#sinker x reader

[vodika-vibes]

Sinker x Reader

Summary: You and your boyfriend try to find a way to beat the summer heat.

Pairing: Sinker x Reader

Word Count: 988

Warnings: Domestic Fluff

Songs: None

A/N: This story is brought to you by the fact that it's the beginning of September and 100 fucking degrees outside. The Clone of choice was suggested by @starrrgazingbunny

Divider made by saradika

“It’s so hot...” You say to your boyfriend of 6 months as you lay on the floor in your kitchen, in front of the fridge with the door wide.

“It’s just a little heat, sweetheart, you’ll live.” Sinker, in spite of his words, is laying on the floor next to you with an ice pack pressed against his face.

“No, no. I think I’m actually melting.” You say as you turn your head to look at him, “...I think your ice pack is melted.”

He sighs and drops the cool water pack on the floor between them, “It is.”  He pauses, “Maybe we should go to the Barracks? I’m sure their AC still works.”

“I thought Wolffe said that if he sees you again before the end of the week he’ll kill you.” You reply as you grab the ice pack and sit up to throw it in the freezer.

“He was just exaggerating.” Sinker replies, “Maybe.”

“Oh, I know! You can fix-”

“Absolutely not.”

You huff and sit back down on the floor, and then decide to pull out the big guns. So you lay back on the floor, and then promptly roll so you’re laying on top of Sinker, “Please?” You ask as you rest your chin on his chest and look up at him with sad eyes.

“Do you think saying ‘please’ and batting your pretty eyes at me will get me to do what you want?” Sinker asks, “Because normally you’d be right, but it’s too damn hot.”

“You think I have pretty eyes?” You ask, distracted.

Sinker laughs, his arms coming up to hook around you, “They’re probably my favorite feature of yours.” He pauses, and shifts his head slightly to look down at your body, “Your second favorite feature,” He corrects with a salacious grin.

“You’re such a pervert.” You grumble.

“You knew this about me when you agreed to go on a date, gorgeous.” He lifts his head and kisses the top of your head. “Also, I need you to get off me. It’s too hot for affection.”

You laugh, but acquiesce to him and roll back onto the floor. You lay there silently for a moment, and then you groan, “Okay, I’m done.” You sit up, “On your feet, handsome. We’re going somewhere else.”

He groans theatrically, “You want to go out into the more heat?”

“We’re going swimming, you dork.”

“...we are?”

You offer him your hand, and he smiles gently, and gets to his feet without your help. “I thought the pool in this building was closed?”

“It is. But there’s a massive lake not far from here which is open for swimming.” You tug him out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, before you release his hand and start digging through your dresser.

“I don’t own a swimsuit, sweetheart.” Sinker reminds you, as he sits on the bed and entertains himself with watching you flutter from one side of the bedroom to the other.

“Yeah you do.”

“...no, I’m fairly certain I don’t.”

You let out a triumphant shout, and emerge from the dresser with a set of gray swim shorts, “Here there are!” You hand them to Sinker, who takes them and unfolds them.

They’re gray, with the symbol of the wolfpack on the left leg, “I paid good money for that design,” You say with a grin as you pull out your own bathing suit, a black bikini with an identical symbol on your left hip, “And we’ll match!”

Sinker stares at you, his eyes wide, “You…got us matching swimsuits?” He asks.

“Well, yeah. And matching towels. And, because I have more money than sense, I also bought you an entire summer wardrobe-” You pause, “Too much?” You ask sheepishly.

“..Do you have any idea how much I love you?” Sinker asks, a lovesick smile on his face.

You blush and turn away from him, “Well, you have mentioned it a time or two, but if you want to tell me again-” You squeal when you feel his arms hook around your waist and he tugs you back against his chest. “I thought you said it’s too hot for affection,” You tease, as you reach back and lightly stroke his cheek.

“I would never say that.” Sinker mumbles against your neck, “That was clearly the Devil talking through me.”

You laugh, “Is that right?”

“Absolutely.” He rests his chin on your shoulder, “So…can I see you in your swimsuit?” Sinker asks, “Please?”

“Why?”

“Well, you can’t just spring a bathing suit, a bathing suit in my colors, on me and expect me to handle it well, sweetheart.” He says reasonably, “I need to make sure I’m able to function while you’re wearing it.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re worried I’ll be distracting.”

“What can I say, I’m a weak man. Besides, I bet you’ll be much cooler in your swimsuit.” Sinker prods easily.

“Right, until you decide you can’t keep your hands off me.” You remind him with a fond smile.

“Well, I can’t do that anyway. Please?”

You turn in his arms, “Do you think you can just say please, and bat your pretty eyes and I’ll do what you want?” You ask, repeating his question from earlier.

“Will you?”

“Yeah, of course.” You lean in and kiss him, “I’m just as weak for you, after all.”

He groans, “Babe, you can’t say stuff like that to me.”

You laugh and step out of his arms. You grin at him, and back into your bathroom, “I need to rinse off before we go anywhere.” You say impishly. You leave the bathroom door open. “Are you coming or not, Sinker?”

He throws his bathing suit on the bed and hurries into the bathroom after you. He flings your swimsuit into the bedroom, and kicks the bathroom door shut. You dissolve into giggles, well aware that you aren’t making it to the lake today.

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 15: Stuck

Pairing: Mer Sinker x Reader

Summary: There is something unexpected in your fish trap.

Author’s Note: This man fought me the entire time I was writing him,

Warnings: Cursing.

Word Count: 721

Prompt: Character A lives by the sea, and while pulling in their nets/traps one day, they find a bedraggled, angry Character B caught in them. Character B is a merperson that was trying to steal some easy fish from Character A’s traps, but got stuck.

Prompt “Caught Up AU” by auideas

“About fucking time.” You stop halfway through pulling your fish trap out of the water to see a once in a lifetime sight. There is a merman with both arms stuck in your trap. His silver hair gleams in the setting sun as he glares at you.

You find yourself bursting out laughing even as the Mer bares his sharp teeth at you in warning. Once you calm down, you finish bringing the trap onto the dock. He watches, looking up at you expectantly as you analyze his predicament more.

“You tried to steal some of my catch huh?” You knew the answer already, but it was without a shadow of a doubt when he looks away from you.

“Maybe.” He grumbles, scanning the wood planks of the dock.

“Maybe I shouldn’t waste credits on breaking my trap to let you out?” You only half joke as he glares at you again.

“Yes, okay. It’s been a long day and I was hungry. Please let me out.” He forces out with a huff. You nod victoriously before slowly beginning to cut the wood around his arms.

“What possessed you to stick both hands in there at once?” You tease, unable to help yourself.

“I was trying to be fast and take as many as I could in one go. I’m so sick of republic rations and I’m too exhausted to hunt.” He goes quiet for a second.

“And apparently you thought I was easy prey.” You prod sarcastically. He sighs defeated, but gives you a half smile.

“And I was obviously wrong.” He answers sarcastically even as his brown eyes dance with mischief. Finally, you finish cutting a hole big enough to take out his arms. You both check them for wounds and are happy to find they are only a little raw from the Mer trying to forcefully pull them out.

“Thank you.” He says quietly and turns to go.

“Wait.” You extend a fish out to him. “Here.”

His eyes go wide. His face turns grim after a moment.

“What’s the catch?” He arches an eyebrow and crosses his arms.

“No catch.” You say with a shake of your head.

“I tried to steal from you. You can’t…” He gives you a look of awe mixed with complete confusion.

“Yes, I can.” You insist, starting to get annoyed when he doesn’t move. “Take the damn fish…” You let your voice trail off with the realization you don’t know his name.

“Sinker.” He swipes the fish. “It’s Sinker.”

He lives up to his name as he sinks down into the water before you can get out another word.

From then on, you occasionally find a trinket in the trap. You never see him, but are touched and thankful nonetheless.

Then when the war ended, there was nothing for a long time. A part of you mourns the loss of your Mer friend, but you try not to think about it too much. Until one morning, he’s just standing there on your dock in human form like he always belonged there.

“Sinker.” You run up to him with a relieved sigh. You give him a quick hug he obviously wasn’t expecting before wacking him upside the head.

“What was that for!?” He yells offended.

“I was worried sick when you stopped showing up! Are you okay!?” You rest your hands on his shoulders as you look him over. You can faintly see the darkening blush.

“I’m fine. A lot has happened.” Sinker gently pushes you away while carefully avoiding your eyes.

“No kidding. Why’d you come back? Isn’t the empire going to be pissed off you're gone?” He snorts in response.

“I got phased out. They can go fuck themselves.” You burst out laughing at that and Sinker smiles.

“Also, I’m here to repay you.” Your laughter slowly dies as you look at him confused.

“So that’s what all those gifts were for. Then I’m practically in debt to you now.” You feel a bit embarrassed that was all he meant by it. Perhaps you were reading too much into it before.

“Oh really? How about…” He smirks as he lets the anticipation rise. “You let me take you out tonight in return?”

You blink in shock. Sinker looks like he’s about to take it back before you grin.

“I’d like that.”

[coffeeandbatboys]

Hi!!! I'm @bad4amficideas (dirty r18 sideblog because real people know main 😱) Congratulations on your followers🤯

I would like, please and thank you, to request a matchup. Of course if you want to delete this message I completely understand! (In advance, sorry for my English)

I am a woman (going ancient if you follow internet nomenclatures. middle ages welcome back i swear) I'm demiromantic pansexual, who thinks herself as shy and introverted... with a poker, resting bitch face worthy of Crosshair (or a soaked kitten). Depressed, socially awkward, and sometimes really misanthropic -even with my family and I love them-, though people like, always said I'm real kind and sweet, and hardworking ??? 🧐kinda clumsy/akward (not best at self esteem ik). Moody, really stubborn, conscientious, dignified/honorable, loyal, passive agressive, spiteful (...actually I'm a very shy decent girl but I don't recommend touching my people, I cry with rage so I make you feel guilty while I bite you) and when it’s something that I’m passionate about, I’m a force of nature, I feel myself shine and people irl seems to like talk with me about fandom ☺️ I can and will ramble for hours to end. Relaxed I'm a daydreamer, kinda scatterbrainer (some say I think to fast and can't keep up with my mouth) I love read fiction/fantasy/myth at times with romantic touchs, lots of smut and daydream. I collect merchandise expecific plushes *hunting lula atm ❤️‍🔥, damn why i must be european! This is chirithy and courage and lopmon hunting all again... but i got them. Just wait lula, wait 😈😈😈😈*

I am a little alienated from my body because id like it, but I am a ciswoman with Little chest and a lot of ass. long brown hair, freckles 🥰, on light skin and a very pretty 🥰 gray-green eye color, some say blue.

That was very long. A thousand pardons and congratulations again!

Welcome! (And don’t worry, your English is very good).

I’ll let Helena take it over from here 🩷

Helena: hello, friend!

After reviewing the information given, and some conversation with a regular at the shop, I have decided to pair you with Sergeant Sinker of the Wolfpack!

gif by @kamino-coruscant

Sinker was always taught by his non–vode superiors on Kamino that he was property of the GAR and nothing more. So once the two of you are officially together, he can’t get over the fact that you’d choose him. Just the thought makes him fall in love a little more every day.

Sinker has a dry sense of humor, so you can expect some witty banter from him. When you’re not feeling the best, he’ll know when to set the snark aside in favor of helping you. Sinker can be patient when the situation calls for it. It may take a while, but the two of you will begin to enjoy each other’s presence even when it’s just a comfortable silence.

He thinks nothing bad about your clumsiness. If you are to trip while he’s close enough, this man will catch you before you get hurt. And when it comes to self esteem, he has no problem telling you—or showing you—how much he loves you.

He will support you whenever you face a problem that you’re passionate about (and he will have internal heart eyes watching you go after it too). He admires your dedication and loyalty.

After getting to know you and your hobbies, he'll find himself actively seeking out shops that sell plushes and intriguing fantasy books so he can bring one home to you (with the his dad's General's help, of course).

As for your body image, a negative thought will never cross his mind unless you bring it up. He thinks that you’re just as beautiful inside as out. And he will feel so incredibly lucky to have someone like you to love.

Well, here’s his comm link code…I’d stick around for a little while longer but I gotta go—customers lining up!

400 follower celebration at Midnight Oil caf house

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

A little magic never hurts

In honour to the "rare clone fic exchange" <3

I had the pleasure to write for Sinker, a clone recommended by the lovely @wolffegirlsunite

Have fun reading or in my language "Viel Spaß:)"

Pairing: Sergeant Sinker x witch reader

Rating: SFW (kissing and a minor wound)

word count: 4449

Little warning: I tried to make it GN, but there will be some mentions of female anatomy and the verb “she”, I don’t know how to write it the other way, no hate intended! Also english isn’t my first language so, please if you find errors write me😊

“Brief” summary: After Rowan's coven was murdered by the separatists and she barely survived, the question arises as to what she should do now. Alone on a planet that is no longer thriving but was the scene of a brutal crime, the chances of survival are not so good. But when an unknown ship lands on the bleeding planet and a helping hand reaches out to her, she takes it without thinking for long and enters a world that has never shown itself to her before. With new friends by her side, Rowan will finally experience what it means to live again.

  Gunships flew over my head and I could feel the vibrations coming from it when it landed softly on the inside of the cruiser. Men with white plasteriod poured from out of the ship but I was intently focused on two of them.

Sinker and Boost. My best friends since the last three months. They were the ones who took me under their wing after Master Plo Koon rescued me from my home planet. Shuddering when I thought about the disaster that happened not long ago I was brought back by an arm aggressively slung around my shoulders from two sides.

Identical smirking faces looked down at me and I punched them with my elbow when they squished me between their dirty armor. Boost laughed when Sinker took my whole body and brought me into a giant hug. Melting into the sergeant I sighed and relieved flowed through my body.

The last four days I was worried sick when they announced that they were engaging with the separatists, together with the 501st. and since I was no help in the field Commander Wollfe strictly forbid me to join them. Breathing deeply I was passed into the arms of Boost as he too, brought me into a giant hug.

After a while and one debriefing later I joined them in the medical ward because all of the brothers couldn’t keep their hands still and started a food fight in the cafeteria. Unfortunately Comet, who was still a bit clumsy threw his bottle and Sinker was the unfortunate one who it landed on. Directly on the side of his head.

So here we were wandering through the halls, a laughing Boost and worried Comet behind us. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Sinker mumbling to himself and looking everything but pleased. But I could understand. A scolding came from the commander as soon as we left the cafeteria and no other than Comet, Boost and Sinker were told to help the next few rotations. Gently I nudged Sinker with my arm and his warm eyes flitted to me without hesitation.

Butterflies erupted inside my belly, a warm feeling making me feel all gooey when he looked at me. Quirking his eyebrows he nudged me back and I couldn’t help but grin. Just before I could say anything Boost voice sounded behind us. “Hey Lovebirds, Comet and I are going to see if Wolffe needs any help with his headache. Don’t have too much fun!” And then they were gone.

My face was bright red when I looked at Sinker and saw his little smirk. Shaking my head I just dragged him towards the med ward and hoped his wound wasn’t too bad.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Half an hour later, Sinker and I trudged through the halls. The bacta patch still attached to his temple didn’t made his mood any better but after I pleaded with him he let it stay on his head. Now on the way to my quarters the atmosphere flowed with some strange energy.

Taking my key card and sliding it through the slid my door quietly swooshed open and I walked into the small but comfortable space. Without saying a word Sinker plopped down on the little sofa, groaning when his plasteroid pinched his sides. Quietly chuckling I gestured for him to stand up and without a comment he did. Slowly lifting my hands, my magic worked piece by piece from his body until he stood in just his blacks infront of me.

Inhaling quietly I stared at his body, muscles flexing when I stepped closer to him, as if my body had a mind of its own. Warm hands caressed my sides and before I could take a step back his hands closed around my waist, tugging me closer to him until his body was aligned with mine.

Breathing deeply I shudder when his forehead rested on mine and our breaths mingled. “Rowan…” his voice was just as weak as I felt in this exact moment. Nudging my nose against his, these stupid rules about attachments and such went flying out of the cruiser when his lips landed on mine.

His breath hitched and then the barest there pressure against my lips made my knees go weak. Our lips gently moved together, with no hurry in the world. Warm hands slid down, around my hips and then upwards into my hair and around my ribcage. His scent was warm and drowning me.

But even the purest moments must end when you have no more air. With a quiet smacking sound our lips parted and the dazed look in his eyes made me want to kiss him again and again. “You have no idea for how long I wanted to do this.” His voice was deep and scratchy and I couldn’t help myself, but press my lips against his.

And maybe, just maybe a flower bloomed onto a far away planet, feeling a power so strong it would shake the galaxy.

[firstofficerwiggles]

Wiggly!!!!!! More then 1200 followers????? Kriffing Sith Hells, that is A LOT !!!!!!!! Congratulations!!!!!

Yes, yes, I know I am not around ( just yet) , but ofcourse I will add to the requests!

I am not going to go for the guys I usually go for, but will go for someone different this time ( though I think it aint as different as I still love em all hehe ).

I would love a message from: Sinker! This guy, his hair color, him being him... Yupyup he is hot ! And well, any message from him would be awesome ( unless he breaks my heart, I then will have to break his nose for sure ! )

I will leave it up to you if it is romantic, spicy or an, oh my is it getting hot in here message *grin*, humor or just a hiya how are ya message.

Loadsa hugs! from your friendly galaxy stalker.

Thank you so much, sweetie! 💗 Ah yes, Sinker, another one of our handsome blonde clones, good choice!

Hey babe,

How’s it going? It’s another day here with the 104th. You’d be laughing if you were here because Boost just discovered the idea of pranking and somehow he managed to fill Comet’s foot locker with meiloorun fruit. Comet wasn’t perturbed in the least though, he merely washed them all off and gave them out as gifts to the rest of us. So I’m sitting here, munching on one and looking at all the new holos you’ve sent me. You look so pretty in all of them, but that sexy silver dress, ooh, that one is my favorite. You better wear that one when I see you next, I’ll take you out for a night you won’t forget, showing everyone my beautiful sweetheart. Maybe we can even go dancing. Did I tell you a bunch of us are learning how to dance so we can impress our girls? It’s been pretty fun, but I have a feeling it will be much better with you in my arms instead of Boost, for one thing you smell a hell of a lot better. That nitwit still thinks bathing is only for special occasions. But enough about my stinky brother, I want to think about you instead. After dancing, maybe we’ll take a nice nighttime stroll, perhaps somewhere with secluded little benches where I can pull you close and show you just how much I’ve been missing you. When I’m lying here at night, the memory of your kisses keeps me warm. And not just your kisses, I think about getting to touch you and feel those perfect soft curves of yours. Maybe next time you send me a photo, you could do a racy one? My memories are great, but a little extra inspiration is always a good thing. Tell you what, I’ll send you one with my shirt off, you know, in case you missed seeing the tattoo on my chest. I’ll take it now and send it with this message, after all I’m sure you want to see that your guy is doing fine. 

Hugs and kisses,

Sinker

There's a few more days to send in an ask

[imperialofficersticky]

Hi it's @clone-anon and I'm so sorry I couldn't find your previous request. I hope that this is okay. It's also my first time writing Sinker, but I think he needs some love, so I went for it.

When Sinker got shore leave he immediately came home to you. He left a message on your comm so you would know he would be there. You walked through the door feeling relieved to not be alone. He immediately noticed something was off. You tried smiling but he could see through it. He hugged you and kissed your forehead.

"Tell me what's wrong," he said.

You looked up at him, finding sincerity in his eyes. You shared the events of the day. How it had gone from good to not good at all. He held you the whole time and listened intently.

"I'm sorry your day went sour," he said, giving you a little squeeze. "Maybe we make dinner?"

You smiled up at him and nodded. He was perhaps not the best cook, but he tried and you liked how calming cooking with him could be. He had a good sense of humor when something burned or the wrong amount of an ingredient was used. The fact that he didn't get too worked up and would simply try again meant a lot. He also made an effort to make sure cooking wasn't solely your job even though you were much better at it than he was.

You made and shared dinner, starting to feel more grounded and able to enjoy your time with him. After dinner you walked out to the porch, intending to get back to your potted plants. Just as you were about to get to work, the skies opened and it started raining. Wind picked up, throwing the rain against your home, and your plans were squashed.

"Sometimes it feels like the rain follows me," Sinker quipped.

You rolled your eyes a little and replied, "This is nothing like Kamino."

"No," he said with a grin, "but a good excuse to join me on the couch?'

You couldn't say no to that. He laid down and you rested your head on his chest while he rubbed circles on your back and put on a holomovie.

"You're the best part of my day," he said.

This is so goddamn cute, thank you for this wonderful story!!!! This really cheered me up!

Sorry about the confusion and I hope you’re doing well!

[clone-anon-after-dark]

Coming Home (Sinker x M!Reader)

Sinker x M!Reader

Word Count: 1212

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI, handjobs, unprotected PiA, aftercare

A/N: brief description of how you met before getting to the goods

Note: There are two versions of this fic. The f!reader version can be found here.

For Sinker, it all started the day after a great date.  He thought it went well, but ultimately that person’s heart belonged to someone else.  Feeling out of sorts over it, he decided to treat himself to some decent food before shipping out and relying on ration bars for however long.  He stopped in a cafe.  He’d never been there before, but had heard the food was very good.  He noticed everyone else standing around and gazing at the menu, but you stood next to him in line, looking ahead and clearly knew what you wanted.  

He turned and asked, “Do you have any suggestions for someone who is about to have to eat a bunch of ration bars for the next few weeks?”

He received an amused huff from you before you made several suggestions.  You ended up eating together and when he got back, he took you on a proper date.  You’d been together ever since.

Outside of his brothers and general, he didn’t have anyone he was close to, at least not in the ways he wanted.  It took him time to open up, but once he started to and saw you embraced him as he was, you saw a whole new, amazing side of him.  Months later he was practically living with you when he wasn’t off fighting the war. 

Today he was back from a mission and while he loved you, he was a bit annoyed that the first thing you asked was for him to bring home take out food.  Sure, he was hungry, but he wanted to be home, curled in bed around you and one more stop just made him wait longer.  He still picked up the food after agreeing with an eye roll and a “yes, cyare.”  He came home to find you sitting on the couch in a t-shirt and only a t-shirt.  He smirked at the playfulness and put the food down on the counter.

“I thought about it,” you said, standing up and coming over to him as he placed the food on the kitchen counter.  “We can always reheat this.  You sounded like you needed some tender loving care and I’d like to provide that.”

You smiled, held his hand in your own, and kissed each knuckle while making playful eye contact.  This was not what he was expecting.  Sinker was a little breathless, heart beating faster as his eyes scanned your form. You weren’t completely naked, but he could help with that.  

“I missed you,” he said, his vulnerable expression betraying the emotion at the heart of his desire.

Dinner forgotten, you started kissing him and walked him to the couch, a line of his clothes left along your path. You still kept your shirt on, but he was completely naked as you pushed him onto the couch.  He deepened the kiss as you straddled him.

“Wait,” you said, clearly forgetting something.  Sinker looked at you, amused, as you got up and hurried down the hallway. He had to laugh when you returned and triumphantly held up the bottle of lube.  

“Okay,” you said as you sat down next to him. “Continue.”

He shook his head and cupped your cheek as he kissed you again.  You enjoyed long kisses as your tongues danced together.  You could feel the tension in his jaw start to leave, smiling to yourself that he was starting to let go of his stresses.  He let out a sigh as you pumped his length with your hand, the delicious slippery feel causing him to groan.  He looked down to see the end of your cock poking out from underneath your shirt.  He grinned and helped you out of your shirt, insisting you wouldn’t need it.  You let out a pant of air as he cupped your balls and started swirling circles around your tip with his thumb.  He stood perfectly at attention and you slowed the movement of your hand up his length just enough to draw out the feeling.

“Oh,” you gasped. “You know what I need?”

“What’s that,” he replied between groans.

“I think it’s the same thing you need,” you said.

“Oh really?”

“Yes. It’s your cock in my ass.”

“I can never say no to that,” he answered.

Sinker adjusted his position on the couch and you straddled him again.  He groaned as you sank onto his length, taking your time as he filled you up.  His hands roamed your chest, reaching around to squeeze your ass cheek in one hand and give proper attention to your own cock with his other.  You could see the tension leaving his body as you started grinding your hips against him.  You didn’t go too fast, trying to let the feeling last.  He knitted his eyebrows in that way he did when his toes curled and you smiled at him beneath you.  You picked up the pace, your body craving the sensation.  He continued to pump your length, but as he got closer to his own release, he didn’t want to leave you behind.  He stopped working over your cock, moaning louder as you squeezed against him a little tighter.  He lightly stroked your balls, leaving your length bouncing, and whispered “come for me.”  Your body responded and within a few strokes of his hand he had your spend landing on your abdomen.  Sinker licked his lips, a fire inside him with the knowledge that he could make you come like that.

“Now it’s your turn,” you said, leaning forward a little and gazing into his beautiful eyes.  “Come in my ass.” 

You made more fervent motions, nearly letting him leave your body before taking him all back in, continuing to ride him until he held your ass firmly against his hips and shot his load into you with a soft grunt.  You panted together, smiling with love in your eyes as you both caught your breath.

“Better,” you asked.

Sinker carefully sat up a bit, embracing you and kissed you wildly, responding, “Better.”  He studied your face like you were the most interesting being in the galaxy, like he was seeing you for the first time.  You couldn’t help but feel a slight heat bloom on your cheeks.  Even now he made you feel a little giddy.  You picked up his hand and kissed the palm.

“You’re so good to me,” he said quietly.

You could only respond with, “I’m so very in love with you.”  You kissed his forehead and felt him melt even further.

“I love you too.”

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, sitting on his lap, leaving little kisses, and coming down off your high.  After some time, he looked at you both.

“We could use a shower,” he said. “Let me take care of you.”

You nodded, accepting his help getting up and getting clean.  Every movement was a sign of affection from holding your hand and helping you into the shower, to using a soft washcloth all over you, to hugging you and kissing your temple under the water just because. After you dried off, you both threw on underwear and t-shirts and reheated dinner.  You sat together on the couch, enjoying your meal, snuggled up to each other while an old holomovie played.

[insomnis-noctis]

Just scrolling and saw this. This— but imagine nothing but Clone Supremacy.

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

[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.

[high-five0]

I stan Wolffe as the best big brother

cuddling the 104th

summary: Ignoring her bed rest, (Y/n) escapes the med bay with the help of Sinker and Boost. Commander Wolffe encounters them. Will he help? Or will he tell Plo‘buir?

pairings: 104th x Reader, Sinker, Boost, Wolffe, Comet

warnings: the softest fluff

words: 901

a/n: manifesting my wolfpack boys in tomorrows episode :) also this is part of my 1k celebration

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

“Sinker! Boost! What are you doing?“

Heavy steps echo through the corridor. Wolffe watches his brothers round a corner and starts to run. There was someone in their arms and the Commander is quite sure who this someone is - their Padawan (Y/n).

Soft giggles reach his ears as he rounds the corner as well and almost runs into Sinker. His brothers look at him with wide guilty eyes.

“Hello there Wolffe“, (Y/n) greets the Commander with a silly smile and waves her hand. Her hand only stops moving when Sinker grabs it. Boost tightens his grip around (Y/n)s weak body, cradling her against his chest.

“Why is she here? She is injured!“, Wolffe asks protectively and takes a step forward to take (Y/n) from his brothers arms. She frowns at him and grasps Boosts top blacks.

“She hates the med bay! They gave her a good amount of painkillers which made her uncomfortable“, the Sergeant of the Wolfpack tries to explain but Wolffe shakes his head no. There is no way they can carry her around the ship while she has a broken leg as well as a blaster wound. She needs to stay in bed.

“I will take her back“, Wolffe announces and moves one of his arms under (Y/n)s legs while the other wraps around her upper body. With a sad glance towards the Padawan, Boost lets go of her. (Y/n) squirms in Wolffes arms but to no avail. The painkillers as well as blood loss made her dizzy.

Silent steps come closer and as Sergeant Sinker looks around the corner, he discovers their General. After turning back around he stops Wolffe with a hand against his firm chest. (Y/n) begs in his arms to stay with the clones. She wants so desperately to sleep in their barracks. Because that is where she feels most at home.

“Plo‘buir is coming!“, Sinker tells the group. (Y/n)s heart sinks because she knows her Master will bring her straight back to med bay. So she looks up at Wolffe with huge pleading eyes. The Commander sighs and nods.

“You distract him. I will get her inside our barracks“, Wolffe commands and his words make (Y/n)s eyes shine. While Sinker and Boost head towards the General with some stupid excuse, he walks the other way.

“I knew you had a soft spot for me“, (Y/n) states after some silence with a sweet giggle. Wolffe looks at her for a second but then focuses on not being seen by too many people. Still there is a smile on his lips.

“No. I simply want you where I can watch over you. Getting you back to the med bay would never stop you from trying to escape“, Wolffe explains as he rounds the last corner and walks straight towards the entrance of the Wolfpacks barracks.

“What you are trying to say is: You are soft for me“, (Y/n) teases and pokes the Commanders chest. She watches him roll his eyes like he always does. But she knows its not a mean gesture.

“C-Commander“, Comet greets the two of them. Sinker and Boost gave him the mission to guard the barracks and cover them. He is surprised to see (Y/n) in the arms of Wolffe, the one they thought would be a big problem.

Inside the barracks the clones of the 104th are already dragging their mattresses from their cots to a huge comfortable pile in the middle of the room. Some shinnies welcome (Y/n) with a pat on her shoulder or simply a smile.

Wolffe places (Y/n) in the middle of the combined mattresses, checking her for any sign of pain or discomfort, but she smiles at him sweetly. Comet drapes a blanket around her shoulders and then sits down next to her. All the other clones lay down around them like some human barrier. (Y/n) feels safe.

Sinker and Boost come through the door with laughter and join their brothers the same time as their Commander returns. Wolffe has taken off his armor. The second he lays on his back, (Y/n) rests her head on his chest. One of her hands is entwined with Comets.

“The real reason why I wanted to be here is that I wanted to know if everyone is aright“, (Y/n) whispers after some time and feels Wolffe shift underneath her.

“It‘s okay, ad‘ika. We are all safe now“, Wolffe breathes and wraps an arm around (Y/n). He caresses her back with his rough fingers, trying to calm her to sleep. It works. After some time the Padawan is sighing in her sleep and clutches Wolffes top blacks in her small hand.

It‘s silent for a while and most clones are already sleeping. Then Sinker and Boost start bickering about their next mission where the clones get to carry jetpacks. Both are too excited to sleep.

“Sinker. Boost. Shut up!“, Wolffe whisper-screams and kicks Boost in the neck to silence him. While Sinker laughs, Boost groans pained. Soon even the two fall asleep.

The next morning (Y/n) is the first one to wake up because she feels a close presence in the force. She looks around and meets the gaze of her Master. But he is smiling under his mask and leaves as soon as (Y/n) sees him. At least his Padawan is keeping her bed rest with the clones at her side.

taglist: @lightning-wolffe @gwenebear @skippyhopperwisdom @jojos-trooper @rex-meshla

[hetalianskywalker]

Mermay 2024 Masterlist

Hello! Welcome to my Star Wars Clones (and their Prime) x Reader Mermaid AU!

So over the past few years, the clone troopers, in all shapes and forms, have meant a lot to me. I started writing on tumblr about half a year ago now and I just got into a graduate program. So I’m probably gonna drop off the face of the earth in a few months.

I wanted to take part in one of these month long fandom events before I left so Mermay seemed like a good fit to me. I went around tumblr and found prompts that inspired me and I thought went with each character.

Thank you for reading!

Day 1: The Courtyard - Mer Rex x Harpy Reader

Day 2: The Bakery - Mer Jesse x Reader

Day 3: Black Pearls - Siren Kix x Reader

Day 4: The Lobster- Mer Hardcase x Reader

Day 5: Two Siren Songs - Siren Fives x Siren Reader

Day 6: Sown Together - Selkie Echo x Mer Reader

Day 7: Scavenged - Mer Denal x Reader

Day 8: Choosing to Help- Mer Vaughn x Jedi Reader

Day 9: A Heart Fish- Mer Cody x Reader

Day 10: My Dream- Mer Gregor x Pirate Reader

Day 11: To Swim With A Siren- Siren Waxer x Pirate Reader

Day 12: Hold On- Mer Boil x Reader

Day 13: Hasn’t Changed - Mer Wolffe x Reader

Day 14: Trapped in the Lake - Mer Boost x Reader

Day 15: Stuck - Mer Sinker x Reader

Day 16: The Forgetful Selkie- Selkie Fox x Fae Queen Reader

Day 17: Here - Siren Thorn x Pirate Reader

Day 18: Just the Beginning - Selkie Thire x Reader

Day 19: Excitement - Mer Stone x Thief Reader

Day 20: Stargazing - Mer Hound x Nightsister Reader

Day 21: Get On With It - Siren Hunter x Doctor Reader

Day 22: Fishing for a Merman - Mer Howzer x Twi’lek Reader

Day 23: Understatement - Mer Mayday x Ice Dragon Reader

Day 24: Stories- Mer Slip x Mer Reader

Day 25: Sea Caves - Siren Fireball x Reader

Day 26: Sea Glass - Mer Nemec x Reader

Day 27: Actions- Selkie Samson x Jedi Reader

Day 28: The Sea Alor - Sea Alor Mer Jango x Harpy Reader

Day 29: The Heir - Mer Boba Fett x Kiffar Reader

Day 30: The Wait - Mer Fordo x Goddess Reader

Day 31: The Bet - Mer Alpha 17 x Sea Dragon Reader- NSFW

[iridescent-solstice]

૮꒰ ⸝⸝ > ̫ < ⸝⸝ ꒱ა

I didn’t expect myself to get attached to any character as heavily as I am with Claude but . . . NEVER SAY NEVER CAUSEEEE I DEF FOUND ONE!!

I picked up a game my friend recommended long ago, The Arcana, and oml not only does it have an amazingly diverse cast of characters but ive fallen HEAD OVER HEELS FOR ASRA AND HES WRITTEN SO WELL TOO!

I finally have a character that's a) Well written 🥳 and b) Perfect in every aspect C) Beloved by the fandom!

No joke I love him so much! 🙌 He’s such a lover boi I rlly can't wait to complete his arc. Now if only gathering coins didn't take this much time 😔🤌

{My brain rot suspiciously appeared ryt around the time for his birthday and to my knowledge there used to be events taking place for said b-day so I will be writing more fics for him these next few days . . . BUT fear not Black Butler content will still be coming out too!}

[bonseyjones]

Hi…I just wanted to tell you that I’m really enjoying your new Mr.Puzzles x reader fic and that I’m rereading the first two chapters while I wait for the new one to come out, WHICH YOU DO NOT NEED TO RUSH BY THE WAY!!! Take as long as you need!!! I just really love the concept and everyone is really in character so far!!

RAAAH THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I've been dealing with some stomach issues so it's been slow going, I'm very excited to start working on it when I'm better though :D

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

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. 

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[Golden Dawn Part 2]

[knightprincess]

Scars (Commander Wolffe x Jedi Reader) Part 2

Warning: Reference/Implied Injuries - Bit of backstory for the Reader Words: 1.8k (Ye bit of a short one) Pronouns Used: She/Her - Use of Y/N

A/N - Sorry for the delay. 

The rescue seemed to be taking forever, or so Wolffe thought. The seemingly endless darkness made time slow down or even come to a stop completely. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours, and hours felt like days. Although Wolffe was certain it had been days, the quietness certainly wasn't helping his haunted mind keep hold of the sanity he had left nor keep his persistently yelling thoughts at bay. The only reassurance he had was (Y/N). Although she had since lost consciousness again, the call of sleep gripped her longer as she fought to keep her energy. 

"Cat'ra," called Wolffe, attempting to be soft when he heard her pained gasps. However, his attempt resulted in a pained growl of his own. "Help is coming; just hold on a little longer," spoke the Commander, reaching out to pull the Jedi a little closer; he wanted to help, needed to help her. Despite the terrible start to their journey together, he found himself unable to bear losing her or anyone else for that matter. "Don't give up on me, Cat'ra," he added, attempting to will her awake or at least make her a little more comfortable than she was before. 

"Commander Wolffe," Plo said in a fuzzy voice just as the dim light far above shone down on the pair. The LAAT was so far above it almost seemed like a star in the darkened sky, the high beams being the course of the dim light shining down. "Are you and (Y/N) able to use the cables?" asked Plo, his normally calm voice filled with a mixture of urgency and concern. 

"(Y/N)'s barely conscious, General. I'm pretty banged up too," replied Wolffe, once again reaching over to (Y/N), this time without the previous hesitation. Gently, he pulled her closer, holding on to her as if she were the temporary gravity replacement. Trying to stem the bleeding long enough for help to reach them. Mentally, the commander scolded himself; why hadn't he done this sooner, just pushed aside his conflicted feelings and her distrust? A sudden wave of determination washed over Wolffe. He wasn't going to lose someone else. He'd lost all his brothers in the Abregado system and failed so many when the Grevious showed the power of his super weapon, the Malevolence. 

"Commander," whispered (Y/N), shortly before a sharp pain rippled through Wolffe's arm, followed by the sensation as the pain wracking his body numbed and became obsolete. Quickly, Wolffe grabbed her hand as it fell, only now noticing she'd had hold of something this entire time. Stem cell injections. They were empty now, although it soon dawned on the commander why. 

"No, no, no," grumbled Wolffe, examining the three vials with haste, hoping to find one with something in, "Why did you do that, Cat'ra?" almost yelled the commander, urgency flooding his voice and his actions as he attempted to keep (Y/N) awake. She seemed to enjoy defying him, making him think and wonder. 

"Commander," called Comet from above, Boost and Sinker following behind on the cables. No doubt, Warthog was keeping the ship steady, and General Plo was waiting for their return. Wolffe reluctantly shifted his gaze to the three descending through the long chasm he and (Y/N) had fallen down. Once the trio had reached them, they quickly got to work. Sinker connected Wolffe to the spare line before signaling for Plo to pull him up, much to the commander's protest. 

"How bad is she, Comet?" asked Sinker, suspecting it was worse than any of them liked to think, especially if Wolffe's reaction was anything to go by. 

"She has internal bleeding. I can cut the pain, but we need to get her to a medical facility," answered Comet, quickly administering the painkillers before carefully maneuvering (Y/N) into the harness. Upon completing the task, Boost wasted little time attaching her to his own line before being hoisted up. Comet and Sinker retrieved (Y/N)'s lightsabers and what remained of Wolffe's smashed armor before returning to the ship themselves. 

"She ... She saved me," muttered Wolffe when the ship began to make its way towards the base. His mismatched eyes locked on (Y/N) lying on a stretcher across from him. Plo was between them, with Comet, Boost, and Sinker holding onto the overhead rings. "How can I repay her?" he whispered, finally settling to sort through his muddled and complicated mixture of feelings. Of all things he felt almost afraid, his mind had settled enough to tell him he owed her a debt and one that couldn't easily be repaid. 

"(Y/N) has always been defiant, Commander, even to the Council," worded Plo with fondness as he remembered the years spent training her. She was stubborn but also empathic and warm-hearted. At times, she didn't care to hold back her thoughts; instead, she voiced them regardless of such consequences. Many times, had traits from her life before the Jedi shone through—traits from her time as a Sith. 

"How so?" asked Comet, allowing his curiosity to get the better of him. Even more so when Plo spoke so fondly, as a father would for their daughter, rather than how a Jedi Master would speak of their former Padawan. 

"She has a way of wording things. Direct and normally sarcastic, it is not unusual for her to disguise cleverly worded insults. Nor is it out of the ordinary for her to disregard orders," replied Plo, recalling some of the times she'd completely ignored orders. She did so during her final assignment as his Padawan. The council had called her back after deeming the assignment a lost course. (Y/N) However, refused to leave the people of Lothal to fend for themselves when they clearly needed help. So she stayed and completed her original assignment, although it had come at a cost. 

"What was her specialty?" voiced Wolffe, lying back on his own stretcher once he was certain (Y/N) wouldn't be going anywhere. The question gained the attention of both Plo and his brothers. 

"I'm not sure one would call it a specialty," replied Plo, trying to find the best words to answer the question. There were many things his former Padawan was skilled at, from combining lightsaber forms in combat to her vast knowledge. There were many times when she fiddled with something as a padawan. "But, (Y/N) does have an unequaled knowledge of the underworld, a web of connections few others could hope for. There is little that happens there without her knowing of it." 

"And she isn't in command of the Commandoes?" Boost unintentionally voiced, a combination of shock and surprise lacing his voice. The trooper was thankful for his helmet as it concealed the horror painted on his features, even more so when he hadn't intended for his thoughts to be heard. 

"I thought she already was," commented Wolffe, vaguely remembering Gregor mentioning a Dathomirian Jedi leading Foxtrot's unit through a particularly grueling battle. Of course, Gregor made some jokes about it, although he didn't mention the Jedi's name. Nor did the Commando give any details about them outside of being Dathomirian. 

"She took over command of the 916th Batallion after the death of Master Cove Kenari," stated Plo, recalling the sudden loss of the great Jedi Master. He'd given his life in an attempt to deliver relief aid to one of the many planets suffering from the war, and the small number of troopers with him had also fallen. All of them had perished as heroes. 

"Wait, are you saying she didn't have her own battalion before?" Comet asked, putting the pieces together and finding only confusion and more questions. Plo, on the other hand, gave nothing away, instead placing a taloned hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder, gifting her with comfort and calming her racing mind—numbing her pain and suffering for a little while. 

"(Y/N)'s journey has been different from that of a regular Jedi. Because of this, many within the Order distrust her; many have found it difficult to look past her heritage or her ties to the Sith. Fear often clouds the minds of those who brand her the enemy," said Plo, sadness seeming to echo through his voice, even more so as he remembered the pain and all the suffering she'd been through over the years. On several occasions, he'd found himself wondering if (Y/N)'s affliction with the underworld was by her own choice or forced upon her by those who had so heartlessly judged and claimed her the enemy. 

"Where will she go from here?" asked Sinker, failing to hold back the bugging question. Although he suspect Plo would want her to stay a little longer, if the council collectively decided otherwise or the senate declared differently, then (Y/N) would be sent somewhere else entirely. Perhaps she would command the 916th again if they hadn't been assigned a more permanent Jedi General, or maybe she'd be tasked with an undercover operation more suited to her skill set, at least after she recovered. 

"Shaak Ti requested her assistance on Kamino" replied Plo, recalling the orders coming through. (Y/N) had been there assisting Shaak Ti before being called to replace Cove Kenari as general of the 916th. "Rest assured, she'll be with another who cares for her. The assignment will work to her skill set," reassured Plo. Soon after he voiced his words, the LAAT landed in the shipyard. In a whirlwind of minutes blending together, the group aboard went separate ways. Comet and Boost took (Y/N) to the medbay, followed by Sinker and Warthog with Wolffe. Sinker cracks a few jokes to try to lighten the mood. 

Plo, on the other hand, found himself in the communication center. He listened to the latest war effort updates from other generals and Jedi commanders scattered across the torn galaxy. He delivered his own at the same time, reporting the incident with Wolffe and (Y/N) and the known injuries, at least alerting Shaak Ti, who quickly requested regular updates as if she were a mother concerned for her child. 

"If you are to remove (Y/N) from the 916th," started Plo, remaining calm despite his growing frustration and agreement with Anakin regarding the pointless move the council had collectively made. I recommend assigning her to the Commandoes; they already respect her, perhaps more than they do others," he added, recalling the Commandos' obvious dislike, almost hatred, for Mace Windu and their habit of ignoring the majority of the order and senate. 

"I agree," declared Obi-Wan shortly after, followed by Anakin and Shaak Ti. After a few moments of thinking, Yoda nodded in agreement before wording the latest orders for (Y/N). Once she was ready to return to the battlefield and complete her assignment on Kamino, she was to take command of the Commando units and work closely with the other Jedi spread so thinly across the war-torn galaxy. 

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