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starryevermore · 1 year

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all those chickens ✧ commander wolffe

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

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

pairing: commander wolffe x fem!reader

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

word count: 1,835

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Weird flex but okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

“Uhh…”

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

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

“Yes or no, trooper?” Wolffe barked.

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

“What the kark is that supposed to mean?”

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

“Well, find her!” Wolffe snapped.

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

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

“Warthog lost Y/N,“ he growled.

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

“She’s not—just, watch my six, okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But the baby—”

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

And he meant every word.

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rexxdjarin · 8 months

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Commander Wolffe Works

~~Fics~~

Out of Our Element (Wolffe x Twi'lek OC: Zeeta)

~~One Shots~~

No Shame

A Twisted Fantasy

~~Asks and Thots~~

Anger Hurt Prompt: Stop that, hold still with Wolffe

“Just in time to watch the sunrise” with Wolffe

Rebels Wolffe x Reader x Rebels Rex threeway ficlet

Wolffe x Reader x Rex sandwich thot

Dom!Wolffe Spanking Punishment thot

Smut Dialogue Prompts with Wolffe

Wolffe loves marking you thot

~~Art~~

Why are you fucking with me? Art

#commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe fanfic #commander wolffe fanfiction #tcw wolffe #rexxdjarin writes #rexxdjarin #the clones fanfiction

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moonstrider9904 · 1 year

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moonstrider9904's finished series

all of these works are 18+ and contain smut. Minors begone.

Moonlight

Crosshair x Fem!OC • AU

Moonwalker, Part I: The Batch

Hunter x Fem!OC, Crosshair x Fem!OC, Tech x Fem!OC • Canon timeline

Noctilucent

Hunter x Fem!OC • AU

Lake Everless

Hunter x Fem!OC • Mini series • cottagecore AU

Toxic

Hunter x Fem!Reader • Mini series

The Hunt

Wolffe x Fem!OC • AU

2022 Kinktober!

Various pairings

Sweetness of your Arms

Rex x Fem!Reader • Mini series • AU

>>Return to masterlist

#moonstrider writes #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x oc #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #tbb crosshair x oc #commander wolffe fanfic #commander wolffe x oc #the bad batch fanfic #star wars fanfic

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clonesuperiority · 1 month

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I really only wanted to show my Clone OC's Tattoos, buuut who was ever hurt by shirtless Wolffe, Rex, Cody and Jesse? 👀

I'd kind of love to draw some fanarts of canon Clones ... Which ones would you like to see?

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cobaltbeam · 11 months

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/sweating profusely/ sir....

#my drawings #star wars fanart #star wars #the clone wars #clones #commander wolffe #sw tcw fanfic

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slotmachines-fearofgod · 3 months

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As per the poll results...

Alpha-17 hated taking care of the cadets.

They were loud, unruly, undisciplined, and cocky little sons of bitches. The Kaminiise that interrupted his and Fordo’s training session had said something about the CC batches needing mentors now that Fett was determined to get back to bounty hunting. Every Alpha ARC was to take on a batch as a trial run, regardless of the fact that Fett was never much of a mentor to them.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that his batch was a fucking mess. Maze had even patted him sympathetically on the back when they were given their official assignments. In their first week, two of them, apparently the twins of the batch, had already managed to get themselves into three offices they weren’t supposed to be in, and snuck out of the barracks almost every night.

Alpha made them run suicides for hours for it.

He didn’t care for his batch the way some of his brothers did, with soft gestures and words like “ad’ika” or “vod’ika.” They were clones, and they wouldn’t find any sort of soft spot in the middle of a battlefield. He’d raise them the way he was raised, with sharp tongues and extra training, and they’d come out the other side better for it.

That doesn’t mean he didn’t care at all.

CC-2224 was standing guard outside their barracks, which was a bad sign, especially considering he’d been the first to learn that if they got in trouble, they got in trouble as a group. He was usually the most effective at dissuading the rest.

Not tonight.

“Cadet,” Seventeen greeted sharply, “sitrep.”

CC-2224 didn’t look him in the eyes, another bad sign. It had been one fucking month, and he was already having to put up with shit like this.

“B - CC-5052 is experiencing residual discomfort from the training exercise today, sir. My batchmates are helping him with recovery.” Only three years old, six standard, and CC-2224 was already the best soldier out of all of them. But he was shit at covering for the rest.

“Why are you guarding the door?” Seventeen crossed his arms over his chest, looming over the kid. If it was really what he said, he’d been in there helping with whatever cramp 5052 was feeling.

The day’s training hadn’t even really been that difficult from a physical standpoint. It was Seventeen’s least favorite type of resistance training: the mental kind. The Kaminiise had them start it early so their minds automatically built up resistances to-

Oh.

“CC-3636 asked that I remain outside so as not to crowd CC-5052 and explain to any who may be monitoring the barracks what is going on.” Seventeen knew enough to read between the lines of that statement. He was there to discourage any particularly nosy Kaminiise from looking too closely for flaws. They would be monitored closely for the next few days for any defects, a fact that had been made clear to them before the exercises had taken place.

CC-2224 still wasn’t meeting his eyes. He looked exhausted now that Seventeen was actually looking for it. He had a certain deadness to his face that Seventeen had seen many times both in the mirror and on others. If he remembered correctly, today had been the first day this specific crew had to undergo this type of training. CC-2224 was probably the best off if he was well enough to stand guard.

Seventeen breathed out slowly, for the first time unsure what to do with the cadets. Usually their problems were solved with laps in the rain around the compound, or latrine cleaning duty. Emotional issues were more Fordo’s thing. But Fordo had his own batch to tend to.

“Step out of the way cadet,” Seventeen ended up saying, trying not to make it too gruff. The quick, quiet knock against the door signaled that he didn’t quite manage that. Nonetheless, CC-2224 let him pass, albeit a bit slowly. Probably trying to buy his batchmates time.

It was apparently enough.

5052, 3636, 1010, and 411 were all in their bunks, with 1010 just barely managing to reach his as Seventeen opened the door. 5052 was turned away from him, taking the furthest bunk in the corner, while 411 and 3636 took the closest. 1010 and an empty bunk stood in the middle, with 5052’s pressed up against the wall. He assumed one of the two empty bunks, above 5052 or below 1010, was for 2224.

“5052,” his voice rang out across the eerily silent room. It felt heavy in their room tonight, not light or even charged with an air of mischief like he was accustomed to it being. 5052 raised his head blearily, and Seventeen ignored the fierce ache in his chest at the sight of his red, puffy eyes. “With me,” he ordered, ignoring the subtle sharp looks 1010 and 3636 were exchanging.

5052’s eyes watered briefly, before his face smoothed out. He was already learning the importance of a blank face, which was good. He shouldn’t be using it with Seventeen, though.

5052 climbed out of his bed, his posture rigid in a way Seventeen had never seen before. Were it not for the situation, he would’ve applauded this cadet for his professionalism, something they’d all been lacking ever since he met them.

“Sir,” 411 called, and Seventeen spared him a brief glance, “I was wondering if-”

“Later, 411,” Seventeen said sharply, training his gaze on the kid who was approaching him like he was a death sentence. “5052 and I need to take care of something.”

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what effect his words were having on the cadets, especially 2224 who stood guiltily in the doorway. It was fine. Maybe they’d finally understand he was in charge, or learn they weren’t as invincible as they believed themselves to be.

As 5052 reached him, Seventeen held out a hand. The cadet looked up at him, then back at his hand, almost confused. Seventeen sighed, grabbing 5052’s hand with his, practically dwarfing the kid. He tried to keep his posture open and non-threatening, but he got the feeling the look 5052 cast at his brothers was him saying goodbye. As he tugged the cadet out the door, he noticed 2224 make a move to grab his brother, before 5052 shook his head.

2224 watched them go with tears in his eyes.

Fucking aiwha-bait Kaminiise demogolka.

He could hear the soft crying before 5052 and he had turned the corner down the hall. To his credit, the cadet didn’t shed a tear. He may have cried it all out earlier, but one look at the kid proved otherwise. He put on a brave face, but it was just a face. Any clone trooper would be able to see right through it.

He pulled 5052 along in silence until they reached his office. Seventeen punched in his keycode with his free hand, keeping a tight grip on the kid so he didn’t try to bolt. It was only once they were inside that Seventeen dropped the hand and sat in his chair. 5052 stood at attention directly in front of him, just how they were taught.

“What happened?” It was less of a request, and more of a demand.

5052’s voice barely shook as he spoke, “I suffered the after effects of today’s training, sir.”

Seventeen leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk, “Symptoms.”

5052 pressed his lips together, tears shining in his eyes once again, before answering, “I-I felt a shortness of breath, tightness in my chest, numbness of limbs, hand tremors, and tunnel vision.”

“You had a panic attack,” Seventeen summarized for him, nodding along with the conclusion. 5052 gave one sharp nod, like it took all his courage just to admit it. Hell, it probably did. If any of the longnecks found out, he’d be decommissioned. Just like with the Alphas, they wanted this first batch of CCs to be perfect.

“Yessir,” he whispered, his lower lip wobbling slightly.

Seventeen sighed, “At ease, 5052. C’mere.”

5052 fell back into parade rest, but didn’t move, eyes darting between the wall and Seventeen’s face. Seventeen raised his eyebrow, and sat back in his chair. He could play the waiting game.

Eventually, the cadet caved and rounded the desk before he stood at Seventeen’s side, still looking past him instead of at him.

“I know 2224’s been going around giving out names, so what’s yours?” Seventeen asked gently. 2224 was practically asking for a decom with that little scheme, but he couldn’t help but admire the sheer bravery, or maybe stupidity, the cadet showed.

5052 shook his head just slightly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“Drop the sir, it’s just Seventeen for right now.” It would be easier if he put them on even footing.

That got 5052 to look at him.

There was a long pause where his mind was putting the pieces together, the fact that Seventeen took him to his office and not a long-neck, the gentle tone, the hand holding, the dropping of rank all beginning to click in his head.

“I’m not - am I in trouble?”

Seventeen shook his head and 5052 sagged in relief almost immediately. This time, the tears did start, wracking his little body as his head dropped to his chest. Seventeen did the only thing he could and yanked the kid into his chest, calmly running a hand through his short curls and breathing in and out, getting him to match the pattern.

It took a while, but 5052 began to calm down.

“It’s alright, kid,” Seventeen said lowly, “You’re not the first vod to lose it after one of those training sessions and you won’t be the last.”

“Vod?”

“It means brother,” Seventeen said. He’d forgotten that less exposure to Fett meant the new generations wouldn’t likely have the chance to learn Mando’a. He’d have to talk to the other Alphas about fixing that.

5052 nodded, before taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Seventeen allowed him that, just offering physical comfort like his batch was probably doing before he intruded. As much as they got on his nerves, they needed to know they were his vode, and he wouldn’t turn them in for something so little as a panic attack. He didn’t have to like them to treat them with some base decency.

“My name is Bly,” he answered eventually, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Seventeen chuckled, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gently disentangled them, before bringing him into a keldabe. “Do you know what this is?”

He shook his head no.

“This is a keldabe. In a fight, a keldabe can be a useful tool in getting your opponents disoriented and putting some distance between you and them. It’d be a bit rougher than this, and probably leave you with a bruise if I really put some effort into it.” He held eye contact with 5052, even as the slightly caged look came back into the cadet’s eyes, “But between family, friends, or partners, it’s a sign of affection. A sign that we’re here for each other, through all this blood and fear. Something so brutal, so painful, turned soft and loving in the presence of those you trust.”

“Oh,” the kid breathed out, and Seventeen could tell the exact moment that he understood what he was telling him.

“I’m not letting those demogolka get their hands on you, even if your brothers are assholes,” the small laugh was almost happy, “I can’t go easy on you, vod. If I do, we’ll both be slated for decomm. Do you understand?”

The kid - Bly nodded, a very small smile beginning to form, “Thanks, Seventeen.”

Seventeen pulled back and nodded, hiding his laugh at Bly’s sudden yawn. It was getting late, and these kids hadn’t gone through sleep deprivation training yet. It would be best to let them rest while they could.

—

“Again,” Seventeen called, grinning smugly as Fox snarled at him. A year into their training with him and this batch had quickly shot to the top, with the exception of the clone in front of him. Fox’s scores had been dropping lately, though the little dickhead refused to tell him what had been going on, so they were doing this.

Sparring until Fox either dropped or spilled.

It was looking more and more like Fox preferred the first option.

Usually, when one of them was being difficult, he had them train until their legs gave out on them and they could do nothing but talk. Sometimes it took a little more or less work, especially when it came to Fox. Bly was happy to talk to him since that first night he’d shown he was safe, though he’d caught comments from Wolffe or Fox about the baby of the batch getting special treatment. Kote and Ponds generally folded as soon as they were physically exhausted, and Wolffe just had to get angry enough to spit it all out in quick succession.

Fox was different. He was smarter.

He didn’t take training laying down, and was clever enough to keep his cool even when Seventeen could tell he wanted to do nothing more than scream. He’d never dream of talking about his issues to anyone outside his batch, and even then Seventeen was pretty sure he’d only talk to Ponds or Wolffe. He hadn’t even wanted to tell Seventeen his name until Wolffe nagged him enough to make him stand, red-faced, in front of the older clone and spit it out. Seventeen pulled him into a quick keldabe, before repeating the name and telling him it suited him.

Right now wouldn’t be solved with nagging or a keldabe. At least, not the gentle kind. Fox needed blood, he needed to gnash his teeth and give and receive a little pain. Seventeen understood that just fine.

“Fuck you,” Fox spat, before lunging again. He was getting sloppier, more tired, and Seventeen was able to pin him in under a minute. He held the struggling kid there for a few seconds until Fox realized he wasn’t escaping and went limp, tapping out once again.

“Again,” Seventeen repeated once Fox had caught his breath. This time, it was less than thirty seconds before Fox quit fighting, just lying quietly on the mat.

“You know,” Seventeen huffed after a few moments of stillness, “You’re supposed to tap out.”

Fox tapped lightly, and Seventeen let him up. He grabbed his shoulder before Fox could get too far back into position to go again.

“Your flight time went up again.”

“I know.”

“You gonna do anything about it?”

Fox’s glare was enough to make almost anyone else back down. But not him.

“The fuck do you care?”

Seventeen stepped back, getting into a fighting position, “Again.”

Fox didn’t have buttons to push like Wolffe, nor did he give up when he should like Ponds or Kote. He needed a little of both, a little more push than most would have advocated for a kid, to get him to crack how he needed to.

They danced the familiar dance a few more times before, maybe the fourth or fifth time Seventeen pinned him, Fox let out a frustrated yell. That was close to what he was looking for.

“Kote took top spot for blaster modules this week.”

“I fucking know, okay?”

That was what he was looking for.

“I know Kote took top spot and I know Wolffe beat my fly time and I know Gree and his batch are taking over strategy mods! I fucking get it, so fuck off with whatever the hell this is!” Fox wriggled out from under him, and Seventeen let him go without a fight. He stayed facing away from Seventeen, but that was okay for now.

“I just…I hate this stuff! I hate being trapped in those rooms with those demogolka and fucking Fett watching over our shoulders like he ever did anything except leave and you acting like you give a shit when we both know you’re only here because we’re another assignment for you. I hate you pretending like we’re brothers or everything’s gonna be fine and we aren’t all gonna die soon or-or like any of us matter in the long run,” his rant was beginning to slow, and Seventeen approached slowly. The small break in his voice told him all he needed to know.

“I don’t get the point when it doesn’t fucking matter if I die here or on a battlefield because death is death, and either way no one’s gonna care,” if he had to guess, the tears started about thirty seconds ago.

The worst part is that Seventeen gets it. He’d lost one of his batch to the same thoughts. In the end, it hadn’t been the long-necks or a fight that did him in. Just a missing blaster and too much time alone outside. They all understood why, even if they never forgave him for it.

It was because he understood that he placed one hand on Fox’s shoulder, forcing his vod to face him.

“You’re right,” Seventeen rumbled, not leaning over and making himself small like he would for the others. Fox had always appreciated the truth above all else.

“What?” He was right, tear tracks were carved down his vod’s face, and the small breathy disbelief looked like it might break the younger clone.

“Fett’s a fucking asshole, don’t know why Kote likes him so much. The Kaminiise are indescribable in their cruelty, and I’m a dick. Doesn’t mean nothing you do matters, though.”

Fox scoffed and pulled away, trying to twist his face into that familiar hard sneer, “And what would you know about that?”

Seventeen shrugged, “Not sure. You don’t want me to know you. But I see the way Kote and Bly light up when their ori’vod is around. And I know Wolffe would never survive without you, and that Ponds would kill himself if you did what you’re talking about doing.” He looked this kid - his kid in the eyes. He needed him to know he understood. “You’re trying to get the Kaminiise to do it for you, so you don’t have to take the coward’s way out. I get it, vod’ika. But you know every single one of those little assholes in your barracks would hurtle themselves off the edge just the same if you died, by your own hand or not.”

“Wha-”

“Don’t do it for me,” Seventeen added, gentling his tone a bit as fresh tears sprang to his vod’ika’s eyes, “Don’t do it for Fett, and don’t you fucking dare do it for the long-necks. Do it for the brothers waiting for you back in the bunks. The brothers that would beat themselves up if they knew that you were even thinking about this. The brothers that are going to force you to cuddle with them even if they have to drag you kicking and screaming.”

Yeah, okay, maybe Seventeen liked to linger outside their door when he was done with his duties that didn’t involve five nightmares running around and making his life hell. Maybe he wanted to soak in his brothers’ laughter once in a while. So what.

Fox looked at the floor, desperately trying to hold back tears.

Seventeen sighed and knelt in front of him, opening his arms up and waiting.

It took Fox less than thirty seconds to decide that yes, he did want the offered hug. Seventeen kept his laugh to a low rumble, a little closer to soothing than teasing. Fox squeezed him like he’d never been hugged before, even though Seventeen knew damn well that was a lie. It didn’t matter.

“We don’t do it for ourselves,” Seventeen said lowly, “We’d never make it if we did. We do it for each other, or we don’t do it at all.”

Fox sniffed, and Seventeen didn’t even care that he was probably getting snot and tears all over his blacks. His little brother was going to be okay, and that’s what mattered.

—

It took the Kaminiise two years to figure out who had started naming clones. Who started giving them just a little agency and independence. And when they found out, they made sure to make an example out of him.

They came during the sleep cycles, when Seventeen wouldn’t be around to stop them, and took Kote from his bunk without a word.

Two years in, one year after Seventeen had begun to call the littles his vod’ike, he found himself kneeling at the feet of the man he hated most in this place, begging for mercy for his charge. Fett was cold, he knew, but not so cold that his second favorite cadet would be left to rot.

Kote had been in isolation for almost a week, and nearly every night Seventeen had a visitor from the batch crawl into his bunk with shaky hands and red eyes. A decomm would’ve been easier on them, but knowing their second-youngest was alive and alone, trapped and left at the hands of the Kaminiise, was breaking them.

Ponds and Kote had always been the anchors of the group. Ponds was the oldest, and the automatic go-to for most things. But Kote named them all, and every single one of them adored him for it.

Fett was unyielding when Seventeen entered with accusations on the tip of his tongue. He was prepared to yell, to scream at the man who started this, who refused to leave them alone even after everything he’d already done to hurt them. But one look at the man had him falling to his knees, a single tear escaping his eyes as he pleaded with his head bowed.

Fett said nothing, and Seventeen left feeling humiliated and angry.

Which was why, when Seventeen heard Kote had been let out and was currently in the care of Fett, he’d sprinted across the compound to collect his vod.

He got there just in time to see Kote leave, tears dripping down his little face, crumpling against the wall outside of the dar’manda’s room.

Seventeen said nothing, but knelt in front of his vod’ika and scooped him up, carrying him away from that place.

As they walked, Kote’s hands fisted in Seventeen’s blacks as he tried to muffle his sobs into the older man’s chest. He clung to Seventeen like they were the last people alive on this planet, and Seventeen made sure to hold him just as tight. They made it to the Alpha barracks, which were thankfully empty, and laid down together on Seventeen’s bunk.

Kote wailed for hours once he realized they were somewhere safe, away from long-necks and cold-hearted bounty hunters. Seventeen just held on, running a hand up and down his vod’ika’s back to comfort him, and whispered apologies into Kote’s hair.

“Why didn’t they just decommission me?” Kote kept asking through tears, sometimes screaming and sometimes whimpering.

“Why did Prime have to name me?”

“Why didn’t I listen to him?”

“Why didn’t he find me sooner?”

So many questions that Seventeen had no answer to.

When the tears finally slowed, Seventeen spoke.

“He tricked you, vod’ika. He’s a cruel and callous man and he tricked you.”

Seventeen had always hated how Fett dug his claws into this kid. He didn’t care how it would hurt Kote, he didn’t care what would have happened to him. Seventeen was a violent man but even he didn’t understand why Fett would do this.

“They couldn’t even say my name right,” Kote whimpered, “They kept saying ‘Cody’ and when I tried to correct them they - they just -” he broke off, burying his head into Seventeen’s chest and letting out another sob.

“They will always hate you for the freedom you’ve given your brothers,” Seventeen rumbled, “And I will make sure they cannot deny your strength.”

A plan was already forming in his head. He’d put Kote through extra training, make him into the best of the best. He’d make him good enough to rival an ARC. The Kaminiise couldn’t throw him out if he was useful enough, sharp enough, strong enough.

“He named me Glory, Seventeen,” Kote cried, “Why? I don’t understand!”

Seventeen didn’t have an answer for that question either.

“You have to stay away from him, Kote,” Seventeen said. He said it firmly, like it was an order, and not a plea, though they both knew better. Fett could easily take Kote away from Seventeen, away from his batch, and none of them except the kid crying into him could make it stop.

“He - he loves me,” Kote wailed, “I’m his ad, he loves me! I can’t just-”

Seventeen cut him off harshly, “Kot’ika, if he loved you, I wouldn’t have had to beg him to interfere.” It was harsh, but his vod’ika needed to know. “He didn’t come looking for you. We did.”

Kote cried for a long time after that. He kept trying to make excuses, telling Seventeen about all the times Fett had supposedly cared.

It just made Seventeen angrier. Fett had manipulated his kid into thinking he was more than a paycheck, more than food for a war that hadn’t even begun yet. Seventeen briefly entertained the possibility of killing him for it.

Out of all the tools they’d been given, hope was never one of them. The kid screaming into the pillow was proof as to why.

Kote eventually tired himself out enough to pass out on the bunk, and Seventeen sighed in relief as his breathing finally evened out.

Both Maze and Fordo poked their heads in, for once not laughing at the sight of Seventeen curled around one of the kids he’d once told them he’d never call his own. They told him Kote’s batch had been alerted to his release, and they’d immediately demanded answers from the older ARCs, meaning Seventeen would probably need to make an appearance soon to ease their fears.

Seventeen just nodded along to the debrief, a wave of exhaustion hitting him as well. He eventually gathered himself enough to sit up, taking Kote with him. The kid just shifted sleepily, his face scrunching up in dismay even though he didn’t wake.

“They’re going to be looking for an excuse,” Fordo said quietly after a moment, “He needs to keep his head down.”

“I know,” Seventeen murmured.

“Seventeen,” Maze said, “He’s terrified. Whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it.”

Seventeen just sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall.

“I’m serious. He needs to stop making ripples, good or bad. He’s already too individualistic for their tastes.”

Maze was right. Kote had always been headstrong and stubborn, just like the rest of his batch. They all relied on each other too much and not only had it taken Kote down, but the rest of them either refused to or simply couldn’t pull themselves together in his absence.

“You boys remember our training on Rishi?” Seventeen asked after a moment.

It was a stupid question, of course they did. They’d been dropped off on that moon, all in separate locations, with no comms or supplies to help them except what was expected in emergencies. They had to survive like that for a month before they were picked up again. It was the worst experience of any of their lives.

“We need a program like that for them,” he said after a moment, ignoring the twin glares sent his way. Every single Alpha had become incredibly protective over their batchers in the two years the program had been going on.

“Not exactly like that,” Seventeen assured them, “But their training is a lot more strategy and team focused. They need something closer to the way the ARCs were trained.”

Fordo snorted, “ARC training is a hell of a lot more brutal than what they’ve had to do so far. And it started a lot earlier.”

“It would make them indispensable,” Seventeen said after a moment, and he knew the silence following that statement meant he’d won.

Still, he sighed and stood, clutching Kote against his chest, “I’m gonna get him back to his batch. I have a feeling they’re about to come looking.”

—

Wolffe was smiling, which immediately put Seventeen on edge. Wolffe had a few kinds of ‘smile’. There was the genuine one, which was rare but always rewarding, the smirk, which was the most common and meant he’d just kicked someone’s ass in hand to hand training and was about to get far too cocky about it, and then his grin, which meant he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

Like now.

Seventeen folded his arms across his chest, giving his best glare at the cadet. They were six months into ARC training, a year out from the event that kick started the idea, and all it had done was make his batch harder to handle.

Not only were they trouble-makers, they were now troublemakers with all the strategy and training of their older counterparts.

“It wasn’t me this time,” they’d finally hit that funny age where their voices no longer matched their faces, and all of them grew at different rates. It was maybe the one time in their lives they would look genuinely different from each other.

Seventeen added an eyebrow raise to his glare.

“Kote found him first.”

Him?

“It was his idea,” Wolffe was beginning to shrink back just a little under the glare, “But he’s not making any trouble.”

Seventeen snorted, “The day you di’kuts don’t make trouble for me is the day you’re all dead and buried.”

Wolffe flipped him off.

“That’s ten extra suicides, cadet.” Seventeen smiled as Wolffe’s face immediately dropped and he started whining.

“It was just a joke, you’re mean to us all the time,” Wolffe argued, not helping his case in the slightest.

“I’m keeping you assholes alive,” Seventeen shot back, “Now what did you do?”

Wolffe scowled, replying, “Come on, old man,” before turning and marching down the hall.

“And that’s twenty,” Seventeen called after him.

Wolffe kept complaining the whole way there, even when Seventeen cuffed him on the back of the head for it. He led them to the CT barracks, which was new. To his knowledge, his batch never really came down here. There was no need to.

The experimental ARC babysitting program had gone well enough that when the CT clones were produced and of age, several Alphas had been relegated to managing these cadets, whom he’d been assured were either much less or much more rowdy than the CCs, depending on the batch.

Alpha had just been assigned his first case, though it was a curious one. Two of the batch had been decommed almost as soon as they came out of their tubes, and the other three didn’t get along the way most batches tended to. They were first generation CTs, so some defects were expected, but the vitriol with which they treated each other certainly was not.

It had been a jarring change from the crew he’d been taking care of for almost four years now.

Wolffe led him to a supply closet off to the side in the barracks, chattering all the way about how this was Kote’s fault. Seventeen ignored him in favor of looking around at the empty bunks, internally sighing about whatever scheme his vode had cooked up this time.

When Wolffe opened the door, however, the cadet inside of the closet threw Seventeen for a loop.

“7567?” He asked, surprised. He was one of the batchers Seventeen had been assigned to take care of, the one that got picked on the most, actually. What really surprised him, however, was the state he was in.

His usual obvious blonde head of hair had been shaved carelessly almost completely off. He could see a few cuts dotted across the kid’s head, and the kid himself looked like he’d lost a pound or two since the last time Seventeen had seen him nearly a week ago.

He’d thought the kid was avoiding him, but there was obviously something more going on.

“You know him?” Wolffe asked, sounding surprised and completely ignoring the sharp glare being thrown his way from the kid hiding in the closet.

“He’s one of mine,” Seventeen responded, still searching for any more visible wounds or changes to his newest charge, “Haven’t been able to find him for a week.”

“Oh, uh, that may have been our fault,” Wolffe said, looking back at 7567, “What? Why are you glaring at me?”

“I told you not to tell anyone,” 7567 bit out, the harsh tone being somewhat off put by the higher pitch of his voice. He was just a bit younger than the CCs, and wouldn’t hit the growth spurt that truly mattered for another year or two.

“Yeah, well, suck it up. Kote’s been going crazy trying to hide you from your batch and the Alphas,” came the nonchalant reply, and Seventeen furrowed his brow. Why would Kote be trying to hide 7567 from his own brothers?

“I figured he could help,” Wolffe continued, and Seventeen ignored the brief flash of warmth at the statement of trust.

Now it was his turn to be glared at, and Seventeen took a second to admire the size of 7567’s balls before matching it with his own sneer.

“You’ve been skipping training, cadet.”

“I didn’t want to,” he replied sulkily, “Kote said it wasn’t safe.”

Seventeen hummed, “And why would he say that?”

7567 hesitated for a moment, before quietly admitting, “He caught them doing…this,” he gestured to his head, and a sick moment of realization came over Seventeen, “He scared them off, but he didn’t want me to go back with them.”

Batchmates teasing each other was one thing, but hurting one another?

That would have to be dealt with.

Seventeen sighed as he moved in front of Wolffe and crouched in the doorway of the closet, “So Kote, being the di’kut he is, hid you in here.”

7567 shrugged, “‘S not terrible.”

“You eaten recently?”

The cadet shook his head no after a moment, and Seventeen turned back to look at Wolffe, “Why exactly did you boys think this was a good idea?”

Wolffe crossed his arms, “I didn’t know until yesterday, ask Kote.”

“Not helpful,” Seventeen grunted, before turning back to 7567, “Since you and Kote are so tight, I assume you’ve got a name.”

7567’s eyes widened comically at him, giving him away in an instant. Of course Kote did, he’d always had a soft spot for the littles. 7567 still looked at Wolffe first, who must have given an affirmative.

“Rex,” he said quietly.

Seventeen nodded, “Alright Rex, with me. Wolffe, you too.”

Rex looked at him with slight suspicion in his eyes, and Wolffe let out a small noise of complaint.

“Come on boys,” he tried again, adding a little bark to his voice that had them both scrambling to follow him out the door, “Medics first, then food.”

Once they reached a medical droid, Seventeen sent Rex off behind a curtain with it, and sat down next to Wolffe, giving him the ‘you’d better start talking’ look.

Wolffe grumbled for a bit before admitting, “His batch are assholes. Too aggressive with him. He learned how to bite back, but Kote said it was pretty bad when he found them. Kid was bleeding like crazy and scared the shit out of Kote, who tried to take him here. He didn’t let him, on the grounds of his mutation, and wouldn’t budge.” Wolffe ran a hand through his hair, a tick they’d all begun to pick up from Seventeen, “He’s with us until further notice.”

Seventeen sat back in his chair, absorbing the information for a moment.

“Good,” he said simply, ignoring the look of confusion and surprise Wolffe sent his way.

“Sir?” Wolffe asked, and Seventeen shifted in his chair, keeping an ear out for Rex.

“He needs a batch,” Seventeen responded, “He’s too skinny and too short, probably from lack of nutrition, and his hair is going to make him stand out. He keeps going the way he’s going, his batch will kill him before the Kaminiise get the chance.”

“Oh,” Wolffe said, a little quieter this time.

“You boys got lucky,” Seventeen continued, still keeping an eye on the curtain, “You got each other. He doesn’t have that.”

“He’s stubborn,” Wolffe said after a moment, “He’s apparently been fighting Kote every step of the way. Doesn’t want anyone to think they have to take care of him.”

That was good. That showed spirit. If Rex had allowed himself to be cowed, to back away without a fight and shrink into the shadows, Seventeen would have had a lot more work to do. As it was…

“He won’t be around his batch if I recommend him for ARC training,” Seventeen suggested quietly, “Of course, he’d need some older vode helping him out, the way I did with you.”

Wolffe snorted, “Not sure you helped us out so much as put the fear of the Manda into us.”

Seventeen grinned down at him, “Got you moving, didn’t it?”

Wolffe rolled his eyes and settled back into his chair, now eyeing the curtain in an equally curious and concerned way, “Think he’ll make it? He’s a CT.”

Seventeen shrugged, “Don’t know. Didn’t know if you boys were going to make it either.”

Wolffe eyed him critically, “What do you mean you didn’t know?”

Seventeen chuckled, “You’re smart and strong, but it takes more than that to complete what you’re being put through. It’s only been six months, and you’ve yet to hit the worst of it.”

Wolffe groaned, “Why are you so cryptic?”

Seventeen looked back at him, a gleam in his eye, “Because it pisses you off.”

Wolffe opened his mouth to say something that probably would’ve earned him another hour in the gym, when the curtain swung back, revealing Rex looking even grumpier than earlier. His head had a few small bacta patches on it, and he promptly ignored the droid in favor of marching over to where Seventeen and Wolffe were sitting.

The droid ignored Rex’s obvious unhappiness and followed him over, this time addressing Seventeen.

“A-17,” it began, “I believe this CT-7567 has a serious defect that must be looked at. Chromosome number-”

“I’m aware,” Seventeen growled at the droid, “We’re all aware. Now fuck off.”

The droid paused for a moment, unsure what to do with itself.

“I must report this to Nala Se,” it finally concluded, and Seventeen just huffed in response.

After a beat of silence in which the droid scurried away, a small voice behind Seventeen spoke, “Is she going to decommission me?”

Seventeen almost laughed. Almost.

Instead he said, “Kid, she knew about your hair the second you left your tube. If you aren’t slated for it yet, you won’t be any time soon.” He turned to face his cadets, hiding his smile at the way Wolffe acted like he wasn’t just wrapping Rex up in a hug.

“C’mon,” he said, “let’s go get you boys some food.”

—

Today was the day.

His batch was going to take and pass the final test, and become honorary ARC troopers. Two years after they started on the shortened ARC modules, and they’d all become so much more than the Kaminiise ever believed they could be. He’d stood in front of all of them before they marched off for their tests and told them he was proud of every single one, no matter the outcome.

Rex sat with him, both quietly pretending they weren’t shitting their brains out with anxiety, and they waited.

Fox and Wolffe came out together, wearing twin grins, and Seventeen knew without asking. He wrapped them up, squeezing the life out of them and ignoring the groans of embarrassment. Kote came out thirty minutes later, having completed and passed his own exams and combat trials, followed by Bly soon after.

They all sat and waited for Ponds.

There was an air of anxiety coming from his cadets, and he knew why.

They were supposed to graduate together, to be the first full batch to make it across the finish line. They’d worked hard for this, studied and trained together for years. They knew the manuals inside and out and had personally tested themselves against every single ARC and trainer they could coax onto the sparring mats.

Ponds’ absence sent a shockwave through that steady confidence.

An hour later and they were still sat there, all uneasy, all rhythmically bouncing their knees in near unison.

An hour and a half later, the doors opened, and they all tensed, prepared for bad news.

What they were unprepared for, however, was a bloody, limping Ponds to walk through with the biggest grin any of them had seen on his face.

“What the fuck,” Wolffe was, of course, the first to speak. “What the fuck!” He repeated, louder and more worried.

This sent all of them into a frenzy, rushing toward their injured vod and checking him over, all shouting over one another and demanding to know what happened. Ponds just laughed at their concern, though Seventeen caught the slight wince at the movement.

After a few moments, he convinced them to quiet, and breathed deep, still grinning like a maniac.

“We passed,” he said after a slight pause, and the whole bunch erupted in cheers. They pulled themselves into a circle, Rex and Seventeen watching fondly from the outside, and congratulated each other, giving out hugs and keldabes left and right. Seventeen was fairly sure Wolffe and Fox hit each other a little too hard, and he smiled at the resulting stumble from the boys.

They were nearly seventeen standard years, which meant as soon as the war they were being bred for started, they’d all be shipped out without a moment’s hesitation. It was that thought that made Seventeen allow them to celebrate loudly, noisily, and unashamedly despite the attention it might have drawn.

Eventually, they calmed down, and Seventeen muscled his way to the center, planting himself in front of Ponds. They were too tall now for him to need to kneel and get on their level, but still short enough that he could loom adequately.

“Vod’ika,” he began lightly, settling a comforting hand on Ponds’ shoulder, “What happened?”

Ponds’ grin shrank slightly, but his answer was steady, “What do you mean? I passed!”

Seventeen allowed himself to smile at the no-longer-cadet’s enthusiasm, “I know, and I’m proud, but why are you hurt?”

“It was part of the test,” Ponds furrowed his brow in confusion, looking around at the others, “Didn’t all of you…” he trailed off, for the first time taking in the lack of injuries around him. Seventeen could see the moment realization dawned on his face, as well as feel the rising fury coming from the brothers behind him.

“No,” Seventeen said gently, shaking his head, “That wasn’t part of the test.”

“Oh.”

“Ori’vod-”

Seventeen cut whoever it was off with a short look behind him. They all looked equally scolded.

He hated this was happening during their moment of triumph, but he knew if he didn’t address it, no one would.

“Pond’ika,” Seventeen tried again, “What happened?”

Ponds stilled, his face becoming blank as he processed what was going on. Seventeen squeezed his shoulder a little tighter, becoming a grounding point until his vod’ika was ready.

“I was going into my counter-insurgency exam and Ward was in the ring. He said he and I would spar and that I had to be prepared for anything,” his voice and expression remained steady, even as Seventeen’s grew concerned, “He flipped out a knife at one point and…” Ponds looked down and gestured to his leg and torso.

“Why weren’t you wearing armor?” Kote asked from behind Seventeen.

“He told me to take it off,” Ponds replied simply.

Seventeen sucked in a breath. Ward was a grade A asshole, every ARC knew this. His ‘counter-insurgency’ fighting was just an excuse to fight dirty, to scar up troopers and taunt them for their lack of skill.

Skirata should have been in charge of this exam, not Ward. Skirata had always been the kindest of the Cuy’val Dar, and by the looks on the rest of the batcher’s faces, they were thinking the same thing.

“Okay,” Seventeen said simply, “Take off the armor and let’s take a look.”

Ponds shook his head, “Can we do this in the barracks?”

Seventeen nodded, and immediately Wolffe and Fox were at Ponds’ side, helping him take the weight off his injured leg. Rex gave a quieter congratulations to Kote, his obvious favoritism not quite overshadowing his worry as he constantly looked back to check up on Ponds. Bly fell into lockstep with Seventeen, and their little crew easily made their way to the barracks.

As soon as they got inside, Kote grabbed the medical kit and presented it to Seventeen, who began to set things out on the floor. He knelt in front of where Wolffe and Fox had sat Ponds on Wolffe’s bunk, but gave them enough space to help Ponds remove his armor.

Bly settled in next to Ponds when Fox vacated the spot to go lock the door, and sucked in a breath as Ponds unbuckled his thigh gauntlet. Blood rushed from the wound, which had previously been pressured by Ponds tightening the straps to keep the wound secure, but it wasn’t deep enough to hit bone, for which Seventeen was glad.

His torso was a little more complicated, the unnatural shift of skin telling Seventeen that one of his ribs was likely broken. If it had punctured a lung, they would’ve known by now, and he breathed a little easier with the knowledge.

“Kote,” he called quietly but firmly, “Comm Aven, tell him we’re gonna need some help.”

Ponds opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when he received several glares from around the room.

“Can’t believe you passed with this,” Seventeen mumbled, “You should’ve tapped out when he flipped out the knife.”

“We were all supposed to pass,” came the answer Seventeen had already guessed.

“I know,” he sighed, “And this just proves how much you deserve it, but next time, you tap out, got it?”

There was no nod or sign that he agreed, which Seventeen had also expected. Ponds was just as stubborn as the rest of them, no matter how much he hated to admit it.

He heard Kote talking quietly in the background and got to work, Rex occasionally pushing certain supplies his way and Wolffe and Bly talking calmly to Ponds as Seventeen went about patching him up.

They didn’t want full batches to graduate ARC training, because then they could prove it was a waste of time and money. He’d known that the second he and a few others proposed the idea to Fett, the Kaminiise, and the Cuy’val Dar and nearly every single one of them had soured.

Well they could take their elitist dar’manda bullshit and shove it up their asses. His batch had passed, regardless of Ward’s best efforts, and shoved it in every single one of their ugly faces.

Ponds’ injuries had luckily not impacted the general mood after the initial shock, and soon they were all sharing details and comparing experiences in their different tests. They all laughed at Bly for forgetting to fill out the last digit of his number during one of the written tests, and Fox followed it up with how Wolffe was so nervous he forgot to load his blaster during the firing range exams. That was followed by a smack, which was followed with an insult, which was followed with Seventeen having to reach out and grab Wolffe before he made a move to tackle his brother.

Nearly nine years old and they still acted four.

Aven came in a few moments later, taking over the medical side of things for Seventeen, who took the opportunity to give the eldest a keldabe. Ponds smiled into the hold and relaxed a little further.

They were no longer cadets, not as of that afternoon, and Seventeen knew he would have to let them go soon.

Still, he sighed as Rex ganged up with Wolffe against Fox in their bickering, and turned around to scold his vod’ika.

—

In the years the war dragged on, Seventeen saw very little of his batchers. Rex and Kote, who was going by Cody in front of the natborns, visited when the war came to Kamino, and introduced him to vod’ika of their own. Wolffe called after what happened with Ventress, showing off his own scar from his encounter with the Sith acolyte. Bly commed often, asking mostly about business, but he’d once let slip something about him and his general. And Fox…Fox he never really saw.

But they’d all gathered, either on a call or in person, to say goodbye to Ponds.

Rex had sent him a message saying the batch had already had their night of grief, wallowing in each other’s arms. He was glad they’d taken the time for themselves, but even happier they still trusted him with this.

They’d all formed little batches within their battalions, as they should, but he’d never really been able to take care of another batch like he did with them. There were too many cadets on Kamino now to focus on them one group at a time.

So even if it was over a call, he was relieved to see their faces, and ached when they all looked to where Ponds usually stood during these video conferences.

It was quiet at first, and Seventeen took the opportunity to drink each of them in. They were all so much older, so much more exhausted, then he remembered them being. Fox and Wolffe in particular looked like hell, and though he knew it was a combination of grief and whatever osik they’d been handling recently, it didn’t look right on them.

Kote spoke first, telling Seventeen what happened and declaring Boba dar’manda with vitriol hidden behind his teeth. He and Rex were in person together, as were Bly and Wolffe, and Seventeen appreciated Rex putting a hand on his shoulder to ground his ori’vod. Bly went next, starting to tell a story about Ponds during a fairly recent fight that brought small grins to his brothers’ faces. Wolffe joined in, as did Rex, and soon they were all at least smiling.

The one vod that never spoke was Fox.

It puzzled Seventeen how quiet he was. Fox had always been the first to speak up, the first to step in, the first to very loudly give his opinion. But now he was silent. He looked almost like he was disassociating.

“Fox’ika?” Seventeen called, “You alright?”

Fox looked up once he noticed all the attention was on him and nodded quickly, “‘Course,” he assured them, his tone still sounding off, “Just…reminiscing I guess.”

There were a few murmured agreements from around the table, before the conversation turned back to Ponds. Seventeen caught Wolffe looking over worriedly a few times. He idly wondered how many of them made the effort to keep up with each other. He hoped all of them, but knew better than to assure himself of it.

The call went on for a long time, most everyone having a good cry at some point. Seventeen was the only one that left with dry eyes when it was said and done.

He sighed as their blue forms flickered out of existence, and looked across his desk. It was scattered with paperwork, test results, security reports, all the paperwork he’d been relegated to once his leg made it so he could never fight again.

He unlocked the lowest drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle of moonshine Spur had snuck to him once Ponds’ death had been officially reported back to Kamino. He poured himself a drink and sat back in his chair, scrolling through old comms. There weren’t many with Ponds, just little questions his vod’ika had here and there, and a few scattered conversations about life in the thick of things.

They were clone troopers, which meant they didn’t get holos or recordings of kids running around just being kids. They didn’t get keepsakes or days that could be spent talking and catching up. He’d known he would have to let them go eventually, and that when he did, there would be nothing to tether them to him.

It still hurt.

Three glasses in, he picked up his comm again, and pulled up his conversations with Fox.

It had been nearly six months since they last talked.

A-17: I’m being sent to Coruscant soon for an escort

A-17: We should catch up

He waited a few minutes, then put his comm down. Fox was a Marshal Commander now, he’d respond when he could.

Until then, Seventeen was content to drink to the memory of both Ponds, and the boys his batchers used to be.

#commander cody #commander fox #commander wolffe #commander ponds #commander bly #alpha 17 #kamino #fanfic #my writing #ok so it's no specifically cody #but i figured it would fit for the occasion

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jedi-enthusiast · 11 months

Text

Another out of context shitpost:

Wolffe: *waking up after having surgery* Arran: Hello Wolffe, I'm Arran. I'm going to be the healer taking care of you while you recover. Wolffe, still high off of anesthesia and trying to deal with the fact his Jedi healer is Fine™️: Damn, I should get injured more often. Fox, watching on the sidelines: *chokes*

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corruptedmaiawrites · 2 months

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Shards of Loyalty

Amidst the shadows of betrayal and loyalty, one rebel medic must navigate fractured bonds in the heart of the Empire's darkness.

Fandom: Star Wars, The Bad Batch

Pairing: Wolffe x Reader

Content: Angst as the reader briefly reunites with Wolffe on Teth

Warnings: Spoilers for TBB S3ep06+07

Word Count: 2,978

A/N: I watched the episode, cried, then spent all my time writing this. Also, I couldn't help but have Gregor simp for the reader in this one. Art in divider is by lornaka.

Sitting around the grey flexsteel table, laughter danced around you, as soft giggles spilled from your lips. Your eyes closed briefly as your cheeks rose, a toothy grin wide across your face in a way that made each corner hurt. Across from you was the other source of joyful sounds, in his worn, white plastoid commando armour. His features were spread into a similar grin, crow's feet crinkled about his chestnut brown eyes that glinted in the artificial light of the ship’s interior, and the worn lines upon his tan skin stretched about his smile. A small, stray strand on his dark, slicked-back hair had fallen out of place, which he brushed back into place with a quick swipe of his gloved hand.

As you calmed your laughs, you shifted your hand to take hold of your cup of caf that sat on the table in front of you, the earthy smell of it curling in your nose as you inhaled. Before taking a sip of it, you tilted your head towards the clone opposite you as he rubbed the side of his face, trying to calm his laughter that was greater than yours.

“As soon as we land, I’m going to go get Nemec to confirm that, Gregor,” you teased him softly, to which the clone burst into another bout of laughter.

“You don’t trust me?” Gregor cooed as his laughs subsided again, pointing an accusatory finger at you. It wasn’t serious though, the lop-sided smirk on his face making it evident.

You rolled your eyes softly, placing your hand around the warm cup and lifting it to take a sip. The caf inside tasted too dry and was bitter on your tongue. Yet, you focused on Gregor, paying the poor taste of the caf little mind. “That mission was wild, I need to hear Nemec’s account. I believe you… but, maker, I need to hear more.”

Gregor chuckled softly at that, raising his cup of caf to his lips as you spoke. Yet, you noticed his dark chestnut hues shift from looking at you, moving to looking at the stairs towards the cockpit. The heavy sound of metal prosthetic legs, slightly muted by boots, traveled down to the table. In the doorway, Echo emerged, his pallid features holding a sense of alarm. He cut to the chase, his caramel eyes settling upon both you and Gregor as he spoke.

“Rex commed. Imperials have discovered the base at the spire. They need extracting, ASAP. We’re about five parsecs away.”

You flicked your eyes back to Gregor, whose dark eyes had now hardened with solemnity. There was an unspoken understanding between you three. Your voice vocalized before you even registered it, holding an almost emotionless tone to it.

“Affirmative.”

You pushed yourself from your chair as Gregor simultaneously stood. You all knew what needed to be done, no orders were needed. That’s how this little group of rebels worked, efficiently like a well-oiled droid; not like the Separatist clankers, but like the whirring of a reliable R-series astromech.

Gregor shifted past you on your right, raising a hand to place gently on your shoulder. His digits gave a gentle, but brief squeeze before departing, a small gesture of reassurance. It was all you needed to push yourself forward, to walk down the familiar corridors of the ship towards the medbay.

Once in the dark room, surrounded by dim blue hues and softly blinking lights of green, red, white, and blue, you didn’t need to turn on the main light to navigate about; you knew this place like the back of your hand. You had transitioned from a medcenter medic to a field medic for the clone rebels, and this place was now as close to a home as you could probably get. You missed your life before, at the medcenter, but here, in this dim room, it was easy to put away the memories, the good and the bad, and be enveloped in the blanket of shadows and low light.

As you sought for your medical bag, fingers grazing against the embroidered section of the fabric, a memory surfaced.

“It’s a gift, for helping with… well, everything.”

Wolffe’s voice echoed in your mind as if he was there. He’d stood before you, a small bundle in his outstretched hand. It was wrapped rather poorly, the edges of the paper coming unfolded as it sat there, as if the commander either hadn’t bothered to find an adhesive, or he simply couldn’t find one. It seemed too awkward for him, in a way, and that was coming from the person who’d been there for… well, everything. At least from the moment he’d arrived, fresh red scar and painfully burnt eye from a lightsaber wound. There had certainly been some awkward moments in his recovery, but somehow, it was not as awkward as this moment. Perhaps, because for once, Wolffe was the one giving, and neither of you was used to it. You’d taken the gift, fingers pulling at the paper to unveil an embroidered patch in the middle, the symbol of the Wolfpack in the middle. “I want you to be an honorary member of the Wolfpack,” Wolffe had explained, still rather awkwardly. At the time, you didn’t know why, but when you went home, to sew the patch to your medpack bag, you’d found his comm details written in the paper wrapping too. That moment felt like a lifetime ago. All memories of Wolffe did. You had been so close. So close, that you’d almost admitted to him that you loved him. But that never came to pass. The world as you knew it shattered, and you had to rebuild. The medbay you currently knelt in was a testament to that.

A sigh, heavy and warped with longing, passed from your lips, falling into the air of the dark room. You had to focus; Rex, Nemec, Fireball, and Howzer were relying on you for the extraction, and you needed to be ready in case anyone was harmed… which was inevitable. Hopefully, all injuries would be minor. Pushing the past where it belonged, in the past and away from your conscious thought, you grabbed the medpack, pulling the straps over your shoulders. No time to dawdle. You stood straight, pack weighing on your shoulders, and you navigated the hallways the way you had just walked, back to the mess room, and then further, up the stairs to the cockpit.

At the very front was Echo, facing ahead as the blue streaks of light shot by like endless blaster bolts. A few seats back sat Gregor, leaning forward with arms crossed over his knees. Both sat in silence; apprehension hung in the air, the deep breath before plunging into conflict, something both clones were used to. You certainly weren’t, yet you were not one to let the unease overwhelm you. Taking a few steps forward, you plant yourself in the leather of the chair opposite Gregor, your voice cutting through the silence.

“How long until we get there?”

Echo tilted his head back slightly, the caramel hues of his irises glinting in the light of hyperspace, coming in from the viewports. “Another couple of minutes. Rex and the boys will need to hold on until then.”

Gregor’s voice quickly cut in after Echo finished his sentence, drawing your attention to him. He’d swiveled his chair to face you, having grabbed something from the small side sill at the edge of the cockpit. “Here, take this blaster,” Gregor extended his hand out, holding a DC-17 hand blaster to you. “Not sure if we’ll have to fight. Be safe than sorry.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, momentarily going higher pitch before lowering to his usual pitch. After the voice cracks, a small burst of nervous laughter escaped the clone. It was not long ago that you and Gregor shared humorous laughter, and now all that joy had dissipated. You leaned forward, outstretching your arm to take the blaster from Gregor’s hand. Your fingers curled around the weapon and softly brushed Gregor’s hand, warm still through the gloves. As you pulled the blaster back to rest on your lap, Gregor offered you a small, yet warm smile, sincerity glinting in his eyes, wordlessly telling you not to worry.

At the console, Echo moved to pull the ship out of hyperspace. The streaking lights of passing stars shortened, congealing into pin-prick dots of light. Outside the transparisteel before you, the looming, dark shape of Teth emerged. As you got closer, you spied a bright white light at the location, and Echo deftly moved to send an alert to Rex that you were inbound. Gregor stood, leaning over one of the chairs closer to the console, and so you joined him, to get a better look at the scene. You saw a line of Imperial soldiers - you couldn’t quite make out their armor from here. Huddled before them, alert yet holding fire was Rex and the others… A glance over them showed you easily that some were missing - who you didn’t know. Blasted Imperials, you always lost good clones to them. What surprised you was that they didn’t try anything against the ship.

You pushed yourself to stand from your chair, and Gregor nodded to you, standing up straight himself. Echo swung the ship around for easy access to Rex and the others, and quickly you and Gregor sprinted down the halls towards the door. You gripped the blaster tight in your hand. If it came to blows, you were ready to take down a few of the Empire’s men in exchange for the missing troopers. With a swoosh, the door lowered, spilling white light from your ship against the bright spotlights of the Imperial ship. Before you stood the shadowy figures of both your men and the Imperials. It took you a moment for your eyes to adjust upon those who stood there. You looked to your troopers first - only Rex and Howzer remained, the rest were the Bad Batch, with their child and pet. Nemec… Fireball… Both of them were gone.

Anger surged through you, and you raised your gaze to glare at the leader of the Imperial troopers, intent on giving him the most venomous stare you could muster. Yet, as the details of the man were revealed to you, a crack suddenly shattered your heart in half. The blaster in your hand fell slack as you just stared… The one behind this, who’d allowed the deaths of Nemec, Fireball, and the others, was none other than the man you loved. Wolffe.

Beside him, the clone commando eased forward slightly, yet Wolffe raised his arm to tell the trooper, his voice quiet yet rumbling in a commanding tone, “Stand down.” You just about heard it, although his actions spoke louder than his words at that moment. He was going to let you all go, despite likely being ordered to take down your group. Before you, Rex nodded his head with respect for the commander. They were brothers, and loyal to each other even if they fought on opposite sides. That loyalty gave you hope, sparking up inside your chest where the ruins of your heart now lay cracked, perhaps to mend and bond that wound taken to it.

The Bad Batch, followed by Howzer, moved quickly back up to the ship, and Rex himself turned his back to Wolffe. With them, everything had been said and done, but you… You didn’t quite understand. Wolffe was disobeying the Empire at this moment, but he appeared to still be staying with them. You stepped forward down the ramp, brushing past the lanky figure of Crosshair, onto the rocky ground below. Wolffe’s gaze shifted from the turning figure of Rex towards where you stepped, pushing past those retreating in an almost defiant manner. Your eyes met, and the firm expression of the Commander shifted. His eyes widened in surprise, his lips parting softly; his left, natural eye with its caramel hues seemed vulnerable at that moment. Standing opposed to his brothers was different from standing opposed to the person he’d loved. Looking at him, you saw that too awkward stance again, echoing the past when he first truly opened up to you. There was hope, yet this was not a moment, or even such a thing, to be easily navigated. Not with the troopers at Wolffe’s back, and the Empire too. Not with your ship, your group of rebels about to depart. It wasn’t even as easy as giving commlink details on a crumpled piece of paper.

Rex’s hand met your shoulder as he stopped by you. It was hard to break away from Wolffe’s gaze, but you did. The look on Rex’s face told you everything you needed to know. That pair of amber eyes showed understanding, but an urgency, that nothing could be done now, and it was time to move on. You nodded your head slightly, your gaze meeting Wolffe’s, which had shifted to a more guarded look. There was still a hint of uncertainty in his singular natural eye, but his cybernetic one seemed dull and void. All you could do was offer the commander a nod, not unlike the one that had been shared with Rex, but this one told him that you’d be back, and that you’d both be able to reunite someday. Rex’s hand slipped from your shoulder, and with that, you too turned around. The captain allowed you to slip ahead of him so that he could secure safety as you finished boarding.

The steps onto the ship were hard, but you knew that this was not the last time you would see Wolffe. You did not dare look back, for if you did, you feared you’d lose your composure. Yet, thankfully, as you stepped back onto the firm flooring of the ship, you were surrounded by the clones that had supported you during this new reign of the Empire; Rex at your back, Gregor at your side, and Howzer at the front. The ramp raised and the door swooshed shut, leaving you standing there. The Bad Batch lingered around you too, and in that moment, you wished for them to be gone, to leave you with the ones you trusted, but you knew Echo would scold you for that, as they were his squad too. The conflict was evident on your face, it must be, because the pet of the Bad Batch snuffled its nose and came up to you, sniffing at you and rubbing against your legs in a friendly way. The child smiled at you, “Batcher’s just saying hi, don’t worry.” She seemed to have mistaken your expression for a reaction to the animal. It eased your mind a little, and you gave the kid a smile in response.

Rex shifted, stepping around you, and he headed over to the doorway that led to the corridor through the ship, “Come on, let’s settle down and… well… that was a lot. We all need some rest.” The largest clone in the Bad Batch, Wrecker, heartily agreed, followed by the child, then Hunter and the slinking Crosshair. There was no use in lingering here yourself, so you made your way down the corridor after them. In that walk, you realized that you felt as though part of you was missing, like there was a hole in your heart. It seemed that when it cracked when you saw Wolffe with the Empire, a part of it fell and was now left with him. You really would have to go back for it.

Once the ship was traveling at hyperspeed once more, and the Bad Batch was settled down in the cockpit with Echo, you found yourself sitting around that same table you’d been sitting at with Gregor before this all occurred. This time, you sat right next to Gregor, instead of opposite him, and Howzer sat in the chair you had occupied. Rex was standing to the side, stirring some sweetener into his cup of caf. Surrounded by your little mismatched squad, you finally felt able to breathe and to speak. Letting out a sigh, you voiced that which you’d been dying to say since you saw the commander. “I can’t believe Wolffe sided with the Empire.” Gregor shifted slightly, wordlessly putting a hand on your shoulder. These few clones were the ones that knew about your connection to Wolffe, so you felt safe to speak of it here.

Rex turned his head slightly, looking at you with his amber gaze, holding sincerity within it. “Wolffe doesn’t seem to know everything the Empire’s done. He’s likely still under the influence of the chip. But, like with all of us, he did show signs of resistance.”

Howzer added to Rex’s comment, shoving a thumb in the direction of the cockpit, “If Crosshair can be redeemed, then Commander Wolffe can too. That clone showed that he truly had changed today… and I still almost find it hard to believe, even though I saw it with my own eyes. If that can be done, then getting Wolffe to see sense would be like a sandstorm on Geonosis - inevitable.”

The missing clones from your gathering came to mind though, and you frowned, “But… Fireball… Nemec… Wolffe didn’t-”

“Actually,” Rex cut you off, “They were firing at us with stun rounds. There was one of those shadow troopers after us… That was who got Fireball and Nemec. Wolffe’s men appeared to be ordered to take us down with stun rounds.”

You exhaled softly. Wolffe was still loyal to his brothers, even those who fought against him, that was clear. There was no reason to lose hope, even under the dark rule of the Empire. It gave you purpose too; to keep fighting until Wolffe was finally by your side once more.

Thanks for reading!

#commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe #the clone wars #fanfic #star wars fanfiction #the bad batch #captain rex #captain gregor #captain howzer #clone trooper nemec #clone trooper fireball #spoilers tbb #spoilers #bad batch spoilers

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 4 months

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Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Fem!Reader

Part 1

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

Pairing: Wolffe x Fem!Reader

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

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

Word Count: 807

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

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

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

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

Wolffe snaps out of his daze and looks down at her. "Yeah, baby?"

"Where's mommy?" she asks.

"Mommy…" Wolffe pauses, biting his lip as he looks anywhere but his daughter's face. "Mommy had to go."

"Go where?" she asks.

"Far away," he says.

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

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

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

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

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

"She's not," he chokes.

"I want mommy!" she yells.

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

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

"Please, baby," he soothes as she cries inconsolable.

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

Wolffe turns around and sighs in relief. "General."

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

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

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

Wolffe peels his distraught daughter off of his chest and hands her to Plo, then collapses down onto the bench against the wall. He hangs head in his hands and sobs quietly. His first real moment to fully process the loss of his wife.

Plo turns away from Wolffe to give him some privacy and continues to bounce Cara to soothe her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wolffe looks up at the general and a menial, barely noticeable smile forms at the corner of his mouth, but it's betrayed by the streaks of tears that line his flushed cheeks. He says nothing in response, afraid that if he utters even one more syllable, he'll lose the last bit of composure he's maintaining. However, the words of his general ring true. He's not alone. He's never been alone. He has his general and an entire battalion of brothers to lean on. His family is here for him.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

Masterlist

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thefact0rygirl · 1 year

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thefact0rygirl's wolfpack masterlist

MAIN MASTERLIST 🪐 AO3 🪐 TAGLIST

Both my blog and masterlist are NSFW/Explicit 18+. Minors do not interact.

I'm not currently taking requests, but my inbox is open to chat!

five-sentence ficlets

drabble requests

clones and how they fall asleep

the clones wear crocs

one shots

I’m Here

Come Morning Light

kinktober 2022

KINKTOBER 2022 MASTERLIST ⚡️

DAY 6: Eating Out

drabbles

DRABBLE REQUESTS MASTERLIST ⚡️

“That’s so fucking hot.” “I said I’d take care of you, did you think I wouldn’t follow through on that?”

blurbs

impregnation kink with wolffe

all wolffe wants is you

headcanons

boba, rex, wolffe, and fives sending you voice messages

what cody, gree, fox, and wolffe think of nipple piercings

rex, gregor, and wolffe bulking up in rebels

THE 212TH MASTERLIST ✨

THE 501ST MASTERLIST ✨

THE BAD BATCH MASTERLIST ✨

#commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe x y/n #commander wolffe x fem!reader #commander wolffe x f!reader #commander wolffe fanfiction #commander wolffe fanfic #commander wolffe headcanon #commander wolffe drabble #sinker x reader #boost x reader #wolfpack x reader #wolfpack fanfic #nsfios #vee writes #vee's masterlist

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clu-ven · 1 year

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The Closet

Summary: The Wolfpack is sick of the constant arguing between you and Wolffe, so they take matters into their own hands. Surely if you and the Commander were accidentally locked into one of the supply closets, you’d come to some sort of middle ground, right?

Well, there’s one thing they’re forgetting… you’re claustrophobic.

TW: small spaces, claustrophobia, panic attack

Word Count: 4.7k

-> Reader uses she/her pronouns - masterlist can be found here <-

“It’s the perfect plan!” Boost exclaims, slapping the table in front of him for emphasis.

The mesh hall is relatively crowded today, many hungry troopers finally getting some time to relax after another tough mission. Despite the loud chatter of the room, Sinker keeps his voice low.

“I’m not sure,” he concludes with the shake of his head “it sounds risky and Wolffe is in a bad mood as it is, I don’t want this to make him worse”.

At the other side of the table, Boost shares a mild look of annoyance with Comet. “C’mon Sarge, this solves all of our problems!” Comet replies with a whine. It took him and Boost the past week to come up with this plan, putting more time into it than they’d like to admit.

With a deadpan voice, Sinker replies “Oh so this will end the war? And kill Dooku? And wash the gunships? Each and every problem we have will be instantly solved if we lock them in a supply closet?”.

Boost shrugs, trying to stay optimistic “You never know”. Sinker scoffs, rolling his eyes at his brother.

The plan was simple but Comet and Boost couldn’t do it alone. They needed Sinker for this to work. Sighing, Boost leans across the table “Look, all you have to do is get her into the closet on the lower deck, that’s it”.

Sinker is still unsure. “We’ll get the Commander, shove him in there, lock the door and ta-dah! Job done” Comet adds.

This doesn’t sound like a good plan. Sinker knows that but it is enticing. He’s not sure if he can handle another mission full of you and Wolffe’s bickering, the two of you proclaiming you can’t stand the other.

Missions would be much easier if you both avoided each other but no, despite the constant arguing you two engage in, you will still insist on being near one another, whether that be sharing the same holomap (which is an absolute nightmare to witness) or standing next to one another in a briefing (which leads to you interrupting him and vice versa for the entire. damn. briefing.).

Sinker wants to say no, to put a stop to his brother’s shenanigans but would this do any harm? Maybe if you both got the opportunity to confront one another and get all of this arguing out of your system once and for all, then you might come to some sort of middle ground and let bygones be bygones.

“If I agree to this…” he begins and Boost impulsively throws his fist in the air “Yes! You're in!”.

“I said if…” Sinker says sternly “if I do this then the two of you have to wash the gunships”.

Boost nearly falls off his seat “H-how many are you expecting us to wash, Sarge?”.

“I want four done by the end of the next rotation”.

Although Comet has never experienced a heart attack, he’s sure this is how it feels “What?! Four? C’mon Sinker, be reasonable”.

He folds his arms “Boys, if you want my help then that’s what it’ll cost ya”. Exchanging looks to one another, Comet huffs “Fine, we agree”.

***

The sound of your name makes you look up, eyes wide as you scan the corridor. Manoeuvring through some troopers, Sinker comes into view.

Closing your datapad, you give the Sargeant your full attention, a relaxed smile on your face.

“Sinker, what can I do for you?” You ask.

A flicker of sympathy crosses Sinker’s face as he answers “Well, I was just wondering if you could help me get some batca patches from the supply closet. There’s a whole box in there but, well, y’know me, I accidentally pushed them behind the shelving unit and now they’re stuck between that and the wall. Do you think you could get them for me?”.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, so quick to help that it makes the ball of guilt in Sinker’s stomach grow “lead the way”.

While usually you and Sinker always find things to talk about, he’s strangely quiet during your walk to the lower deck. It’s not something that alarms you but instead, it worries you.

It’s no secret that things have been intense lately. The missions have gotten deadlier, injuries are harder to aid and the Separatist army seems to be growing more and more by the minute.

Even something as simple as accidentally knocking some bacta patches behind a cabinet seems like a dire problem nowadays.

“It’s that one, just up ahead” Sinker slows his pace, pointing at one of the closets.

“You’re not coming in?” You quirk an eyebrow, slowing your pace to match his.

“Hm? Oh… uh, no I have to go help the General with something… sorry, I should’ve said that beforehand” he scratches the back of his neck, preferring to look down at the floor.

“That’s ok, you go on ahead, I’ll take care of this” with a firm nod, you open the door to the closet and disappear inside. Once Sinker’s certain the door has fully closed behind you, he lets out a long sigh. Kriff, that was harder than he thought it would be.

The inside of the closet is dark, the dim lights taking a few seconds to boot up. In your time serving the GAR, you’ve been on a multitude of ships, covered with the most cutting edge technology and yet in each and every ship, the closets are always neglected.

They’re a second thought in comparison to the other elements of the ship. Cluttered floors, racks that are full of various stock that are probably out of date, a musty smell in the air, dull lights that are incapable of doing their sole purpose. It’s not a place you want to be for a long time.

Trying to look behind the metal shelving units, you mumble a curse. It’s dark behind the cabinets with barely enough space between them and the wall for you to fit your arm through.

Stooping down, you reach into the darkness, trying to find this damn box of bacta patches so you can quickly leave again.

You’re so invested in finding the box, you pay no attention to the voices outside. “Why would the General want to meet me in there?” A voice says and without missing a beat, another voice replies “I’m not sure, Commander, I thought it was best not to ask”.

Behind you, the door opens but with the position you’re in, it’s hard to turn around and look. “I haven’t found it yet,” you call out “kriff, how far back did it fall?”.

The person doesn’t reply.

“I know you’re really busy just standing there and all, Sinker,” you huff “but I’d really appreciate some help”.

“Sinker?” the voice scoffs, making you freeze. Clumsily removing your hand from behind the cabinet, you stand up straight and come face to face with Commander Wolffe.

You have to admit, you didn’t think you’d come this close to him, your chest almost bumping against his as you sway backwards to give him some space. “Oh! Commander-“ you start but Wolffe talks over you.

“I know us clones all look the same but the last time I checked, Sergeant Sinker has silver hair and both of his biological eyes”. You can hear the venom in his voice, his tone laced in sarcasm as he continues “Just a tip, so you don’t mix people up next time”.

You can’t help scoff, retorting “Mix people up? I wasn’t even looking at you! Am I just supposed to sense how many biological eyes you have?”.

“You should look whenever someone enters a room,” Wolffe begins to lecture you “that’s protocol 101; always be aware of your surroundings”.

“My apologies, Commander, I didn’t realise I came here to get a lesson in GAR protocol” you snap back. This is a usual occurrence whenever you and Wolffe are near each other, neither of you backing down and arguing until you’re separated by the others.

With the rolls of his eyes, Wolffe gestures towards the door “Just go, I have an important meeting in here”.

“With pleasure” you mumble, trying to move around the Commander without walking straight into him or colliding with the multiple cabinets.

Wolffe leans to the side, huffing loudly just to make sure you know this is a bother to him, giving you space to step over one of his legs and move to the door.

Your fingers brush against the control panel to the door, lighting it up. Nothing happens. You wait a few moments before doing it again but this time you press harder on the panel. Still nothing.

“Huh…” you crease your brow, repeating the action for a third time.

You hear some movement behind you and Wolffe turns his body to face you, peering over your shoulder at the control panel. With his critical gaze on you, you try again but to no avail.

“Are you pressing it hard enough?” his voice is gruff and surprisingly close to your ear.

You jerk your head away from him “Jeez, are you trying to make me go deaf? Of course I’m pressing it hard enough!”. With extra force, you press down on the control panel again.

Nothing.

Wolffe rolls his eyes, reaching his arm around you and trying it himself “Obviously you’re not if the door isn’t opening”. Stabbing his finger at the control panel, you hear a small “...oh” from behind you when the door still refuses to open.

“Move over, let me have a proper look at it” Wolffe puts his hands on your shoulders, abruptly guiding you away from the control panel as you both switch places in a shuffling motion.

Now with Wolffe closest to the door, you lean against one of the cabinets, firmly planting your hands on the cool metal.

You can feel your face becoming flushed, a surge of warmth spreading across your cheeks. The door will open, of course it will. This is just a small malfunction, that’s all. And then you can leave this stupid closet and never come back here again.

Trying to distract yourself, you decide to subject yourself to small talk with Wolffe.

“So, why are you here anyway?” you ask, your grip tightening on the shelves as if you’re bracing for impact.

Wolffe keeps his focus on the control panel, fiddling with it as he answers “The General wants to meet me in here, says it’s something important”.

Are you hallucinating or did he just say the General? Clarifying, you ask “General Plo wanted to talk to you… in a supply closet?”.

“That’s what I said”.

“And the General said this to you himself?” you pry, trying to ignore the loud thudding of your heart.

“Not exactly” putting his hands on his hips, Wolffe pauses his investigation of the control panel “hmm, it was Comet and Boost. They said he wanted to meet me here”.

You force out a small laugh “And you believed them? Really?”.

Wolffe says something you don’t quite catch, something in Mando’a. Running his hand down his face, he gives the control panel a death stare for good measure.

“The bad news is the door is locked from the outside, so I can’t open it from here but the good news is the maintenance droids run on a tight schedule so one of them should be…” glancing over his shoulder at you, his words fail him and for a moment, Wolffe’s taken aback.

The puzzled look on the Commander’s face makes you feel even worse, an overwhelming feeling of dread consuming your senses. “What? What is it?” you question, your tone a little too confrontational but thankfully Wolffe doesn’t bite back (for once).

“Why is your face so red?”.

Your stomach twists in directions you’re not sure it’s meant to, utterly embarrassed by such a question. Averting your gaze, your eyes lock onto the shelves that line the room, so cluttered it feels like they’re swarming you.

If you reach your arm out, you could touch almost any shelf. Could you do that beforehand? Is the room getting smaller?

With the surprisingly gentle call of your name, Wolffe brings your attention back to him, his hands out in front of him as if he’s trying to tame a wild animal. “Just tell me what’s wrong,” he coaxes, moving closer to you “are you hurt? Is that why you're in here?”.

With his hand a mere inch from touching you, you flinch, pressing yourself deeper into the cabinet as you screw your eyes shut. It’s not that you don’t mind being touched but the thoughts of feeling such a dominant presence as well as the cramped aura of the room makes your stomach churn.

“No, no, I don’t like this room,” you blurt out, voice beginning to shake as you continue “everything feels too tight, it’s all too close, I-I don’t like it”.

Wolffe can handle fighting battle droids, kriff, he can even hold his own against a sith but this? He knows he’s out of his depth but Wolffe also knows this isn’t the time to freeze, not when it’s you. Right now, you need him and he’ll be damned if he doesn't help.

He notices your tight grip on the shelves, your knuckles turning white as if you’re holding on for dear life. “Do you want to sit down?” Wolffe keeps his voice uncharacteristically soft, stooping to the ground in the hopes you’ll follow.

Hesitantly opening your eyes, you scan the floor below. It’s covered in loose, discarded items that once sat on the shelves but have since been looked over and forgotten.

Is there any part of this closet that’s clean? That doesn’t feel crowded? Your head pangs, pain lingering across your forehead.

You let out a whine. Wolffe keeps one of his hands stretched out to you, opening his palm wide “Don’t be stupid about this, let me help you”.

You don’t think he can help, in fact you don’t think anyone can help you right now. But then your gaze meets his. Wolffe looks up at you with calm, hopeful eyes, his rough exterior and brazen nature slowly melting away.

You try to take a deep breath but the tightness in your throat makes it an impossible task. You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t even want to look at Wolffe right now, the embarrassment of your involuntary actions making you feel worse. But what other choice do you have? It’s not like you can walk away, you can barely take a step forward without face planting a cabinet.

Nervously nodding your head, you take his hand. Wolffe tentatively encloses his hand around yours, watching your reaction closely. At any sign of further discomfort or even the slight jerk of your hand, he would let go, not wanting to accidentally make matters worse.

“Good… finally, you actually followed an order” he jibes, the subtle smirk on his face letting you know he’s not purposely dissing you. Although this is a comment you’d usually roll your eyes at, you weirdly find comfort in his typical teasing.

With his hand to steady you, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. “There you go,” Wolffe comments “were you hurt? During the last battle?”. He knows you said it’s the room causing this but he doesn’t see how that’s possible. Not unless this was somehow caused by an injury you sustained in battle, one that’s only rearing its head now.

You shake your head, though that only makes you feel dizzy. “No, no… i-it’s too tight, this room, I need to get out,” you reply through laboured breaths.

Keeping one hand enclosed around yours, Wolffe uses his other hand to reach up and try the control panel again. He sighs when nothing happens.

Letting out a small whimper, you slip your hand out of Wolffe’s, using both of your hands to pull your knees up against your chest as you hang your head low.

You’ll never hear the end of this. Out of all the clones aboard, why did it have to be Wolffe in here? The one person you know will bring this up at a later date just to get the upper hand in an argument.

What makes it worse is that you know he’ll only view you as being weak after this. Wolffe is a man that’s been through so much in his life, surviving a countless number of battles, disasters and attempts on his life. The heavy feeling of shame makes you hold onto your knees tighter. Wolffe is such a strong soldier and here you are, crumbling because of a locked door.

The soft sound of your name drags you away from your internal self-criticism, followed by a poking sensation on your leg.

Barely looking up, you see Wolffe prodding your knee, repeating your name again as he adds “I can’t help unless you give me something to work with, tell me what I can do”.

Wolffe has always had mixed feelings about you but that doesn’t mean he wants to see you upset. Sure, you’re stubborn… and feisty… and a headache to work with but in fairness, you’ve always been there for the Wolfpack.

After a tough fight, you’ve helped them bandage up. When you don’t have full faith in a plan (usually one of Wolffe’s) you’ll create a backup plan for when things inevitably go off track. Even on those quiet rotations, when memories filled with loss and regret begin to flood his brother’s heads, you’re there, listening to them. You’re a comforting presence in many of their lives, even Wolffe’s.

But don’t even ask him to say that out loud. That’s never going to happen.

He pokes you again “C’mon, it’s not like I’m going anywhere… even if I wanted to”. You huff out a laugh, though that proves harder than you initially thought, your dry mouth making the laugh sound more like a cough.

If you don’t get out of here soon, you think you might get sick, the anxious feelings in your stomach continuing to gnaw away at you.

“I… I need to get out, I need to leave” with newfound determination, you begin to stand.

The second you plant your feet on the ground, you know it’s a bad idea, feeling your muscles tremble. It’s as if you can feel each and every one of your nerves twitching, your body involuntarily trembling with panic.

Wolffe is quick to follow suit, trying to stand without knocking into one of the shelves. “Woah, take your time” he says a bit more sharply than he anticipated.

“No, let me leave, I need to-“ before you can even finish your sentence, your legs go from underneath you. You drop, about to crash back onto the ground when Wolffe catches you, scooping you up in his arms.

“What did I tell you?” He mutters with a huff, fully enclosing his arms around you as he lowers you back down to the ground. “Stay low,” he orders “the last thing either of us need is you fainting and smacking your head against the floor”.

You thought the feeling of someone else near you would make this worse, adding a new layer of suffocation to your mixture of emotions. But it’s actually kinda nice, the warmth radiating from Wolffe acting like a warm, welcoming blanket of comfort.

Being in the professional setting of the GAR for so long, you’ve forgotten how soothing physical touch can be at times. Although your reaction is subtle, Wolffe notices how you faintly lean into him, your head a mere few inches from resting on his chest. He watches you for a moment, studying your face.

Thankfully, you have your eyes closed again so he’s not worried you’ll catch him staring at you. Even though you’re in the middle of a panic attack, you look more relaxed than usual. Or at least more relaxed than how you usually are around Wolffe.

Whenever he sees you, it’s only a matter of time before you both get worked up, the two of you bickering or making not so subtle jabs at one another. But looking at you now, there’s not a single trace of that annoyance he normally associates with you.

“Just relax, take some deep breaths” he encourages you, using his hand that’s resting on your upper back to give you a gentle nudge towards him. Wolffe isn’t sure how else to let you know it’s ok to relax against him, seeing the option of saying it directly being too awkward.

He gives you a small smile and an approving nod as you do exactly that, letting your body fall against him as you rest your head on his chest.

Your hand comes up to his chest too, clutching onto the firm fabric of his Commander’s uniform, something you’re grateful he’s wearing considering his plastoid armour would be way too uncomfortable to relax against.

With your eyes still closed, you attempt to take some deep breaths, your breathing hitching every now and again. You try to sync your breathing up with Wolffe’s, finding the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest to be a lulling piece of comfort.

The tight sensation that grips your heart doesn’t fade instantaneously but you have to admit, it’s nice having someone close. It gives your mind something else to focus on instead of the cramped room, Wolffe’s presence distracting you from your worries.

The only time Wolffe ever expected you to be this close to him is if you had enough of his shit and decided to swing for him. Never in a million years would he imagine you being so peaceful and close to him.

With your voice coming out as a small whisper, you mumble “Thank you”.

His heart beats faster at your small piece of gratitude, something Wolffe hopes you can’t hear through his uniform. He’s not used to things like this. Give him a blaster and Wolffe can handle himself just fine but holding someone and trying to comfort them? That’s not his strong suit.

Taking a deep breath, you speak again, this time projecting your voice a bit more. “Did you really think you were meeting Master Plo here?” you sniffle, your head still aching but thankfully, the pain’s beginning to dull.

Wolffe has to stop himself from doing another eye roll, not wanting to start a fight or get you worked up again. “That’s what I was told” he grunts.

To his surprise, you let out a small, genuine laugh. It makes his hands twitch, wanting to pull you even closer and relish in your laugh but he resists the urge.

“And who told you that again? Oh yeah, Comet and Boost, two troopers known for their unwavering seriousness and hatred for pranks” you laugh, something Wolffe is thankful to hear again.

“Alright you got me there,” he admits, knowing it wasn’t the smartest move to believe his troublesome brothers “but why are you in here? Did they say the same thing to you?”.

“Actually it was Sinker,” you reveal, getting rather comfy leaning against the Commander “he asked if I could get some bacta patches he accidentally dropped behind the cabinets”.

You can feel Wolffe deflate, puffing out a deep breath “Please tell me you didn’t actually believe that”.

“Why?” You crane your head to look up at him, watching as he tries to suppress his annoyed expression.

Although you’d never say this outloud, he looks nice like this. Looking up at him in this position gives you a great view of his jawline, both of his eyes peering down at you and a genuine smile playing at his soft lips.

Damn, maybe you did actually hit your head. Trying to refocus on what he’s saying, you push any admiration you have for the Commander deep, deep down.

“Because the batca patches are stored on the upper deck,” removing one of his hands from you, he runs it down his face “kriff, you’ve been on this ship for months and you don’t even know where the batca patches are stored”.

While you would normally jeer back a response or scoff at Wolffe’s remark, immediately becoming defensive, you find it hard to do that after everything that’s happened.

You finally feel relaxed again, a calmness settling in your stomach and putting your heart at ease. You’re in no mood to start a fight and frankly, you don’t think you have the energy for it either.

Instead you laugh again. After all, Wolffe has a point. You should’ve known where the bacta patches are kept and if you did then you wouldn’t be in this predicament. It was a silly mistake and at this moment, you can’t find the energy within you to do anything but laugh.

Wolffe chuckles too, appreciating your reaction. Shrugging, he admits “Can’t blame you too much, it was only last week I realised the caff machine in the mesh hall has more than one setting”.

“Seriously?” you laugh again “But the default setting on that thing tastes like droid oil”.

“I know that all too well” Wolffe shakes his head, almost tasting the sour caff on his tastebuds from the mere mention of it.

You open your mouth to speak again but before you can, the door slides open, the bright lights from the corridor making you squint. A droid whirls into the room, taking no notice of you and going about it’s own business.

And just like that, your time with Wolffe is over.

Giving him a small smile, you climb off of him, getting to your feet. Watching Wolffe stand too, a sudden awkwardness hangs over you. Is that it? What do you say now? Thanks for the help but I’ll still call you out the next time you’re a jerk?

Noticing Wolffe’s expression, it’s clear you’re not the only one feeling this way. “Well, I guess that’s that” he nods, gesturing for you to leave the closet. You do so gratefully, shuffling past the droid and stepping into the wide and spacious hallway.

When Wolffe steps out, you’re sure you see a flicker of reluctance in his eyes. But you quickly brush past it, blaming it on your vision still adjusting to the bright lights.

“Are you going to be okay from here?” Wolffe asks, though it takes you a few moments to process his words, Wolffe’s head hanging low and voice just above a whisper. You’re not sure why he’s talking so low, it’s not like there’s many troopers on the lower deck to overhear.

“Yeah,” you try to sound confident in your answer “I’ll take it easy for the rest of the rotation, just in case”. In an effort to persuade him, you give Wolffe a quick smile.

“Right, well you know how to contact me if you need me…” he replies before realising how soft that sounds, immediately breaking eye contact with you and clearing his throat “or just go to the medbay, yes, that’s the better option, do that instead of contacting me. I’m very busy today”

“Busy getting stuck in closets?” you playfully tease, trying to brush past this awkward energy.

He chuckles “Better me than you”. Kriff, that sounds too soft too. Wolffe’s not a tender, warm hearted kinda guy, so he’s not sure why he’s trying to be that around you, even if it’s subconsciously.

Quickly shoving his feelings to one side, Wolffe chalks it up to your rare vulnerable moment bringing out his protective nature. That’s it. The next time he’ll see you, things will be normal, none of this small talk or softened expressions to one another.

With the curt nod of his head, the Commander walks away. It’s true, he does have a lot to do today but if you were to contact again, he’d be there in a heartbeat… even though he’s not exactly sure why he’d feel so much urgency to be there for you again.

You blink a few times, surprised by his abrupt exit. But then you remember this is Wolffe so his sudden departure should’ve been expected. After all, he’s “so busy”. Rolling your eyes, you walk in the opposite direction, deciding to track down Sinker and give him a piece of your mind.

#commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #tcw commander wolffe #sw tcw #tcw wolffe #tcw wolfpack #104th battalion #commander wolffe x female reader #the clone wars fanfiction #tcw fanfic #tw claustrophobia #tw panic attack

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rexxdjarin · 9 months

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙💙

Hi Ezzie!!!! I absolutely love this idea. Here are my five faves I’ve written. It’s SO hard to choose but I think these have a special place in my heart:

Captain’s Log - the fic that started it all. I was driven to write this by the simple question of what was Rex doing post order 66 and why was he so far removed by the time of Rebels? And then…what if he had just a wonderful incredible dedicated loyal romantic partner. And this fic was born. I deal with trauma, loss, ptsd, political drama, angst, moral/ethical war discussions etc. this fic has everything i wish the shows could’ve really explored and I’m so so proud of it. It’s still not done and I’ve been going through too much rn to pick it up again but I’ll get there. I promise 🥺🥺💙

Unwritten - ahhh the prequel to captain’s log and the exploration of the love story unfolding between Rex and the reader of captain’s log, my oc, Mari. It’s still early but I have SO much planned for this. I want everyone to love Mari as much as I do and as much as Rex does. I love getting to write a love story developing AND getting to include all the other boys too🤭

No Shame - this is a one shot I wrote based on the same song by The Weeknd. It’s a wolffe x reader smut fic but I’m immensely proud of this fic. To date it might be the best thing I’ve ever written and I LOVE getting to write Wolffe in a more developed nuanced way that makes him so much more emotionally developed than just being grumpy. He’s got a real pure golden heart in there and this fic really gets to prove that. AND the spice is truly so good. Like I can’t believe I wrote this good.

Afflictions - this is my empire era 30 year old Boba Fett smutty fic and god I LOVE him. He’s such an angsty asshole at this age and writing him as sexy and frustrated and kind of a jerk you can’t help but fall for was SO fun. And the reader (who I eventually made into my OC Teza Kirso) is such a spitfire devilishly daring thing who I love so much. She’s just as much a little asshole as Boba and I LOVE how they make each other fucking NUTS. I will get to their story soon too🫣

Out of Our Element - this is my most recent fic and I fucking LOVED writing it. It’s wolffe during the captains log events with my twi’lek oc zeeta and god these two 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 I’ve never really written switch dynamics or a bi character before but I’m SO thrilled with how this came out. The pull between these two is magnetic electric shocking spicy I’m fucking obsessed with them now.

#five favorite fics ask #ask games #wip captains log #wip unwritten #out of our element #afflictions #no shame #captain rex fanfic #commander wolffe fanfic #boba fett fanfic

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dickarchivist · 7 months

Text

Don't Stop on my Account

Wolffe × Fem!Reader, new/budding relationship

MINORS BEGONE 🔞

Warnings: n s f w 18+, self pleasure, fantasizing, watching, unprotected PiV sex, overstim, yearning, touch of angst, and smut, so much smut

Summary: missing your new sweetheart's touch, you decide to go solo, only to discover you're not as alone as you thought you were 👀

Little over 1800 words

Author's notes: I haven't written in a long time so sorry if this is rough! Wolffe is my fav clone so this is incredibly self indulgent yeehaw. Also use protection!

You'd been warned so many times. "Stay away from the republic clones, they're hot but there's no guarantees with them." Your friends know you well, you have the habit of falling for people a little too hard, a little too fast. And they were right, of course, you'd met plenty of clones that never came back. Even so, knowing all this: When Wolffe was around, all of your logic seemed to be thrown away.

You'd spent every night for a few weeks with him. As soon as he was allowed away from his post, and you with work, you'd find each other. In the morning he'd wake you before he left your flat with a soft kiss, just enough that you'd be able to fall back asleep once he was gone. Wolffe would make sure you knew he had a good time, and he was excited to see you again. The cycle repeated until one day, it didn't.

Wolffe doesn't wake you with a kiss that day, he tries to sneak out, but catches his boot on last night's clothes, and his stifled, "Kriff!" wakes you instead. He blushes when you look at him with a pout, hair tossed and body bare to him. "So you're leaving today, hm?"

"I uh... I am," Wolffe straightens up, putting on the cold stare he gave to others. You'd never seen it aimed at you before, and it makes you feel small. "I got my orders last night, headed--"

But that smallness only lives until "last night" tumbles from his lips. You sit up a little with betrayal clear on your face, angry now, "You got them last night and you didn't think to tell me?" You don't know why that hurts so much, but it does. It hurts more than you thought it ever would.

But he looks hurt too, his eyes heavy with guilt now as he glares at the floor, "I didn't know how, okay? This- this thing, it's new to me, kriff, you have me thinking I could--" He stops, and you wait for him to continue, but he just shakes his head and lets the thought die, "I'll be back soon."

"How soon?"

"Sooner than you think... but not as soon as we'd hope."

You want to be mad, stars you want to tell him to fuck off... But you find yourself instead getting out of bed and moving to kiss him. Wolffe doesn't hesitate to lean down and kiss you back, collecting you in his arms and holding you close. His armor feels cold against your bare skin and he chuckles when you pull away.

He admires your goosebumps, that cocky smirk on his face as he touches your body. His glove hand runs over your breast, circling your nipple, and you moan softly at his touch. Before you can even think, the words come out, "Please stay..."

The sadness returns to his eyes instantly, "I can't..." you stand in silence, before he takes your hand and squeezes it, then presses it to his lips, "Tell me to come back safe instead, Mesh'la..."

"No..." you set yourself against his chest, one hand were his heart would be as the other hugs around his waist, "I don't want you to leave at all. Stay with me."

Wolffe tilts your head to look at him. His voice is stern, but there's a plea in his eyes, a need to hear you say it, "Tell me to come back safe."

You get on your toes and place one more kiss to his lips, whispering against him, "Come home to me, Wolffe. Come home safe..."

"I will." He kisses you once more before he leaves you standing there alone.

You miss him. You miss him for a long time.

When you get back into bed, your mind goes back to the night before he left. You wish the sheets still smelled like him, and all you want is his touch, his warmth. The feeling of his hands on your body as he handles you, his lips on your skin, his teeth marking your neck, and his length deep within your walls.

"Wolffe..." you whimper, shutting your eyes. Your nipples are the last place you felt his bare handed touch, so you decide to start there, and you whimper again, "Wolffe..." as you feel yourself up.

When you start to rub your legs together, you lay yourself on your back and run one hand down your stomach. The memory of Wolffe's hand running the same course sending chills over you. You open your legs for yourself- no, for him. Always for him, you think to yourself, picturing Wolffe between your legs again.

You bite your bottom lip and moan as you slide your fingers between your folds. "F-fuck-- Wolffe~ oh~" He'd chuckle if he were there, you think, telling you how pretty your folds looks all wet for him, "O-only for you". Your fingers spread your slick from your entrance up to your clit, and you moan again, mimicking his tongue with your fingers.

"Wolffe, oh~" you feel yourself throb as you start rubbing circles into yourself. You have to use three fingers to match the size of his two, and you moan louder, "Fuck me, please, oh, ah..."

You let go of your nipple and bring your other hand down, teasing your entrance as you rub your clit. You can hear Wolffe in your head saying how needy you are, telling you to ask for what you want, and maybe he'll give it to you.

"I-I want you, I want you, please oh-" you slip two fingers inside your slick walls and clench around them, gasping, "Wolffe!!"

It's then that you hear a low chuckle, "You want me, hm?" and your eyes open. You're not sure how you willed him back. Your hands slow a bit, and Wolffe chuckles again, starting to remove his clothes, "Don't stop on my account Mesh'la. Go on, touch yourself. I want to see you."

Renewed blush burns your cheeks and shoulders as you watch him strip down to nothing but his small clothes. The bulge in his shorts makes you ache, but all he does is set his hands on your knees and spread you open a little more, "Keep going, I want to see how this plays out."

Wolffe watches your hands with hungry eyes as you do what your told. He kisses your inner thighs as your hand rubs faster against your clit, fingers curling inside your walls with a sweet wet smack. "Wolffe... I'm- I'm close, please..."

"Cum then," Wolffe bites your soft skin and you moan for him, clenching around your fingers, "When you cum, I'll give you what you want."

"I want you..." you pant, moving faster as you feel your climax building, "I want you, Wolffe, I want you, I--" he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue.

Your hands move faster in your walls and on your clit, and as you spasm under your own touch, back arching off your bed, you scream his name, "Wolffe!! Oh!"

Before you can come down from your own pleasure, with your head still spinning, Wolffe begins to move. He takes your hands from yourself and places your slick fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean of your slick. When he's done with your hands, he puts them over your head, with a cocky chuckle, "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," You're so dizzy, but you open yourself to him and put your legs over his waist, "I want you Wolffe, please... please..."

"What do you want Mesh'la?" You can tell he's teasing you. He likes it when you get crude with him about your desires. Walking in on you masturbaiting to a fantasy of him must have done wonders for his ego, and it's showing. He rolls his hips forward, barely grazing your folds with his bulge, but it's enough to make you squirm and moan. "I'll ask again," he rolls his hips once more, "What do you want?"

Your heart pounds, and you lean your head to the side, "Fuck me!"

Your hips come up, trying to gain any friction, and you whine, turning to look at him again, "Fuck me Wolffe, I need you. Please!"

"Since you asked so nicely~" Wolffe leans back from between your legs and removes his shorts finally, freeing his length with a sigh of relief.

You expected him to climb back into the bed, but he pulls you forward by your spread legs, bringing you to the edge of the bed. You hook your legs around his waist again as he slides his length through your folds. Wolffe stimulates your clit with the head of his length, then slides it down to your entrance. He teases you a little, "Already prepped for me, hm? It's like you knew I'd want to be deep in you when I got back."

You open your mouth to retort, but all that comes is a drawn out moan as Wolffe's length fills you for the first time in what feels like an eternity. The clone gives his own grunt of content as he presses a hand onto your belly and fills you completely, "You feel so good, so wet for me."

"O-only for you..." you pant, hands gripping the sheets above you.

Wolffe smirks at you as he slowly drags his hips back, only to snap them forward quick and rough. A surprised, "Ah!" Comes from you, and your back arches. He does it again, and again, building speed until you're bouncing on his cock. He holds your waist and fucks into you hard, the sweet wet slaps of skin on skin filling your bedroom. The sounds mingle in the air with grunts and moans, names whispered and then yelled soon after.

You feel another climax starting to threaten, and you look up into Wolffe's eyes, seeing the same building pressure on his face. His hand goes to your clit and you scream his name in ecstasy as he fucks into you wildly, hips surging forward in sporadic hard thrusts. Wolffe grits his teeth as he spends himself deep within your walls, collapsing forward onto your shaking body as you both bask in the after glow.

Your arms tremble as you hug around his chest, moaning as he lazily rolls his hips with aftershocks. As Wolffe kisses your neck, you bury your face in his shoulder, placing your own soft kisses to his hot skin, "Welcome home, Wolffe..."

#commander wolffe #fanfic #sw fic #smut #sorry for you know *gestures at fic*#wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #tcw smut

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moonstrider9904 · 2 years

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Bud

Chapter 4 of The Hunt

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Wolffe x Fem!OC, some Comet x Fem!OC

Series summary: The 104th battalion’s new medic Rose comes into the scene dazzling everyone, ready for anything life as a battalion medic will ofer to her after having spent much too long secluded in a medical station orbiting Rishi. While she forms close friendships with the troopers, she and commander Wolffe never seem to get along. As arguments between them heat up, Wolffe is challenged to make Rose fall in love with him, a game that by no means will end well for either of them.

Chapter summary: After a string on missions, Rose and the wolf pack are sent to Naboo with free time on their hands. While things seem to be developing very well with Comet, Wolffe will have to figure out how to deal with his jealousy the more he has to see Rose and Comet be together.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for mild sexual content--this one's spicy. Hot making out, some biting, sexy dancing, dry humping and hip grinding. Alcohol consumption, insults/language, unintentional voyeurism and eavesdropping, love triangle. Jealousy.

A/N: Another one of my favorites. If you love Wolffe being emotionally constipated, you'll love this chapter :3

Word count: 7.8k

This fic is ongoing and posted to-date on AO3. Cross-posting on tumblr will be in progress over the next couple of weeks. After that, I’ll pick it up where I left off and post any new chapters on both platforms.

When Rose was assigned to the 104th division, even after spending some time with them, she didn’t know completely how highly regarded they were on every level. By every general, by every other battalion, troopers, ARC troopers, captains, commanders alike would shift to a mode of respect whenever the 104th was brought up. In case that hadn’t been clear to Rose before, it became bright as the morning suns of Tatooine that everything they had to offer was wanted all over the galaxy, and sooner than later, they’d been bumped off their base on Hoth to go to a new horizon.

It had been a while of doing that. Hoth, Kashyyyk, at least five other worlds saw the armor of the wolf pack visiting, and in that while, they’d all barely caught a break. Rose couldn’t complain; it certainly beat spending rotation after rotation orbiting Rishi. But the bags under her eyes were getting more prominent than ever, and she was feeling the weight on her shoulders the same as every other member of her battalion was, and it was why the news that they’d be having some time to unload on Naboo dropped on their fingers like perfectly fitted rings.

There was just one bump. One thorn that continued to prick Rose’s back, and she’d done a successful job of keeping things professional for missions’ sake, but unloading on Naboo, spending free time on arguably one of the most beautiful planets in the galaxy, both with the man who’s life she’d saved and now she had some sort of item with, and the man who’d made a totally inappropriate move on her at a totally inappropriate time, who’d sparked even more inappropriate feelings within her when he did. Not that she still felt those urges, but Rose knew it would all probably get messy and complicated if there was nothing else to distract from the unwanted facts.

“Alright everyone, listen up,” Wolffe’s voice traveled all over the area they were in on the venator’s hangar, breaking Rose off from her thoughts. “We have a short task to carry out when we arrive at Naboo, after that, we’ll be free for quite a few days.”

Sinker and Boost nudged each other from across Wolffe, both of them with sly grins and clearly reflecting how much everybody was looking forward to some time off. Rose smiled at them, always happy to see her boys happy as well, and from across her, she caught Comet already smiling at her. Naturally, she returned the smile, a charming one that could light up the hangar if the lights suddenly went off.

“Remember we still have to focus,” Wolffe said, his voice a low grumble as he forced Comet and Rose’s gazes back on him. “Three different shipments of refugees are arriving on Naboo at about the same time we are. We have to make sure every refugee accounted for has arrived safely and provide with any necessary supplies for them to be on their way to their camps. The queen of Naboo and Senator Amidala herself are supervising, so we need to get this right.”

“When do we not?” Boost smirked. “Come on, commander, loosen up! We’re going to have a party for days!”

Wolffe scoffed, a tiny smile creeping up on his lips. While the rest of the troopers scattered around the area surrounding their distinctive Plo’s Bros gunships, Boost went over there and nudged him too with a devious little grin.

“Wanna tell me why you haven’t been at each other’s throats as much lately?” Boost inquired as he stood next to Wolffe, arms crossed and looking at the nearby scene where Rose walked up to Comet and made some friendly conversation, inaudible to them both.

“She’s been too busy to keep up her insufferable act,” Wolffe discarded the question, turning his back on the scene with a scowl and an eyeroll that Boost knew all too well.

The trooper couldn’t help but laugh. “Shut up. Does it actually bother you to see her with Comet?”

“Get to your gunship, Boost,” Wolffe countered him.

“And now you’re dismissing me,” Boost laughed again. “You know, you’re actually very easy to read. You’re not even trying to live up to your own little dare.”

“It was your idea.”

“I never told you to do anything, commander.”

Wolffe rolled his eyes again and put on his helmet, finding it provided a very easy way to not have to talk to people. Extending his arm, he gestured at a pile of nearby crates resting next to one of the gunships.

“Want to be funny? Load those crates, and make sure they all get to Naboo like they should,” Wolffe began turning his back on Boost too and headed for his gunship, stepping inside and holding one of the handles above him as more troopers filed in and got ready for takeoff.

“You want me to get Comet to help me?” Boost smirked. “It’d help your case, you know. I can’t imagine you enjoy seeing him with her.”

Wolffe didn’t feel obliged to say anything else to Boost and merely watched as he walked away, clearly amused with the little conversation they’d just had. His helmet did help, but even though his visor was particularly designed for him to see exactly what was necessary for him to have in sight, he caught a glimpse of something he felt he didn’t need from the corner of his eye.

On a different gunship, Rose and Comet were just climbing on and securing the handles like all the other troopers, but they were clearly smiling at each other as Comet teased Rose with their height difference. She was so short that she barely reached the handle, and even in her uniform and few bits of armor, she looked so soft, so curvy, and having her arm extended above her only emphasized the way her black hair fell in rich waves down her back, better as she tilted her head up to look at Comet and giggle, biting her lip and all. Wolffe didn’t need to hear what they were saying to figure out what was happening between them, and it became painfully obvious when Rose let go of the handle and instead settled to hold onto Comet’s forearm, their little smirks still proud and prominent, clearly without a care of who’s sights they attracted.

Nauseating. That was the only word Wolffe would use to describe it. He grimaced as the doors of his gunship closed and sealed, depriving him of the sight that was bringing his blood to a boil seconds ago. Knowing he was out of his mind, he shuddered as he began to realize that Boost’s idea no longer sounded ridiculous, and he knew he’d definitely have to do something about it.

No sooner had they landed on the outskirts of Theed when the troopers of the 104th began unloading everything, well aware that the ships carrying the refugees would be due soon. And as always, they did an impeccable job of it and everything was set by the time the gunships were gone and the landing bay had been cleared for the arrival of the refugees.

“Well done, everyone,” Wolffe addressed his pack. “We’ll need a majority of hands here, but if a few of you could head over to our headquarters and make sure everything’s fine with our stay’s arrangements, that would be great.”

“Don’t worry, commander,” Comet began. “I’ll get to it.”

“I’ll go with you,” Rose was just about to make her way beside Comet when Wolffe noticed her from the corner of his good eye.

“Actually, I need you here,” Wolffe said as calmly as he could manage. “We don’t know what state these people will arrive in; some might need aid.”

He had a point. It didn’t settle completely well with Rose, but it also wasn’t something repulsive. Nodding over at Comet, she expressed she’d remain where she was while he walked off in the opposite direction, and though Wolffe was aware he’d manipulated the whole thing, it filled him with satisfaction to see Rose walking away from Comet and heading towards him.

Rose stopped next to Wolffe, but her eyes never fell on him. The commander even noticed how she looked over her shoulder at Comet’s disappearing figure, and Wolffe was once again glad to have had his helmet on, hiding the way he bared his teeth in envy at the attention she gave Comet. Rose then looked forward again, speechless where she’d normally shoot some witty remark at Wolffe for asking her to stay behind with him. The silence was peaceful to some, but deadly to someone like Wolffe, and it only then dawned on him that he had the opportunity to talk to Rose about something, anything, maybe even apologize for what he did on Hoth—no, Wolffe wasn’t one to openly apologize. But having things be that awkward between them wasn’t going to get them anywhere, and Wolffe knew he had to do something about that too.

Still, he also knew time was running out when the first of the three ships came into view, still far along on the horizon, but approaching at a decent speed that would soon render them all occupied for who knew how long again. That much was clear, but how was Wolffe supposed to address her again? Moreover, why was it so hard to address her? Maybe because of how stubborn and arrogant she was, but he was barely any different. Wolffe felt it would simply be best to go with what he usually did, some fine old teasing.

“If any of them need medical care, I hope you have your flowers on hand,” Wolffe told her.

Rose’s gaze remained trailed forward, but a light scoff escaped her. “I bet they’ll be way nicer about it than you.” The medic took out a small piece of paper and started scribbling on it to give it to Wolffe afterwards, and he didn’t know what to say when he noticed the words thank you written on it in fine handwriting.

“Maybe you can learn the two words now,” Rose didn’t bother looking at him when she said the words, and she walked off to the side with a subtle, confident sway in her hips when the ship with the refugees had arrived.

He crumbled the paper in his hand and hid it in one of the compartments of his armor, and the whirring of engines stopped him before he could react in any other way. Now with the large freighter in front of them, its hatch became open and down started coming the refugees, all of them different, shapes, sizes, and origins. The soldiers began leading them down the landing bay and telling them general instructions regarding their stay as well as the supplies they’d be able to take.

As expected, there were a few refugees who needed some medical assistance. None of them were injured with much gravity, but whoever showed signs of injury was taken to Rose. Soon, she had a line of about six refugees who patiently waited for attention, and Rose helped patch them up enough for them to continue on their way. The second ship arrived in time, and then the third one, one by one so as to not overload the landing bay.

Rose knew she had eyes on her as she tended to the wounded refugees. Wolffe could swiftly direct the crowd to where they needed to be and provide with supplies and answers, but he kept an eye on the medic as much as he could. Some refugees she helped with medicine and proper sterilizers, others with her own concoctions of herbs, but in every case, she definitely knew what she was doing. It made Wolffe feel like an ass for a moment, thinking how he ever could have questioned Rose when she was clearly a fine medic in every aspect of the word. Below his helmet, the scar where he’d gotten the cut that first night out with her at the bar began to tingle as if to further remind him what a jerk he’d been to her, and what a perfect excuse this day was to make it up to her and get things over with.

The ships left soon and all the refugees were making their way inside headquarters, signaling another job well done. Rose tidied up her medical supplies and figured it was about time to head inside headquarters and settle down for the next few days; she was anxious to see Comet again already, and she’d spotted a nearby lake that seemed to be the perfect little place for a nice outing. Her mind dwelled on the image, but her thoughts were interrupted when her wrist comm began to ring, a little smile crept on her face and she answered gladly.

“Come in,” she said, her voice audible to the other clone troopers nearby.

“How’s it going with the refugees?” Comet asked her on the other end and made her smile widen.

“They’re all on their way inside now,” she replied. “And how’s it going with the lodging? If you’re done, I was thinking maybe you and I could go to a lake not far from here. I haven’t seen it from up close, but it looks promising.”

Rose could practically hear the way Comet smiled when he chuckled lightly into the comm, and from a few paces away, Wolffe picked up on the details of her conversation.

“That sounds wonderful,” he said, “but I was just going to tell you I might not be able to. Not today, at least.”

“Why not?” Her voice seemed upset.

“A big chunk of the barracks was left a mess by the previous division who used it and now we have to clean it up,” Comet explained. “I just know it was the 501st.”

“Well, don’t jump to conclusions,” Rose chuckled. “I could wait for you to be done, if you’d like.”

“I’d love to, but I also don’t want to make you wait all day. Let’s say Corvis and I have earned the captain’s trust here and now he’s designated us as the official cleaning staff,” Comet replied. “It looks like we’re going to be stuck here a while.”

“I wish I could have gone with you,” Rose said regretfully.

“They needed you there,” Comet comforted her.

“Then I’ll go with you now,” she suggested.

“Negative, sweetheart,” Comet fired back. “You go on to the lake, you deserve to rest even more than the rest of us. Go see if it’s nice down there and you can take me there tomorrow, alright? I’d offer to go tonight, but tonight we’re all going to go drinking and I’ll be the only one sober and looking after the rest.”

Rose chuckled at his sweet words and blushed at the name he’d used for her. “Alright, Comet, we’ll do it your way.”

“Atta girl,” he smiled on the other end of the comm. “Have a good time, alright?”

“You too, or as much as you can, at least,” she chuckled.

“I’ll try,” he sighed.

With a little smile, Rose hung up the comm and began to walk across the landing bay, drawing Wolffe’s attention to her after he’d listened to the conversation. Though having Comet stuck with Corvis and the captain cleaning all day wasn’t part of his plan, he couldn’t deny it fit his needs well, and before Rose was too far gone, Wolffe approached her as best as he could.

“Off to the lake then?” Wolffe’s voice surprised Rose, and she quickly turned around to face him.

Confusion riddled her usually confident face, but the way her eyes looked made Wolffe admit he was feeling abnormally tight.

“Yeah,” she replied. “I won’t take long. I’ve got my comm if you need anything.”

“Actually, I’ll go with you,” Wolffe said.

Her confusion turned into downright bewilderment at his remark, raising a brow at him and everything. She began suspecting all possibilities for Wolffe’s behavior and quickly pressed the back of her palm to his cheek to check on his temperature, which was normal.

“What are you doing?” Wolffe asked her.

“You don’t have a fever, you don’t have any signs of illness, which means there’s no reason for you to be delusional,” Rose spoke with a perfect eyebrow raised at the commander

“No, I’m not out of my mind,” Wolffe replied.

To try and brush off the matter, Rose chuckled and let her enchantress nature shine through Wolffe’s puzzling change in attitude.

“Listen, the lake is a bright, happy place surrounded with flowers and lit up with sunlight, with the singing of birds and not a problem in the world,” she stated, prancing and bouncing around a bit with that deceptively sweet smile of hers. “It’s a place where bunnies like myself enjoy spending the time, it’s not a place for a wolf.”

Not unless he wants to grab a snack, Wolffe thought to himself.

“I appreciate you wanting to frighten me out of it, but I fancy going anyway,” the commander told her.

“Why?” She asked. “It’s not dangerous, I won’t be in any trouble if I go down there for a while by myself.”

“I’m just offering to hang out with you,” Wolffe’s teeth bared slightly.

“Hang out?” Rose scrutinized. “Since when do you want to hang out with me, or simply hang out at all?”

“For shit’s sake, Rose, I’m trying to be nice to you,” Wolffe said bluntly, his hard eyes landing on the medic in front of him in a way that echoed the look he’d directed at her that day at Hoth, when he was dangerously close to her, pushing her dangerously close into giving into her desire, her sweetest instincts.

Rose scoffed at him again. “I don’t want your kindness.” She then scanned him from head to toe, letting out a soft chuckle when she noticed the bewildered look in his eyes mixed with that egotistical anger signature of a bruised ego. “I suppose you can come with me if you want, just don’t be an ass.”

She walked off, leaving Wolffe both furious and deliciously inquisitive. Standing completely still, he stared at her as she walked off decisively, never deviating from her tread to the lake. Shortly after, Wolffe began to follow after her, perfectly aware he was probably stupid for doing it, that he and Rose drove each other insane, but he didn’t care. He needed to take every step it took to reach her to that lake even if it was the end of him—and he knew that woman would be the end of him.

Rose was ahead of him the whole way. Wolffe even slowed down his pace when the lake came into view, and his gaze remained fix on the young woman in front of him as she walked through the flowers, her hands extended and softly grazing against the stems and petals, feeling them as she continued moving forward until she arrived at the lake’s edge. She sat down on the ground and dug her fingers into the soil, reveling in the sensation of natural earth at her fingertips, as if it could breathe life and spirit into her after a long time of being drained. She took a deep breath of fresh air and felt it cleanse all the tension of the past few weeks from her, and on the exhale, opened her eyes to revel once more in the sight of nature.

Wolffe watched from afar at the way she behaved. She gave off the same vibe she had on Hoth when she was out on the snow by herself; Rose gave an aura of innocence that made Wolffe want to fight off even the insects that flew near her, fearing even they’d mean her harm, but he also wanted to claim her right there at the edge of that lake and make her his.

Before standing up, Rose’s attention was caught by a bundle of tiny white flowers grouped together in a way that made them seem like an army. She let out a chuckle and picked out one of the stems as Wolffe approached her slowly, warily, only to see her arrogant smirk shooting at him as she threw the makeshift bouquet at his chest.

“For you, commander,” Rose seemed to spit out the word.

He was no medic, but he recognized the yarrow all too well, and Rose’s message could not have been clearer. Rose turned around, not before smirking at him, and she faced the peaceful lake while feeling Wolffe’s presence behind her.

“Why are you really here?” She broke the silence.

He took a couple more steps toward her until he was just behind her, his body barely away from hers, breath fanning over her shoulder.

“You and I aren’t done,” he whispered.

“You and I?” Rose turned around to meet his gaze. “There’s a you and I now?”

Wolffe scoffed with a smug look, his face tilting only slightly as his eyes traveled down to her lips. “You wanted to kiss me back on Hoth.”

“And it would have been a mistake,” Rose replied. “That’s why I didn’t do it.”

“Not because you don’t like me, like you claimed,” he cornered her.

“That was still true,” she smirked. “You’re arrogant, you throw insults around like they’re nothing, you’re a cocky bastard who gets things done by being an asshole.”

Wolffe didn’t understand why her words were riling him up so much, but he was thankful his codpiece hid the shameless erection that had grown inside his blacks. His sly look turned seductive, and he took his hand to cup her jaw, his touch far gentler than she’d expected it to be.

“And yet I don’t see you walking away from me,” he whispered, leaning ever closer to her until he was barely over her lips. “Are you going to do that, bunny?”

She didn’t say anything, but her eyes whispered desire. Wolffe then leaned in fully and finished the job, crashing his lips onto hers in a hungry, seductive kiss which he growled into while she countered with a soft, breathy moan as her hands grasped at his shoulder pads. His kissing was gruff, his grip on her waist was hard, his free hand ran through her rich black locks to secure the back of her head. Even through his armor, Rose was well aware of his growing length, hardening, exciting her with how far they could get in her state of bliss. His kisses were like a raging fire, and when his lips traveled from her lips to her neck to kiss and nibble at her tender skin, Rose could only see stars around her.

Grunting softly and breathily moaning out the nickname bunny as he gradually took her to the ground, Wolffe was all but ready to finish the game when both of their comms began beeping with Sinker’s voice booming on the other end of the line.

“Everything’s good, fellas!” he was celebrating. “Our lodging is good to go and the refugees have all been accommodated. We can now officially party!”

“So get back here anytime before sundown, we’re going to a bar in the heart of Theed,” Comet continued.

Comet. Rose let go of Wolffe upon hearing his voice. She felt horrible for having agreed to a fling with Wolffe when things were going so well between her and Comet, even if they weren’t formally a couple yet. Kind, sweet Comet who looked out for her, who gave her forehead kisses, who joked with her, showed her gratitude, and who never once criticized her work. The comms were cut off, and Rose smoothed out her hair and uniform hoping she didn’t have any marks on her neck that would tell the tale of what had just happened, and trying to think straight, she began walking away from Wolffe.

“Wait,” Wolffe reached out for her wrist, tugging only slightly and not at all with the brute strength that Rose would have expected from him. “Don’t go.”

“Wolffe, I was right, this was a mistake,” Rose whimpered. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t what I want. You and I don’t like each other… Comet and I do.”

And then she left, making her way back to the headquarters they’d arrived to, leaving Wolffe alone at the edge of a lake, in a place that was clearly not made for him.

Rose had tried everything to get her previous encounter with Wolffe out of her mind. She’d showered, dressed in a gorgeous black dress that accentuated her hips with is flowy skirt that went halfway down her thighs, redone her signature red lipstick and made a few waves on her hair to get ready for a night out at the bar. She’d made sure to check for any marks Wolffe may have left, but her skin seemed intact as if he hadn’t been running his tongue and lips on it earlier. At least, that was one less thing she had to worry about.

She’d deliberately taken longer to get ready and told the rest of the troopers she’d meet them at the bar if only to buy her some more time to clear her head before heading there. She knew she probably didn’t have to, but she wanted to apologize more formally to Wolffe before picking up where she’d left off with Comet.

One thing she hadn’t account for were the looks and attention she’d get upon entering the bar, which she felt silly for forgetting since it was merely rutinary. Of course she appreciated it, but she needed to sneak a moment with Wolffe to get it all over with, and it wouldn’t be possible to do it if everyone was staring at her. Everyone, specifically Comet, had his eyes glued on her, and Rose couldn’t help but return his smile with a charming one of her own, earning them a few whistles from the troopers who had undoubtedly noticed how much time they’d been spending together since Hoth, even before that.

“You look stunning,” Comet said as he handed her a colorful cocktail, her first drink of the night.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she replied as she noticed the dark red shirt he was wearing as well as the black trousers and jacket, and only then did she take a moment to take in the sight of the bar. It had a classier tone to it than the 79’s, especially in its architecture, but there were still lights, a dance floor, and even a little stage where the DJ was poised and played dance music. Being in Naboo, the bar wasn’t overflowing like it would be on Coruscant, in fact, it had just the comfortable amount of people for a nice night out. Rose didn’t see it going wrong any way, but she did want to get her little errand done soon.

“Let me go greet the others,” she told him and winked.

Comet replied with a smile and he sat down with Sinker and Boost again to continue their lively chatter while Rose went off on her mission to find Wolffe, and soon enough, she found him standing at the bar getting another round of drinks. His stern gaze landed on her, unchanged, and all she felt she could do was sigh apologetically.

“I just wanted to apologize again,” she said quietly.

Wolffe shook his head slowly. “No hard feelings.”

“Are you sure?” She asked him.

“Of course,” he told her with candor filling his gaze. He wanted to get in bed with her bad, but he wasn’t willing to make her life hell for it. He wasn’t garbage. “I came on too strong too. I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m sorry.”

Rose smiled sincerely. “I appreciate it.”

“Let’s go back to hating each other, then,” Wolffe smirked and held up his glass.

“To hating each other,” Rose clinked her cocktail with his glass, mimicking his smile, and feeling far calmer than when she entered the bar, she returned to the table back to Comet’s company.

Wolffe watched after her with a turmoil of emotions bubbling in him, and that was something he didn’t like. He knew that, as far as his little bet with Boost went, he could be let off the hook. He and Rose had made out and the lust between them was obvious; it could be proof enough that he could be more than capable of taking Rose into the bedroom. By all means, the little hunt could be over, but Wolffe didn’t quite like the idea of not holding Rose again the way he did at the lake.

He felt her scent linger on him even hours after that had happened. He’d memorized the way her hair felt so soft against his skin, the sound of her breathy little moans, the way her chest heaved as she breathed heavily, aroused by him, willing to let him in. If he thought back enough, he could still feel his hands wrapped around her waist, and he could only imagine his hands on other parts of her body and the way it would make her squirm. Wolffe knew he had to stop thinking about her like that, and in a fit to do just that, he looked at her as she took a seat next to Comet and she brushed her hand over his bicep just before he wrapped his arm around her and their conversation with the others kept going.

Wolffe gulped down a shot of Corellian whiskey to get him through the night.

Over at their table, Sinker and Boost sat across from Rose and Comet, and Boost had just arrived with a little bowl full of chocolates whose major ingredient was liquor. He unwrapped one of them and held it up in front of him while he looked at the squad’s medic with a devious little smile.

“Hey Rose,” he spoke over the music and loud enough for everyone to hear. “If I get drunk on these chocolates alone, you and Comet have to make out!”

Rose didn’t buy it. “I think you’re drunk now.”

“Chocolates, I said!”

Rose and Comet exchanged a look, both of them amused at Boost’s state.

“What do you say?” Rose asked Comet with a purr.

“You’re the one who’s going to give treat their hangovers,” Comet chuckled.

“Not when we’re off duty, I’m not your mama,” Rose snapped her fingers. “But I meant about the making out part.”

“Rose, I could never say no to that,” Comet told her quietly into her ear.

“Eat all the bloody chocolates you want, Boost,” Rose concluded.

Boost, in his own animal-like way, growled and unwrapped several chocolates at once to stuff them all in his mouth, earning a few cheers from his comrades to see how many he could eat at once. Rose playfully rolled her eyes at their guy behavior, and then her gaze landed on Comet with a sweet smile.

“Do you want to try one?” Comet asked her and reached out for one of the chocolates in the bowl, but he only earned a slap from Boost who growled what sounded like the word mine, but no one could know for sure if he still had the civilized ability to talk.

“Here, take this one,” Corvis handed Comet a wrapped chocolate from his table. “Don’t let Boost see it.”

“Thanks, man,” Comet replied. He unwrapped the little round chocolate and held it up to Rose, who took it in her hands and looked at it before directing a charming look at Comet that had him heating up and hearing his heart beating in his ears.

“Ooh, you know what you should do?” Sinker spoke up, not as drunk as Boost but definitely happy with the alcohol he’d already consumed. “You should each take half of the chocolate and make out.”

“Why does everyone want to see us make out tonight?” Comet questioned, and then he looked at Rose again. “It’s your call.”

Rose blushed. “We haven’t done it yet.”

Comet smiled sweetly at her, and it was enough for Rose to make her decision. With a wide grin that had a slight touch of seduction, Rose put the chocolate between her teeth and waited for Comet to make his move. He couldn’t keep resisting her, and he gladly leaned in and took the other half of the chocolate with his teeth, after which the two of them kissed each other proudly, hungrily, moaning softly into each other as the troopers around them cheered and whistled and catcalled them.

From the bar, Wolffe had ditched the shots and now held the whole bottle of whiskey in his hand.

Rose and Comet were grinning widely after their first kiss, foreheads resting on each other as if they’d been lovers forever while the cheering continued in the background. In the happy chatter, drinks came and went. Rose drank just enough to feel easy-going; Comet’s high alcohol tolerance allowed him to drink endlessly and not feel a single effect, and overall everyone was tipsy and having a good time with the exception of Wolffe slumped at the bar.

The commander forced himself not to look at the scene of Rose being unbelievably happy with the man she liked. He was thinking of leaving and would have gone through with it until he noticed Boost had stumbled over and sat next to him.

“Sucks to be you,” Boost slurred, followed by a little hiccup. “Did you know my stomach hurts?!”

Wolffe couldn’t help but chuckle at Boost’s state. “Come on, trooper, you can handle more than that.” He sat Boost up and rested his back on the edge of the bar to then signal at the bartender. “Sorry, he ate too many of those chocolates. Have anything that could help him?”

“I’ll bring him something to digest,” the young female bartender answered kindly and went into the kitchen to perform her task.

Being left alone with Boost now and hearing the cheering and chattering in the background, Wolffe noticed that Boost was looking at him with a sad smile.

“Sorry, commander,” Boost said, his voice still slurring. “She likes Comet, and now he’s got her red lipstick on him.”

“Just forget about that, will you?” Wolffe said, though not with the aggression he expected he’d carry in his words. It was a softer tone of voice loaded with defeat, one that Wolffe was a stranger to and it made Boost lift his head up in alert.

“Woah, Wolffe, are you sad?!” Boost yelled. “Rose has to know—ROSE!”

“No, shh!” Wolffe quieted Boost down before he did anything stupid. “Just settle down and sober up.”

Wolffe snuck a look over at Rose to see if she’d noticed Boost calling her, but it seemed that with the cheering and the music, Rose hadn’t heard a thing. She didn’t suspect anything she didn’t already know, and Wolffe knew it was probably right even though every fiber in his body pushed him to admit otherwise, to not leave things the way they were. He was supposed to be the one holding Rose’s body in one hand and a drink in the other, he was supposed to be the one taking her to bed that night.

“Well, well, well! What do we have here?!” The DJ’s excited voice boomed over the speakers and caught the attention of everyone in the bar. “We’ve got clones here tonight!”

Every member of the 104th cheered except for Wolffe; even Boost made an attempt of raising his hand and cheering, but he was still too knocked over. Lucky for him, his elixir had just arrived, leaving Wolffe to thank the bartender before he looked out at the rest of the bar again.

“And who’s that lovely lady there with you?” The DJ signaled to Rose.

Rose couldn’t help but blush and smile with allure while Comet grinned proudly back at the DJ.

“She’s our medic,” Comet said.

“Oh!” The DJ cooed with excitement. “So she takes good care of all of you?”

“Just Comet!” Sinker yelled out, loud enough for the whole bar to hear.

Rose laughed that bewitching laugh of hers and leaned her head on Comet’s shoulder while he smiled into her hair.

“Oh, well then, how about you come up here and show off? Your other boys need attention too, you know,” the DJ switched the song to one with a heavier beat, ideal to dance to, and turned up the volume a bit while Rose received cheers and whistled.

She loved the attention with or without the alcohol, and with the shots and cocktails she’d already had, she had absolutely no problem getting up on that stage and putting on a little show. Rose knew who she was, and she definitely knew how hot she was as well; plus, her dress would be her ally for that. She got up and grinned seductively at Comet, bending over and hovering barely away from his lips as she emphasized the way her chest looked in that position. Comet, dazed at the beauty of the woman before him, felt himself begin to heat up all over and he couldn’t take his eyes off of Rose as if she’d cast a spell on him.

Rose took a few steps away from him and walked backwards slowly towards the stage, her eyes never leaving Comet’s like he was her prey. Gradually, she began to sway her hips to the beat of the music, and she even added some undulations of her body and ran her hands through her hair, ruffling it up, looking like the goddess of everyone’s dreams.

“Fuck,” Comet said to himself, already with a heavy breath at such perfection, such seduction. Rose was truly amazing. Every move she made was perfect, and for a moment, he couldn’t believe he was with someone as incredible as her.

As he sat at the bar, there was no way Wolffe could ignore the show Rose was putting on. Every time she moved her hips flashed the memory of her at the lake; every time she turned around and ruffled her hair made him remember her scent, her moans. He watched her, prying eyes memorizing her every move, her figure, and like a vow, he swore to himself he’d have her one day.

Whistles and hoots flew at Rose from every side of the bar, and she loved it. Her gaze remained fixed on Comet, and she adored the way his eyes scanned her with lust as if he were studying her. He seemed both nervous and craving, and that only filled her with pride. Fully on the stage, Rose’s moves became more eloquent with the music, now in a full routine that stole everyone’s hearts if she hadn’t already. The bar roared in ovation, and the DJ continued to hail her on stage.

“Come on, troopers, get over here and support your medic!” The DJ whooped, and at his encouragement, the stage and dance floor became filled with the troopers of the 104th and anyone else along the bar who wanted in on the party. Comet joined Rose on the stage as well as Sinker and Corvis, and Boost, now feeling like he could stand, couldn’t miss out on the opportunity either. It left Wolffe alone on the sidelines of the bar, still clutching the bottle of whiskey and taking long sips as he watched.

Though there were now countless people up there with her, all of them yelling out how hot she was, Wolffe could only see her. He was aroused, of course. Her dancing riled him up, filled him with the need to sin. He wanted to growl at her, to howl with her in his arms, but while he sat there counting all the different ways he could make her eyes roll back, Rose was up there on the stage still dancing to the beat, tangled in Comet’s arms, grinding her hips and her ass to him, making out as their bodies swayed together for everyone to see. Seeing him with her like that when Wolffe had been so close to claiming Rose earlier was abhorrent.

The night wore on, and as Wolffe continued to fill himself with whiskey and dread, everyone else did the same with cocktails and passion. No one cared to count the hours, and it wasn’t until the very dead of night that the troopers slowly made their way out of the bar and headed back to their headquarters, most of them tumbling and speaking nonsense.

Comet, with his inhuman resistance to alcohol, remained sober despite all he’d drunk, and Rose took it upon herself to sober up before getting everyone out of the bar, and they managed to take their battalion successfully into the barracks and accommodating them in their bunks and some on the floor with blankets, all of them lying sideways. Rose knew she wouldn’t sleep; she was determined to make sure everyone woke up safely. She’d deal with the hangovers later.

Their barracks on Naboo were probably the most elegant ones she’d been in yet, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if she knew that those were the most luxurious barracks clones ever stayed in in the galaxy. She herself slept in a different room, not too different in aesthetic from that of the barracks, but she had no problem spending the night there to keep an eye on the troopers. She sat next to the balcony, its door open, and the city of Theed lay behind her with a gentle caress of the night breeze on her back.

Comet silently walked up to her. He was smiling, and he held a blanket in his hand which he then draped over Rose’s body.

“Here,” he told her quietly, not wanting to risk waking anyone up. “You’ve shielded me from the cold before, now it’s my turn.”

Rose smiled as she hugged the blanket around her body. “You did the same before I did, back on Aleen.”

“I remember,” he smiled.

Rose opened her arms and let Comet inside the blanket just as she had done on Aleen. He snuggled close to her and wrapped his arms around her, and he rested his lips on her head taking a whiff of her scent. Right there on that balcony, Comet was convinced there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

But not everyone in the barracks was asleep; Rose and Comet weren’t the only exceptions. Wolffe hadn’t gotten an ounce of sleep in the entire night despite how much he longed for it and the release it could give him from Rose’s spell. Comet and Rose whispered to each other, but not a single word escaped Wolffe’s senses, and this time there was no Corellian whiskey to come to his aid.

“You remember that first night on Coruscant?” Comet asked Rose.

Rose chuckled softly and looked at him. “Of course. What about it?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about some nice things you said,” he kissed her temple.

“Like how I have a collective crush on the clones?” She teased him.

Comet chuckled and kissed her lips, amazed as always at how soft and warm they were. “That too, but… I was thinking more about… you and I…”

You and I, Rose thought to herself. This was where her you and I was.

“How I didn’t think it would be possible to be in a relationship during the war, but I would if I found the right man?” She smiled at him, prompting him to reply.

“Yes, that,” Comet said.

“Well…” Rose leaned her head on Comet’s shoulder.

“Would you be willing to?” His voice was full of hope.

Rose smiled with charm at him, her heart fluttering at his words. “Of course.”

Comet lovingly cupped her cheek and smiled at her with all the admiration he had for her. “You’re incredible…”

Rose leaned into the warmth of Comet’s palm and smiled with the same emotion, her eyes sparkling and making Comet’s entire body weak for her. He leaned in closer and kissed her softly and slowly, nowhere near as passionate as their kissing at the bar, but it set off every firework and explosive within them. Rose smiled into the kiss and pressed her body to his as she wrapped her arms around him and let the blanket slide off her shoulders, leaving her bare back exposed thanks to her dress. Comet ran his fingertips over her skin, sending shivers down Rose’s spine, and their kiss ceased just as the heat boiled enough between them. They parted, looking at each other’s eyes with pine.

“I really wish I could do more with you right now,” Comet said, his smile audible to Wolffe even as he whispered. “You and your dancing.”

“Oh, we could do more,” Rose said, her voice tainted with a lustful purr.

“We could wake someone,” Comet stuttered.

Rose grinned seductively as she leaned in closer, slowly, biting her lip. “Then don’t be loud.”

Silence fell on the barracks for a brief moment of peace as Wolffe continued lying still, asleep to the world. It wasn’t until he heard the sound of kissing and faint moaning that his senses became alert. The silent and breathy moaning mostly came from Comet, and it was obvious that he was drowning in his own ecstasy, desperate not to be loud. Slowly, Wolffe looked over his shoulder to get a visual of the scene unveiling between them, and he felt something shatter inside him, something he would have guessed was his heart if he wasn’t so sure he didn’t have one.

Rose had shifted to scissor Comet’s crotch, her upper body leaned over against his with her hands massaging his chest as her hips grinded on his, the slow friction driving them both insane. Both were still fully clothed, but their make out was as hot as it would be without any fabric between. Comet’s hands softly held her ass, moving alongside her hips as she kept grinding, and the trooper had to roll his eyes back to keep from making any noise. Rose watched him squirm, proud of herself for bringing a soldier to the point of crumble, and she stopped grinding before she too was just over the edge.

Wolffe couldn’t watch anymore. He didn’t know how he was supposed to spend the rest of the night, or even the next days seeing Rose and Comet together. Their huffing filled the room with an occasional giggle from Rose, and Wolffe felt his insides fret. He closed his eyes and longed for slumber, anything to take him out of the present moment. For a while, it seemed silence was his ally until Comet’s voice spoke again.

“I love you.”

Wolffe felt like he was going to puke.

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