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Poets and Painters (Late Afternoon) - 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 in this segment, more explicit conversation about death and what comes after], 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: 5,342

Everyone will look a little sun-kissed by nightfall after spending all day basking in the light of Little Archossi's nearest star. It'll be easier to notice on some members of the crew with skin different than the deeper browns commonly found among the Clones. Hopefully people found and remembered to use sun protection this morning. (Or, the medics aboard the Triumphant have a lot of bacta gel in case people come back to the cruiser looking redder than the skies over Dathomir.)

You’ve been doing your best to prevent getting sunburned, others don’t give a single kark in the galaxy. Much like this particular Clone who’s lazing in the grass, fingers interlocked and tucked around the back of his head, one leg propped up in the air on the opposite knee as he sways and bobs his foot in time with some song stuck in his head that’s popular on the Holonet these days. Maker alive, you can only hope he won’t get sunburn, given that he's a spacer. (You're pretty sure he is, anyhow, given the uniform of a naval officer.)

"I wish we had more days like this… Don't you, Arcadia?"

Those who spend much of their time in space and under artificial lighting are loving this. Sun lamps can only do so much for keeping their overall mental well-being buoyed. For all the technological advancements in the galaxy, there are some few things there are still no shortcuts for.

You certainly don't disagree, but you need to finish passing out the rest of this crate you volunteered to distribute to people on this side of the clearing. This trooper lazing about in the grass is slowing you down, so you playfully roll your eyes, and fix him with your best look to show him you're not afraid to mean business if he doesn't sit up soon. "Maybe when the war's over, soldier. C'mon, take your ration so I don't lose my momentum. Commander Wolffe wouldn't be happy to hear if anyone goes hungry today."

No, he probably won't be, the trooper agrees with a kind chuckle. He sits up and takes the ration gratefully. "First thing I'll do is have a picnic, I think. When the war is over." The troopers and crew are - technically speaking - having a picnic right now, you point out with a bemused grin, handing off another individually wrapped ration bar to his neighbor. "I mean a proper one. With food, instead of rations! Something with flavor. Not colorless and loaded with bland preservatives."

"Beige is a color." you retort.

"Karkin' ugly one, sure."

You fix him with a teasing grin this time. "Are you pulling a prank on me by pretending to be Orchid? I can actually tell the men apart from one another, you know." A careful balancing act of patience and practice, to be sure, but the time spent observing everyone pays off for moments like these grateful smiles.

"You can? Then who's that over there, slinking out of the forest just a little off to the left?"

Yes, you definitely can, you promise the Clone trooper who's decided to be cheeky with you. And- perfect! You've got just one ration pack left in the box, and he doesn't have one in his hands, as far as you can tell. "Everything okay, Comet? Have you gotten a lunch ration yet?"

"Oh good, I would've hated to miss chow. Thank you, Arcadia. And yeah, everything's good; just well-hydrated."

You toss him the last ration pack from right where you are and tuck the box against your side now that it's empty. "Better that than being dehydrated. Enjoy your lunch, Comet."

"Where's your's?" He's sweet enough to worry and ask why you don't have any food for yourself, but it's unnecessary.

"I'll get one from another crate, don't worry, Comet." you assure him with a warm smile. You'll probably see him soon enough when he joins the small assembly on the hill under the red and yellow leafed tree with Sinker, Boost and the Commander. You imagine you'll be joined by Plo Koon as well.

But will you still get to address Wolffe like an equal in front of his sergeants when it’s no longer just the two of you? Or should you play it safe and return to addressing him as commander and sir rather than risk looking, acting, overly familiar?

"All finished, Arcadia?"

"Passed off the last in the box to Comet." you explain, sitting across from Commander Wolffe rather than next to him. His brothers have taken up their places beside him, leaving you no room to join. And that's fine; you already sat side by side with Wolffe for hours.

“Then that should be everyone. Here.” Rather than ask one of his brothers, Wolffe gives you one of the rations in the box settled behind him in the shade, sheltered from the sunlight. You take it gratefully from his hand. “Thank you, sir. Hopefully these aren’t too bad.” Always a bit of a gamble, ration bars… Some are pretty soft and crumbly while others are tough and chewy. The flavor is oftentimes fairly plain at best, or rather unpleasant if you’re unlucky in your choices of supplier. But a meal’s a meal.

As you’re chewing your first bite of the ration bar thoughtfully, trying to imagine who in their right mind would willingly scarf these down were it not for a war, the Commander politely clears his throat to get your attention.

“You’re still welcome to call me Wolffe, Arcadia.”

The slight warmth in your face has nothing to do with the sun above you; it's the six eyes trained on you and your every little move as you further shuck the wrapper encasing the foodstuffs. "Sorry, I… didn't want to assume it was still okay now that it's not just the two of us." you explain, nodding hello to Sinker and Boost in kind. (They return the gesture just as politely.) But if you're still invited to address him without his rank, or a respectful term, then you certainly will. It had just been better to play it safe.

"I see…" His eyes narrow here, and for a heartbeat, you think he's almost sort of glaring you down, but you realize he's squinting and looking behind you. "What is the General doing…?"

You turn and look.

Master Plo Koon is standing at the edge of the clearing, speaking with Comet, who's pointing deep into the trees. He's making animated hand gestures, and demonstrating the size and shape of something to the Jedi. Tall, and coming to a peak. And he's not having a lot of luck with properly conveying a few other things, as evident by the long, growing pauses and the Kel Dor softly shaking his head. Finally Comet gets a better idea, and is gesturing for the General to follow him.

"Arcadia, could I use one of the pages in your sketchbook? There's something I'm trying to figure out how to explain to the General. There's something in the forest, I think."

That gets Wolffe's attention.

You carefully tear one of the pages out by the perforated edge, and pluck one of the graphite pencils from your bag for him to borrow. The words something in the forest sounded a little urgent to you, and like the Jedi, you want to understand what's going on now. Like Wolffe, you want to determine if this thing is a threat.

Comet thanks you, and begins to send the pencil shwoop!-ing against the page without a moment of hesitation. He's gotten a good look, some of the shapes looked pretty organic to him, from what he could make out. Boost chuckles, trying to lighten the growing tension when Wolffe gets to his feet, and stands beside his brother, observing.

"Yeah, they're called trees, Comet; those are pretty damn organic."

Comet shakes his head firmly, his full lips pursed together in concentration as he quickly tries to sketch down what he saw. "No, it looked different. Like a sort of… hut built around a tree. But it was really far away, so I couldn't see it clearly." When he came back from doing his business out in the woods, he meant to inform the Commander and General what he saw; but you had stopped by with food, a momentary distraction.

What Comet thinks he saw was some kind of structure from the inhabitants of Little Archossi. "Perhaps I should investigate the structure and the surrounding area, to determine what it is that Comet saw... Commander Wolffe, remain here with the battalion, and be prepared for anything." Plo Koon offers, beginning to walk where he's been directed.

Wolffe bristles at the idea of General Plo volunteering to investigate the structure alone. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea, General."

He is invited to stand down, asked to watch over his brothers and the crew once again. "Don't worry, Commander," the Kel Dor adds soothingly, laying a steady hand on the shoulder bell that bears the face of the wolf on the flint-gray armor, "I do not sense any threats or hear any warnings from the Force, for the time being."

"... very well, General." the man with the mark of a survivor agrees reluctantly.

Survivors get scars for their efforts, Arcadia. Skin-deep, scrawled in the deepest recesses of their minds… it doesn't matter. A scar is a scar. But the victims… the dead… they are lucky if they get a crude headstone in this war.

"I'll keep an eye on the men. Wait for your orders." Wolffe promises a little more firmly. And you, interrupting Boost and Sinker without intention, offer to help the Commander keep an eye on everyone this time. The look the three of you direct his way says, in a way impossible to mistake for anything else says you think you're doing this again, alone?

Somehow, we'll pass the time together.

According to the display in the upper right-hand corner of the datapad in your hand, the time is 14:30. You have another half-hour to go before it is 15:00, and have agreed with Sargeants Sinker and Boost that is when you should start to become concerned for the male Kel Dor's absence.

Jedi Master Plo Koon left to investigate the structure out in the forests of Little Archossi at 12:30 sharp, and he has not yet returned. But he has touched the comlink at least once, to inform his commander of his findings.

"The structure is a crude hut… One in desperate need of repair; time has not been kind to it in its occupant's absence. I sense it has been empty for a long, long time. I saw other, similar structures further still into the forest - I intend to investigate these as well. No trouble in the clearing still, I hope, Commander Wolffe?"

"No sir. Everything is fine." Wolffe had promised him, likely grateful that the Jedi could not see the tightness of his jaw, and the disapproving shake of his head. He still didn't (and still doesn't) like the idea of his general being so far from the safety of the clearing without company. 'Someone should have gone with him' has been uttered more than once to the three who have volunteered to split the load of monitoring the company and the edge of the surrounding forest.

"General, I-"

"Yes, Commander?"

Wolffe had shaken his head again, and changed his mind. "...I thought you would like to know Tack confirmed the blue flowers are in fact Dinocaeruleus anthos and has checked the credibility of the original findings. He and Arcadia believe it will still be best not to draw excessive attention to them."

You and Tack both had been praised and thanked for your diligent assessment and skills as a researcher respectively before the Force-wielder said he expected to return to the clearing by 15:00 at the earliest. If anything delayed him, he would be making contact once more.

The nearest star is no longer directly overhead, and the shadows are just beginning to lengthen and throw themselves further eastward. You distract yourself from your worries about the General's absence with something to read for a moment, something chosen at random. (You were "instructed" to take a break as part of some protocol (one you are partly suspect of being made up).)

You're not paying much attention to the Aurebesh on the screen, quite honestly.

You're more distracted by the Commander and his acts of quiet anxiety. Patrolling the circumference of the clearing once again, routinely stopping and watching in the direction of the dilapidated hut for any signs of the Jedi. Discreetly conferring with Sinker and Boost. And when they can convince him, he returns to either of the tallest grassy hills for a moment to stop and observe all of his men at once.

The time is now 14:35.

And your reading material is about as interesting as an instruction manual on how to polish and clean up a blaster without corroding the material or compromising its firepower. So you decide it's time to try something else from the reading material you have loaded up on the device.

It's labeled as one of the free holo-novels of the month, courtesy of the five-credits-a-standard-month subscription service that was recommended to you, a best-seller. But there's no synopsis or pitch of any kind that advertises what you'll find inside and why you should read it. It boasts a generic title (The Rush of Hyperspace) and pretty innocent cover artwork of an astro-map.

Curious, you select the best seller just as Orchid passes by behind you. The whispered words from over your shoulder chill the very blood in your veins.

"Psst, hey, Arcadia! You realize you're reading that in public, right?"

"What do you-?" your eyes flit to the very first sentence now that the screen has loaded in, and oh galaxy and all her stars. The very first sentence talks about how much this protagonist - a soldier - misses his girl, and the steering column is not the only thing he's throttling at the mere thought of her… the words 'a loud, sinful groan filling the cockpit' are practically seared into your retina.

Oh fuck, fuck, FUCK!

You've never backed out of a story so fast, nor anxiously prayed that Orchid would keep his fucking trap shut. "I had no idea, I swear."

"One of those stealthy ones?"

"I don't know, Orchid. And keep your karking voice down." you warn him, removing the free story from your suggestions so you can't make the same mistake twice or be recommended more of the same thing in the future.

"Sorry. Was only trying to warn you that your screen was visible to everyone. What you do and don't read isn't my business, just like what I read isn't yours." Orchid replies with a casual, little shrug. "I ain't gonna tell anyone, Arcadia." he promises.

Your voice comes out in a low, threatening purr as you tell him you're going to keep him to his word. "They'll find you fertilizing the rest of the flowerbed if I find out you have, Orchid."

While the threat doesn't have quite the intended effect, you're grateful that Orchid is taking you seriously, in his own way… "Hah, I suppose that'd make for a fitting end. Name myself after a flower, get turned into flower-food when I die..." He smiles, finding humor in the threat while promising again that he really won't tell anyone.

"I hope I'll make really beautiful flowers when I die."

It's a little strange, almost unnerving to you, that the possibility of dying doesn't seem to phase him. That he's making jokes about it, almost. You suddenly feel worried about him. "Orchid-"

You're stopped with a single, apologetic smile. "Sorry, sorry. I know that all sounds pretty morbid, Arcadia. But I've made my peace with it and I don't bar myself from joking about it either, really. Now, I don't want to die, of course, but I'm not really afraid to, either."

You suppose that's fair, with some internal reasoning. "I guess that makes sense. Everyone has different thoughts about the inevitable end of a lifeform's conscious existence. What it means for them, to them. What happens to us after. Or, what we hope for, like…" you add with a nod to Orchid, "making beautiful flowers from… whatever's left."

There's a partial, amused chuckle from Commander Wolffe, who's recently returned to the hill following another perimeter sweep, and has been listening to you and Orchid for the last few moments. The time is now 14:50, according to a fleeting glance at the top of your datapad. "More of your philosophical ponderings, Arcadia?" And care to explain why you threatened to bury one of his men in a flowerbed, while you're at it?

(Thank the Maker he didn't hear what sort of novel Orchid had seen you open, at least. Something so raunchy it opened right into the act of self-pleasure and cultivation within the very first paragraphs.)

"Ah, y'know me, Commander," Orchid says dismissively, taking the heat off of you to explain away the situation, "just saying the usual banthashit that makes Soapsuds threaten to wash my mouth out. Arcadia got a little more creative than that, though!"

Commander Wolffe sighs, looking both surprised and unsurprised. Yes he certainly does 'say the usual banthashit', but to turn it into a discussion about death and what comes after, that's an unusual thing to follow up with. (Usually it's more lectures about discipline and reading the room.)

"Well, Arcadia has a knack for that."

Strange how only this morning, you and the commander were little more than perfect strangers, and by midday, you were calling the other by name in private. And now, here in the early afternoon, you had briefly shared lunch together, and still called each other by name, only now permitted - promised, even - to do so in the presence of others.

"Oh yeah, I saw the art," Orchid replies with a strangely wolfish grin, "good stuff. Looked like worship."

The words "The fuck do you mean by that?" find themselves clawing out of your throat before you stop and consider the tone, the snappy weight of them. Trying to cover your self-perceived blunder, you're now laughing nervously, tugging a hand through your hair in a harsh movement. "Maker alive there's something really weird about this planet, everyone's saying all this sage shit and acting so damn… strangely today!"

You've fooled Orchid. But you haven't fooled his commanding officer. Not entirely.

"Oh I just meant-"

"I would agree, Arcadia…" Wolffe begins with a thoughtful look as he regards a chrono for the time - now squarely 14:55 - and chews over something on his mind before speaking with brevity, "Today has been anything but normal. Strange planet. Strange plants and animals…" Strange lack of communication from his General, you figure he must want to say. This is a little out of character for the Force-wielder to behave in some of the ways he has today; by and large delaying the 104th battalion for most of a full day that could otherwise be spent traveling just for a day in the sun.

All for what? has been asked, secretly, over and over. By yourself. By the flint-gray Commander, of course. By Sinker and Boost, too.

Why are we here on Little Archossi? Where is Plo Koon?

And how will you keep a newly forged friendship of sorts from fizzling out after today? … Are you even friends? Have you misread your interactions of the day so far, believing there's something special? With you, for you?

You're not special.

You're just Arcadia.

Taking note of your silence, or perhaps a troubled expression, Orchid asks you what's wrong. "You look deep in thought. Something on your mind?"

"Just hoping General Plo returns or contacts us at 15:00 when he said we should likely hear from him." you offer after a shrug. It's true enough at least. Unless he's run into trouble, or has been delayed, there should be little reason that you would not see the Jedi as he concludes his search of the area beyond the decaying structure.

"Same here," Orchid replies, nodding to his Commander in a more respectful manner than he would when talking to Suds, "you too, I reckon, sir?" The singular, short exhale is Orchid's answer. "Oh, right, stupid question; of course you are, Commander." he offers almost apologetically, face darkening with embarrassment.

"I had to watch, helpless, inside that damaged escape pod, as my General and my brothers fought off those battle droids who were killing the survivors… Desperately trying to keep that distress beacon active, all because he had the hope someone would come for us."

You had finished adding some of the deep blue to the fluffy black curls of his hair that served as the highlights while Wolffe recounted for you, in more detail than what had been supplied by Tack, the Battle of Abregado.

And the way he was telling you, it seemed to suggest something to you. Something you could only guess at.

"Well… given that you're sitting here next to me, telling me this story, obviously General Plo was right. Did you…?" The words "not fully believe that at the time?" hang in the air between you, unspoken. He'll know. Smart and capable man that he is, the seasoned leader of the 104th battalion will figure you out.

"I wasn't sure." Wolffe admits with a grim expression, ripping up blades of grass by the fistful the longer he talks. "We were promised, pledged to, that we were not expendable to General Plo. Now perhaps General Skywalker and Commander Tano still would have come to scout the wreckage even if it wasn't for General Plo, because they seem to truly care for their men from the look of things… But we had no way of knowing at the time, for sure."

A tender hand is laid on his crossed leg, just for a moment, a silent offer of comfort for him.

He takes a deep breath before speaking in a hushed voice. "Given that I am sitting here, next to you as you said, Arcadia… ultimately, the General was right."

"I'm glad he was." you whisper back, just louder than the slow, smooth sweep of the coloring pencils in your hand against the page.

Stirring up such emotions to the surface will take a toll on him the longer you draw out the conversation, so you were sure to move on to something else. Something innocuous, something ordinary.

Does he ever play games to pass the time?

The chrono has barely ticked over to 15:00 when the Commander's comlink trills. A sound famous for being rather startling at times is for once one of the most wonderful sounds in all the galaxy: it promises that the Kel Dor is safe.

"There are more dwellings further from the decaying structure that Comet saw from the clearing. I believe I found one of the settlements, but I will be returning to the battalion instead of making contact."

"Why is that, General?" Commander Wolffe wonders, brow furrowed with confusion.

"I believe the inhabitants of Little Archossi are nocturnal… and should I wake them simply trying to make contact, I'm afraid I would appear to them as a threat instead." the Jedi explains haltingly, voice sort of rumbling down the mic and audio sensors. You wonder, with how cautious his tone is, if he is near the settlement right now as he speaks. "I will be back shortly… and will explain in more detail."

"Understood, sir." Commander Wolffe dismisses himself from the communication, just short of breathing a sigh of relief. The General is safe and will return in a timely manner, then. He can allow himself to loosen his guard.

Orchid is a little more crude in his relief as he thanks the Maker before excusing himself. Being soldiers, you rationalize that their language is going to be more colorful than most peoples', but Orchid… he's something else.

"How the fuck do you even spell that?" you wonder to yourself with a shake of your head, "And where does he find all these words?"

"It's best you don't ask." Wolffe cautions you. "Only inspires him to find more." The look he supplies you with suggests more than just speaking from experience. Don't encourage him. I don't need more headaches on the day we're meant to be relaxing, apparently.

"I'll be sure not to." you promise with a soft laugh and a teasing smile. "Best not to invite trouble in the General's absence."

Best not to invite trouble, or give the impression of it, at every available opportunity.

Wolffe, still as a sentinel beside you, greets the Kel Dor as he extracts himself from the forest and reenters the clearing. "Welcome back General."

You imagine you're being regarded with a great deal of confusion, an unexpected sight beside the Clone Commander. "...Arcadia, is something the matter?" To be greeted by his men is one thing, a normal and familiar occurrence, but this time one of the crew is present. Has something happened in his absence? Given your talents in risk assessment, have you found anything that would be a cause for concern?

"Just keeping him company," you explain, indicating Commander Wolffe beside you with a little gesture of your free hand, "while I sketch one of the Dinocaeruleus anthos flowers. For Tack." You felt you'd rested your wrist long enough when you made the offer to the researcher Clone, concerned for the device when he complained it was growing hot after hours without end in direct sunlight.

Offering to draw this strange little flower with blue silky petals, as accurately as you could to the best of your abilities, once again made for a pleasant distraction for the one-oh-fourth's battle-hardened leader. (He'll actually stay put so long as you're working on something, it appears.)

"That's very kind of you, Arcadia." Plo compliments you deservedly. "Making Tack a botanical illustration to reference at a future opportunity… Most helpful."

"Feeling rather spoiled." Tack chuckles agreeably. "An Arcadia artwork of my very own."

Stifling a sigh for the time being, you instead laugh softly and opt for teasing him in return. "Consider yourself lucky that I was bored and wanted to kill some time while waiting for General Plo to return. Can't expect these every time, Tack."

"Oh, I would never," Tack promises, "that'd be pretty karkin' entitled of me…" Swallowing his sudden nervousness, Tack recomposed himself after a beat. "It's good to see you've returned safely, General Plo."

The Kel Dor before the three of you dips his head in a gesture of polite agreement, mirroring the relief felt by the collective trio with gratitude of his own from the way his shoulders slacken ever so gently, and the time he takes to answer. "Thank you, Commander Wolffe and young Tack, both. I am relieved that no trouble found you all while I was away, and that I was able to return safely as well."

You don't need the use of the Force to sense the budding concern within the men to your left and right. "Oh? Did you run into trouble, General?" you ask, verbalizing the wonder shared by all.

With a simple shake, whatever fears swelling within you are abated, for the moment. "Not the sort you assume, no. There was something nearly troubling about the settlement when I came upon it; the stillness was unexpected. I presumed the inhabitants would be going about their lives up to my approach, expecting them to flee or fight if I made myself known, should I have made contact… But there was nothing. The entire place was still, deep in slumber."

And waking them up would have been unwise, Wolffe paraphrases the relayed message sent in earlier, connecting all pieces of the explanation. "Came back to avoid giving the impression of a threat in the event they found you."

General Plo nods before further adding he also sensed a strange presence in the Force in the settlement; he wants to wait closer to nightfall to potentially return, rather than leave. "I understand you must have your concerns, all of you… Especially yours, young Tack. But there was something strange… a flutter in the Force in that settlement that I cannot ignore."

His mere acknowledgement of the concern is a slight comfort for the moment. But why had Tack in particular been singled out? He had reacted the least between Commander Wolffe and yourself to the addressal of strange presences and the notion to remain on Little Archossi as night fell, rather than leave before the full setting of the sun as was originally planned.

The tight squeeze of the Commander's jaw had you concerned for the eventual ache to come following such an action; not to mention the sort of subconscious, nonverbal signals commonly associated with it were not entirely positive. Subtle insights to Wolffe's way of thinking.

The General wants to stay here past dark, now? A flutter in the Force could be anything, mean anything, or worse yet, nothing. Is the Force known for playing tricks on those it bestows its blessings, could this be a test? (But why would the General be tested here, now, on this likely uncharted planet untouched by war?)

Tack had given no such signs on the other hand, apart from now with the stammer in his voice. "G-General, I'm not certain what you mean…?"

Later, Plo Koon promises, he'll likely take the time to explain how he sensed the worries Tack has about this situation; for now, it appears he's getting a feel for the opinions of his commanding officer, Wolffe, and a member of the crew with training in risk analysis, you, first. "Are there any reasons you believe we need to consider that sway in favor of leaving before nightfall?"

Someone, between the two of you, gives a long-suffering sigh first.

"The safety of the Clones, and crew, sir." Short, to-the-point, and continual in his concern for his brothers, Commander Wolffe makes a rather obvious and deliberate point to communicate his reasoning.

And you did not miss the way his eyes, the brilliant silver and the rich vandyke, had raked you from head to toe as 'and crew' parted his lips. It wasn't a simple glance, or meeting your eye, but he eyed you up and down. (Why? Why had he done that?)

Since Wolffe has expressed concern for Master Plo's forces so succinctly, you opt to voice your concerns stirred up by the Kel Dor's observations he's reported back with.

"I'm not wild about the idea of looking like a threat to the people living on Little Archossi… There are so many of us. We had no real way of making contact before taking the gunships here this morning, and… I hate to make assumptions, but I have concerns we could vastly outnumber the inhabitants of the settlement and not know it. If I were them… I think I would be concerned about so many people suddenly showing up on my planet by the time I've woken up."

Two sides of the same credit, you and Commander Wolffe. In the end, the concern of overall safety, and the concern of appearing safe have been taken into account.

If he explains his findings to everyone else in the clearing, Plo Koon thinks inviting everyone to decide for themselves is the best option. It is officially the start of the late afternoon here on Little Archossi, and there is still time to plan for an encounter.

Those who wish to return to the Triumphant will leave before the sun begins to set.

With the will of the Force, and a healthy dosage of luck, any potential large-scale interaction between the soldiers of the Republic and the people on this forested planet will go off without a hitch.

Don't have a fic taglist form for the time being. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (for example: just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

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ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian · 2 months

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Hello there!

a little "about me" post

I'm a very long-winded person and when I like doing something, I like doing A LOT of it. I recently moved to Tumblr full-time after being stuck with 200-symbol posts on Twitter (ugh), so I'm using the full power of this blogging platform. I'm concerned about the AI, so it's all switched off on all my blogs. I hope Tumblr will wise up and survive, because I love it here so far 💛

I have a lot of fandoms, I like pretty art, I write and muse about stuff - it's all a huge mess if I put it one place. So that's why I decided to split my obsessions into several neat piles, so people could have an easier time decining whether to follow, ignore or block my stuff according to their preferences.

Here are my blogs which you're free to explore and follow as you like:

» ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian

The main blog where I shout into nothingness. But where I also post lots of Star Trek, mainly about Cardassians (bc I love them). I do not do Garashir, tho, look for that particular bit elsewhere (not bc I don't ship them, but bc I'm severely overfed to the point of having an allergic rection). My focus Cardassian is Damar, followed by Dukat. I'm super open to reblogging your OCs, though. My other favorite fandoms you might come across on this blog (which I don't post enough about to make a separate blog): Mass Effect, Discworld, Tolkien, Detroit: Become Human, Apex Legends, Marvel/DC, Hunger Games. I also ramble, post about writing in general, reblog some fitting memes and pets/animals, share my own photography, reblog art etc.

» pixie-in-a-moonlantern

The initiated already know: Baldur's Gate 3 brainrot blog. I post my OC screenshots, maybe some stories, perhaps one day I will even finish a fic (started one, didn't finish). My all-time favorites are: Halsin, Gale, Rolan, Emperor. I do not have any VP tools, so my screens are only lightly edited to be prettier, and that's it. I do not draw or paint (tho I so want to). It's mainly reblogs and discussions so far, with my screenshots sprinkled in between.

» shaved-wampa

Diehard fans surely got the joke: Star Wars brainrot, and that goes for every conceivable piece of the fandom, even the bits you might not agree with - I don't discriminate. My all-time favorites are: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bode Akuna. Yes, just the two, because I also have a huge pile of characters I love, but don't really focus on: Padmé, Ahsoka, Ventress, Plo Koon, Kit Fisto, Din Djarin, lil Grogu, Cody, infinite number of other Clones, ... soooo many. My top two are just the guys I actually write about. Bode is getting his fic right now, Obi-Wan's is on hold.

» cyber-vianne-77

As the name suggests, this is my Cyberpunk 2077 blog. I used to do a lot of virtual photography in that one - and yes, this time I mean real VP, though still no paid tools, just vanilla and free mods. I love Goro Takemura and ship my fem V with him heavily - wrote a dope fanfiction about them, too. I reblog other cp77 vp (especially of Goro) and fanart. I don't currently play the game or shoot photos, but I have a large collection I plan to drizzle over the next few months, until I maybe decide to go back to cp77 for a while again and finally play Phantom Liberty that's been waiting for me for a long time now xD.

» goodness-all-around

My "assorted dopeness" reblogs. I love pretty pictures and I love supporting artists in my own small way, so it'll be reblogs of general beautiful things I can't stuff into my other blogs, and reblogs of commission offers. Perhaps even some theory and discussion if I happen to like any.

I will update the list if I happen to change things or add/remove blogs. Thanks for your attention and see you in the activity notifs! 💛

Bits of trivia: I'm Czech, cis woman (bi & poly and, frankly, hyper), 32, in a relationship, mom to a 5yo boy, a writer struggling to finish and publish her first original novel, drowning her sorrows in fanfic instead :). I got to most of my fandoms quite late in life, because where I live this info only started to properly flow in with the coming of the internet. I'm usually a casual fan, though when I hit a gold vein I can get a bit obsessed. I love writing fanfiction, which is mostly why I'm here on this site. I self-insert a lot (therapy writing) and usually ship us, with the rare occasion of finding a couple where I can identify with one of them (or mold them to my image because I like or even fancy them). I've spent my life believing I was hetero and discovered I'm not only once I (finally) was in a hetero relationship and had a kid, so... my ships are also hetero. It's a habit, not hating, I don't discredit any gay ships (maybe quietly to myself when they don't make any sense to me character-wise, lol). My AO3 account: XindiChick I usually try to write even the most niche of my ships in a way that doesn't require much knowledge of the original, so you're welcome to browse and read to your heart's content if you happen to like my style. I welcome any interactions, especially comments, because I don't get many.

I think it's something everyone should always be aware of, but I've also seen many people ignoring this unsaid rule:

HATERS NEED NOT INTERACT

- lest they get blocked. I'm not here to argue with you about why I like certain characters and why you think I shouldn't. Go simp for your own top picks on your own blogs and leave me alone. Same goes for any of my personal trivia I shared.

Also:

DISCLAIMER: My blogs are a safe space for everyone who doesn't go around hating on everyone else. I will block assholes of every shape, color, faith, gender, orientation etc. indiscriminantly, just as I will happily interact with good people of any kind. Idc what your deal is, I just wanna enjoy being on this platform, so if you plan to rain on it, don't expect me to indulge you.

Icons by: @rpschtuff

By the way, a fun fact known only to people aware of my main fanfic novel, The Casualty, the Cardassian in my username was actually born Bajoran, but raised Cardassian, which is why she's a Cardassian in heart and spirit. She's your friendly reminder that not all Cardies are the same and as a nation have the capacity to be much better than how they were presented in the DS9, which is what she's trying to achieve.

#ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian blog masterlist

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momojedi · 6 months

Text

— EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT MY STAR WARS FANCOMIC "WATER GUNS"

I would've liked to see some more about the padawans, their life and the critical morality behind their affiliation in the war. So I decided to take matters into my own hands and make a comic about it !

all main characters (with the canon cast being an exception) are based on actual people. That means there likely will not be any romance between the characters, whether were talking OC x canon or OC x OC, simply because I don't feel comfortable romanticising these characters as they were originally created to supersede my friends' real appearance in the Star Wars universe

the stories will be told in arcs. I like the concept of clone wars where missions and tales are told through arcs so it'll be easier to read the comic, even if you haven't read from the complete beginning. that way, if there's a character you're not very interested in, you can simply skip it! the arcs' chapters/pages will come out episodic

this is my first comic in ages. I'm really rusty in drawing those, so the quality may lack a little in the beginning/the production might take me up some time!

I try to stick with the canon as much as I can. I like imagining my characters in the Star Wars story as it is and will treat them like actual canon characters in the comic, so aside from some headcanons/details sprinkled throughout the writing, everything will stay the same.

the story is fully set during the Clone Wars. The Galactic Republic is my favourite era in Star Wars - swiftly followed by the Empire - so the story will fully revolve around that time. I might add some story during the Empire later on but that's going to be it for now.

you'll get some clone shenanigans, these men deserve to be more in the spotlight considering these are the Clone Wars.

I might make a side blog specifically for this comic if you guys enjoy it !

I don't own Star Wars yada yada you know the deal.

I can't give you any details on when the first arc is going to come out as I'm still figuring the characters and plot out (currently sketching the first pages) - though I will post the characters in the mean time, to keep you updated! I'm trying to get the first arc out by December.

So far, these are my comic’s original characters who are padawans of / affiliated with canon characters :

JEDI

Kimea Orneem -> Padawan of Obi-Wan Kenobi

Mo Mynx -> Padawan of Shaak Ti

Nurifi Egaseer -> Padawan of Plo Koon

Cime Dafollah -> (former) Padawan of Tiplar (judgementally looking at Tup); supports Yoda with the Younglings

REPUBLIC

Senator Matide Zoni -> friendly with Senator Riyo Chuchi

CLONES

Proxx | CT-4922 -> 212th Medic

Burner | CT-6682 -> 452nd Commander

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phoenixyfriend · 1 year

Note

I had an jangobi AU idea I don't plan to write but wanted to share and thought you might like.

Two Three things:

1. The Mandalorian Empire is a thing. Jaster is running it after he kicked Tor off the thrown. The Republic is also a thing because the Mandalorians realized that if they conquered the whole galaxy there'd be no one left to fight a couple millennia ago.

2. The Jedi are... not exactly in hiding, everyone is pretty sure they're still around, and they're known to protect the Republic if it comes down to it, but otherwise they're just sort of wandering around. They do have temples, but no one knows where they are, and they're keeping it that way.

3. Soulmates are a thing, though rather rare. Specifically, if you have a soulmate, everything is in great scale until you meet them except for the people they care about. The more colorful those people are, and more your soul make cares about them.

To the actually story!

Jango honestly thought he was just colorblind before now. That might have been better.

See, most people when they meet someone in color, that means their life is about to get a lot easier. They figure out where they're from, go there, and just wander around till they find their dral'runi. Most people, however, get someone nice and polite, someone delighted to help their friend out.

Not Jango. No, Jango got the single most stubborn pacifist in all of Mandalorian space and a kriffing pirate with flirting issues.

And things get worse when Hondo Ohnaka decides that the solution to this problem is to kidnap his dral'runi's ade, both of whom are apparently Jedi and very pissed ones at that.

For their part, Anakin and Ahsoka are tired, some what drugged, and just met their Master/Dad's soulmate, and they do not think he is good enough for Obi-Wan.

So of course, they throw a Molotov at him. As one does. Just to buy enough time to call in responsible adults (Plo and Mace).

That's literally all I have. The image of Ahsoka and Anakin rampaging their way out of Hondo's ship just to see Jango, and immediately throw explosives at him once they figure out who he is. And a whole lot of background you probably don't need but I enjoyed.

Note: Anakin and Ahsoka do not realize that explosives makes Jango like them (and, by extension, Obi-Wan) more.

Hondo, please just let Satine handle this one.

#I'm assuming that's who you mean by pacifist #star wars #the clone wars #mini fic #phoenix answers asks

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elthadriel · 2 years

Note

Hi! So, ‘Love each other with abandon’ is one of my ultimate favourite pieces of work from any fandom I’ve been in. I 100% do not ship Codywan (like, NOTP levels of do not ship) but the way you wrote the dynamic between the brothers was phenomenal. I agree with the post you made regarding Cody’s characterization concerning Obi Wan, but I think the way you wrote him with his brothers was pretty much how I envisioned them. Anyway! For the fic commentary I was wondering if you’d mind breaking down from “I swear, Fox, I will kill you in this bar. How much?” To “Cody loves them both so much.” Of whatever part you think displays them as individuals and together best? There was so many to choose from.

Have a lovely day💙

Thank you for the kind words. As I’ve said in the past, it’s a fic I have complicated feelings on but while I’d approach it differently now, I don’t regret writing it. And the parts with sibling nonsense are some of the parts I’m still the most happy with.

I rewrote this entire scene a handful of times because a) Fox will not stop fucking talking ever, and b) because it was one of the last scenes I wrote and I’d already decided what I should have done with this fic and kept writing the scene as if I’d done that. One of the things I wish I’d added is subplots where it’s clear Fox, Wolffe, and Rex were all sort of dealing with their own shit, and were avoiding doing with it directly, in the same way that Cody was using his fixation on Obi Wan to avoid really acknowledging the whole personhood problem. There’s still lingering stuff — like Wolffe’s relationship with Plo, and Fox’s jokes about how miserable his job makes him that ring a little too true — but they weren’t all that fleshed out, and I was trying to introduce those themes and wrap them up all in one scene and it was a clunky mess.

So I got formulaic, which I do when I’m really struggling to get a scene to come together. Normally I’d put in a table so it looks a little prettier than this, but it basically goes:

What is the point of the scene? —> How do I achieve that?

Cody is making a conscious effort to be more involved in Fox and Wolffe’s lives and making sure they’re involved in his —> Make sure that between shit talking there are moments of sincerity.

Differences between when Cody is with Wolffe or Fox one on one vs all three together —> shifting target of who’s being bullied at that moment. Easier to defuse tension. When Cody is with Wolffe and Fox they sometimes upset each other but when there’s a third party there they can deflect and make sure everyone is on the same page.

Obi Wan and Cody are friends now —> Cody and Obi Wan have barely any scenes together because Cody was focused on the idea of OW rather than him as a person. Clearing the air has allowed them to form an actual relationship.

Highlight some of the age difference between Obi Wan and the clones —> Different in general life experience but also their approach to things. They’re left alone and immediately are 20 year old idiots who each think they are the only mature adult of the group.

Then I engage in the fun task of hacking out everything that doesn’t aid one of these goals. Once I have a draft some of the stuff I just particularly liked can be added back in, but it helps me stay on topic.

This section in particular is a lot about the first two goals. Cody gets bullied over OW, and then they shift it around on Fox, but there’s a couple of moments where they are serious and places were how they are working to some issues in their relationships. Fox has been shown in a previous scene that he’s not good at recognising when he’s crossing a line, and this time, he is much more careful to make sure that everything is landing as a joke. Like Fox’s joke about Plo being Wolffe’s father, I wanted to show a comfort in poking in vulnerable places other people wouldn’t get away with, while also showing a respect for hard drawn boundaries.

#ask meme

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Note

Imagine Luke and Leia ending up in the clone wars era but all of their force abilities are “what the actual fuck?” levels of bullshit, and neither of them ever realized that the things they could do with the force were considered extremely high level techniques.

that is one of my FAVORITE things to imagine yes. To me this is less about ‘Skywalker bullshit’ (though there is some of that) and more about the training they (didn’t) receive.

The high-Midi-chlorians-actual-descendents-of-the-force thing makes it easier to tap into the force, makes it more possible to do so without accidentally exhausting yourself. But, in universe, under the right circumstances and with the properly channeled belief anyone can do anything. That’s why Palpatine had to make the galaxy want an empire, why his first strategy was misdirection and his top priority was crushing hope. Chirrut was supposedly force-null and he walked through an army. Han navigated that astroid field because he had to. The force is everywhere.

In an amusing but possibly unintended turn of events, 6-12 weeks of training in a swamp with an elderly frog who only talks in riddles without ever being exposed to Jedi culture except as a myth is actually IDEAL if you’re looking to maximize a Jedi’s raw strength. Most Jedi training that we see in the prequels is explicitly designed to put the breaks on a force-users raw power (for honestly very valid reasons). Channeling all violence through a single weapon that will start screaming if you get too violent, training to use it defensively, is definitely the soft-ball alternative to just squashing people like meatballs.

Meditating, wearing beige, the code, shunning attachments, all that stuff is built around making sure force users never run above first or second gear even in stressful situations (again valid, when you run your jedi in the red sometimes they become murder monsters). The downside of this is that when they’re forced to maintain that placid pace for years at a time (i.e: prolonged war), they’re much more likely to burn out.

When Yoda told Luke do or do not, told him a luminous being was he, told him size matters not, the amazing thing isn’t that Luke believed him. That was karking objectively provable. Yoda lifted a spaceship, so now Luke knows he can too if he just thinks he can. So he does. Vader and Palpatine conquered a galaxy. Luke believes he can stop worlds, crush armies, conquer planets and so he can.

The incredible thing about Luke is what he doesn’t do despite being tapped into the Force utterly free of mental restraint. Luke’s op character trait is his compassion, not his strength.

I assume at some point Luke puts Leia through a similar 2 month meditation class where he convinces her that her only limitations are the ones she imposes on herself. She has a complete meltdown when she realizes that she actually could have boiled Tarkin alive with her mind and saved Alderann. This causes a volcano to go off, devastating the ecology of a small moon. On the flight home, both of them slightly charred, she tells Luke that she wanted to focus on politics and didn’t really want to be a Jedi anyway. Luke nods quickly, supporting her decision, and resolves to seek out some Jedi texts about how to teach people they can do anything but also...maybe...not...anything.

And thus the Jedi order is reborn.

- - -

In the time travel version of this, it means that Luke is assuming that all of the Jedi are restraining themselves like he is. And they are, but they also aren’t, because their breaks are subconscious, built in since childhood, and have a lot of failsafes so even if they turn darkside they still restrain themselves pretty good (a la Dooku).

Leia is, again, less interested with the Jedi-specific aspects of the war (especially now that she doesn’t have to feel guilty about being one of the only people who can pick up that mantle) and more interested in the diplomatic side. Again, Palpatine can only succeed if the galaxy at large accepts this, and from where she’s standing they’re fucking moving in that direction. If being a Jedi is tapping into the mystical energy field that binds all living things together to channel it through one specific person in one specific place, then politics is manipulating that same power for a diffuse impact on as many people as possible.

This status-quo lasts until a major clone wars battle where Luke’s like ‘wait- the entire other side is sub-sentient droids? No living beings, and no droids with complex personality matrices? And they’re currently, actively killing living, sentient humans? Well kriff, come on! This is a no-brainer!’

Luke takes a deep breath. The air- it doesn’t disappear or anything- but it- it stops moving. It’s hard to explain...but breathing has an odd...resistance. The hair on the back of every clone’s neck stands up. Several get vaguely sea sick. One pukes a little. Plo Koon stumbles back, head ringing and afraid.

Luke Skywalker stands up and clenches his fists. 10,000 droids crumple like flimsi in the hands of a child. The battlefield is eerily quiet for a moment, then that imperceptible hum (which no one noticed until it stopped) fades and the air returns to its normal density. A few of the shinies start whooping, then the whole battalion is cheering.

Luke massages his temples, smiling wryly at Master Koon. “I guess I can see how that would get exhausting if you were doing it everyday.”

Plo Koon just stares.

#crunchbuttsteak #ask #star wars #nevertheless meta #luke skywalker #long post #my au #star wars au no 33 #unrestrained au

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imagineyourworld · 3 years

Text

The Wife

Wolffe x Fem!Padawan!Reader

Summary: When visiting a backwards village Plo Koon’s Padawan has to pretend to be married to Commander Wolffe in order to get the residents to back off

Warnings: Misogyny, a bit of nudity, a bit spicy making out

Check out my other work here

-------

You had been walking for what felt like hours when your Master, Plo Koon, received a message and asked you to join him at the front of the train of walking soldiers.

“(Y/N), my dear, I have some unfortunate news”, he started.

You looked at your Master expectically. Unfortunate news could mean basically anything and you could only hope that it wasn’t anything that would massively complicate your relief mission.

“As you know we’re going to deliver supplies to the Gonchee people here, and we don’t know much about them.” You simply nodded, not wanting to interrupt your Master, who continued just a moment later. “Master Yoda just forwarded me recent information we gained about the Gonchee. It seems they see human women as nothing more than, for a lack of a better word, prices or trophies to be won or taken.”

Your curious expression morphed into one of shock and disgust. Of course you knew that not every planet had the same standards when it came to equality between the sexes, but this level of misogyny was something you hadn’t expected to be confronted with.

“If I had known earlier I would have offered to let you stay on Coruscant or accompany another battalion”, Plo tried to apologize. But you just shook your head.

“It’s quite alright, Master. If I am to be a Jedi knight soon I will have to learn to handle situations such as this one, though I cannot say I am happy.”

Plo put a heavy hand on your shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. He knew you were capable of handling yourself and could fight off a couple of Gonchee if necessary, but as your Master he still felt responsible and worried for your safety and wellbeing.

“Master Yoda also said that the Gonchee usually don’t bother married women, they consider them to be claimed by their husband.”

You looked up to your Master, expecting him to continue, but he just stared straight ahead, his expression never betraying his thoughts.

“I am not married, though”, you finally said.

“No, you’re not. You’re a Jedi and shouldn’t have attachments”, he answered.

Part of you wanted to correct him. You were not a Jedi, not yet at least. But the other, bigger, part was overjoyed your Master considered you a Jedi and not just a Padawan.

“I suppose I could ask Commander Wolffe to pretend to be your husband. Just for your safety, of course”, Plo continued.

For a fraction of a second you lost your balance, but quickly managed to catch your footing again. He couldn’t know about your crush on Wolffe, could he? Sure, your Master was a great Jedi, strong in the force, and he knew you better than anyone, having raised you like his own daughter, but you have been so careful to hide your feelings for your commander.

“Only if that’s what you want, of course.”

You took a moment to consider the proposition. Feelings aside, it was a good idea. If being ‘married’ would make sure the Gonchee wouldn’t bother you and ensure you could do your job that was a good thing, the rational thing to do.

Finally you nodded. “Only if Wolffe wants to, though. Otherwise I’ll ask Sinker.”

-------

Wolffe hasn’t been watching you and the General, that would be ridiculous. And of course he hasn’t noticed how your hair shines in the sun or how you smile at your Master with love and trust in your eyes. And when Plo Koon asked to talk to him a while later he wasn’t hoping to find out more about your conversation with him, that thought never crossed his mind.

“Wolffe, I have a favour to ask you.”

Wolffe simply nodded. He would to anything for the kind Jedi who treated him and his brothers like actual people, who never showed them anything other than respect.

“Of course, General. What is it?”

“I want you to be married to (Y/N).”

It took all the self control Wolffe could gather not to look at the Jedi, not to blush and not to let his feelings show.

“Is this a test?”, he asked. Though it seemed out of character for Plo, maybe he was trying to get Wolffe to confess his feelings for you. Feelings he had spent months and months trying to deny and repress, feelings that would get him in more trouble than he could ever imagine if anyone were to find out.

“No, no”, the General reassured his Commander. He then told Wolffe about the situation and why he was asking this of him.

Wolffe nodded along with the explanation before finally daring to look at Plo.

“Did (Y/N) suggest me as her fake husband?”, he asked, trying his best to keep his voice even and steady. He knew it was a arisky question that might tell the Jedi more about his feelings than he should know, but he couldn’t help but wonder and he wouldn’t agree if you would rather be fake married to one of his brothers instead of him.

“It was my idea, though she seemed to be quite happy with you as her ‘husband’“, Plo answered in a tone that told Wolffe the Jedi had to be smiling under his mask. “I just thought you were the obvious choice, considering how close the two of you are.”

Wolffe nodded, not knowing what to say.

“That makes sense”, he finally said.

Plo looked at the young man next to him. Though Wolffe’s expression was usually stoic, now it was even more so. It seemed forced, as if he was trying his best not to let any feelings show. The General couldn’t help but realize just how similar the clone’s expression was to yours just a bit earlier.

“Maybe you should go to (Y/N) to discuss how you’re going to handle the situation. I’ll inform the others to play along”, Plo suggested after a few moments of awkward silence and with a quick “Yes, sir” Wolffe turned around to find you amidst the soldiers.

-------

By the time you were nearing the village, you and Wolffe had just finished your plan.

“Let’s go over it one last time”, he suggested.

You opted not to tell him that that would be the third ‘one last time’, partly because you knew he didn’t like being corrected and would not hesitate so snap at you, partly because going over this plan like any other mission made it easier for you to let it sink in that this was just that, a plan, a mission, pretend. You were not married to Wolffe, nor would you ever be. The two of you were friends, nothing more. Because no matter how you felt, how you’ve been feeling for quite some time now, you could never be together, even on the off chance that Wolffe reciprocated your feelings.

“The Gonchee don’t know anything about Jedi, other than that we’re here to help, so they won’t find our ‘marriage’ suspicious. We’ll them we met at the beginning of the war and have been married for a couple of months. Really, Wolffe, it’s not that complicated, I’m sure we’ll both be able to remember to play the part.”

The snark reply you had been expecting didn’t come. Instead Wolffe simply nodded and stared straight ahead.

“Just remember to keep physical contact to a minimum”, he reminded you for the fifth time.

You rolled your eyes. Sure, Wolffe had never been one for hugs and cuddling, unlike many of his brothers, who often seeked you out for a comforting hug, but he really didn’t have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself every couple of minutes, you were not some hormonal teenager.

“Will do, Commander.”

Without another word, or even so much as a nod, Wolffe speeded up his steps to join Master Plo at the front.

“What’s gotten into your husband?”

You turned around to find Sinker looking at you with an amused expression, Boost right beside him sporting a smug grin.

“Guess he’s just not too thrilled about being fake married to me”, you tried to joke, even though just the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. Of course you knew nothing could ever happen between you, but you’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t hoped that this mission would allow you to pretend for just a little while, to maybe get closer to him.

“If he really didn’t want to do it, he wouldn’t do it. I heard him talking to the General, Plo asked him, he didn’t order him. Wolffe could have stepped down and let one of us take his place. And I’m sure most of us would have happily done so”, Boost claimed, laying a hand on your shoulder and sending you a warm smile.

Maybe it would have been better to do this with someone else, someone who would put his arms around you to really sell the story and who you could laugh about the whole affair with afterwards. And yet you knew that being in a ‘relationship’ with anyone other than Wolffe would have been worse than Wolffe’s obvious dislike of the whole situation.

“It’s fine. Wolffe’s just being Wolffe, he’ll come around once we arrive at the village”, you tried to reassure both the troopers and yourself.

-------

Wolffe had, in fact, not come around by the time you reached the village. He had spent the rest of the way talking to your Master and completely ignoring you. It was moments like this that made you question why you even had feelings for him, he was so hot and cold, sending you gentle smiles and sharing inside jokes one moment and acting like you didn’t even know each other the next. But it was those few moments when his gentler side, which you alway thought was more his true self, showed, that kept you hooked.

It was Plo Koon who interrupted your thoughts by asking you to join him and Wolffe at the front to greet the Gonchee.

The small creatures were no bigger than Jawas, had greenish fur and ears that reminded you of Loth cats, other than that they looked pretty human.

“Good evening. I am General Plo Koon, these are Commander (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Commander Wolffe and the 104th. We were sent by the Republic to deliver supplies and help you reset your village.”

The Gonchee at the front, who seemed to be an older man, bowed his head slightly, the others, all male you realized, followed suit.

“Welcome, Jedi Koon. I see you have brought a female with you, I don’t suppose she’s here to stay with us?”

The way he licked his lips with his yellow tongue made you shudder. You could sense resentment practically rolling off your master at the Gonchee’s words, but more than that it was Wolffe’s arm around your shoulder that calmed you.

“My wife will most certainly not stay with you, she’ll be by my side, always.”

Maybe you imagined that his arm tightened around you as you leaned into him, but you certainly didn’t imagine the growl coming from his throat as the Gonchee looked you up and down.

“Such a shame. Having a human woman is an honor to us, you know and this one seems to be a fine specimen. You’re lucky to have her.”

Though his words sounded as if he was buying your lie and letting go of the thought of having you, whatever that meant, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that he, or any other male Gonchee, would leave you alone. Not even Wolffe looking at you from the side, a small smile on his lips, could relief you of your anxiety.

“I feel like the luckiest man in the galaxy every minute I have her next to me.”

His words were directed at the Gonchee, but somehow they felt like more. Like something one would whisper to a lover in private.

It was only when Plo spoke up again that you could tear your eyes away from Wolffe, from his warm gaze and full lips.

“The men will bring in the supplies now, if you’ll allow, and then we’ll settle for the night.”

The Gonchee at the front nodded.

“Of course, of course. Though the lady should stay with the other women. You see, we don’t allow women to do any physical labour.

-------

Several Gonchee had offered to accompany you to the hut the women of the village spend most of their time in, but you had declined. That didn’t mean you could go alone, however. The entire 104th seemed to have noticed the glances the male Gonchee shot you and had silently agreed to never let you out of their sight while you were in the village. Which is how you found yourself with your hand in the crook of Wolffe’s elbow, being lead to the ‘women’s hut’ as it was called.

“I’ve been to many planets and have met people of many cultures, but none of them were as backwards as the Gonchee. If they could see you in action they would know not to look at you like that”, your companion grumbled.

You swallowed down the urge to tell him that quite a few shinies have made their moves on you in the past, though you had shot all of them down and had to admit that none of them reduced you to your body the way the Gonchee did.

“It’s only for a couple of days. It’ll be like a mini vacation for me, not having to do any work.”

You could feel Wolffe eying you from the side but refused to look his way.

“I wish I could stay with you”, he said, more to himself than to you. “I mean someone. I wish someone, one of us, could stay with you.”

You chuckled. It was rare to see this side of Wolffe, the side that corrected his words, that stuttered and almost seemed nervous.

“I’d like you to stay. But you have a job to do and I can defend myself, should anything happen.”

You placed a hand on his arm, and though you were sure he couldn’t feel it through the plastoid armor, he seemed to relax just a little bit.

“We both know that I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s only for a couple of hours, I’ll be with you again before you know it.”

He nodded, but the frown never left his face entirely.

“I’ll have someone come in and check on you every now and then. It’s not without reason that we have to pretend to be married, we cannot be careful enough.”

Wolffe’s tone told you that there was no use in arguing. And maybe he was right, if even your Master, who you knew would never disregard your ability to fend for yourself, thought it would be safe to always have a man, to always have Wolffe, with you, it couldn’t hurt to be safe rather than sorry.

“Sounds reasonable.”

Just as soon as the words left your mouth you stopped in front of the the small building the Gonchee had told you to go to. It looked ancient and primitive compared to the skyscrapers on Coruscant and shining starships you were used to, but through the open door you could spot pillows and blankets and a roaring fire inside. At least you’d be comfortable.

The women inside seemed to have heard you approaching, because most of them stopped their work and conversations to catch a glance at you and Wolffe.

“I guess this is it”, you said more to yourself than your fellow Commander. He nodded nonetheless.

“Be careful. Don’t do anything reckless.”

You tried your best to swallow any remark since your usual answer to something like that would be exactly what Wolffe would describe as “reckless”.

“I’ll see you soon”; you replied instead. And because you could still feel the eyes of the Gonchee women on you, you lifted yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to Wolffe’s cheek. After all, you had to make your marriage believable.

The low noise Wolffe made shocked you for a split moment. It was a mixture between a grunt and a sigh that didn’t speak of surprise as much as... disbelief? You couldn’t quite place it. Though you tried not to think about it too much as your turned away from him and entered to hut, where the women started questioning you immediately.

-------

True to his word Wolffe had sent someone of the pack to check in on you every ten minutes or so, but despite their reports that you were perfectly fine and just talking to the women of the village, Wolffe only felt a sense of relief when he saw you again himself.

You were sitting next to Sinker on one of the many logs surrounding the fireplace. The rest of the pack as well as Plo Koon were either on logs or the ground nearby while the Gonchee, mostly the men but a few women as well, sat on the other side of the fire.

As Wolffe stepped closer you lifted your head, and as always he couldn’t tell whether you had heard his footsteps or felt his force signature.

The old Gonchee who had greeted you was the first to speak up.

“Ah, the husband returns. Such a shame, I had thought I might have a chance with that lovely woman of yours after all.”

Wolffe knew that the polite thing to do would be to answer him, but one of the first things General Koon taught his men was that it was better to say nothing at all if you didn’t have anything nice to say. So he simply walked over to where you were sitting and squeezed himself into the space between you and the end of the log, which resulted in you being squished between him and Sinker. A scenario Wolffe, being the overly protective man he is, usually wasn’t too fond of, but in this the more of the Wolfpack were around you, the better.

It was only when he felt you moving impossibly closer to him, when he smelled the last clinging bit of your sweet perfume, that had somehow endured the walk to the village and your time in the women's’ hut, that he was finally able to relax. You’d be right next to him, or at least one of his brothers or the General, for the rest of the night, meaning you were safe from the Gonchee for now.

Suddenly he felt your lips right next to his ear, your breath hitting his skin.

“If we wanna sell this marriage you cannot just sit there like a droid, Wolffe.”

The way you whispered, almost purred, his name made shivers run down his spine. And though he tried to suppress it, your soft giggle told him that you’d noticed.

With a small sigh he put his arm around your waist and pulled you even closer to him. So close that he could practically feel your body melting into his, though he tried not to think about how right it felt to have you in his arms, how your body seemed to perfectly fit right next to his.

“Is this better?”, he whispered in your ear. Out of the corner of his eye he could see you biting your lip and even pressing your thighs together. He shook his head, he must have imagined that. It was probably just you trying to get comfortable in this new position.

“How long have to two of you been married?”, one of the younger Gonchee asked.

For just a moment you tensed beneath Wolffe’s arm before relaxing again.

“Just a couple of months”, you replied. Your smooth lie impressed Wolffe, being raised by Plo Koon you were usually a fan of telling the truth and he couldn’t help but wonder where you learned to lie like that.

“And you let your wife fight?”, another Gonchee asked, the disbelief clear in his voice.

Wolffe sneaked a glance at you. How could anyone look at you and not see a warrior? Sure, your appearance might not be the most threatening, but wasn’t it obvious that the way you pressed your lips together spoke of determination? That you eyes told anyone who looked into them how much you’ve been through and how deeply you cared? That your hands were calloused from holding a lightsaber and yet soft enough to comfort a clone in distress?

“It’s not up to me whether she fights or not.”

A grumble of disagreement was heard from the assembled Gonchee, or at least from the men.

“We are very fortunate to have a warrior as great as (Y/N) fighting besides us every day”, the General said after a while. For anyone who knew him it was obvious that he was trying to end the subject while defending you at the same time, but the Gonchee seemed to think of his statement as a challenge.

“But what about children? How will she carry children if she is fighting?

From the way your shoulders tensed underneath Wolffe’s arm he could tell that you were close to telling the Gonchee of once and for all, and apparently SInker on your other side could tell as well, because now he jumped into the conversation.

“They’re still newly weds, children can wait until the honeymoon phase is over, don’t you agree?”

The oldest Gonchee leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

“We do not care for such sentiments. Our women cook our food, sow our clothes, take care of our children and warm our beds, believe me, it’s easier that way. Perhaps you should try it, Commander.”

For what felt like the thousandth time that day Wolffe looked at you. Of course you knew that you had to represent the Republic wherever you went, but usually that didn’t stop you from speaking up for what’s right. He wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed by or concerned about your self restraint.

“It’s very different in our culture. We marry for love, most of the time at least”, you finally said. And if he hadn’t been staring at you already Wolffe would never have noticed the way your eyes flitted over to him when you said “love”.

Several of the Gonchee opened their mouth to argue, but lucky for the entire 104th a few women carrying trays with various foods and drinks appeared and rendered the men silent.

-------

Shortly after a near silent meal your Master stood up.

“I suppose it would be best for us to call it a night. We will have to be up early tomorrow if we want to reach out ship again before nightfall.”

The Gonchee leader stood up as well and slightly bowed his head before the Jedi.

“Very well. We have prepared our assembly hut for you, I will show you the way.” He stopped for a moment and looked over to where you were still sitting between Wolffe and Sinker. “Though I know you follow different customs, we Gonchee do not allow women to sleep in a room with people they’re not related or married to, which is why we have also prepared an empty hut for the Commander and his wife. And I suppose they will need privacy so she can perform her marital duties. My son will show them the way”

You were quite certain that at one point throughout the day your own rank as Commander had been mentioned, but even though you really wanted to correct the old Gonchee, you were tired of dealing with them all day and decided against it. Though the same could not be said for the Wolfpack. Several of them, including Wolffe and Sinker next to you as well as Boost next to Sinker, spoke up to correct him.

A younger Gonchee, who you assumed was said son, stood up and looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Alright, Commanders”, he said. The ironic way in which he pronounced the word made Wolffe roll his eyes, which by now you could tell even if you weren’t looking at him. “Follow me.”

The two of you bid goodnight to the others and did as the Gonchee had said. The thought of probably having to share a bed with Wolffe crossed your mind for a moment, but it was gone as soon as it came. Though as soon as the son opened the door to a small hut, smaller than any you had seen before, it returned.

The ceiling was low, the room was small and the only pieces of furniture were a small bed and a single bedside table.

“It’s not much but it’ll do for the night”, the Gonchee said. Though the words were probably supposed to be apologetic, his tone was anything but.

Wolffe, bowing his head due to the low ceiling, stepped into the hut while you remained outside. That, however, proved to be a mistake just a moment later, because the Gonchee stepped closer, closer than you would have wanted, and looked up at you.

“You might rather spend the night in my room, it’s bigger and more comfortable and I could really use someone in my bed, especially a pretty human woman such as yourself.”

Due to his words and the way he eyed you, especially with your private parts almost in his eyeline because of his short height, you wanted nothing more than to punch him. Maybe kick him. Maybe cut off something of his with your lightsaber. And if it hadn’t been for Wolffe you would have, and ruined your mission within a split second.

But there was Wolffe, knight in plastoid armour protecting you from any rash decisions. He had left the hut and was now standing behind you, from where he put his arms around your middle and, you were sure, glared daggers at the Gonchee.

“I suggest you leave my wife alone”, he growled and tightened his grip on you even more.

You weren’t sure whether it was his words, the growl or his arms around you and your back to his chest, but something about his behaviour did something to you. Something that would make it a million times harder to share a room, share a bed, with him tonight. As if your crush on the Commander wasn’t already bad enough...

“I thought in your culture you love the one you marry and if you love this woman you wouldn’t want her to miss out on spending a night with a real man, would you?”

If the situation wasn’t so tense you would have laughed. A real man? He was covered in fur!

“Wolffe gives me everything I need and more. I wouldn’t leave him for any man in the entire galaxy.”

It was only when the words left your mouth that you realized just how true they were. You really had to get that under control, having a crush on your fellow Commander was bad enough, you would not allow yourself to actually fall in love with him. You couldn’t jeopardize your friendship, your future as a Jedi knight, everything and everyone you’ve ever known for a man who you knew thought of you as a friend.

The Gonchee looked you up and down one last time before glaring at Wolffe.

“Then I suppose I should bid the two of you good night.”

And without another word he turned around and left the two of you alone.

As soon as he was gone Wolffe let go of you and put some distance between you.

“You should lie down, you must be tired after dealing with those idiots all day.”

His words made you turn around to face him. Once again you just couldn’t read him. One moment he made your heart beat faster by actually acting like your husband and the next he pretended like you were nothing more than acquaintances. But for once you grew tired of this behaviour and refused to oblige, instead you stepped closer to him again and put a hand on one of the arm he had crossed across his chest.

“I’m sure you’re just as tired, if not more. Let’s both go to bed.”

He raised one eyebrow, but other than that he didn’t make a move to break contact with you again.

“There’s only one bed.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, a gesture you had often copied from Wolffe himself.

“I know that. But we’re old enough and trust each other enough to sleep in the same bed for one night”, you argued. You didn’t know what made you do it, but you couldn’t resist the urge to lean even closer, stand up on your tiptoes and whisper into his ear. “You’re my husband, after all. And husband and wife usually sleep in the same bed. And how else are you supposed to protect me from the Gonchee?”

You were too close to his ear to actually see his face, but you were sure he was smirking as he scoffed.

“I thought you were plenty capable of handling the Gonchee yourself, Commander.”

The way he said your title did something to you you’d rather not investigate any further. He was teasing, of course he was, but though two could play that game you were simply too tired.

“Just join me in bed when you’re ready. Otherwise you’ll have to sleep on the cold floor and I’ll have to explain to Master Plo why his Commander is sore all over tomorrow.” You could have left it at that, you should have, but you just had to add one more sentence. “And I can think of more pleasant ways to make you sore.”

As you left him standing and entered the hut you could hear a choked noise coming from him.

-------

“Finally decided to join me?”, you teased when Wolffe slipped underneath the cover.

Wolffe didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of an answer, couldn’t think at all. Not with you so close, laying beside him, trusting him to sleep next to you, to defend you if any of the Gonchee were to try something while you were in your most defenseless state.

“Wolffe”, you whispered after a moment of silence.

Now he had no choice but to answer.

“What is it?”, he grunted. And instantly regretted his gruff reply. This was his one chance to have you close, to forget that there was no way the two of you could ever be more than friends.

“Thank you, for today. And tonight. I’m glad you’re my ‘husband’.”

Wolffe wasn’t good with words, but in that moment he really had no idea what to say.

“It really showed us what we’re missing, didn’t it? The chance to be in love, to be married and not have to hide your feelings”, you continued.

For a second Wolffe’s heart stopped beating. Could you be talking about him not having to hide your feelings or was is just a general statement? Or did you maybe mean that you... No, that was impossible.

“Anyways, we should get some sleep now, we have an early start tomorrow”, you concluded.

From then on it only took a few seconds for your breathing to even out and just was Wolffe was about to sigh in relief that he no longer had to pretend that being near you wasn’t affecting him, you rolled over from your back onto your side and were now pressed up against Wolffe.

It wasn’t just his heart that stopped now, his breathing did as well. How could he move even to take another breath with you so close, with your head resting underneath his chin, your legs intertwined with his and your arm lazily thrown over his torso.

“Damn it”, he mumbled, though he instantly came to regret having made a sound. Luckily you were still fast asleep, if anything you cuddled up even closer to Wolffe.

Slowly, more careful than he had ever been, he lifted his own arm to wrap it around your waist and pull you even closer. He let out a content sigh, breathing in the scent of your shampoo in the process.

Wolffe knew for a fact that he wouldn’t get any sleep that night. This was his one chance to share a bed with you, and even though he would have loved to fall asleep and wake up next to you, he preferred cherishing every second of the night.

-------

The next morning you were woken up not by the sun shining directly in your face, nor Wolffe’s sort snoring or the birds chirping outside, but by the unfamiliar voices speaking in what you recognized as the language of the Gonchee.

You decided that it might be best to pretend to still be asleep, which is why you moved even closer to Wolffe and buried your head underneath his chin. In turn he pulled you closer to him, which made you realize that he had had one arm around you the entire time. You were almost too distracted by the warm and comforting presence of Wolffe next to you and the safety his arm around your waist guaranteed to notice that his breathing changed as he slowly woke up. Though like you Wolffe must have decided not to make it known that he was awake, it was only the more uneven breaths and the stiffening of his body that made it obvious.

“Might I ask why you have invaded my commanders’ privacy?”, a familiar voice cut through the Gonchees’ conversation. And though you knew that it was safe to ‘wake up’ not that Plo Koon was here, both you and Wolffe still pretended to be fast asleep. Which had nothing to do with the fact that you simply didn’t want to face a reality where you weren’t cuddling in bed with Wolffe, nothing at all.

“We... I....”, one of the Gonchee stammered.

“We were here to wake them up”, another voice, who you recognized as the leader’s son, tried to explain.

You both heard and sensed you master coming closer, and though part of you was worried what he may say, or worse think, about the position you and Wolffe were in, the bigger part was comforted by the fact that the Gonchee were either afraid enough or had enough respect for the Jedi to hurry out of the hut within seconds.

“I know you’re awake.” Your Plo’s voice sounded amused rather than mad, though to be fair, in all your years of being his Padawan you had only seen him angry a handful of times, and almost never at you.

It took a lot of self-restraint to fight the urge to cuddle closer to Wolffe for one last second before opening your eyes, but you managed. In moments like these you really wished Plo wouldn’t have to wear a mask, it would make it worlds easier to guess his feelings if you could just see his face.

“I take it the two of you slept well?”, he asked. “The Gonchee certainly seemed to think so.”

You didn’t know what to say. Was there anything you could say without letting either Wolffe or Plo Koon know just how well you slept with your fellow commander by your side? How much you never wanted to go to sleep without him in your arms again and how much you already missed him, now that he was just a few centimeters away?

“Did you understand them, sir?”, Wolffe asked. It didn’t escape your notice that he didn’t answer the question either, though that could simply be due to the fact that Wolffe despised small talk, even with the man who was like a father to him.

“I understood enough to know that they believe the two of you to be very much in love. As well as a few comments I’d rather not repeat, or think about ever again”, Plo replied. As he spoke his eyes shifted between you and Wolffe, though you tried your best not to meet his gaze. You knew that he could already tell more than enough about your emotions through your force connection, if he saw your face, saw the love and admiration that must be visible in your eyes, he would know just how much you cared for Wolffe.

“I’ll let you get ready then. Be outside in 10 minutes, we’re leaving in 20.” With those words Master Plo turned around, left the hut and left the two of you alone.

You looked over at Wolffe, who, same as you, was leaning against the wobbly headboard.

“For what it’s worth, I really did sleep well. Better than I had in a long time”, you said with a slight smile on your lips. Maybe this was overstepping a boundary, but right now you didn’t care.

All Wolffe, in a very characteristic yet disappointing, fashion did was nod before standing up and starting to put on the first pieces of his armour. Other than you, who had actually changed into a pyjama while Wolffe had still been outside the hut last night, he had slept in his blacks and didn’t really have to change, or rather undress.

You, however, did. At first you glanced around the hut, looking for some sort of privacy you knew you wouldn’t find. Then you considered your options: You could ask Wolffe to leave, or to simply turn around, while you would change and he’d do it with probably only an amused smile, or you could just change real quick while he was still busy with his armour. In the blink of an eye you decided on the second option, partly because Wolffe, as well as the other clones in the 104th, had seen you bloody and sweaty, with torn clothes and in various states of undress before, either in the medbay or when you had been in a particular hurry, but mostly you just didn’t want to send Wolffe away, not after having spent the night together.

It was only when you had already changed into your regular trousers and just put on your bra when you came to regret your decision.

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing?”, Wolffe asked, his tone mostly shocked, though there was an emotion in there you couldn’t quite decipher.

“What does it look like? I’m changing.”

You had previously had your back turned to Wolffe, but his question, or rather the way in which he asked, gave you the confidence boost needed to turn around and face him.

“Would you rather I went out in my pyjama?”

This trip really was proving to be most unusual, since Wolffe seemed to be speechless.

“Of course not”, he finally said, though his voice did sound a bit off. “But you could have asked me to leave.”

By now you really didn’t know where your confidence was coming from, but as if an autopilot you stepped closer to him, close enough to see the way his eyes, as well as his pupils, widened.

“Maybe I didn’t want you to leave.”

It was a bold statement, and maybe not entirely true, but it seemed to do the trick, since a smirk found its way to Wolffe’s lips. His eyes, previously focused on your eyes, flitted down to your chest for a moment before going back up again.

“Then what is it you wanted me to do?”, he asked. “What do you want?” A clear challenge to either back down or take a leap. A challenge you shouldn’t accept, but found yourself really wanting to.

“I want you to be here, with me. I want you to be with me wherever I go. I want you next to me in bed when I go to sleep at night and when I wake up the next morning. I want you to always look at me the way you’re doing right now. I want you to touch me and kiss me and make me yours. Maker, Wolffe, I want you!”

The words were out of your mouth without thinking. Just like that, you had voiced every thought running through your brain, made yourself vulnerable to Wolffe’s reaction, whatever it might be. Though you had never expected it to be an arm, already covered in plastoid, to wrap around your waist and a hand, warm and steady, on the back of your neck.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that”, he mumbled before crashing his lips against yours.

Though you didn’t have much experience, you knew that this was what a kiss was supposed to be. It was not a clashing of teeth, like your first kiss, nor hesitant and barely there, like your second, but a perfect mixture. Wolffe wasn’t rough, though there was just enough force to tell you that he could be if that’s what you wanted. His lips worked against yours as if they were made to, teeth softly grazing your bottom lip a few times before biting down. He nibbled on your lip, then caressed it with his tongue before giving the same treatment to your top lip. Some time during the kiss your hands had found their way into his hair, pulling it and pulling him closer at the same time, finally feeling the soft strands between your fingers and causing Wolffe to moan at the sensation. By the time his tongue made its way into your mouth you could have sworn that your legs were made of jelly, that you had moved on to whatever came after this life, that this was a dream.

Even when Wolffe pulled away to catch his breath you didn’t dare to open your eyes, afraid of the reality you would find if you did.

You heard Wolffe’s low chuckle before his lips were on you again. This time he gently kissed your cheeks, the corners of your lips, before making his way down. He spread small bites on your jaw and then followed his teeth with his tongue, soothing the slight sting. Though it was a spot high up on your neck, just beneath your jaw, that finally got a reaction from you. You tightened your grip on his hair as his lips ghosted over the spot and moaned when they pressed harder.

“So needy”, Wolffe chuckled.

All you did to reply was pull his head up again for another kiss, one that was faster and more heated than the last. Though as soon as you pulled away his lips found their way to the same spot again. He began to suck while at the same time pulling you back to the bed. You wondered how he had enough sense to sit down and pull you into his lap, all your thinking had abandoned you the moment his lips first met yours.

“Wolffe, I - kriff, stop -”, you panted.

As soon as you said the word he pulled away, though his hands still had a grip on you, it loosened and he looked at you with nothing but love and lust in his eyes.

“What is it, mesh’la?”

For a moment you leaned your forehead against his shoulder before straightening up again and looking at him.

“As much as I’d love for you to leave hickeys all over, we both know that you can’t. No one can know this ever happened”, you told him, making sure to put just enough authority in your voice to make him take you seriously.

A sly grin was on his lips as soon as the words left your mouth.

“I know, cyare”, he reassured you. He leaned closer again, though this time his lips didn’t move to your neck, but to your ear. “But later I’ll mark you in places where no one but me will see.”

The thought alone send shivers down your spine and heat to your core, but it also placed a smile on your face.

“Looking forward to it”, you said and placed a quick peck on his lips. Though you should have known that Wolffe wouldn’t leave it at that. He pulled you closer once again, the hand on your waist now moving upwards and to the front until it cupped your breast. Gently, in stark contrast to the way he bit down on your lip, he squeezed and massaged in before moving on to the other one.

Another moan escaped your lips, this one even louder.

“Careful, we don’t want anyone to hear you, do we?”

You were about to nod in agreement when an idea popped into your head.

“I bet hearing me would make the Gonchee really believe that we’re married.”

Wolffe chuckled as he once again moved his hands to your waist.

“I think they already believe us, cyare.”

-------

It had taken the two of you a while to finally separate and make yourselves look presentable, and only when you heard Sinker calling for the last men to hurry up did you finally leave the hut.

Now, on your way back to the ship, the two of you were finally together again after you had talked to Plo Koon and Wolffe to the other clones for a while.

“You know, I’m really glad it was you I was fake married to”, you confessed in a whisper.

Wolffe’s hand brushed against yours for a second while he chuckled.

“You know, maybe one day we can scratch the ‘fake’.”

He saw the surprise in your eyes as you looked up to him. Truth be told, he hadn’t meant to say that in that moment, but he knew he wanted it to be true. Some day, when the war was over, if you would still want him by your side by then.

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much”, you said with a smile. “But first, I think there’s something else we need to do, once we have some time and privacy.”

Wolffe knew exactly what you were talking about, and though he couldn’t wait to feel you, to hear you and touch you again, he also couldn’t wait for the day he would get to call you his wife for real. Maybe, after such a long time of denying his feelings and then refusing to act on them, this trip to the Gonchee village and pretending to be married had been good for something after all.

I tried to put a little bit of everything (and by ‘everything’ I mean some of my favourite tropes) into this story, I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. <3

#wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #commander wolffe x you #wolffe x y/n #commander wolffe x y/n #commander wolffe imagine #wolffe imagine

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kiwikipedia · 2 years

Text

Step Two, Three

Fandom(s): Star Wars

Rating: K/T

Summary: Some Jedi are really good at dancing! Others aren’t... And Ashe is one of them

Notes: Implied canon x oc relationships (Commander Fox/Ashe Lark/Quinlan Vos, Sha Koon/Mari Gildow/Hound, Kit Fisto/Plo Koon/Dara Idella)

AO3

I actually meant to post this on valentines day but then died and forgot about it

A soft hiss left Shaak Ti as Ashe stepped on the older Jedi’s foot again, grimmancing.

“Ah- I'm sorry-“ he started but the other Jedi just shook her head, smiling a bit though her brows were furrowed just slightly.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

The two stopped dancing, dropping their hands which allowed the Togruta woman— and himself— to take a break for a bit.

“This seems a bit redundant,” Ashe sighed a bit, shaking his head, “Clearly, I can’t dance.”

Shaak Ti smiled sympathetically, starting to say something before Kit Fisto spoke up as he walked past.

“Oh, don’t speak like that, Lark,” he interjected, the tall Nautolan grinning a bit— a grin that showed off all of his front teeth. “If I remember, it took Cin close to seven months to learn how to dance. It just takes time.”

The Master in question huffed a bit from where he was leaning against the wall, watching them all with his arms crossed and still dressed in the Halls of Healing's ward robes.

“I think the Battlemaster would prefer if not many people knew that, Master Fisto,” Omura Vane grinned from where it was sitting on the bleachers in the Training Hall they were all in. Several of the now part-time Guards there, their oaths having changed since the end of the War— he wasn’t the only one there, after all, a Temple Guard was never only alone. Part-time or not.

(The Guard was now only part-time, the other half of security was filled in by volunteers. Things were much more relaxed now, strange to think that the change had only taken a few weeks.)

Ashe, to an extent, wished that he was also sitting there, watching in amusement and knowing full well that for the impromptu gala that the Jedi were holding for themselves and the public, they wouldn’t need to learn how to dance at all. And neither would Cin. They were all security, after all.

It wasn’t like Cin could. Not while he was still healing from his duel with Palpatine— with Sidious. Which also meant that Mace Windu was out for the count, much to Master Bilaba’s amusement, as were Agen Kolar and Saesee Tiin, all three bedridden and being looked after by the second head of the Halls of Healing, Raim Collins. Somehow, out of the lot of them, Kit had healed the fastest and was able to get up and walk around, but he wouldn't be dancing either.

Unfortunately, that meant that all of the rest of them did have to attend and dance. And not everyone knew how to dance.

A good number of them could, but that still left the ones who couldn’t learn before the day arrived. That meant that it was up to those who did know to teach those who didn't— so far classes were being held by a number of Jedi from Aayla Secura to Master Sinube to Master Theld to Knight Coria, and more.

(He hadn’t seen the elder Rodian or the other Twi’lek at all as of late, but maybe they were just on a different schedule for lessons. And he knew for a fact that Master Plo Koon could, but the Kel Dor hadn’t been seen either. Apparently, he was teaching padawans with Sinube. He actually knew that for a fact, because Fisto wouldn't shut up about it. Damn romantic. At least Dara kept Kit from talking Ashe's ear off.)

Surprisingly, it seemed that Quinlan Vos could waltz like no one’s business.

And unsurprisingly, so could Shaak Ti, hence why she had been helping Ashe out.

The Togruta had moved on to helping out the Nautolan Master, Dara Idella, though. An easier choice, he supposed.

Nonetheless, Cin— who really didn’t like the sudden hero worship that came with slaying the Sith Lord and ending the war— had just shaken his head and agreed when asked to let them (by them, Ashe meant the Jedi who didn’t know how to dance) use one of the larger Training Halls for the dance lessons, as long as the Council promised that he wouldn’t have to participate at all in the festivities aside from security coordination.

It was agreed upon and the current members who had sworn oath into the Temple Guard before the War ended had split into two groups— Uniformed and Plain-clothed Security. And Ashe had drawn the short straw on plain-clothed Guard. If he was a suspicious person, he would've assumed the entire lot drawing was rigged since both Mari and Syo had gotten out of dancing... but then again Hakra had been the one to suggest drawing lots and made them all, so it likely could've been rigged.

Still, drawing the short straw meant that he had to learn how to dance— but despite the fact that it had been days, he still couldn’t get a grasp on the activity.

“Rough time?” Serra asked him as he sat down with the Guard and other Jedi who weren’t on the floor at the moment. Ashe just groaned a bit, head falling back as the other Knight just laughed at him.

“Yeah. can’t seem to grasp the concept,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re too nervous, Ash,” he heard and he opened his eyes, looking over at Mari as she rested her chin in her palm, a lazy grin across her lips. Ashe made a face, brows furrowing a bit.

“I don’t see you down on the floor, Mars.”

She just grinned wider as Roq’s ears perked up from where the Charhound was laying at her feet.

“Because I already know how to dance. Besides, I’m on duty that night.” “We’re all on duty.”

“Well, you know, I’m not going to be out on the floor. Too many people, too much noise. 'sides, Sha isn't fond of dancing, and Hound's also on duty.”

He let out a defeated sigh, dropping his head a bit as Mari hummed happily in the small victory. A small game they had begun to play when they were both younger, but the game was simple— just try and win the small victories. It had kept his nerves low when he first joined, it was just habbit for them now.

“You haven’t changed at all, Gildow,” Bultar laughed as she sat down, stretching her back out. He saw Mari’s hand twitch a bit, she must have been startled by the other’s sudden arrival.

Bultar Swan was another who was just out and about helping the others learn the correct steps for dancing and Ashe had to admit that he was a bit jealous of the other Knight— for all his years of training and combat flexibility, he had no idea what he was doing but Bultar was as graceful as ever.

Mari just hummed again, taking a moment to consider her agemate’s words.

It was still so weird, and he supposed that she felt the same way as he did. Something the entirety of the Temple Guard were feeling. It was just weird to be walking around without his mask on, with his identity allowed. To reconnect and have old agemates and friends talk to them… it was taking time to get used to.

(Not that Ashe had many, but he knew that Mari did and Bultar was one of them.)

Mari tilted her head towards Bultar.

“I just think that Ashe needs someone who he’s comfy with to help him with dancing, don’t you think?”

“Like Master Vos?” Serra piped up and Ashe felt the tips of his ears heat up as he scowled back at the black-haired Knight. Serra just grinned back as a few others chuckled or just outright laughed.

Mari snapped her fingers, though, seemingly in agreement as Bultar nodded.

“Exactly. We should call Vos. Or Commander Fox, for that matter.”

“Absolutely not—!”

It was emberassing enough that the others were watching him fail— he didn’t need either of those two teasing him about it either.

His cries fell on deaf ears though, as he saw not only Syo, Serra, and Enir, but Omura and Kit Fisto reach for their Comms.

So Ashe did the next logical thing aside from trying to fight all five of them at once— he put his head in his hands and accepted his fate.

As usual, Omura Vane and Enir belong to the lovely @certified-anakinfucker

Dara Idella belongs to @spacerocksarethebestrocks

Theld belongs to @mysteryhacked

Knight Coria belongs to @milfplo-koon

All other OCs belong to me

Thank you for letting me borrow ur OCs for cameos loves <3

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

The Family Tree is... a Disaster

Takes place in the TCW Leverage AU. It does contain a few deviations, namely that the narrative ended up shifting Plo's role in Ahsoka's life, and Ventress's role overall.

This is mostly just dialogue where I outline the fuckery that is the disaster lineage family tree, not actual fic. It stemmed from my incessant need to justify "25yo Obi-Wan somehow got custody of 9yo Anakin without Shmi dying."

Warnings for: canon character death (modernized), canon violence (modernized), and references to Nazis and white supremacists (Palpatine collects WWII weaponry as a parallel to his canon display of Sith artifacts in his office as chancellor, and Ahsoka thinks it's sketchy)

----

"Okay," Cody says, setting down a glass of whiskey as he drops into the seat across the table. "What the hell is your family tree like?"

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, and continues cleaning off the definitely-not-stolen crystal komodo dragon he'd won in today's job. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and Skywalker," Cody says, gesturing between Obi-Wan, who is just sitting there minding his own business, and Anakin, who is across the closed-for-tonight bar and doing something inadvisable on the pool table. "You've said he was your brother, and mentioned raising him, which, sure, I'm over twenty years older than my youngest brother, people take over parenting roles all the time. But you have different last names, have mentioned stepfamilies that the other doesn't have, reference things as 'your aunt, not mine,' and I am just getting... very confused. I figured it was personal and I could leave well enough alone, but considering your older brother almost shot us today--"

"Okay, Xanatos is not my brother," Obi-Wan immediately says. "Just. I just have to stop you right there. Xanatos was a student of my father's for a time, but I promise he's not family. Nobody except maybe Komari would consider him even close, and she doesn't count since she's in prison for life and the farthest thing from stable."

Cody gestures. "That, Obi-Wan. That's what I'm talking about. I don't even know who Komari is."

Obi-Wan purses his lips in a failed attempt to not smile. "Do you actually want the explanation? It's long and unnecessarily complicated."

"So's mine," Cody snorts. Obi-Wan waits, patient and pleasant, and is rewarded when Cody sighs. "Please."

"Of course, my dear. To answer your first question, though, Anakin is my half-brother." With a smile, Obi-Wan digs a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase. "So, center of the chain: me, my father Qui-Gon, my grandfather Yan, and my great-grandfather Yoda. With me so far?"

"Easy enough. Do you have to go back that far?"

"Great-grandfather Yoda is still alive and regularly escaping the old folks' home to terrorize younger relatives, so yes," Obi-Wan says. "Given that you may just meet a tiny, meddling relative of mine when he's bored, we do in fact have to go back that far."

"...how old is he?"

"We don't know for sure. A hundred and eight-ish is the best guess." Obi-Wan shrugs. "It's not a huge deal, mostly he likes bothering Anakin these days. Anyway, grandfather. Yan Dooku. Inherited a minory duchy from his maternal grandfather decades back. Mostly hangs around there because he's on terrorist watchlists in the States."

"Oh, lovely."

Obi-Wan grins. "Trust me, it gets worse. Anyway, grandfather never actually married, but spent most of his time with his 'best friend' Sifo Dyas, who died about a decade back."

"Gay?"

"Well, we know that now, but they got together in the seventies, and this was back when they were both working government jobs, so, you know. It happens."

"Good to know," Cody says. "So, Yoda's kid is Yan, who inherited a title and land from a maternal relative, and had a life partner but never married. With you so far."

"All of Yan's kids were adopted," Obi-Wan continues, sketching out the first branch away from the Yan/Sifo partnership. "Rael was actually grandfather's cousin, maternally, and ended up in his custody after getting orphaned at five. These days, he does most of the stewardship duties at the Serenno Duchy. His daughter Nim is teaching military history at a university in Germany."

Cody nods. "Uncle number one is named Rael, technically your dad's cousin, has a daughter. Got it."

"About a decade after Rael, they adopted my father, Qui-Gon. He and grandfather fought, frequently, but they did care for each other. My father was a botanist, did bio-engineering. We'll get back to him later, because he's where things get complicated." Obi-Wan made sure to leave room around the name. "Just a few years older than me was--is--Komari Vosa. She is... serving a life sentence. I think she fought Jango once."

"She fought my father?"

"To the best of my knowledge, they both almost died, yes," Obi-Wan says. "She's in maximum security these days. She was an assassin. I'll get a call if she breaks out, and I'll let you know along with everyone else."

"Bad news auntie, got it."

"Last adoption, sort of, is Ventress," Obi-Wan finishes off. "A few years younger than me, is technically grandfather's personal assistant and does secretarial work and the like, but we all know he's planning to leave as much of the inheritance to her as he is to the rest of us. She's aggressive and unpleasant, but she takes care of him and hasn't actually threatened to kill any of us yet, so that's fine."

"How'd she join?" Cody asks.

"Ky Narec was a friend of Qui-Gon's; Ventress was his daughter. Ky died a few years after Qui-Gon did, and Ventress was a mess, after." Obi-Wan shrugs and scratches that connection into the little sketch of a family tree as well. "Grandfather offered her a job until she got herself back together, and then she just kind of... stuck around."

"Youngest aunt, more of a cousin." Cody summarizes. "Now we go back to your father?"

"Qui-Gon Jinn was a man of many skills," Obi-Wan says drily. "Adequate birth control was not one of them."

It's almost a pity that Cody wasn't drinking anything, because going by the way he chokes, Obi-Wan's pretty sure the spit take would have been spectacular.

"I'm sorry," Cody says. "Can you repeat that?"

"I was an accident," Obi-Wan says, not even bothering to hide his smile. "So was Anakin."

"So that sounds like... a story."

"It is," Obi-Wan confirms. "My biological mother has never been in the picture. They had a fling, she wasn't sure if she'd want to abort or give me up, just that she wasn't ready to be a parent, and Qui-Gon volunteered to take full custody so she could go back to her life after the birth. I've never met her, but I kept her family name. You can consider her irrelevant beyond that."

Cody nods.

"So, when I was about a year old, Qui-Gon reconnects with an old flame, they get married two years later. Step-mother number one is Tahl. Lovely woman, I absolutely adored her, and she had a daughter, my stepsister, Bant Eerin."

"I met her, right?" Cody asks.

"Yes, she was the doctor who patched up my bullet wound a few months ago," Obi-Wan says. "With the giant glasses that make her look a little fish-eyed."

"She was nice."

"She is," Obi-Wan agrees. "At any rate, that was our family for a while, and then Tahl died when I was fourteen. Bant wanted to go to a magnet school for medical studies, and Qui-Gon's grief was... not optimal for taking care of multiple teenagers, shall we say, so Bant moved in with her paternal uncle, Kit Fisto, and Kit's son Nahdar. He's a marine biologist, incredibly friendly, and has no idea of any of the rest of my side of the family's questionable activities. If you ever meet him, you will pretend that we are a legal firm with a team of security consultants."

Cody raises a brow. Obi-Wan despairs. "Best you could do?"

"We're not that likely to run into him." Obi-Wan draws out a new line. "So, Qui-Gon deals poorly with grief. This is also around the time that Xanatos came around to ruin our lives a little. He was a very rich and unpleasant man, but he's dead as of four hours ago, so you don't have to worry about him. Or his son."

"His son?"

"Anakin handled that," Obi-Wan says. "Thoroughly. Granta Omega is no longer an issue. He's not dead, but... well. Anakin has his ways. Er--I should probably mention Feemor; he was my father's assistant at the university for a long time. Anakin and I still call him our uncle."

"Also a person to avoid mentioning criminal activity to?" Cody prompts.

"Well... no, but only because I don't think he'd care. The man is, forgive me, more of a 'walking sweatervest' than I am. He's a very bland and unassuming man. He once described himself as the background character of the soap opera that is my family's existence."

"Sounds like a charmer."

"Oh, he's very kind and clever, and witty as well. I adore him, and he really is family. He's just also very, very normal. Not boring, but..." Obi-Wan trails off and shrugs helplessly. "He's an editor for an agricultural research journal. Also not someone I anticipate us running into."

"Noted."

"Right, so, Qui-Gon dealing poorly with his grief didn't involve much drinking, but there were a few months of him trying to... lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh?" Obi-Wan tries, and then deflates at the look on Cody's face. "He was slagging around. Shmi got pregnant with Anakin, who was born when I was sixteen. Shared custody at first, Qui-Gon got him weekends and every other holiday, that sort of thing, and then they got married because they actually did like each other well enough, and it was easier on the taxes."

"So Shmi is stepmother number two."

"Shmi is stepmother number two, yes." Obi-Wan sketches in Anakin and Shmi. "About nine and a half years after Anakin was born, Shmi and Qui-Gon were in a car accident with... well, it later turned out it wasn't an accident, there was a hitman called Maul involved, he's actually Ventress's second cousin or something, I don't know. Grandfather handled most of that problem. Qui-Gon died, Shmi was in intensive care, and I got custody of Anakin as his nearest adult relative. We weren't very close before that, because I was off at university by the time he was old enough to form memories, but that changed once he started living with me. I more or less raised him as a single parent from that point."

"This is why he jokes that you're like a father to him."

"Precisely," Obi-Wan says. "Shmi took about a year to recover enough to move again, and grandfather covered the costs. She still had to live with a dedicated carer and attend daily physical therapy. At that physical therapy, she met Cliegg Lars, whose son Owen was also a patient there. They hit it off, and three years later, they married. When Anakin refers to his stepfamily he's talking about the Lars out in Nevada."

"Nevada?"

"They have a farm. A very, very normal one. We don't drag them into our activities, unless we have an at-risk person who needs a safe house." Obi-Wan pauses, and then decides this really needs to be stressed. "This is important to me and Anakin, that we don't get them involved unless there's absolutely no other choice. Shmi's been through a lot, and the Lars are busy enough running the farm."

"Works for me," Cody says. "We've got enough safe houses that it shouldn't be an issue. I'm guessing this story doesn't end there, though."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "My own love life has been... a bit of a mess."

"I already know about Kryze, at least."

There's that. "I was temporarily engaged to a friend, Siri Tachi, shortly after high school. We were in a relationship, but this was mostly something done to appease a relative of hers that was getting overbearing to the point of absurdity, and she couldn't just cut them off. We broke off the engagement after the relative passed, and we're still friends."

He notes that down, then adds the other embarrassment of his early years. "First marriage was actually a drunken joke between myself and my best friend when we were in college. We got it annulled a few months later because we just didn't have time to drop by the courthouse before then, and he's actually engaged to Asajj now."

"Asajj?" Cody asks, watching in fascination as Obi-Wan tries to mark in both his own short marriage and the newer, long-term engagement without crossing any lines. He settles for just writing the name twice and including an asterisk with 'this is the same person.'

"Ventress," Obi-Wan clarifies. "Yeah, Quinlan's a fun guy. His little sister, Aayla, treats Anakin like a beloved younger cousin."

"Are they also off-limits for criminal activity?"

"No, Aayla's the one that taught Ahsoka how to vent-crawl," Obi-Wan says. "And I'm pretty sure Quinlan has contacts in every major government branch, criminal organization, and Fortune 500 company on the planet. I reach out to them regularly."

"Resources, then."

Obi-Wan nods. "Some time later, I married Satine. We had a son; you've met Korkie. We split due to incompatibility a year and change before Qui-Gon's death. Satine doesn't engage in criminal activity, but Bo-Katan is..."

"I've met Bo-Katan. I know what she's like, Obi. You don't have to explain."

"She works with Maul sometimes."

"...the man who killed your father?"

"Yes. It's all very stupid and convoluted." Obi-Wan still writes her in. "So, that's them. Korkie goes to boarding school, and I try not to involve him in anything. Anakin and Ahsoka like to teach him self-defense and the like, but Satine is adamant that he stay unaware of my less legal dealings until he's an adult."

Cody shrugs. "Makes sense. Is that every--wait, no, Skywalker's married."

Obi-Wan grins. "Yes, and Padme's got twins on the way."

"I was there when he told us," Cody says drily. "He was very loud about it. Okay, how does Ahsoka fit in?"

"Hold on, I forgot Beru," Obi-Wan mutters. "Owen's fiancee. Same rules as the Lars. Okay, you asked about Ahsoka. Right. So. Um."

He dithers. Cody waits for him, and then Obi-Wan just gives up. "Ahsoka, dear, would you like to explain how you joined the family, so to speak?"

Ahsoka looks up from whatever she and the boys are doing--there are multiple beer glasses and straws and duct tape involved, and Obi-Wan doesn't really want to know--and then flips off the table and over to Obi-Wan and Cody. She looks over the family tree chart, and then says, "Oooh, did you tell him about the cult?"

"You were in a cult?" Cody demands.

"No, Komari was. She was head priestess or something. I dunno, it's why she's in prison and stuff."

"I did not tell him about the cult," Obi-Wan mutters, already regretting this. "The Bando Gora aren't a problem anymore. I've already gotten to explaining how you and Anakin know each other."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, steals his pen, and starts sketching in around Quinlan's name, over by Asajj since Obi-Wan's section is too crowded. "Okay, so, Quinlan's adopted. His dad is Tholme, and Tholme's dad is Plo Koon. Plo Koon is good friends with my Auntie, Shaak Ti, who raised me. They live next door to each other, out in the country, and I'd play in his yard a lot, because he had puppies, and he took me to visit his bees. Whenever Auntie needed a babysitter, she asked Quinlan or Aayla to do it since she knew and trusted them, and Aayla needed pocket money."

"This is so unnecessarily complicated," Cody mutters.

"It is!" Ahsoka chirps. Her grin is far too sharp. "So, this one time, Aayla was watching me when I was fourteen, and she was just helping me with my physics homework. BAM, the door slams open, and in stumbled Skyguy with his arm missing. I've never met him before, and my first introduction is him shortly after he's gotten an unplanned amputation."

Anakin, on the other side of the room, giggles. Obi-Wan just sighs. The Fett brothers appear to be in the land of 'horrified fascination.'

Ahsoka revels in it. "There's blood everywhere, I'm screaming, Aayla's panicking, Anakin's halfway to unconscious and insisting we can't call the hospital, and nobody can get Obi-Wan on the phone. Quinlan's in another country, and Auntie Shaak and Uncle Plo are at a movie, so they've both got their cellphones off. Tholme was faking his death at that point to get away from an incident with the Irish Mob, so we didn't even try him."

"What the actual fuck," Rex breathes.

Ahsoka continues with relish. "We get Bant to pick up, and she's there an hour later with Padme, because Padme knows how to drive the way Skyguy does, and the entire drive there is just Auntie Bant on speakerphone telling Aayla how to stop the bleeding and get him stabilized while Padme's screaming at traffic at the top of her lungs."

"I owe Aayla a fruit basket," Anakin muses aloud. "The anniversary of her saving my life is coming up, it's warranted."

"Five years, baby!" Ahsoka crows. She fist-pumps.

Obi-Wan just drops his head into his hands. "You're killing me, children."

Anakin shrugs, grinning. "You know, I think Fett Senior might have been involved in that fight."

"My shitty dad cut off your arm?" Rex demands.

"No, I think he was busy fighting the Interpol guy," Anakin says. "But he was definitely there. I think. Blood loss kinda got to me after a bit, but I'm pretty sure Jango Fett was there, and also Boba might've been hiding in the getaway car?"

"I need another glass," Cody mutters. He doesn't stand up, though.

"Wait," Rex says. "So who cut off your arm?"

Anakin shrugs with an unsure noise. "Someone tried to convince me it was Grandpa Yan, but he was in the middle of a court case in Italy for some kind of parole violation when it happened, so he had an alibi."

"...did he actually violate parole?" Cody asks, and Obi-Wan thinks he looks like he doesn't know if he actually wants an answer.

Ahsoka shrugs. So does Anakin. Obi-Wan carefully looks at a spot behind Cody, and doesn't explain anything about wine tastings used as covers for illicit arms deals.

"The arm?" Rex prompts, sounding a little desperate to get back to the question he likely thinks is the most important.

"I still say it was Skeevy Sheev," Ahsoka chimes in.

"It wasn't Palpatine," Anakin snaps.

"Your creepy older friend who took you to operas and gives you fancy gifts and knows way too much about swords who was conveniently there to talk to the police and cover for you so you didn't get arrested for getting in the middle of a gang war in the first place, yes," Ahsoka says, dropping into a chair and sighing dramatically. "The guy who definitely hasn't been trying to convince you for a year and change that your wife is cheating on you with your older brother."

"Ahsoka!"

"What? He is."

"Anakin," Rex says, "your life sounds like a trainwreck."

"I'm not going to assume a frail, elderly man cut my arm off!" Anakin protests. "Even if he wanted to, he doesn't exactly have the muscle for it!"

"Grandfather's older," Obi-Wan points out, even though he knows it won't help. "And he definitely still could."

"Ha!" Ahsoka shouts.

"He could have hired someone?" Cody suggests. "Doesn't need to do it himself, if he has enough money."

Obi-Wan has a sneaking suspicion that Cody is deliberately stirring the pot as revenge for Anakin sending him eighty-seven cat memes inside an hour during last night's dinner.

"You all suck," Anakin declares. "Also, what the hell do you mean 'knows way too much about swords,' Ahsoka? You know way too much about swords!"

"Yeah, but I'm like ninety-percent sure that his antiques are Prussian and mid-century German military officer dress uniform relics, and pairing that with the Nazi pistols he's got on display--"

"He's just a history buff! And his family's German, of course he prioritizes that region, it's not like he doesn't have Russian or French or English antiques in there too, it's all sides of the war and--"

"I'm just saying he's almost definitely sending me sketchy glances like he thinks I'm planning to steal the silver on the three occasions you've had me with you when you stop by, and I'm pretty sure it's got less to do with my criminal record and more to do with me being, you know, not white."

Anakin looks ready to blow, so Obi-Wan interrupts. "Ahsoka, you were explaining how Anakin passing out on Aayla and scaring us all half to death led to your friendship?"

Ahsoka blinks at him, and then sticks her tongue out at Anakin and turns back to the chart. "So basically, Skyguy had to recuperate in Uncle Plo's living room for a week or two, and I kept showing up to bother him because he was bored and nobody would give him a laptop for 'security reasons,' because he had to lay low and stuff. He made me help him sketch out designs for a prosthesis and do all the writing for the math he had to do for the 3D printer, and we got to chatting."

Ahsoka hops up and back onto a table, legs swinging below her. "I decided he was cool and started following him around while he was getting used to only having one hand, mostly because I was bored. He showed me how to hotwire a car, and explained the best places to put a bug if you were looking to make it sneaky, and he picked my pocket to show off so many times when he was walking around Uncle Plo's house that I made him teach me that, too. And, uh, then Aayla found out and they got into a shouting match about it and decided they both needed to teach me parkour so I could get out of any mess I got myself into, since I was obviously going to follow them into a life of crime."

"And you did," Anakin says, far too proudly. "You're the best thief in this half of the country."

"Only because Aayla moved out east."

Anakin rolls his eyes and pulls Ahsoka into his side, digging his knuckles into her skull. "Best thief! You are the best thief! Be proud of yourself!"

"Let go!"

"Never!"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. "Children, please."

"You're not my dad," Ahsoka growls out at him. "Skyguy, I'm going to bite you!"

"Good luck, the only arm you can access is the one that's going to break your teeth."

Ahsoka shrieks in outrage and stomps on Anakin's instep.

It's almost funny, for all that Obi-Wan's seen it play out a million times before, but the really interesting part is seeing Rex's look of fond dismay.

Obi-Wan thinks he might be adding a branch out to the Fetts soon. He's not actually sure if Rex is interested in Anakin or Ahsoka, and he's smack dab between them in age, so that's not a help either, but... well. The expression is familiar enough.

"Please tell me you don't match-make," Cody mutters to him.

"No, I plan to let the pieces fall where they will," Obi-Wan responds, just as low, and far more amused. "I'm simply trying to predict where those landings are to be."

Cody looks at him, and then back at the roughhousing trio, and sighs heavily. "You know, I really didn't think that you technically being minor royalty was going to be the least convoluted thing in your story, Obi-Wan."

He laughs, because it's true. "I'm first in line to inherit the title, since Rael denounced his claim. Nim isn't interested, and Qui-Gon's dead, so... I'm next."

Cody makes a face. "Delightful. I'm guessing that's not a connection we can safely make use of."

"No more than the Kryze or Naberries, I'm afraid." Obi-Wan claps him on the shoulder. "Chin up, I've plenty others in the metaphorical rolodex, all far less legitimate and far more amenable to work with our little outfit."

"Rolodex, really?" Cody snorts. "You're not that old."

Obi-Wan smiles winningly. "You don't know how old I am, Cody. All my IDs are fake."

"Anakin's twenty-four, and you're sixteen years older than him, going by the story you just told me," Cody points out. "I do know how to do basic math, Obi-Wan."

"I had to try," Obi-Wan admits. "I threw a lot of information at you all at once; I'd hoped you missed some of the ages in there."

"I have eight brothers," Cody scoffs. "And literally dozens of cousins, plus niblings, uncles, aunts, and so on. I have experience on this."

"If I asked you to list of the age of every single relative you have, you'd be able to do it?"

"Do you want me to draw a chart? I can draw a chart."

Obi-Wan can't help but laugh. "I'd be delighted, my dear."

Cody rolls his eyes, but Obi-Wan thinks--it's hard to tell in the dimmed lights of the closed bar--that there's a hint of a blush on the man's face. Obi-Wan lets himself slouch to the side, drops his head to rest on one fist, indolent debauchery in every line of his body. Cody does his best to ignore him, but Obi-Wan knows how to smile lazily and blink slowly and draw a man in.

(The whole 'indolent debauchery in every line of his body' phrasing is Anakin's, from back when he was a teenager trying to read highbrow literature to impress a cute girl... and to come up with new insults for his older brother.)

"So," Cody says, with a cough meant to somehow distract Obi-Wan from whatever's showing on the man's face. "Why, uh, why is your grandfather on terrorist watchlists?"

"Well, he didn't initially do anything," Obi-Wan says. "He was just a gay man who didn't hide it quite well enough, and had too much money and too white a face for someone to just call the cops on a faulty report. The Red Scare was technically over by that point, I think, but if a few people made suggestions that he was more loyal to the country that gave him a noble title than to the United States... he received a few warnings, of course, and it could have all blown over..."

"But?"

"But my grandfather is not a man to do things by halves, and instead decided that if the government was to list him as a threat, then he would oblige and make himself a threat," Obi-Wan finishes. "Living up to their labels, rolling with the assumptions, whatever you'd like to call it. It all irked him, and so he made some incredibly questionable decisions to make the government's lives harder. Some weren't bad, like donating to anti-war foundations that were protesting the Gulf War and the interventions in Yugoslavia, that sort of thing, and some were... nobody really looks well on gunrunning, you know."

"For fuck's sake..."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan chuckles. "Ironically, he has minimal opinion on the optimal form of economics, for all that virulent xenophobia and the remnants of anti-communism were involved in the whole mess. He just wanted to create problems for the people that were causing him problems."

Cody shakes his head. "I want to judge that, but you've met my father."

"Jango Fett is, indeed, also not a man to do things by halves," Obi-Wan agrees, attempting to nod gravely but breaking into a smile at the end. "That man is absurd."

"At least he's not dragging Boba into it anymore," Cody mutters. He drags over the fresh sheet of paper and pen that Obi-Wan offers him. "Okay, right, let's start with Jaster..."

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pkg4mumtown · 3 years

Text

Signs of Attachment - Ch. 1

Summary: Having an auditory processing disorder never slowed you down, but it mean you were confined to the Temple when the Clone Wars started. Will the frustration of not understanding people at times make for a rather lonely existence?

Pairing: Obi-Wan/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: G (for now)

Warnings: Hard of Hearing Reader, Fluff, Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first Star Wars fic, so have mercy on me. This request was for my friend, Jaime, who gave me all sorts of information and I’m forever indebted to them for it. The timeline is probably very off, but…oh well!

To clarify before we start:

“Text.” Means someone is speaking.

“Text.” Means someone is speaking and signing.

Text, Means someone is signing.

Chapter 1 - Effort

I slid the last tool into place and closed its drawer, the Halls of Healing finally back in order after the last rush of injured Jedi passed through. I thought bitterly about the war that I was barred from, except for the occasional medic deployment to forward operating bases. My saber hung uselessly at my side despite every test I passed to prove my worthiness to the Council. It’s not that they didn’t have faith in me, they just saw me as a liability, which is probably just as bad. Despite how hard I tried to explain it, they were convinced that I could never be focused enough to be on the front lines. Yet, I passed every test while purposely being fully deafened and even being both deafened and blinded, which was somehow easier than the former.

Being assigned to the Halls of Healing seemed almost harder than combat, considering I had been far better at fighting than healing throughout my entire knighthood. Semi-dangerous solo missions before the wars? The Council saw no problems. A full scale war with plenty of droids as target practice? A big problem, apparently.

I was so consumed in my thoughts that I had barely registered someone, no two someones, or rather their force signatures, entering the Halls.

Swoosh

I didn’t even have a chance to decipher any of what they were saying as their words and voices started to blend together immediately due to their arguing.

“Sop.”

“Yaioyu satowep beeineg doifficultat.”

“Lletat muoe gaorn.”

“No."

“Atnakin, ei doon'tat noeead tolorn beoe heneroe.”

I glanced over at my Droid for help, but its signing was a mess as both voices talked over each other. I eventually stopped looking at it and took a deep, calming breath. I tried to pick apart the voices and focus on one but both faded in and out, making it nearly impossible.

Shove. Scuffle.

“You do…”

“Eeim f—ine”

Slap.

“Yu figelol otan muoe.”

“Ei tolrippead.”

“Muaster, poleasoe tolelol heniem.”

Silence.

“Muaster?”

More silence.

“Muaster…?”

Oh. The closeness of the strongest signature was behind me now, poised and ready to—

Tap.

I turned and faced the two, rather loud, intruders to this calming place. My Droid wasn’t yet in place behind them, so I couldn’t quite get everything but I got enough. I had never gotten quite good at lip reading with Master Plo as a teacher, so he had learned Basic Sign Language to help supplement what was missed in speaking. I relied on my droid to sign to me quite heavily when dealing with patients to understand what was wrong with them, but it was only helpful if one person was speaking at a time. Definitely not whatever this train wreck of a duo was.

“Master?” the spikey-haired Padawan asked, staring straight at me.

“Forgive my Padawan, he toakess atfteer muwy Muasteer,” the older Jedi rolled his eyes, noticeably leaning on his Padawan and clutching his side.

“I do not.”

Feeling another round of arguing bubbling up, I held my palm up, “Both of you stop, please, and start from the top.” My Droid finally stepped in place behind them so I could see the signs over their shoulders.

“We just landed back at the temple, everything was fine—"

“Things are fine,” the Master snapped.

“—and he just collapsed on me. He wouldn’t let me check over him—," the Padawan continued.

“There’s nothing to check, Anakin.”

Ah, yes, the infamous Master Kenobi and his Padawan, Anakin.

“Obviously theroe iss.”

“Eim fignoe.”

“Stop,” I sighed and closed my eyes and opened them after centering myself. “Padawan Skywalker, please leave us.”

“B—”

“Now, please,” I urged, not bothering to give him an explanation. Not that I needed to give him one.

The Padawan made a face of displeasure before bowing to both of us and leaving the room.

“—overreacting—,” Kenobi sighed.

I blinked at him, then glanced at my droid, who filled me in on the whole sentence.

Anakin is overreacting, really.

“Master Kenobi, please sit and take off your tunics and tabards,” I ask and look away, not that it was going to matter because I was going to see him shirtless regardless.

I tried to ignore the broad expanse of his chest, littered with scars and copper hair. My eyes lingered a little too long while raking over and looking for injuries. I was just being thorough.

When I saw the wound that caused this whole ordeal I sucked in a breath quickly. The skin on his side was badly burned and the wound was at least a few days old, so naturally it had infected because he neglected to take care of it.

“It’s infected,” I shook my head almost hurriedly grabbed the large tub of bacta we kept on hand.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” He brushed off my comment, obediently lifting his arm when I nudged it.

“Have you looked at it recently?” I scoffed as I further inspected the wound.

He was silent for a moment, making me look at my droid confused as if I had missed something but the Droid confirmed that I hadn’t.

“Master Kenobi?”

“The less I acknowledged it, the easier it was to manage the pain,” he grumbled back. “And surely, you can call me Obi-Wan, we were in the crèche together.”

“That hardly constitutes a first name basis,” I squinted at him. “I don’t even recall speaking to you. They were troubling times for me, it was easier to keep to myself. Less to…process.”

“Oh, believe me, that message was loud and clear,” Obi-Wan chuckled, making me roll my eyes in an attempt to not focus on the way it lit his face up or brightened his eyes. “I also seem to remember that you were one of the best saber wielders out of all us.”

“A lot of good that did me,” I gestured to the sterile room.

“You still have the honor of humiliating an advanced saber instructor in class while being completely shut off to auditory and optical input.”

A blush rose to my cheeks, “Ho—”

“Every Padawan in the temple knew about it…”

“Well, it couldn’t have been that impressive if it wasn’t enough for the frontlines,” I slipped bitterly.

“They’re not all fun, unfortunately,” he murmured.

“I’m a guardian trapped as a healer, Obi-Wan, anything is better than this.” I took a deep breath, “Anyway, you might feel some discomfort.”

I closed my eyes and hovered my hand over the wound and focused on purging the infection first, feeling it attacking the cells around it as I finally attuned with said infection. I pulled the infection away from his body, pleased when there was no resistance and it begun to trickle away. I tilted my head as I sensed another pain but in his leg, so I investigated without breaking the healing I was already doing. The pain visualized as five red dots, the cause hard to place while my mind was otherwise occupied.

Then, it dawned on me that he was gripping his own leg so tightly as a distraction to the pain in his side that even I could feel it. Blindly, I found his knee and then his hand clenching his thigh. His hand relaxed slightly as mine touched his, allowing my hand to worm under his for him to squeeze instead. With the infection released into the force, I focused on knitting the wound back together. In response, Obi-Wan’s hand squeezed mine even tighter. If I could have sent something calming to him, I would have, but didn’t want to break my concentration when I was almost done. Instead, I let my thumb brush back and forth over his knuckles.

Finally, the wound was completely covered with new skin so I let the force healing trickle away. I blinked my eyes open, a little woozy but nothing I wasn’t used to, especially after a long day of healing.

“—that—pleasant,” I vaguely heard through the humming in my ears. It always took a while for the force to stop thrumming in my head after force healing, only amplified by my condition.

I knitted my brows at him, knowing it was anything but pleasant and then looked over at my droid.

Stars, that was not very pleasant.

“Oh, well, yes I suspect the day it becomes pleasant will be the day that Jedi actually seek out treatment, rather than avoid it,” I stressed the end just for him.

“Sorry, I should have waited until you opened your eyes.”

“It’s fine,” and really it was, I was used to it by now.

“I’m sure it gets tiring having to have a conversation with someone over their shoulder,” I didn’t get to appreciate the sincerity in his eyes because I had to glance at my droid again, only proving his point.

“Well, it was a little hard to learn to lip read growing up with Master Plo…,” my mouth turned up into a smirk, clearly trying not to laugh.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, didn’t hold back and snorted; laughing immediately after, “Sorry, sorry…”

“But, he did learn and teach me BSL, so at least I have something. Even if no one else here knows it, the droid helps. Though, in the field I don’t bring it, so I just tell everyone to shut up at let me work.”

“That’s…unfortunate.”

“It gets taxing, if only because I don’t always catch everything so conversations are hard to carry without the droid. Especially if someone starts talking to me without getting my attention first.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head like he was deep in thought, “Maker knows we learn enough languages here, they should teach BSL, too,” Obi-Wan squeezed my hand, making me realize I’d never actually let go of his hand. Though, with his hand now squeezing mine, I’d have to rip my hand away and to be honest? I didn’t want to.

“I don’t think we have anyone fluent enough to teach besides myself and Master Plo…”

“Hmm, I’d still like to present it to the Council. Someone has to be able to teach it,” he smiled gently.

I had no words to express how grateful even the thought of presenting it to the Council meant to me. So I didn’t speak. Instead, I sent my feelings of gratitude through the force and our joined hands. I took the time to read the genuine twinkle in his eyes as I hadn’t been able to this whole time, and the subtle way his eyebrows relaxed as he realized what I was doing. My eyes drifted lower to the way the corners of his eyes and cheek wrinkled just slightly with the upturn of the corner of his mouth, a subtle smile for me. Lower still, to the coppery mustache and beard on his face, with flecks of gray from the war. Or his Padawan…probably his Padawan. I let my eyes drift over the endearing way his mullet curled just behind his ears and rested against his shoulders.

He was right about one thing; I had taken for granted just looking someone in the eyes as they spoke to me. It was something that was necessary for BSL, and while Master Plo didn’t have the most expressive face, it gave me back a semblance of normalcy to be able to carry on a conversation face to face. It helped bridge the gaps between any words I had missed and ensured I had the whole picture, even going so far as to express words or ideas I was having trouble expressing with speech.

I cleared my throat, realizing I was staring far longer than I should have been, “Sorry, um, here…”

I reluctantly untangled our hands and grabbed the container of bacta, scooping a generous amount on to my fingers. I applied the cool gel to the new, pink, raw skin, which looked far better than the angry, red and purple open wound he had come in with. He jumped at the first contact, whether it was because of the cold or not, I didn’t know, but his sigh of relief after was a good sign.

I wiped my hand of and grabbed a new travel bottle of bacta for him, before pausing and grabbing two more, “Here, try not to lose these…”

He took them gratefully, knowing we normally didn’t give that much to just one Jedi, “Thank you, I—I didn’t lose mine. I gave it to my men, they needed it more.”

His men, his clones, whose health he put above his own.

“I’m not surprised,” I shook my head, “but do try to take care of yourself. They need you to lead them as much as you need them to succeed.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

My brain halted for a moment, my eyes widening slightly. This was the first real conversation I’d had with him and yet he knew my first name without hesitation.

“You shouldn’t be all the surprised, our masters were good friends after all. Master Koon, talked about you a lot with Master Jinn. He just never brought you along, I suppose,” Obi-Wan shrugged.

I hummed, “He was quite protective of me and tried to overwhelm me as little as possible…”

“I wish he had brought you, though. You would have gotten along well with Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan had a far away look in his eyes that I almost missed.

“I’m sorry, about…”

“Nonsense,” Obi-Wan shook his head and smiled. “Now, I should get out of your hair lest my Padawan get into trouble.”

I stepped back to allow him to stand and handed him his discarded clothes from earlier, before turning and giving him privacy.

“Thank you,” he murmured, casually watching the droid out of the corner of his eye as it automatically translated into sign language.

When I turned back around, he was fully dressed again and stowing away the bacta in his belt, “Have a good rest of your day, Obi-Wan.” I bowed my head slightly to him.

“And you, Y/N,” he smiled, waiting for me to meet his eyes.

Thank you, he signed with a small smile adorning his face.

He bowed his head and took a a couple steps backwards and exited the room, offering a wave just before the doors closed behind him. My stomach flipped as I replayed the scene over in my head, realizing he had mimicked the droid in order to sign.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2

#Obi wan x reader #obi wan x y/n #obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi #gender neutral y/n #gn!reader #gn!mc #hard of hearing reader

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feybarn · 3 years

Note

Hey, lived your story Death and Beginning. a Noche love mine is post-death ghost romance. I would love to know how Anakin/Ahsoka/Cody/Rex/Quinlan react to finding out Obi-Wan was undercover (and how his "death") if you have any headcanons about it. 🥰

Ah... I actually have a number of those...

To start with Anakin. Which is... maybe the saddest of them all. Anakin refused to believe that Obi-Wan was a traitor, much the same way he refused to believe Ahsoka was guilty during the temple bombing. Unfortunately... Obi-Wan is then gone for an extended period of time and Palpatine works his magic and Anakin does end up believing that Obi-Wan was truly guilty, even after everything. Especially since Palpatine is never truly exposed.

Ahsoka... doesn't quite believe it, Plo refuses to speak ill of Obi-Wan and while she trusts Anakin... she trusts Plo as well, and she trusted Obi-Wan.

Cody. Beloved, wonderful Cody. Cody was—as I'm sure you guessed—the clone that spoke to Obi-Wan during the time he was on trial. He pretty much flat out told Obi-Wan he didn't believe the whole thing. Obi-Wan begged him to just protect the 212th. Which pretty much convinced Cody that he was right and that Obi-Wan was involved in something. Cody takes two years after the war is over to make sure his brothers are all okay, before he starts looking for Obi-Wan, because he refused to believe Obi-Wan was dead. Cody being Cody, he finds Obi-Wan.

Quinlan absolutely never believes Obi-Wan is guilty. But he also never speaks up for him. This is for a VERY good reason. Quinlan figures immediately that this is some sort of cover job and he doesn't want to risk Obi-Wan being in danger by blowing that cover. He also finds Obi-Wan at some point after the war, though this is actually mostly an accident.

Neither Cody nor Quinlan ever tell anyone that Obi-Wan is alive, respecting his decision.

(Jango is completely exasperated by both Quinlan—who pops up sporadically—and Cody who... doesn't really leave except when he wants to check on his brothers. But also, it does make Obi-Wan happy and Boba likes them both all right, so Jango puts up with it. It's easier because Jango's presence is not kept a secret, so while he can still only directly interact with Obi-Wan, he doesn't feel as much like just a spectator.)

Extra answer: Mace often finds his missions going surprisingly well for him. People coming to confess to him. Information he needs popping up in convenient places. Conspiracies unraveling around him. He and Obi-Wan likely never see each other again. But... he knows, and he's comforted a little by the fact that Obi-Wan clearly knows that Mace never once doubted Obi-Wan.

Mace, like Cody and Quinlan, never tells anyone.

#fey answers #anonymous #Death and Beginning #Random Things You Didn't Know

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lilhawkeye3 · 4 years

Text

At Arm’s Length

Commander Wolffe x Jedi Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: He may not accept you as part of the 104th, but you’re still one of the Pack— even if you prove so at the highest price.

Warnings: angst and injury

Part 1/10

~~~~~~~~

You may be a senior Padawan, but you still work alongside your Master with his battalion. After all, where better to assign a proficient healer than with one of the GAR’s main aid regiments? You weren’t about to complain.

Or rather, you tried to see the best in the situation and not complain, because you’d seen the hardships of the many people your Master’s battalion had helped... even if your fellow commander hated your guts and thus kept you apart from ever truly getting to know the men you worked alongside with.

He’d been like that since the very beginning, even when his colors were red instead of gray. Never speaking to you more than needed, always with a fierce scowl and usually only when on duty. Only calling you “Commander” or “Padawan,” never even using your last name. His coldness has caused many of the men to consequently be wary of you and avoid interacting outside of duties. Sure, you did have a few of them you considered friends— coincidentally, some of them the men closest to Commander Wolffe— but it still hurt to be kept apart from the rest of the battalion.

You tried not to let your Master see how much the isolation wounded you, especially after you’d accidentally walked back into a briefing room after forgetting your datapad and seen Master Plo with his hand on Wolffe’s shoulder, calling him ad.

No, you’d survive the Commander’s punishment by yourself, even if you didn’t know what you’d done to deserve it. He was the true leader of the battalion, anyways— you shouldn’t even be there.

~~~~~~

This day starts out similar to any other.

You and Commander Wolffe are jointly leading a delivery of food and medical supplies to the outskirts of a war-torn city on a Mid Rim planet. The people there are easier to work with than most and hold no hatred towards the Jedi, so you’re able to take charge with the medicine distribution as you work through healing the most severely injured brought to you. It’s gratifying work, and you’re happy to see the spark of hope that you’re able to bring to your patients’ eyes.

You’ve just wrapped up with the last of them and have fallen back into a more supervising mode as you try and catch your breath. Healing is strenuous work, and you’d recently found yourself pushing further than you really should. The exhaustion rarely ever leaves your bones anymore.

It seems you’ll be unable to have any reprieve, however, and you try to hold in a sigh as you see Commander Wolffe approaching you. “Commander?” You ask, trying to fix your stance to hide your weariness.

He doesn’t seem to notice it. “Got any reason for just standing around?” He huffs, and you can clearly hear the poorly hidden ire in his tone. “Tryin’ to make the place look pretty?”

His scornful addition only serve to further frustrate you, and you try to keep yourself calm, knowing he’s probably looking for a fight. “I only needed a moment to myself, Commander. I Force-healed more civilians today than I have in the same time frame before...” You trail off for a moment to catch your breath, but he takes advantage of your pause.

“You think you’re the only one who’s working your shebs off right now?” He growls, leaning slightly towards you. “Well, suck it up—”

Your eyes narrow and you take a step towards him. “Excuse me, as I was saying, if I try to help any more right now, I will suffer from Force-exhaustion and pass out. Either way, I’d only get in the way if I try to help the men now.”

He begins to speak, his frustration palpable both in his bright Force signature and his low voice. You’re unable to focus on what exactly he’s saying though, as something on the outskirts of your senses catches your attention. You look around discretely, trying to figure out where it’s coming from.

“—are you even listening? You can’t even take this seriously—”

And then you feel it— something on the edge of your senses, a warning through the Force. Your reaction is instinctive and while you start moving before you fully comprehend why, your mind is at peace with your path.

You throw yourself in front of Wolffe just in time to take the shots meant for him.

His helmet may be on, but you can feel the tidal wave of shock and anger and, to your surprise, fear course through him as his arms wrap around your waist when you begin to fall forward into his chest. He cradles you against his plastoid armor as he drags you toward the ground, out of range of any following shots. It’s a good thing he does, as somewhere above the growing static in your ears, you hear the sound of more blasterfire erupting.

The fire spreads through your chest with every breath you suck in, and you find your eyes locking onto the gray paint strokes on his helmet as the Commander barks out orders to the men. You try and focus on that as the pain threatens to make you cry out, and consequently it takes several frantic shouts of your name— your actual name— for you to hazily move your gaze to where you know Wolffe’s eyes are staring back at you.

“You’re going t’be fine,” he says, shifting his hold on you so that you’re tipped more securely against his chest. “General Plo is clearing the path for us to get you out of here.” His fingers slightly tighten on you. “You stay with me, yeah? Just keep fighting, y’hear me?”

You don’t have the energy to give more than a slight nod, but you’re still able to sob as Wolffe stands and begins to run with you in his arms. Each step jostles you against his armor, making the pain worse. He tries to counter it with a constant low murmur of apologies and repetitions of your name to ensure you’re still awake, which you desperately grab onto as a distraction.

It becomes too much at a certain point, and you must pass out in agony somewhere in his flight, because the next thing you’re aware of is opening your eyes to find the duristeel ceiling of a LAAT/i above you as you’re lifted onto the craft in a cot. A moan escapes your lips unbidden as consciousness returns the pain at heightened levels, and you shut your eyes tight in an effort to keep your tears from spilling. You’re their commander. You can’t show the extent of your injury. Your men have suffered worse than this.

And yet, as each breath becomes shallower and more difficult to inhale, you find yourself crying out desperately and weakly. “Wolffe...”

Your left hand has begun to clench tightly at your light gray robes as you swallow the worst of your cries, but time stands still once more when an armored hand gently eases your hold on the fabric and weaves their fingers through yours instead. Their other hand finds your forehead and rests there lightly. The comforting gestures don’t lessen your agony, but they offer a mental reprieve from it, if only for a few moments.

The rational side of you knows this isn’t the Commander. He would never abandon his men while they’re still fighting, and besides, he can hardly stand the sight of you.

But the other half of you that can feel yourself dying takes control of the moment as it tries to distract you from your fear by letting you pretend that for just a few seconds, Wolffe was with you and he cared.

Besides, who would it harm? As your eyes began to flicker shut despite the frantic shouts of the trooper clutching your hand—Comet, you recognized— you doubted you’d be opening them again anyways.

~~~~~~

Do y’all want a part 2? This is only the beginning of their story but idk if anyone is interesting in reading it lol. Let me know!

PART 2

#commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #gender neutral reader #oops the angst is back #star wars the clone wars #the wolfpack #104th battalion #padawan reader #jedi healer #fanfiction #star wars fanfic #hawk’s drabbles #tcw #cc 3636 #at arm’s length

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johnnyclash87 · 3 years

Text

Ok I finished this way quicker than I expected! I’m actually really happy with it

@sammi-doll483 @kris-styx I believe y’all wanted to be tagged in this?

3636 had been in over a dozen battles, numerous engagements, and countless near death experiences. But knocking on a Jedi generals door was still the most terrifying thing he experienced. Whenever his previous General, Pong Krell called him to his quarters at best it was orders for another mission that would get hundreds of people killed. Or at worst a lengthy berating over a small failure in the last mission that got hundreds of men killed. Did they move from position? Failure. Did they retreat? Failure? Did they engage the enemy without orders? Failure. It didn’t matter that their position was under heavy artillery fire, or that they were overwhelmed by a force ten times their size, or that the enemy was about to engage them.

But here he was again at the door of a Jedi. Although this wasn’t Krell, it was their new general, Plo Koon. Kel Dor. Jedi Master. Even though the commander and the rest of the battalion were still extremely uneasy around him, he couldn’t help pick up on some significant differences. Like how when passing the troops he would say “good morning”. Or how he actually congratulated a trooper on their marksmanship on the range. Something Krell would have seemed a mere expectation for a Clone.

Whatever this was about, certainly making General Koon wait would not help. 3636 took a deep breath, said a silent prayer to whatever or whoever cared enough to listen, and pressed the ring button. The door slid open, and sitting on a circular mat that hardly looked comfortable was Plo Koon.

“Good afternoon Commander, please come in” hearing his actual rank was still an adjustment. With Krell it was always “3636” or “CC 3636” or he would just bark orders to nobody in particular and expect them to figure out who it was for.

“CC 3636, reporting as ordered Sir”

“Please have a seat,” 3636 stood still and firm at attention.

“Uhm.. at ease.” The commander relaxed his body slightly and slid his right leg out a small distance.

“I’m not sure you’ll take the offer but it would make this conversation easier if you would sit down” Plos voice even through the rebreather felt oddly calm and assuring. He wasn’t sure sitting would make him more relaxed but if it eased the generals mind.., He wasn’t sure if he should sit cross legged like General Koon and elected to keep his feet on the floor. That would make any need for sudden movement easier. As he sat he noticed a scent stick burning on a nearby table. Noticing it, he noticed a sweet warm smell in the air that oddly seemed to lower his heart beat.

“I hope I’m not being hasty but I think I should get to the point of this meeting. I’ve noticed the men are, well they seem very uncomfortable since the transfer” Plo barely moved except his hands in small slow gestures.

“I accept responsibility for the troops performance, I’ll..” with a slow raise of his hand, Plo gently cut 3636 off.

“No, Commander,I’m not blaming you, or anyone. What I would like to know, is why this is, and how I can help”

The commander was nearly always ready with a response or answer to a superiors question, even if the answer was “no excuse”. But he wasn’t sure how to tell one Jedi that the reason his siblings were so terrified was that another Jedi practically beat that fear in them.

“I know it may be hard to believe but I do genuinely care about you and the Troops. It concerns me greatly that you all seem to be in so much emotional pain. You may be bred for war, but you still deserve to be happy”. 3636 had to look away, unless the general see his eyes moisten.

“It’s ok Commander, I’m listening”

“Well General, honestly it’s just how we’re trained. We’re so used to punishment we’ve come to expect it. Some of us have even become numb to it”

“Punishment from your previous General? Master Pong Krell?”

“Yes sir” For a moment Plos muscles visibly tensed as if reacting in shock and anger. Of course Jedi aren’t allowed to get angry.

“Thank you Commander. I know that was hard but you have done your men and possibly more a great service. I will be sure to speak of this to the Council.” If the Commander wasn’t so well disciplined he might have hugged him.

“Before I go on, Commander, there’s a small but frankly important matter. I know it may not fit into military protocol but I can’t keep calling you commander and CC number is well out of the question. Even droids get names”

“It would be nice to have a name but I’m not sure what I would be called.” 3636 was relaxing more and more. This new general was most different.

“I may have a suggestion. I see how protective you are of the Troops, like a

wolf. What if I called you Wolffe ?” The Clone considered the name for a moment.

“‘No need to decide now. What I’d really like to discuss is how we might ease the men’s hearts and minds. I know many of the Troops in other units frequent the bars on Coruscant to relieve stress. Perhaps a trip outside the base might help?”

“Maybe in time sir, but I’m not sure they’re ready for crowds and loud noise.” Never did 3636 think he would not only counter a generals words but actually be encouraged to do so.

“Hmm you may be very right. Perhaps something less, intensive?” Plo stroked his chin or rather his mask thoughtfully.

“I may have an idea, General”

“Please. You know them better than I do”

“During our training, some of the instructors taught us how to paint our armor to make it more distinctive and to help build a sense of community. For many of us it was the most enjoyable and relaxing trainings we received. Maybe we could have the men paint their armor as a way to ease their anxiety and feel more like individuals. We could even have them make a logo and tell them it’s for tactical reasons. That way they feel less suspicious about the idea” This was probably the most 3636 had spoken to well anyone in while.

“I think that’s a great idea. Is there anyone who might be able to take charge of such a project?” General Plo sounded just as ecstatic as the Clone was.

“Actually I think I know the perfect person. 2827. The instructors were very impressed with his painting skills and he even helped some of the other Troopers.”

“Then he sounds like the man for the job. Call him in, if you would, please” Plo was already standing up as the Commander contacted the Trooper. They didn’t wait long before the bell rang. Plo activated the door and invited the waiting Clone in.

If 3636 was on edge when he first came in, 2827 was practically hanging on it by his fingernails

“Commander, General. You asked for me?”

“Yes Trooper. At ease.” 3636 decided it might be better if he started the conversation.

“The general and I have a very important task for you.” This clearly peaked his interest. At this Plo took over

“Your commander and I were just discussing ways to make the unit more efficient. Not that you and your comrades aren’t performing exemplarily. I’m constantly impressed. But if I’m honest distinguishing the 104th from other battalions is a bit of a challenge. So I’d like you to make an insignia for the battalion.”

“And it can’t just be numbers,” 3636 must be feeling more comfortable if he would dare interject when a general was speaking, “it’s gotta let the Seppies know who they’re dealing with”

“Well said Commander. And I’m sure the Trooper is more than up to the task”

“Absolutely, I don’t think there’s a better man for the job” The commander did something he rarely did, he smiled.

“Well Trooper, you have your orders. Can you do it?” Plo didn’t think he would say no, but wanted him to at least feel it was his choice.

“Yes general. I won’t let you down”

“I know you won’t, brother. Dismissed” 3636 gave him one of the most genuinely respectful salutes he ever rendered

“Yes commander” 2827 was heading to the door, a slight spring in his step

“Oh and Trooper”

“Yes commander?”

“Call me Wolffe. Feel free to tell the others too”

Three days later and 2827 was running down the corridor toward Wolffe.

“Commander Wolffe! Is General Plo around? Have you seen him?”

“Take a breath Trooper. He’s actually heading this way” Wolffe hadn’t seen any of his Troops this excited since they completed training.

“Good. It’s done. I finished designing the insignia for the battalion!”

“That is good. Here’s the General now.” Both Troopers came to attention and greeted Plo with a salut which he returned. Something Krell never did..

“Good morning gentlemen. Commander Wolffe, you have the recommendations for promotion? “

“I do General. But actually, Trooper 2827 has the design ready for us.”

“By all means, let’s see it!” Plo showed about as much excitement as a Jedi could. 2827 opened up a folder he had been holding and revealed the image it had contained; a gray wolfs head.

“I thought that if the Commander was a Wolffe, we would be his Wollfe Pack. If that’s appropriate, sir” The Trooper beamed with cautious pride

“It’s very appropriate Trooper. I’m very proud of you and you should be too” Wolffes normally gruff voice cracked a little. Luckily Plo stepped in so he could wipe the dust from his eyes

“This is very excellent work Trooper. You have great skill with a paint brush. Hmm how would you like that to be your name; Brush?”

“I-I like that very much” 2827, or Brush, rather would probably have been just as thrilled if his name was Toast

“Very good then. Well it looks like we have some painting to do then. Requisition some art supplies and tell the Troopers to meet in the training hall. Commander, I think these promotions can wait, don’t you?”

“Definitely general.”

“And Brush, I hope you’ll be kind enough to assist me with my own art.”

“I’d be honored” Brush and Wolffe shared a silent look that let eachother know thinsgs were going to be much better from now on.

#my post #star wars #the clone wars #104th battalion #commander wolffe #wolffe pack #plo koon #star wars oc #star wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfiction #clone wars au #my fiction #my writing

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