could he do? He wasn't your superior, he couldn't order you to tell him. He made a note to ask Cody and Rex to let him into the clones-with-stubborn-generals club. He could sure use some advice.

"Could you be anymore bull-headed?" he wanted to yell at you as you left the room, interpreting his silence as the end of that conversation.

Wolffe groaned in frustration. Why did he care so much? Why did the thought of you being wounded send waves of terror cascading through his core. You were acting strange, subtly walking as though every step sent agony shooting through your body thinking nobody would notice. He noticed. He wanted to pick you up in his arms and bandage your wounds. He wanted to softly kiss each scar on your skin.

You were a good leader. He understood wanting to be tough, wanting to be strong for the soldiers under your command. If he was honest with himself, he did the same.

You trudged wearily back to your tent, ignoring the pain that was slowly returning to full force with a vengeance as though it was angry at being willed into submission.

You made it a point to avoid medical. The dwindling amount of medical supplies worried you. It was only a matter of time before they would run out if they weren't sent relief. The chief medical officer had drastically downplayed the dire straits the company was in when you asked him. You'd seen the inventory. It was scarce. It wouldn't be right, going to medical right now. Not when you could most likely patch yourself up with the small medkit by your bunk. The clones made up the backbone of the GAR, it was only right that they take priority over you.

***

It was a miracle of the Force that you hadn't passed out by the time you reached the tent. Biting your lip to keep you from making too much noise, you peeled off your shirt to assess the damage, grabbing a towel from the shelf.

You bit back a pained moan and your vision swam as you gripped the edge of your cot to steady yourself. A large gash curled around the side of your chest from the bottom of your breast to your hip. The torn skin bled heavily, quickly turning the towel a crimson red.

This was...not good.

The com chirped, making you jump. You felt dazed and exhausted. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before answering the com. Sergeant Sinker's brisk voice echoed from the device.

"General, the clankers are moving in from the North. They've engaged the front and the 501st is calling for aid. What are your orders?"

Your men needed you. Who were you to ignore them? What kind of leader would you be if you sent them off while you stayed behind. "A good leader leads by example" Master Plo always said. You were tired of the animalistic way the clones were treated - as if they were only droids or worse. You would be there for your men, fighting right up front beside them. Right beside Commander Wolffe.

You lit up the com. "Proceed with the request, Sergeant. I'll be there shortly."

You looked at the medkit. Well, so much for that. You quickly taped up the wound and slapped some bacta treated gauze on it. Then you quickly changed your clothes, willing yourself to ignore the nauseating pain. You steadied yourself with a hand on the wall before wiping the cold sweat from your clammy skin. You tried to breathe, once more closing your eyes in meditation once again squashing down the pain. The show must go on. The General must lead her men into battle.

***

General Skywalker was right to call for aid. The Separatist forces were throwing everything they had at you. You jumped over the guns of a tank, slicing through the controls to disable it. Droid after droid came at you from all sides and you cut them down. If only the Commander could see you now in all your glory.

An explosion knocked you off your feet, wrenching you from your stupor. Pain surged through your body as you pushed yourself to your feet. The continuous onslaught of enemy forces wasn't so fun now. You began to realize just how tired you were. Trying to catch your breath felt as futile as swimming in honey. Your mind felt sluggish and your arms felt like lead. A B2 took aim and fired. You saw him fire and raised your saber to block but it was a fraction of a second too slow and the blast hit your shoulder. Kriff. You hit the ground hard, letting the awful, searing pain wash over you. You wanted to close your eyes. You wished you could just rest. Just for a moment.

Your eyes flew back open. No. The men need you. Get up. Shakily you forced yourself to your knees and onto your feet. One more time. You knew this was abusing the force but it was for an honorable reason. Right?

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me. Pain is temporary. Accept it simply as a signal sent by the body. Accept the pain. Respect it. Don't fight it. Ask your body to begin to heal.

You let out a feral scream, pouring every last ounce of energy and willpower into your prayers, knocking back an entire wave of droids. And then you felt nothing.

***

My head. The first thing you noticed upon regaining consciousness was the skull splitting headache that you could almost feel radiating down your entire body. It felt as though someone was spearing red hot needles through your eyeballs, twisting them through the many sections of your brain. The pain made you nauseous.

An agonized wheeze drifted from your lips as you tried to raise your hands to cup your face. When did my arms get so heavy? Pain shot through your side and shoulder as you tried to move. Panic gripped you when you couldn't.

"Ah kriff," a gruff voice cursed. "Hey! General. General, it's okay. Calm down. You're safe." You'd know that voice anywhere - it was the only clear thing that cut through the haze of pain. Commander Wolffe.

He barked a command at someone and after a few minutes the pain had loosened it's claws. It wasn't much but it was better than before.

"What do you need, General? Are you still in pain?"

"Lights," you managed to groan. Even that took too much energy and you desperately hoped that you wouldn't be sick in front of the Commander.

Wolffe immediately jumped from his chair, quickly shutting off the lights. That helped some, but not much. It still felt like your head was being lobotomized by a pickaxe. Your side and shoulder felt like they'd been broken off and trampled by a bantha. A bantha that was on fire maybe.

"You are so kriffing stubborn, you know that!?" Wolffe growled. Seeing you wince, he lowered his volume but continued with the hard and bitter tone.

"How long did you think you could hide that!? Hmm?" He motioned to your side.

"You almost died yesterday." He said, softening his voice ever so slightly.

Wolffe looked tired. His eyes were sunken and even his cybernetic one had a dark shadow beneath it. He looked like he hadn't shaved or showered since the battle. His grey armor was still scuffed up with dirt and grime. A small bacta patch adorned his right eyebrow.

You looked away, shame burning at the corners your eyes, adding to the overwhelming pressure in your head. You failed him and now he hated you. You turned your head away from him wincing at the pain but you couldn't bear to have him see the tears that rolled down your cheeks.

"Look at me." A command. He didn't have the authority to give you a command, but you felt compelled to comply all the same. Hastily wiping your eyes in a futile attempt at seeming alright, you turned towards him. Your breath caught as he wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling it from your face.

"Stop kriffing pretending that you're okay." Still a command, but this one felt softer. His voice still held the rough, bitter edge that defined him so well but as you met his eyes, they held an uncertain gaze of vulnerability.

"Your men need you alive. They care about you, General." He paused, pacing back and forth in the dark room. He came to a stand still by the foot of your bed, refusing to meet your gaze, as though he had something he wanted to say. Finally he took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Oh kriff it." He snapped. "I care about you, damnit!" He shook his head and began to pace again, the anger returning to his visage.

"General Plo said you could've died." He spat. "He said that you had spread yourself so thin, used up so much energy that you could've killed yourself. Do you..." He cut himself off and took another breath, clenching his fists tightly. "Do you know what that would've done to this company. Do you know what that would've done to me!?"

There was fire in his eyes when he looked back up at you. "It would've killed me too."

You lay there in your bed staring at him - shocked at this outburst. What was he saying? That he cared for you? That he loved you? That he thought about you as much as you thought about him?

"I.." you began softly.

"No. I'm not done."

You shut your mouth.

"General, when you came back to camp covered in blood, I had to restrain myself from throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to medical myself. I knew something was wrong but I trusted that you knew what you were doing. It was the same when I saw you collapse yesterday. It took everything in me not to race to your side."

He shook his head, disappointed in himself, and angry with you. "I should be holding the line with my men, not babysitting my General!"

You stared blankly ahead, letting his anger wash over you. So that's how he saw you. That solves one problem, you tried to convince yourself. It was good that he didn't reciprocate your feelings. That made it easier to cleanse yourself of any feeling of attachment. But then why didn't hurt so bad? Why did it feel like a part of your soul had been sawed away? Wasn't letting go of your emotions supposed to bring you peace? This crushing weight of disappointment and heartbreak was anything but peace.

The room was quiet save for the beeps and whirs of the medical equipment around you. The silence felt deafening. Then finally Wolffe let out a sigh.

"I'm....sorry..." The words dragged themselves reluctantly from his mouth.

You didn't respond.

The bed buckled slightly as Wolffe sat down on the edge. He tentatively rested a hand gently on your back, expecting you to recoil or stiffen under his touch. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as you leaned into his touch instead.

He sighed, rolling his neck. "Look," he began awkwardly. "I'm not good at this kind of thing so I'm just going to be honest with you. I..." He stopped. You turned your face towards his. He took a breathe, not daring to make eye contact. "I think I'm in love with you. Kriff. No, I know I'm in love with you."

You gasped, the dam broke and tears began to stream down your face.

Wolffe jumped up, startled and clearly embarrassed. "I...I mean... I... I didn't mean..." The normally confident Commander stumbled over his words in a shameful horror.

"No," you sobbed. You felt so relieved. Everything felt right again. "You didn't do anything wrong." He looked down at you, eybrows knitted upwards in confusion. "Then why..." He motioned to your tearful face.

"Because I love you too and I was afraid that you hated me. I was afraid that everyone would see me as a terrible General. And also my everything hurts and..." you sobbed, "...and I love you so much."

Wolffe looked down at you with amusement and a strange softness took hold of his features - a foreign look for his usually serious demeanor.

"You look nice when you smile," you whispered with a small grin. "But you can go back to frowning if that's more comfortable for you."

Wolffe rolled his eyes as he settled down in a chair beside your bed. "You should get some sleep, General." Back to his serious old self again but he kept that twinkle in his eye. Only for you. he thought.

"I'll be right here when you wake up."

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[knightprincess]

Scars (Commander Wolffe x Jedi Reader) Part 1

Words: 2.7k Warning: Implied injury - stubborn, suspicious Wolffe - Bit of fluff Pronouns Use: She/Her - (Y/N)

Everything seemed normal enough when (Y/N) arrived at the temporary military base the 104th and Master Plo had set up. The command center had the perfect tactical advantage, a view of the battlefield, but at a safe distance, it couldn't be easily attacked. A perimeter had been set up, with an airfield, ensuring all those coming and going would be safe. Next to the commander center were the barracks, mess hall, medbay, and weapons depo, all perfectly organized. 

Plo had met (Y/N) at her designated landing bay; he greeted his former padawan in a similar manner to his warm greeting to Ahsoka. Full of care, fatherly and warm. His words to follow the same and filled with gentleness and wise advice. Almost as if he knew there would be an instant coldness between his former Padawan and his trusted Commander. After all, Wolffe had made his destain almost hatred for the Children of Dathomir plain, and (Y/N) would be the first Night Sister he would truly be dealing with since Ventress had taken his eye. 

The hours after her arrival hadn't been much trouble either. Wolffe hadn't been seen, normally preoccupied with other tasks that come with being Commander. On the other hand, the other troopers had greeted her with friendliness and curiosity. Boost, Comet, and Sinket had been the first three to approach, neither of them being afraid to voice their questions or try their hand at flirting. One by one, others came by with a hello and the intention of introducing themselves; neither one acted like she was any different from the other Jedi they worked with. Instead, the one to point out her obvious Dathomirian features was the Civvi Medic assigned to the 104th; the other Wolffe seemed to avoid like the plague or growled if they had to interact. Although to be fair, the petite woman did seem to avoid the commander just as much, normally shaking with fear and likely unspoken judgment when attending to him. 

When the afternoon was slowly turning to dusk, (Y/N) left the safety of the perimeter, hoping to find a quiet area nearby to meditate; being extremely attuned to the force, the unheard voices were loud in the base, as were the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. (Y/N) clumsiness had led her to discover the unstable ground, leading to cave chasms that went down for miles; the darkness seemed to swallow everything that fell down it, even the glow sticks meant to offer light.

Making a mental note of the undesirable drop and likely death trap hidden within the endless shadows (Y/N) found a flat rocky surface to sit upon; there, she shifted until she was comfortable and began to meditate or attempt it. Within minutes of finding peaceful mindfulness, she had sensed another heading her way, navigating the minefield of unstable ground and dropping to uncertainty. Upon realizing the approaching intruder wasn't someone she recognized, she instinctively reached for her lightsabers, prepared to defend herself if needed, although she had hoped it wouldn't get that far. 

As if sensing something was off, (Y/N) opened her eyes, surveying the area in her proximity, although she did not see anything out of the ordinary. The rocks from the nearby cliff rushed down the drop from the wind left behind by the passing ships; the land around seemed to stretch for miles, and the droid army seemed to be struggling to rebuild their own commander center far into the distance. A planned surprise attack was unlikely to be on their agenda just yet.

"Careful, the ground ..." started (Y/N), finally seeing who the intruder was. Commander Wolffe. His low growls had cut off her line of thought and subsequent words. His stiff shoulders and crossed arms over his chest made it clear he wasn't in the mood to converse with her. Although it was rather obvious, he followed her. The question was whether that was entirely out of concern, suspicion, or something else. 

"You left the base," he stated, his voice direct and to the point, although void of all emotion, matching his cold demeanor.

"Well noticed," (Y/N) replied, failing to stop the sarcasm before it could fall from her lips. Although she held back the chuckle that threatened to follow it upon sensing the eye roll, Wolffe sent her from beneath his modified helmet. 

"Why?" asked the commander, although frustration and annoyance rang through his voice this time, once again suggesting he'd literally rather be anywhere but in her presence. 

"To meditate," she commented, returning the annoyance and frustration presented to her, although the Jedi Knight at least tried to keep a neutral expression, even in the face of judgment and unwarranted hostility. "I'm not fretting with the enemy, Commander. I just needed quiet; the emotions and voices can be overwhelming." 

"That's what your quarters are for," he uttered in a quick response, drawing an eye roll from (Y/N) as she climbed down from her position on the flat lump of rocks. Refusing to utter another word, she began to walk away from the Commander, further away from the base, hoping to find another quiet place to continue her meditation. A sigh quickly escaped her upon sensing Wolffe was once again following her, although this time only a few feet behind.  

"Woah!" yelled Wolffe upon the ground, cracking and giving away like thin ice the moment he stomped on it. He expected to fall helpless into the darkness, but instead, he'd stopped in mid-air, just dangling. The force someone was using the force to prevent him from falling to certain doom. Immediately, Wolffe presumed it was General Plo, the ever-caring fatherly figure. Confusion took over when Wolffe looked up to see (Y/N) trying her hardest to use her power to bring him to safety, a concentrated look painted on her features, determination mixed in. "It's cracking," called the Commander upon noticing the ground beneath her about to give way. 

But by the time his words reached her, both of them were falling. All Wolffe could do was flay his limps and yell out as the darkness swallowed him. He hit several rocks and other hard surfaces on the way down before the fall ended with a loud, wet splash into the freezing waters of an underground lake. He soon climbed out of the water, resting on the rocky bank, looking up with the hope of seeing daylight, only to be met with the unyielding darkness that seemed to go on forever. With a heavy, frustrated sigh, he began to assess the damage to his armor. The chest plate had been cracked, and a shoulder and forearm plate shattered to the point of being unless. 

Just as he was about to continue, his attention was drawn to the lightsaber lying by the rocks of the bank close by. The hilt was mainly black with silver decoration; it appeared damaged and stained with something. Just as Wolffe was about to question who it belonged to, his heart sank upon recalling the ground cracking. 

"Nightsister," called Wolffe, a prang of guilt flooding him as he regretted his refusal to learn her name. "Nightsister," he called again, pushing the fear away when no answer came. However, that sudden wave of fear grew upon noticing the lightsaber hilt was stained with blood. The realization hit him: she was injured and had been by selflessly trying to save him from the fall. Ignoring his own pain and obvious injuries, Wolffe got to wobbly feet and slowly began to shuffle forward across the bank in the hopes of seeing the Jedi who'd tried to prevent his fall. 

He hoped she was ignoring him; after all, he'd ignore someone calling him if they treated him as he'd done with her, but the more he searched, the more he called out Nightsister in an attempt to locate her. The feeling of dread gripped him. What if she wasn't ignoring him? Could she be injured? Was she even in the same part of the cave as him? Did she even fall down the chasm in the first place? 

"She's not in the cave with you, Wolffe," muttered Wolffe, his voice as cold as the lake he'd landed in. As he began to shiver, about to give up, the commander noticed something. A trail of blood, it was fresh; someone had landed there and was trying to hide, injured. "Nightsister," called Wolffe again, this time softer than before, quieter as if trying to convey he wasn't a threat despite his previous demeanor and actions. "I'm not going to hurt you," he called, realizing if she was injured, she likely believed whomever she was trapped with was trying to harm her. He'd been the same after Ventures had slashed out his eye. Even General Plo was considered an enemy in his mind. Anyone with a lightsaber had been for a short time. 

"Wolffe," came a quiet voice, no louder than a whisper. But in the quietness of the cave, it was loud enough for the Commander to hear to locate her. Hearing his name fall from her lips only made his guilt grow. She knew his name and took the time to learn it instead of calling him by his identification number or his rank of Commander. And he'd refused to learn anything about her after learning she was a Child of Dathomir. "Are you hurt?" she asked, her voice heavy with deep breaths filled with pain; she was hurt but refused to admit it. 

"Not as bad as you, Ca'tra," answered Wolffe, grimacing as he moved to sit beside her, holding her lightsaber out as if to return it. Slowly, he surveyed the extent of her injuries, almost horrified. Several joints had been dislocated, a large gash stretched across her side, and a nasty laceration now adorned the side of her head. There was little doubt she'd suffered broken bones as well. 

"Sorry about your landing," (Y/N) whispered. "It was either that or impaled on the rock spires," she added, lifting a shaky hand to point in the general direction of the spires in question. "There's a small med kit in my pack," she instructed, being thankful she'd been wise enough to have a pack ready for emergencies. Inside was a medical kit, water, ration bars, glow sticks, other forms of light, and another communicator in case the one attached to her arm was damaged. 

"Stay awake, Ca'tra," voiced Wolffe, softness beginning to take over, as was the worry and concern. In the minutes since finding her, her eyes had glazed over, and she was slowly losing consciousness. "Talk to me," he added, reaching for the pack and its scattered contents, a renewed sense of determination. She saved him twice in a matter of minutes, with little regard for her own safety or well-being. She suffered because of it. He had to repay the debt he felt he owed her. 

"Ca'tra," (Y/N) tiredly responded, confusion just about present through the pain. "What does it mean?" she asked, looking to Wolffe with glazed-over eyes, a grimace quickly flashing across her features upon pain tormenting her further. 

"Night sky," admitted Wolffe, deeming it be better to call her that than Nightsister. Especially now when he was beginning to wonder if calling her by Nightsister was offensive in some way. "I don't know your name," he added, shame washing through his whispered voice. Swearing under his breath when he dropped the contents of the medkit, his hands shaking so much from the cold. In his rushed attempt to collect all the items, he hadn't noticed (Y/N) reach for the stem cell injections. Although she did hold out the bacta gel 

"(Y/N)," she spoke in response, not arguing when the call of sleep as it became too persistent to fight, too strong to ignore. She hadn't been given the chance to say she liked the small nickname. The small kindness meant something to her, even if it didn't mean anything to Wolffe. 

"(Y/N), wake up," called Wolffe upon grabbing her shoulders to shake her. The shakes had been little more than light nudges, hoping to prevent her from falling asleep, but gotten rougher upon the Commander realizing she'd already fallen for the lure of the peaceful oblivion. "You're not getting away from me that easy, Ca'tra," he added, remembering he had the bacta gel. Upon applying a generous amount to her wounds, he turned his attention to his own and his previous task of assessing the damage to his armor. 

"Little (Y/N), Commander Wolffe," spoke the wise and welcome voice of Master Plo, concern flooding his otherwise fatherly voice. Wolffe quickly grabbed (Y/N)'s arm, puzzled by how the small communications device was still intact, let alone working. "(Y/N), Wolffe, can either of you hear me?" asked Plo, his voice fuzzy now, as if he'd moved away from the area. 

"I read you, General," spoke Wolffe, relief ringing in his own voice, mixing with his concern and pain. 

"Are you okay? Is (Y/N) with you?" questioned Plo, likely already realizing the ground had given way. Although where was the question? Once again, Wolffe focused on looking up, hoping to see some sort of light that would say how far down they were, whether from the sky so far above them or the light of a rescue ship. But again, was greeted with nothing but empty darkness. 

"We're both pretty banged up; I would have been worse off if she hadn't pushed me out the way," admitted the Commander, thankful for her selflessness but still feeling guilty. Even more so upon the realization hitting him, she'd put herself in far more danger by forcing him away from the spires and towards the freezing lake. "She's currently unconscious and needs immediate medical attention," he added with haste, once again reaching to gently shake her with the hopes she'd wake up, again being met with no response. 

"Keep the communicator on; we'll use it to track your position," stated Plo, the authority now ringing in his voice, likely to mask the growing concern and worry for his commander and former padawan. 

"Come on, Ca'tra, wake up. Help is coming," started Wolffe, finally removing his helmet and allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the glow sticks. Finally, he noticed his visor had been broken during the fall and a gash towards the bottom of the scraped helmet. "Why did you save me? Why would you risk your own life like that? I'm just a clone; only my brothers and General Plo would care if something happened to me," he mumbled, not hearing the ow to escape (Y/N)'s lips or even notice she'd barely regained consciousness. 

"Wrong. I care," she whispered with a broken voice, startling the Commander trapped with her. 

"But ... but I was cold to you ... harsh ... unfair," stammered Wolffe as he attempted to put his scrambled thoughts into words and overcome the shock; not only had she heard his words but answered with the last thing he'd expected to hear. She cared despite everything. 

"I know," replied (Y/N), trying her hardest to show her understanding. "I understand why you were quick to judge me. Fear can be cruel even to the toughest of men. I do not blame you for it. No one does. That was your way of dealing with the trauma, to ensure it wouldn't happen again," she replied, recalling her similar response to trauma as a child. She'd been incorporated into the order the same year Anakin Skywalker had joined the Jedi. She was ignored and judged with fear because of something she had no control over. 

She'd lost everything, and just when she had settled into what would be her new life. Things had gotten worse; someone had taken her from the temple and hurt her. Someone she should have been able to trust. Her rescuers had been far kinder. A pair of renowned bounty hunters, Cad Bane and Jango Fett. They saw her as the scared and broken child she was rather than the threat she'd been treated as. 

"I lost trust in the council a long time ago. Blamed myself for what happened," she breathed in response; a pained chuckle escaped her lips upon seeing the confusion written across Wolffe's bruised features. "If it wasn't for the efforts of Master Plo and a few others. I likely wouldn't be civil with the majority of them," admitted (Y/N), although refusing to relive what happened all those years ago by talking about it. Not that she could. Chancellor Palpatine had locked all files about the incident and her life before the Jedi. Reasoning it was for her own safety and to prevent what happened repeating again. 

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Poets and Painters (Midday) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over… 2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss, and Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes the more the fic progresses (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet.

Word count: 4,665

Midday

The trick to keeping Commander Wolffe from prowling the edge of the clearing like a caged animal had been surprising. To everyone. 

Allowing him to watch you work keeps him seated on the hill beside you, where he does not worry his brothers or Master Plo Koon by continuing to make lap after lap. He had left your side once, to take a look at something the Clone pilot Warthog had to show him, and then did a little shiny-wrangling (namely Soapsuds) because they were too close to the forest for his comfort, but he was quick to return. 

He's not much of a conversational partner, whether that's out of respect for you to let you concentrate, or simply a product of his personality. When he has something to say, Wolffe keeps it brief. 

"I'm not that pale." 

"But your scar is." you reply with a gentle smile and a soft laugh, carefully adding traces of a lighter flesh-tone to the vertical stripe of scar tissue in your sketching of the Commander. You keep your pressure light on the page, and make your best efforts to keep the strokes in roughly the same orientation. The smile gives way to a frown the longer you fill in the length of his scar on the page. Your heart hurts for what happened to him at the hands of a dark Force-wielder. What her blade did to him. "I imagine it was quite painful, to lose your eye…" 

"Yes." Wolffe replies in a clipped voice, suggesting to you that while he does not want to dismiss your sympathies, he clearly must not want to talk about this with someone he does not know, either. You feel a tug on the lapel of your uniform, and the gloved pad of his thumb brushes over something. Oh. You'd forgotten about that. "You added a wolf's head into your uniform, Arcadia?" He's changing the subject. And that's okay. 

That's more than okay. 

Glancing down best you can, you see the sloppy replication the flint-gray Commander refers to. The thread used for the head is a steely gray, the stitches are almost invisible and camouflaged in the color of the uniform, save for the eyes in your favorite color. It was meant to be practice for repairing holes in your clothing, you explain. "For emergency situations. I wanted to see if my stitches would hold up after being washed. I completely forgot it was there." You don't explain why you went with the image of a wolf. You won't need to, in his presence.

It's easy enough to guess why this would be the animal, of all possible choices available to you in this galaxy, you would stitch into your lapel. The name surrounds you. Wolfpack. General Plo's callsign is Wolf Leader when they engage in battle by starfighter. 

It is the name of the man next to you - granted it bears an additional forn and an esk. 

Wesk-osk-leth-forn-forn-esk. 

Wolffe. 

"It held up well." he compliments you, releasing the fold of the lapel and assuming his silence once more. Degree by degree, you are seeing he is not eternally gruff or cold with you, or anyone: merely a man made stoic and far more vigilant than before by war. In his vigilance, he continues to visually sweep the field for signs of trouble or mischief. 

Maybe, while he's distracted…

You stealthily swap out the current coloring pencil in your hand - a deeper skin tone - and pluck out the Lamp Black pencil in the mix, drifting your hand lower down the page until the end of the pencil was now lined up with the loosely defined crotch and codpiece of his armor. 

Maker alive let's just get this over with. 

The body glove is going to be innocent enough to fill in, but defining the shadows around the pubic bulge in his kit will be faster. Just keep it quick and be discreet. Work fast. Hope no one sees. Hope no one asks. 

Your pulse screams in your veins when he clears his throat - loudly - next to you, and you are so certain he is now trained on you, and acutely aware of where your pencil is. "Hm-mm…" Oh kriff me sideways. "Excuse me," he apologizes, clearing his throat again softer this time, "didn't mean to startle you, but I was trying to catch Suds' attention." Thank the Maker he didn't look when he apologized. Just a few more marks to finish shading in the codpiece, and then you can start on the body suit. "O-oh. Is he wandering off again?" 

"Looked like he was about to." 

Still breathing down their necks even from here? "Y'know-"

"As their Commander I am going to look out for my brothers, Arcadia." He sounds neither happy or unhappy with what he assumed you would say. And it's fair of him to assume that, in a sense. You only wish he didn't have to feel so defensive. 

"I understand that," you promise him, and for the moment, you set down the pencil in your hand so you are not dividing your attention between the artwork and Wolffe. "and I wasn't telling you to stop, either. I only wanted to warn you that, I think, General Plo Koon seems worried about you, that something is keeping you from enjoying yourself." 

To his credit, he gives your words a moment of quiet contemplation. Whether that's to consider the truth behind the words you said, or to come up with an explanation of sorts, Wolffe remains silent and still like the forest that surrounds you on all sides. What secrets does that forest hold? What lives within? 

What will you find other than sap and blood on your palms when you pull back the thorny branches? 

"I don't believe we're here just to relax for a day." Commander Wolffe admits with a heavy look of guilt and uncertainty. "I think the General has other reasons for bringing us to Little Archossi, and he won't tell us." 

"Reasons? Like what?" You pick the pencil back up, and return to the slow, gradual task of adding color to the page. You're going to give him time to think. Time to answer, if he even wants to. He may not. Warning him that he's possibly made his General concerned about him seems to shake him down, somewhat. "I'm sorry." 

It's reflexive, apologizing for upsetting him. That seems to pull him out of his silence, for the moment. "Don't be, Arcadia. I'm not going to fault you for having good intentions. Or a good eye." 

The kri-? 

In dawning horror, you see and fully realize where your pencil lead is. And looking over at him, you see that he does too. "I-I'm so sorry, sir…" You admit that you hoped he wouldn't notice, and that adding the necessary shading and color around areas that carry their shares of suggestive and sexual imagery and connotations would have been completed with as little attention drawn to it as possible. While you're not exactly ashamed to have drawn those parts of him, you feel a bit awkward to have him take notice of your work when you add the color. 

Half of his mouth quirks in a smile, an expression of his respect, understanding that took guts to admit. "That's nothing to apologize for. It's just part of the art, Arcadia. A little "awkward" would only be understandable. Would you feel better if I purposely didn't watch?" 

Well, seeing as how you're almost done with the inner thigh, you don't see much of a point to the gesture in this part of the progress. But, he did offer. And this seems to be what's keeping him seated in the grass. And what's keeping Plo Koon freer to spend less time being concerned about his diligent commander, and more time in showing his troops more aspects of Kel Dor culture and history, it seems. (Orchid keeps asking questions that Tack could easily answer about Dorin, and it serves as a neat little lesson for some of their newer shinnies. Plo is certainly grateful for the curiosity that allows him to be a teacher, rather than a fighter, today.) 

You shrug lazily, laughing softly under your breath. "I'll leave that up to you, sir. At this point…" 

Wolffe chooses to keep an eye on his brothers, so you make the process of shading the inner thighs quick, while being careful not to get sloppy. You're not trying to recreate a master painter's work here in the first page of your sketchbook, but you don't want to look at this one day and become filled with the urge to tear it out because all you can see are glaring imperfections, either. That's nothing but a fanciful daydream of making so much progress in your artistic prowess that you would ever be struck with such a thought, of course. 

You are preoccupied with a war against the Separatists: when would you ever have the chance to make regular progress and impressive strides without backsliding and the natural degradation of your skills when you do not use them? You're a small part of the busy crew that keeps the Triumphant running smoothly. 

People constantly need you. And that's all well and good, but sometimes you find yourself running into the same problem over and over again that crews of this size inevitably face: when you, who provides the help, needs someone, who is there for you? Do you turn to another crewmate who is already up to their neck in all the problems they juggle? Turning to one of the Clone troopers is ill-advised, no matter how much they swear they don't mind lending a hand or an arm (or two) to assist. 

You've been doing fine aboard the Triumphant; better than fine, in fact. But that worry claws at you, sometimes. I'm here to help everyone. But if I needed help, who would I go to?

Who does the Commander go to when he needs help, come to think of it… General Plo? Or maybe Sergeants Sinker and Boost, if the matter was a little closer to the heart, something he believed was best kept between brothers? 

Who does Wolffe turn to in his hours of need, you wonder. 

You need to rest your wrist, and soon. You have just a little more of this tree's canopy to color in though, and then you're calling it good. You've been working on this "sketch" for more than three hours with the Commander at your side. You want to have this done soon. You want to go check out some of these things other crewmates have been laughing themselves silly over for the last hour that leave them gasping and wheezing for breath, clutching their sides and drying their faces. You're burning to know what's so funny, why they keep calling your name to come see. 

Curiously guessing over and over what General Plo's reaction will be when you show him this amateurish endeavor in outdoor art drives you to continue, however. Just a few more tiny, feather-shaped leaves… Wolffe notices the sharp twinge in your face, and the uncomfortable spasm in your fingers as you adjust your grip around the Sunflower coloring pencil. 

"Getting painful?" 

"Just a little." you admit, knowing if you pause now, you will delay when you pick the pencil back. "I'll manage." 

"Making art shouldn't bring you pain, Arcadia." 

You scoff, just slightly. "Physical pain? Agreed. But emotional pain, that's another matter. Don't worry, I'll be done soon, Wolffe." 

He asked you to call him Wolffe a short time ago. It wasn't exactly necessary to call him Commander or Sir all the time if you had him sketched out on your page quite like… that. His legs parted and bent at the knee - flat in the grass out in front of him. Wrist of the left hand resting just on the surface of his thigh, with his hand hanging limp just inches from his groin. You were generous enough to draw his fingers in a more neutral position than how they had looked in reality… Otherwise, if his soldiers and brothers got a hold of the sketchbook, there's no telling how many jokes you'd have to hear about making it look like their Commander was jerkin' it in front of you. 

Calling him "Wolffe" would do just fine when it was just the two of you alone on this hill. Perhaps he felt it was only fair if he was calling you by your name. You had no title or rank, like him. You are just a humble part of the crew, but he assured you no less important than one of the soldiers. 

It takes all of us, he said. That's how we win this war. 

You've come to the home stretch, feeling the ache in your fingers deepen with every tiny skritch and shwoop! as you methodically color in your work leaf by leaf. "Just one last, little leaf," you promise, "and then I'm done." 

"Not going to sign your magnum opus, Arcadia?" Wolffe prods a little teasingly. He's smiling at you now, even. Hours ago, he was somber and battle-ready, no smiles, no nonsense. Now, he's beginning to make small jokes. "Should add a signature so future museums know who to accredit this to." 

"A leaf and then a signature." you chuckle warmly. "Future museum… Honestly." He only offers a shrug in response to that, and you take it to mean well, you never know. "What, you're trying to tell me you think this would honestly end up in a museum gallery one day?" 

He shrugs again, gazing off into the distance, into the forest. "Overheard one of the boys in the mess say something about the notion once. Something they read. Some kind of commemorative effort made by one planet to make sure they never forgot their bloody history by way of art and song and poetry inspired by that time. Evidence of a time best not repeated, but not forgotten either." 

Such an insightful and wise thing to be said so casually, poetically, and yet, there's a weighty truth to every syllable and enunciation. 

We doom ourselves to repeat the past when we do not remember it and do not teach it anymore. When we allow ourselves to forget, the shades of rouge we sop the bristles of our brushes in will not be in the rich scarlets of Dathomir, or the forever-burning rubies of Mustafar, it will instead be with blood. 

When we have enough evidence, it silences the naysayers and the fools. It validates the choking and trembling voices that say I have tasted the bitter blade of war. I have stood before the yawning maw of nothingness it leaves in its wake. I will never be the same. You do not have the right to tell me that I am some kind of paid actor. 

If they were conspiracies, do you not think I would be among the loudest of your prophets who tout these twisted claims in the hopes of converting another?

"Fascinating. Thinking something like that will come of the Clone Wars, Wolffe?" You've finished the drawing, now. Taking an ink pen, you jot down your signature in the tidiest handwriting you can manage in the lower right corner, making note of the date for good measure. You'll think up a creative title for this later. 

There's a third rising and falling of the shoulders from the man sitting beside you. "It's too soon to tell." 

"That's fair." you reply, gathering up your supplies to put them back into the bag for safekeeping. "But you just know, if it does happen, the Separatists aren't gonna like the art." You have faith that the Republic will prevail. How could it not when the soldiers who fight for the Republic are some of the most courageous, persevering people you know? (What will come of them after?) 

You're likely right about that, he agrees with a throaty chuckle. The Separatists will not like losing this war, and they'll like the art even less. "I can only hope… that it will not just be the Jedi who are…" Wolffe grows silent next to you. He's not certain what word he wants to use to best explain his thoughts, he admits plainly. There are too many. Too many answers that are right, but he struggles to find the one thing that is most correct out of all of them. 

Given what Tack has told you, the answer is obvious. "You're hoping that the galaxy will remember the Clones were a part of this conflict too. That the galaxy won't forget the sacrifices made by your brothers, and they won't forget how many lost their lives. You probably hope that when the free peoples of the galaxy remember the Jedi, they remember you, too. Both must be appreciated together."

"You're probably right," Wolffe concedes firstly, "And you're too wise beyond your years, Arcadia." Strangely philosophical, he tells you, for how old he guesses you to be. Maybe he's the right one this time, thinking to yourself on his words. 

Maybe he's not the only one hoping that when this war ends, no matter the outcome, those who served as a part of the Grand Army of the Republic will not be a forgotten topic ten, twenty… even forty or fifty years down the line. 

Tack has made a breakthrough in his mysterious flower just before Master Plo is free to come take a look at the sketch and color work you've completed, and concern for his men takes precedence. You would not blame him in the slightest if he forgot he expressed interest in seeing what you accomplished with art materials given to you as gifts. Because of your station with the crew of the Triumphant with a secondary speciality for risk assessment, you're involved in this discussion with the researcher and his commander and general. 

Right now determining the risks posed to the men of the 104th matters more. Art and philosophical pondering will have to come later.

Tack explains to both Commander Wolffe and Master Plo that he thinks the smatterings of blue flowers that dot this clearing here on Little Archossi are known as Dinocaeruleus anthos. By their common-name, you know that these flowers are a warning. A silent, unassuming danger for all their beauty and silky blue petals. 

Terrible blue flower. 

"You can make toxic honey with these flowers?" Wolffe asks more to himself than Tack, as he reads ahead in the compiled information. Plo is taking his time to read the information on the screen of the datapad in his hands. To make sense of this, the Jedi is being thorough. 

"Poisonous, Sir, more accurately." Tack makes the correction habitually, and Wolffe does not take it personally. He knows that Tack knows what he meant, and given his aptitude for analytics and other such sciences, his researcher is not correcting him to be a smartass. "But, yes, you can make bad honey with these flowers depending on what pollinators you harvest from. They are not wholly dangerous on their own. Eat it, it might make you feel nauseated due to natural bitterants. Touch it to more sensitive dermal surfaces and it will prove a powerful irritant." 

From a short distance away, you hear the voices of Orchid and Soapsuds, Tack's batchmates (you assume), commenting on what the four of you are discussing in the shade of the tree you spent the morning sketching. "So what Tack's saying is don't stick your d-" The speaker finds himself with the other's hand anxiously plastered against his mouth to shut him up in a hurry. "Maker alive, shut up!" Soapsuds warns him, "Orchid, why are you so vulgar?!" 

There is a pointed sigh from Commander Wolffe that is aimed at the two of them. Don't make me come over there. Behave yourselves in front of the General. 

Plo makes no indication that he's noticed the situation occurring just out of reach. You have to imagine he hears Suds and Orchid wrestling with each other in the grass, now, though, and is ignoring it. "Arcadia and Tack, in your opinion, will these be enough cause for concern to consider returning back to the ship?" Plo wonders aloud. The Kel Dor returns the device to the researcher, and folds his hands together in an act of deliberate contemplation, resting them against his stomach. 

Tack looks at you, and you at him, then the Commander. There is a look in his eyes, both the stark silver and the warm vandyke brown, that reads to you as a surrender of control. 

I will carry out your judgment. 

Tack scoffs and shrugs, his arms thrown wide. "Honestly, General? I don't know enough. I'd need more time to determine through more analysis and comparison. This is only one search result for one flower it could possibly be. But it was enough of a match to make me get the Commander while he was talking with Arcadia." Enough of a match to send him into a tizzy over it. Tack had tripped coming up the hill in his haste, trying to ask if - from where he was sitting - the Commander noticed anyone messing with the blue flowers. 

We have a potential problem! had Wolffe on his feet faster than engaging a hyperdrive. And then there was a flurry of questions. Was it contact from the planet's inhabitants? Has someone gotten hurt? Are they needed to assist another battalion? Where's the General? 

He has the look again, now. Worry. The inner anxiety is eating him alive. Tack doesn't know. So what about you? 

"I see…" Master Plo hums. "And what are your feelings, Arcadia? What do you think about the situation?" 

You think. What do you think about this situation? Is it worth double checking the matches for the flower, to make sure that it really is Dinocaeruleus anthos? Are the men really going to be so flippant as to disregard any kind of warning put out about these flowers if they are the Dinocaeruleus, or worse yet, a far more harmful flower? (Not necessarily, but you have to consider that warning the troops that this flower can have detrimental potential invites the opportunity to inflict it.) 

There is one thing that is already clear to you, at least. "Tack should first make sure these flowers are what he thinks they are before we make any kind of advisory, General. That is my opinion." 

Another thoughtful hum. "Interesting. And why is this your opinion, little one?" 

"We should avoid unnecessary panic. Until we know for sure what these flowers are, I say we don't say anything. We invite unnecessary risks by making the men paranoid." you suggest, glancing first at the Jedi, and then the flint-gray Commander to his left. They had every right to accept or disregard your counseling as the commanding forces of this battalion at the day's end; you hope they will consider it at the very least. 

"I'm in agreement."

"Then we will do as Arcadia advised, and we will let young Tack take more time to confirm his findings. Until then…" Plo trails off, nodding decidedly. Thank the Maker. Tack dismisses himself in a hushed, hurried tone. If he's going to spend more time pouring over information on the Dinocaeruleus anthos, he shouldn't dawdle. The Jedi kindly wills the benefits of the Force to guide the researcher before he turns to address you once again. "Have you made use of the gifts given to you since we last spoke?" 

Blinking with a mild start, you realize that Plo has changed the topic. "Oh, yes, I have. Let me go get my sketchbook from my bag, sir." You scoop the entire bag from the grass, re-tucking your datapad among your things as you extract the book and turn it to the necessary page for his convenience. "Here." 

Taking it carefully in his hands, the book is cradled like a priceless relic as his eyes must trace over the page. Once more your property is treated with such care and respect by the Force-wielder. "My… Arcadia, you have quite a gift." 

The action is perhaps more childish than professional, but you cannot help but duck your head at such praise, fearing to meet his gaze should he see how flushed your face is. It is not the heat of the sun above you, denoting that it is now high noon, that makes your face burn. You're never quite sure how to accept a compliment. 

You opt for humility. "Oh, it's hardly that great, General Plo… I wouldn't say I have a gift… just… a-an attention for detail." And that much is true; dedication to detail is why you spent hours on a simple "sketch" to begin with; why you took so much care and effort to get everything done the best you could. The form of Commander Wolffe's armor. The curve of his jaw and the roundness of the ala of his nose. The correct texture of his hair within the typical haircut many of the Clones have. 

But though gentle insistence, the General repeats his sentiment. "Attention for detail is no less of a gift, Arcadia. In war it is a mark of wisdom, in art, it is a skill." A skill that has made for a very fine portrait of the Commander. "Have you seen Arcadia's work yet, Commander Wolffe?" He offers the sketchpad with an invitation to have a closer look, though it isn't necessary. 

"I watched Arcadia add the colors, yes." Wolffe confirms. "Quite the process."

Not to mention a strain on your wrist, but one well worth it for the praise given to you from the Jedi, and now many of the men who have congregated to come and suss out what's going on. "I can only imagine… Even gone through the trouble of adding proper shadows to such… rich color." 

Sinker and Boost smile softly, not quite sadly (but certainly somber), when they take note of the color of paint their commanding officer wears when you allow the book to be passed around so everyone is welcome to have a closer look. They hold it longest out of everyone, looking at this artistic replication a little more closely than most.

"The ol' maroon, eh? Think it's meant to depict another time, before Abregado?" 

"But he's drawn with the scar, Boost."

"Ah, yeah, good eye. Missed that bit." 

You timidly clear your throat to draw their attention, and explain that of all the colors, you didn't have gray. "I didn't want to leave his armor naked, either." Not when you went through the trouble of adding the face of the wolf and the other design to each of his shoulder pads, or the unique shape of his visor when you drew the helmet next to his hip. 

You would not deal him further, small cruelties by stealing the colors out of his coat completely. These markings he has chosen for himself mean something to Wolffe. The color he wears now is a mark of mourning. The color in the pages of your book will serve as an homage. 

You have not forgotten your brothers. You will always carry them with you.

Hmmf. Are you a poet now too, Arcadia?

No sir. Not really. 

You're uncertain where the words came from. Borrowed from something you read once? Did you perhaps hear the General say these words once upon a time? You can't recall what inspired you to say such a thing. 

But you'll remember the change in his gruff exterior, the way in which he was quieter than quiet for just a moment, and he pivoted in the grass to better face you and make you his equal. 

It's only the two of us here on the hill, Arcadia. Call me Wolffe, please. 

Don't have a fic taglist for the time being, but I'll likely start one soon if I can figure out how to make those forms some people have since I write a variety of stuff. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (example: just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

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[janesinner]

STAR WARS One shots X GN! Reader Christmas special

How would everyone react by you giving them a christmas gift

Galactic Empire : HERE

First Order : HERE

Galactic Republic : You're here

JEDI :

Anakin Skywalker:

He would be surprised when you walked up to him with a gift.

Tho at first he would act he doesn't want it, but inside he's completely like a chird.

He loves your gift and cherish it

He doesn't bought you anything, but he'll take you for a life time ride with R2D2.

you enjoyed a good time together

Oby-wan Kenobi:

He guessed you'll buy him something for christmas but he didn't expected to actualy buy him the thing he wanted

You remember him talking about this thing and how he liked it but he never had time to buy it, because of the war

It was then your life mission to get it for him

Tho he's never the one to show attachments to anyone, how could he stand a chance to not smile at your adorabke expression?

He gave you a kiss on the cheek, and promised to show you a beautiful place in one of the planets he enjoys to have his peace.

Plo Koon :

Plo Koon absolutely loves his gift and gave you a pet on your head.

Guess what, he has a gift for you too! And it happened to be something you always wanted

You enjoyed the Holiday with him and his Wolf Pack.

you love his mans and they love you. Half of the clones ships you with him.

Quinlan Vos :

Vos never got a gift before, so he didn't understood what it was

Once you explained it to him, he was surprised

He loves his gift and call you silly for buying him anything

Anyone who tries to take the gift from him, will be met with unpleasant consequences

you didn't exactly celebrated the holiday but spending the day with someone you love is more then enough

CLONES :

Rex :

Rex never celebrated christmas before, so he was confused when you bought him a gift

once you explained the holiday to him, it immedietly become his favorite holiday

he spoils you with gifts he bought or get from different planets he fought at

He loves seeing you happy and will do anything for you to remain happy

Fives :

Once you bought him a gift, it's all over for you

He'll shower you with affection and gifts every day

"Why should I give you gifts only on Kismas when you deserve them every day?" "It's 'Christmas'." "That's what I said??"

He'll do everythin in his will power to make you happy. Constantly ask Echo, Jess, Rex and Tup for tips of what to boy you.

All of them are annoyed at this point but doesn't show it cuz they want their brother to be happy

Cody :

"Getting gifts was not something I was breed for." You silenced him with a gifts and forced him to open his gift.

When he opened the gift, he was surprised.

he thanked you for his gift and apologized because he had nothing in return for you.

"Just spend this day with me. That would be just enough for me."

You two had a nice evening, cuddled together in a blanket with a hot chocolate in hands

Wolffe :

His mans were constantly annoying him to buy this for you.

He was hesitant if you'll like it or not, but at the end, he settled for this Item comet suggested. he personally liked it, but the question was, will you too?

Everyone were shocked when you both opened the gifts and realised it was completely the same thing.

Everyone laughed and you kissed him on his forehead, while he blushed in embarrassment,

"We know each other perhaps too well, Wolfy~."

He hates when you call him like that. Call him 'Wolfy' when you two are alone

Gregor :

He always loved spending holiday with you.

everyday, he would wake up firts and bring you a breakfast and a gift for you.

You smiled warmly at him and kissed him.

He never cared what you'll buy for him, he'll cherrish them all.

On Christmas, he would always spend time with you

Howzer :

He loves your gift.

Ryloth is a beautiful planet and he makes sure to show you the most beautiful plaves while you ride on a Blurrg.

You never cared about his gifts.

When he took one whole day off for you, that is the best present for you.

Hunter :

He was surprised when you brough him the gift adn asked what to do with it.

You chuckled and explained to him that it's Christmas. A day where everyone gives a gift to their beloved ones

He felt embarrassed and planted a kiss on your forehead as a thanks.

He strugled for a very long time what to buy you and asked Tech for a help.

in the end, he invited you out on a date, and enjoyed the rest of the day together.

Wrecker :

" FREE GIFTS! OH YEEAAH!" He loves his gift.

he didn't even opened and he loves it already, as he picked you up, his hands tightly wrapped around your hips as he lifted you up in the air adn spinned you around like crazy.

He brought you a lot of gifts, you didn't even had time to unwrap them all before he tucked you down and held you hostage in a bed.

Crosshair :

He pretends he's annoyed by the gift, but he secretly loves it,

Anyone who tired to take the gift for him, got hurt.

He's very grumpy when you wanted to got for a walk with him, but he enjoyes beeing with you, and loves to see your happy face.

You two end up in a festival where he shot many plushies for you.

Tech :

He heard about Christmas but never celebrated it, as he never had time.

But once you brough him a gift, it was one of the rare times you saw him smile

he loves his gifts adn thanked you, while he gave you a gift in return.

it was one of his small devices he made, and it was totaly adorable!

you spend the times together in engine room.

Echo :

He remembers how Fives was talking about Holidays, especialy Christmas. it was their favorite holiday they wished to celebrate one day together.

When you brough him a gift, it was very emocional for him and he broke down crying,

You comforted him for hours and he apologized multiple times.

Once he explained everything to him, you smiled gently at him and kissed his cheek.

"If you want, we cen go to a market and buy something for Fives too."

He loves how caring you are, he ask everyday himself what he did to deserve someone as you.

You two spended enjoying the holiday in a nice place, with a third gift for Fives.

[abigfanofstarwars]

listen the only things im pumped about is seeing our grumpy lil wolffe again bc i MISS HIM SM

but like also not excited to see him mourning his dad general or any O66 aftermath for the wolffe-pack :(

[a-dorin]

requests + blurbs 💌

my asks are open, which means my requests are open!

since i am finishing up my last spring semester, and then starting an internship, i may take some time finishing them!

all i ask if that if you request a fic, you specify:

characters involved

word count

not an overly detailed description of your vision, but a good sentence or several sentences describing what you would like to read <3

smut, fluff, angst (just the general overall vibe)

or if a song inspires your idea!

i am pretty open to most ideas, characters, and length of fics! ☁️

[marymary-diva17]

hello commander

commander Wolfe x Doctor reader

The republic had hired medical officials to deal with the injured republic citizens to any clone troopers. There was never a part in your life that you had thought you will be helping with the troopers after their lone battles and anything else. It had taken some time for you to get use to your new job here, to soon become easy to get to know the clone troopers and all of their divisions as well. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that you will draw the attention of clone commander.

Y/n " kid you will be okay you just need to be careful for while. but those scraps on your legs and arms will heal" you were helping some kids, they were playing and accident had happen that resulted them getting hurt.

kid " thank you ... can we all still play miss" the children were looking at you waiting for a answer from you.

y/n " yes you can still play but be careful you all will feel some pain, but you all can keep playing your game"

kid 2 " yeah"

kid 3 " well come on lets got back to our game before we have to go home"

y/n " have fun children"

kids " thank you ma'am" the group of children soon ran off leaving you alone.

y/n " ......" you were checking your medical supplies that had been used for the troopers and the citizen of this planet, that the republic was on right now.

Boost" Hey y/n we need your help" you soon looked over to see Boost coming running into the room, as stinker and comet had wolfe with them.

y/n " what happened here"

comet " the commander he had taken a nasty fall and we brought him to do"

y/n " lay him down over here"

wolfe " no need to worry about me y/n I'm good"

y/n " let me the judge of that wolfe lay down please"

wolfe " yes ma'am" wolfe was soon helped towards the bed and soon laid down, you were now looking at him.

y/n " good now tell me what happened"

wolfe " well we were out portal and I had taken a nasty fall and something might of hit my head as well"

y/n " oh what lead to this commander I thought you all were being safe"

Boost " he was help some kids and something was about to land of them, and wolfe had uses his body as shell over them he had lost his balance when he was knocked out"

y/n " oh are you feeling okay wolfe"

wolfe " feeling better then ever y/n"

y/n " well let me run some more scan so we know you are okay, and we cant have something happening to you biometric eye as well"

wolfe " whatever you say doc"

y/n " boys I'm sorry to say this but you will have to leave so I can run the test you can wait outside...."

comet " we understand ma'am we will see you later wolfe" you had walked away to get some supplies, having your back turn while three trooper leaving gave their brother a thumbs up, making wolfe shake his head.

Y/n " well you did something very heroic wolfe protecting those children"

wolfe " it was nothing ma'am it our duty to service and keep everyone safe I was just follow the rules"

y/n “ you are a good soldier Wolfe always looking out off your brothers and Jedi, making sure they are safe that makes you a wonderful man”

Wolfe “ oh you think I’m a wonderful man”

y/n “ yeah you are wonderful man Wolfe” Wolfe smirked towards you, as he was enjoying the words he was hearing you speak.

???? “ hello commander Wolfe and doctor y/n” you and Wolfe soon looked back and saw plo koon standing there.

y/n “ hello Jedi knight plo koon welcome is everything okay”

plo koon “ yes everything is alright I came to see how commander wofle, is doing I heard he had gotten hurt”

y/n “ well I have good new Wolfe will be fine but he will need to be take to ways for a couple days, after that horrible fall and something hitting him”

plo koon “ that is good new I had thought you were badly hurt commander”

Wolfe “ I’m good sir and I’m ready to get back to work”

y/n “ are you sure you can still rest here a bit longer”

Wolfe “ no I’m good y/n thank you for the offer and taking care of me”

y/n “ you welcome and if you are feeling off please come see me”

Wolfe “ yes ma'am”

plo koon “‘thank you doctor y/n”

y/n “Anytime be safe out here you two “The two men nodded their heads and soon left the medical room, Wolfe gave one last look before the door had closed.

Outside

plo koon “ commander Wolfe do you know there are simple ways to ask a women out, verse doing something dangerous”

Wolfe “ all respect general but what do you mean”

plo koon “ you and the doctor do make a perfect match a women like her is hard to find in the galaxy”

Wolfe “ …….” plo “ so act now are you might lose her to someone else, and I rather not see you lost her after doing all this for her attention” Wolfe soon scoff knowing he was caught by the general, the two of them will keep on walking, Wolfe will take the general advice soon and ask you out, and you will agree on date and relationship. He was happy and so was the whole Wolfe pack as well, now that leader of the pack had gotten the women he loves.

[dukeoftheblackstar]

Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests, or know someone that is, but I’m feeling a Plo Koon x timid fem!reader fic, rating is dealers choice! Have a great day!!

Summary: Aboard the Triumphant, your fate is sealed amidst your numerous failure.

Pairing: Plo Koon / Reader

Word Count: 1K

Rating: F for Fluff. F for Foolishness.

Notes: The best means of healing and comfort isn't always through a plethora of words and wisdom — sometimes you just gotta yeet that shit out into space with new found friends and better opportunity. Oh and yeah, trust the force or whatever.

Color thingies because I'm deranged to not use them: Orange: Plo Koon Pink: You/Reader Blue: Commander Wolffe Purple: Sinker, Boost, Warthog, Comet

Perfect divider by @idontgetanysleep with itty, bitty, cutie-patootie Plo Koon face ♥

You did what you were supposed to— or at least tried, for that matter. The instructions were pretty clear and simple even for someone who had just boarded the Triumphant after barely making the cut to be a medic. The choice was either to be retrained under a more draconian approach having failed a shy number of times, had it not been for the strings that latched onto your shoulder for having a guardian with amicable connections, or be decommissioned. Not that you would suffer the same fate as the clones for being an external resource, but to no longer be of contribution to the cause of peace in the ever-chaotic galaxy is no better than death itself.

And you were ecstatic —even for a fleeting moment when news of you being assigned to the 104th came about. You’ve heard so much of Master Jedi General Plo Koon and the Wolfpack that you couldn’t really blame why some clones aspire to be under the warm hand of the highly revered and ‘tamed’ Jedi as opposed to the boisterous bunch of Generals Skywalker and Kenobi. You were beyond elated that you’ve missed hours of sleep as you were finally jettisoned from Coruscant to board the venator-class ship that you’ve become quite a jittery mess.

And so here you are; standing before a box of refurbished datapads with not a single device flickering to life as if the protruding ports smashed and torn weren’t enough to instill how much of a failure you are — how much, a simple task efficiency eludes you as how all the tasks before today had done the same. 

You might as well just step off the ramp right now and float aimlessly in space to mirror the emptiness you bring to the galaxy with your pathetic existence, right? Might as well just step into the sun and at least allow yourself to be a source of kindling that may burn brighter and serve hope to the fallen like yourself. Might as well —

“Might I interest you in a little distraction, little one?”

Plo Koon, in his towering frame that was both intimidating and of a soothing presence, had placed his talon-clad hand over your shoulder; a gentle squeeze to merit your attention as you turn and immediately lower your head with irises shaken in search of words to offer your most-sincerest apologies for having brought the incorrect package.

“I’m… I’m sorry, sir.” Even your apology was barely acceptable by your standards that you felt even smaller. So small that you were a rough estimate of twenty-nine seconds away from welling up for failing so miserably these past few days. It has deterred your morning routines of self-affirmation knowing fully that you are only to fail once more — and you have indeed yet again. You weren’t much of a talker either; you were that of a shy nature, timid on all accounts.

You hear a soft thud and wince — not that you were hurt or anything, but you were so easily frightened when it comes to failure, thinking he would have struck you or at least commanded a trooper to escort you out of the premises and off to the uncertainties of life. 

But no, it clearly wasn’t that at all.

As you gaze up to inspect the sound, you see Plo Koon holding a metallic bat made of scraps, worn of usage with blurred writings and the Wolfpack’s insignia drawn on different angles including the signage on the 104th’s ships, Plo’s Bros.

You watch his wrist turn and swing the bat lightly, testing it with a firm grip at the hilt. 

“When in training…” He began, pausing dramatically like the true, theatrical Baran Do Sage that he is apart from being a Master Jedi. “... the only failure is not to learn from your defeats.” 

Before you could ask, you see him turn, grasp the hilt of the bat with both hands, swing as one refurbished datapad flew over his head and met the bat with such precision that it was out in the vastness of space in less than a second. 

“Nice shot, General.” 

Your eyes were drawn promptly to Boost who offered a cheerful greeting and a wink, tossing another broken datapad in his hand ready to putt. Comet and Warthog beside him holding a singular digit of 1 and 0 in solidarity, while Sinker rummaged through the box of unusable datapads you’ve carried.

Plo turns to you and extends his hand, guiding and insisting you take the plunge. 

“Your turn, sweetness.” You hear Sinker from behind you, ushering you towards their beloved General who then welcomed you with a rather secure hold as he positioned himself behind. 

You feel the warmth of his palm enveloping the back of your hand in contrast to the stannic bat that latched on your grip. He guides your other hand to firmly take hold before leaning over your shoulder.

“Remember, my dear, you always pass failure on your way to success.”

With that, Plo steps a mindful distance and turns to Boost with a nod. “Consider this your official initiation to the 104th.”

And right before the turn of events fruition, you hear yet another voice approaching. 

“Ah, Commander Wolffe. How good of you to join us.” Says Plo Koon.

“General. Boys.” Wolffe replies in his stern and gruff note. “You do realize that I have to file a report on this.”

In fear, you turn to Plo whose brow creases were far from being tensed let alone bothered. He turns to Wolffe and motions for Boost to ready his aim. 

Wolffe sighs in both an exasperated and amused manner, arms tucked behind his back as he turns heel and bid farewell. “You best make that shot or you’re off this ship, miss.”

“You heard the commander. I believe in you, little one. Make your mark.”

And indeed you have —with a newfound determination and a steady grip, you’ve allowed yourself to not only trust in the Force, your new comrades, your new General, and your new role, but have also found it within you to trust the most important aspect of existence;

♥̷ ̷Y̷ ̷O̷ ̷U̷ ̷R̷ ̷S̷ ̷E̷ ̷L̷ ̷F̷ ̷♥̷

Welcome aboard the Triumphant, little love ♥ Where PloHours and 104th Foolishness is operational 24/7. I hope you enjoy this and that this was is at least a little close to your ask because oh-my-god, did I have to Google so much meaning equivalents of ‘timid’.

[bamfahsoka]

Change of Fate: Chapter 2

No warnings for this chapter👍

Relationship: Wolffe x Female Reader

*Image from Google Images*

     

  After your holocall with the 104th, you and Rex went back to the Medbay to check on Kix's progress. When you walked in, you saw Kix trying to decipher Tup's test results at his desk. You walked over to Kix, and he stood up at attention. 

     "General"

     "At Ease Kix, you know I don't care about the formalities. How's our boy doing? Have we learned anything new?

With a heavy sigh, he says

      "Unfortunately, not much. Scans are not picking anything up. I would need a much more advanced  scanner to get more comprehensive results, but the scanner I would need is only on Kamino. 

      " I don't want him anywhere near Kamino or the long-necks. We need to learn as much as we can as quietly as we can. No report of the incident has been submitted yet, and I'm going to keep it that way as long as possible. The second the GAR or Senate finds out about this our opportunity to investigate on our own is over" you stated. It was your turn to sigh. 

 Rex then voiced the question, you all were asking yourselves. 

    "But…How do we get more detailed scans without a more advanced scanner?" 

It is then that you come up with the half hazard plan of using the Force to see into Tup's brain, and hopefully find the source of his manic behavior. You've made it a personal policy to never look into people's private thoughts and space, especially the Clones. However, you were limited on time and options. 

      "Theoretically I could use the Force to lock on to the cause of his episode and 'scan' that specific area, in much finer detail." You said hesitantly. 

You continued with an uncharacteristic small voice.

       " However, that would be a huge invasion of his private space, and I would never want to take that away from any of you." 

Rex and Kix look at each other. Rex was the first to speak.

       " While we appreciate your concern, and are forever grateful for your ongoing support of the clones, we can pretty confidently tell you that he would rather you look into his mind, than risk hurting you or anyone else. " 

You looked over to Kix. And he nodded in agreement. 

       "OK then…Lets get to work before the sedative wears off. Kix, you'll monitor vitals, and monitor the screens to see if anything pops up. Rex, I'll be completely defenseless while connected to Tup, I'll need you to watch my back if he wakes up and decides he wants me dead again." 

       " Always General." 

You put your good hand on his shoulder and give him an appreciative look. 

       "Last piece of the puzzle  is getting help from our favorite ARC troopers. "

You press the broadcast button on your comm and call Fives and Echo to the Medbay for security, to not let anyone in the medbay. You'll need as much quiet as possible in order to concentrate. 

After everyone understood the plan, you took your position at Tup's head. You took your arm out of the sling and put your hands on either side of Tup's head. You drew on the surrounding Force and went into a meditative state. You released all your emotions and turbulent thoughts into the Force, so you could focus solely on mapping out Tup's brain. You tried to bring anything foreign or damaging to the surface of his mind, so you could follow it back to its source. Moving slowly so as to not agitate him unnecessarily, you scan every fiber and neural pathway. Finally, you see one strand that seems damaged. It looks as if it's corroded from long term exposure to something horrible. You decide to gently pull on the strand and let it guide you deeper into Tup's brain. You're getting close to your limit, but you have to push on to help Tup. You come to where that poor damaged strand led you, and you can't help but jump at what your mind's eye is seeing. All of a sudden, you hear a distant beeping and some commotion  around you. Confident you found what you were looking for, you slowly withdrew yourself from Tup's mind. As you came back to yourself you collapsed. You struggled to open your eyes, but did manage to hear Kix say she did it, we can remove it before losing consciousness.

You have no idea how long you've been unconscious in the medbay. But when you open your eyes, you wince at the bright lights above you. As your vision clears, you are pleasantly surprised to see Wolffe sitting by your side. He's hunched over with his face in his hands. With as much sarcasm and wit you could muster, you said 

      "I would say 'hey handsome', but I can't see your face."

He jumped at your voice. His head shot up, and his eyes darted to yours. It's then that the fearful expression you saw on his face when you got shot came back in full force.

     " C'yare! I- I mean Y/N." He desperately tried to correct himself. 

You had heard the term a few times among the men, but never learned what it meant. You tried to sit up, but were instantly reminded that you were shot not too long ago. Wolffe moved to help you sit up. You had noticed that your attempt to lighten the mood had little effect, so you took a more comforting approach. You gently grabbed his hand and looked into his warm and worried amber eyes. 

     "Hey, not that I'm not happy about it, but what are you doing here?" You asked sweetly.

      "Once Rex contacted the Triumphant, about you passing out after your journey into Tup's brain, which General Plo was not a fan of by the way, I may have suggested that I come on board to help Rex, as an additional commanding officer. At least until you were cleared for duty."

      "Uh huh. Well, you don't need to worry. We'll figure out this whole Tup thing together. Once we do, we can make sure that nothing like this ever happens to any one of your brothers again, " you encouraged. 

At the mention of Tup, his eyes moved to your injured shoulder, and his jaw clenched. His face went from a combination of fear and relief, to one of frustration and desperation.

    " Y/N I know, but you've been pretty hell bent on dying lately which goes against the 'together' part of that plan!" Wolffe lectured 

     "Wolffe…" As a reflex you withdraw your hand. You're surprised by his outburst, but you know that it stems from concern.

Kix came over with a sense of authority that rivaled the Commander's own. Kix truly was in his element here in the medbay.

      "Commander, I will not allow you to lecture my patients. If you can not calm down, I'll be forced to ask you to leave." 

You saw Wolffe try to contain his emotions, and decided it was in everyone's best interest if you tried to diffuse the situation. 

      "It's not a problem Kix, Commander Wolffe is just concerned for everyone's safety. I'm ok really, If it's ok with you, I'd like him to stay."

     "If he behaves, I don't have an issue with it. However, a change of scenery would do you good vod. "

Kix then turned his attention to you

     "Now that you're awake, General, we can do a few final tests and hopefully get you out of here." 

       "Sounds great Kix, thank you" you answered gratefully.

Kix walked away, and you turned your attention back to Wolffe. 

      "How long have you been sitting in that chair anyways?" You ask

      "Does it matter?" Wolffe mumbled, trying to hide the blush creeping up onto his face. 

You giggle at his response.

      "It does to me." You said gently, while looking at him lovingly. He looked back at you, and you instantly got lost in his eyes.  You wanted to just tell Wolffe your feelings for him, but no words came out. 

He sighed and finally relented. Though he would never admit it, he could never say no to you. 

       " You were only out for 2 rotations. It's no big deal".

Suddenly, you hear the medbay doors opening, and you hear a familiar voice call out

       " Not a big deal, until anyone suggests you leave the medbay and take a break." 

You looked over to see who the voice belonged to, and it was none other than Rex. Wolffe glared at his younger brother, as if Rex was his next meal, just as his namesake would. The milky white of his cybernetic eye only added to the intimidating scowl Wolffe was wearing at the moment. Very few people could challenge Wolffe and get out unscathed. Lucky for Rex, he was one of the lucky few that could, and he knew it. You couldn't help but laugh at the scene. 

         "Alright, alright boys. Wolffe you can take it out on the poor shinies later, and Rex stop literally poking the beast" you teased. 

Rex looked at you in a joking manner as if he was offended, and Wolffe had a look of mischief  in his eyes. At that moment Kix came over and gave you the good news that you were cleared to go, as long as you let your shoulder continue to heal, and to not do any more stunts using the Force. You agreed to his conditions, and you were about to ask about Tup when Rex's comm started to blink. He answered

        " Captain Rex here". 

On the other side, the bridge reported that the Supreme Chancellor was on the line and wished to speak with the commanding officer. Your blood went cold, you immediately spoke into Rex's comm. 

       " This is General Y/L/N, I'm on my way. Please tell the Chancellor, I will take his call. " 

      " Yes Sir" 

The call ended, and your brain immediately went to trying to come up with a plan to keep Tup away from the Senate and Kamino while not implicating the clones or Jedi.

You called out to Kix. 

      "Kix, I need you to come with us. I'll try to keep you out of it, but I might need you to give some info on Tup, but I want to keep it as vague as possible. " Kix nodded.

You all made your way to the bridge. You signaled for Rex, Wolffe, and Kix to stand off to the side so they would not be seen. As you started to walk forward, Wolffe grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze as a sign of comfort. 

You walked up to Chancellor Palpatine's image on the holoprojector. You bowed your head and addressed him. 

       "Chancellor Palpatine, I'm sorry for the delay. What do I owe the honor for your call today?" 

       "First, I'd like to say I'm glad to see that you are well after your ordeal."

       " Thank you for your concern, I am doing well. Now how can I help you Chancellor?"

       " Right. Due to your injury General Plo filed your mission reports for you, and I wanted to clarify a few things. 

Your heart was thundering in your chest, but you kept your composure. 

       "Of course Sir. What are your questions?" 

       "The report said that your shoulder was injured but did not indicate how. Can you please tell me how you were injured?" 

       " I was hit by a piece of shrapnel Sir. It was unclear where it came from. I assume that's why General Plo's report lacks the details that are typical in his reports."  

       " I see. If your CMO could submit his report on the  incident as well, that would help complete the report."

      " Of course. Do you have any other questions I can help you answer?" 

      " I do, in fact." 

You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat. The Chancellor continued

      " An anonymous report we got did say that there was a trooper on your ship that was endangering the other clones and yourself. I believe his number is CT-5385. Do you have any knowledge of this?"

      " I was unaware of the report, but I do know that trooper, his name is Tup. As far as the incident report goes, once I woke up, I was informed there was a sparring match that got out of hand. However, it was quickly resolved, and no harm came to anyone. Often, those of us fighting in the war day after day, clone and Jedi alike, have triggers or just bad days. Tup was doing fine after some simple breathing and calming techniques. After following up with him myself, I didn't see any need for medical care. " 

There was a moment of silence. It was only a few seconds, but it was the most suffocating silence you had ever experienced. The Chancellor finally broke the silence. 

       " Well, I greatly appreciate your insight into the events of the mission, I will have the mission report updated with this information. I also wanted to inform you that I am calling the 104th and 501st back to Coruscant." 

       " Oh, well that's certainly a surprise. We were expecting to be deployed for another 10 rotations" 

       "Well even good soldiers need a break." 

You already didn't trust the Chancellor, but this development made you question his motives even more. However, you had to maintain appearances to prevent any suspicion. 

       " I'm sure the men will appreciate the leave. Thank you, Chancellor." 

       "You're quite welcome. I would love to see you while you're on leave as well." 

You felt a chill run up your spine, and a sense of danger in the Force. 

       " Of course Chancellor, it would be my pleasure. I'll make a point to stop by when you are available, " you said in your most innocent voice. 

      " Wonderful, well I'll see you then." 

He had a wicked smile on his face that instantly made you feel small and vulnerable.  You gathered yourself and replied

     " See you then. Goodbye Chancellor." 

The holoprojector cut out, you thanked the bridge crew, and informed them that you would be in your quarters. You then rushed out of the room, walking as fast as you could without causing a scene. You found the closest storage closet and jumped in, hoping that no one would find you, and see you on the verge of a complete meltdown. 

Your 3 friends followed you out of the bridge and attempted to follow you. Rex and Kix immediately went to your quarters; however, your Commander knew you better. If you didn't want to be found, you wouldn't tell everyone where you actually were going. You didn't get overwhelmed very often, but when you did, storage closets were your hiding place of choice. 

Wolffe walked down the main corridor and looked for the closest storage closet. You felt him coming, and if you're being honest, you wanted him to find you. He came across your hiding spot, and knocked on the door. Your voice was small and you were trying to catch your breath. 

      "Who is it?" 

      " C'yare open up."

You opened the door, and Wolffe stood there with worry on his face. Once the door was openyou immediately sank to the floor. Wolffe followed you to the floor, closing the door on the way down. 

      " You ok?" He asked gently.

      " Not really, but I'll be ok…I have to be, for everyone."

      "You know, you don't have to save the entire GAR by yourself. Some of us do want to help you". 

      "I know, but I'm trying to protect you and your brothers, not put you all in more danger. I don't want to lose you…I -I can't lose you." You confessed timidly. 

Wolffe's eyes went wide, and his breath hitched. Being careful of your shoulder, he gently grabbed both of your arms, and  leaned forward touching his forehead to yours and said in a softer voice

      " I can't lose you either C'yare…I won't lose you."  

     " What does that mean..C'yare?" You asked 

     " Beloved…it means beloved". 

You felt your heart race, your face flush, and the overwhelming feeling of love and happiness come over you. You couldn't resist him now that you knew he felt the same. You closed the space between you and kissed him slowly and gently to communicate the depth of your feelings, he responded instantly. Returning your feelings in the passion he put into the kiss. When you finally had to separate for air, he was the first one to speak.

         " I love you. I don't care if I have to fight the whole galaxy to keep you safe and in my arms. I'll always love you."

The tears that you somehow managed to keep from spilling over until this point, finally ran down your cheeks. You looked at him with nothing but love in your eyes and said 

         " I love you too". 

[fandom-friday]

Hey Karrde, Happy Fandom Friday!

For this week I want to submit @frostycatblr-fandom-files Wolffe x Reader fic Poets and Painters! It's a Mature fic centred on Wolffe and Reader's interactions on a remote planet that I've been really loving! And I love their Clone OCs too ❤️!

YES I LOVE THIS CONCEPT. LET THE BOYS HAVE A DAY OFF. ALL OF THE PICNICS FOR THE WOLFPACK. And LET WOLFFE FIND LOVE! And CLONE OCS? This fic is checking a LOT of my favorite boxes, but more than anything, I just love the idea of Wolffe trying to unwind a bit. Thanks so much for sending this in!

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

[wild-karrde]

Hey Karrde! For this fandom friday I want to shoutout A Borrowing of Bones by persimminwrites on ao3! It's rated Explicit, is a horror story, and includes a Wolffe x gn!oc/reader pairing.

I've been loving the chapters posted already and the story makes me so excited 😍!

Nearly forgot the link, don't mind me

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46699066/chapters/117613348

OOOOOOOOOH this seems VERY INTENSE. I don't normally do horror fics (because I am a big chicken), but the presmise @persimminwrites has come up with seems super intriguing, and I think having it be with the Wolfpack is so fitting. I will absolutely have to check this out! Thanks so much for the rec!

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

[knightprincess]

Scars (Commander Wolffe x Jedi Reader) Part 8

Words: 1.3k (Shorter chapter than normal) Warnings: None that I can think of ... sorry to the Wolffe fans out there, he's really having a tough time of it. Pronouns Used: She/Her, Use of (Y/N).

“You did what?” asked Fox, needing to be sure he’d heard Wolffe’s explanation correctly. “You’re lucky it was just her com she yeeted and not you along with it,” he added, a serious tone to his brotherly voice. Soon enough, a sigh escaped his lips; the paperwork involved would be torture, and on top of that, there was little doubt the Coruscant Guard would be charged with finding the now missing Jedi.

“You’re not helping,” growled Wolffe, once again confronted with his conflicted feelings. The kiss hadn’t been intended yet; still, it haunted him more than anything prior to it; the words he’d spoken after weren’t any better. He thought he’d been relieved she was gone, but instead, he felt even more guilt than before. He’d hurt her perhaps even worse than those a part of her past had.

“I wasn’t trying to,” simply replied Fox.

“What are you doing?”

“Contacting General Kenobi and Skywalker; if anyone’s gonna find her outside General Plo, it’s those two,” spoke Fox, setting himself on the immediate task of finding the missing Night Sister. After all, he knew the fear others had; he knew others were scared she’d one day turn back to her dark side roots.

“I’ll help,” Wolffe volunteered, feeling the need to correct his mistakes, even if that meant sacrificing what little downtime he had. “The boys are fond and won’t rest until she’s found.”

“You’ve done enough,” harshly responded Fox. Although it was instantly clear he regretted them, he still did nothing to soothe the situation. “The Jedi are afraid, Wolffe. (Y/N), is the daughter of a Sith lord. They’re afraid she’ll rebound and turn back to her roots,” explained the Marshall Commander, revealing just a little bit of what he knew. “They’re afraid if she falls to the dark side, she’ll become far worse than Dooku; after all, she was more of a reason to hate some of them.”

“More of a reason?” Wolffe asked, once again suspecting there was more to her history than met the eye. Plo had hinted at it on several occasions when one of the boys asked, and several other Jedi had, too, even if (Y/N) herself dodged or changed the subject when it was brought up.

“Let's just say most of the Jedi Council monumentally failed her,” said Fox in response, recalling when he’d stumbled across the information, it had been with things sent over from the Chancellor's office. When Fox had questioned it, the answer had come from the Chancellor himself, making it clear the information hadn’t been put in there by accident but to prepare the Guard in case anything happened. “She trusts them even less than they trust her.”

“Commanders,” politely interrupted Obi-Wan. Anakin was at his side with his own Padawan. Just behind them were Commander Cody and Captain Rex, and both of them appeared prepared for the task likely already set before them. “Master Plo will be joining us shortly,” announced the Jedi Master, a soothing tone to his voice, although he was momentarily distracted by Anakin. No doubt he was attempting to sense (Y/N) if only to make the search that little bit easier.

“She’s still on the planet, although making it difficult to track,” spoke Anakin, quickly determining she was likely using her own power to block him and anyone else who attempted to track her via the force.

“Sorry to interrupt; I’ve sent a message to her unit. One of them is a tracker,” called Cody, recalling working with the elite unit before. They were unpredictable but effective. They got the job done no matter how dangerous it was and always seemed to have fun while doing it; the more threat to life, the more competition there was between them. “They’re young and reckless, but they’re loyal to her.”

“What caused (Y/N) to run?” asked Ahsoka, noting that it was out of the ordinary for any Jedi to hide unless they were given the order to. Although even she would admit, (Y/N) did seem to have more freedoms than a normal Jedi Knight would. She got away with far more, including ignoring direct orders from the council, so much so they had come to expect it from her.

“The past, Snips,” replied Anakin, suspecting that Maul's recent reappearance had triggered memories and feelings she had spent over a decade trying to push away and bury. Brought the hurtful past, she’s tried to run from bubbling back to the surface. “For over a decade, she believed her father was gone, only for him to reappear and be on the warpath. She’s lost, conflicted, torn between who she was and who she wants to be,” he explained, knowing her trouble; he’d be the same if his mother suddenly came back from the dead. Like (Y/N), he hadn’t let go of his past; he couldn’t; instead, like her, he’d buried it.

“Either way, we must find her fast,” said Obi-Wan, recalling the recent council meeting. The latest intelligence had only brought forth concerning news. While Maul was on a revenge tour against those who wronged him in the past, Savage searched for (Y/N), no doubt, to reunite father and daughter again—or at least unite what remained of the bloodline. “We won’t be the only ones looking for her.”

“It would be best if we split into groups,” announced Plo upon his arrival, his voice calm and even as normal. “Commander Fox, go with Ahsoka and (Y/N)’s enhanced unit; search the lower levels around where she was last seen,” he added, suspecting (Y/N) would be far more open to being found by Ahsoka than any other Jedi. “Skywalker, take your captain and a small group of the 501st, search the underworld levels, Obi-Wan, the upper levels, around the old factories. I’ll take the Wolf pack and search her old hiding spots.”

“I don’t think I’ll be that much help, General,” voiced Wolffe, his miss-matched eyes downcast now. “I’m the reason she ran away in the first place. Me being involved in the search will only anger her further,” he added with regret flooding his voice; he could still remember the hope fading in her eyes; the image had all but burnt itself into his memory now as if a means to torment him further and punish him for his stupidity.

“On the contrary, Commander, you were the last person to see her, outside the civilians who offered tips to her whereabouts. Whether you hurt her or not doesn’t matter; finding her before she becomes any more vulnerable does,” spoke Plo, speaking as if a father rather than a Jedi. He knew (Y/N) had let her hurt, anger, and feelings of betrayal out on Wolffe, but he’d not be the sole reason for it. For years, she’d struggled with her past and overwhelming feelings; Wolffe’s words had just been the breaking point. “You are not to blame for (Y/N) going into hiding. I doubt she blames you, either.”

“We’ll rendezvous here in a few hours; in the meantime, keep in communication,” spoke Obi-Wan, suspecting the task at hand would be far more difficult than either of them wanted to admit. After all, few could sense how (Y/N) felt when she was a padawan; she had a unique ability to deflect her feelings and hide them by reflecting another’s emotions back at them; as for tracking her, even for the Jedi, that had been an impossible feat, although many had questioned whether her ability to block them was a natural Night Sister ability or a concerning dark side one.

“And if we find her?” questioned Ahsoka, suspecting the Jedi Knight wouldn’t come easily. (Y/N) had run for a reason; she’d hidden her struggles for so long many didn’t even see it until now when they were powerless to help her and when she appeared to be in far more danger with her vulnerability than even she realized.

“Try to convince her to return to the temple,” replied Anakin, even when he knew (Y/N) would refuse, even if Master Plo was the one who stood before her. “Only stun if necessary; just beware, (Y/N) is highly trained, and she will fight back,” cautiously added the Jedi Knight, recalling all the times the pair trained together growing up. Despite his skills in lightsaber combat, he’d never successfully defeated her in a duel, although he’d learned a fair bit.

Series Masterlist

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Poets and Painters Masterlist

In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over…

RATING: Mature | STATUS: Complete | POV: 2nd Person | GN Reader

☀️Early Morning

🌤️Midday

⛅Late Afternoon

🌓Evening

🌕Deep Night

🌄Golden Dawn Part 1

🌄Golden Dawn Part 2

Started 9/15/23 | Finished 2/29/24 | Total word count: 43,005

[FFF Masterlist] [TCW Masterlist]