dinjrex

[dinjrex]

Inspired by Billy Joel’s Vienna

Commander Fox x Gn reader (Angst/comfort)

The sky was dark and littered with bright stars overshadowed by the city lights when you arrived at the penitentiary. It was not hard to get by security as all of the guards were well accustomed to your consistent presence.

It had been nothing but wishful thinking when Fox had claimed he would be home for dinner over a quick com call earlier that day, and you realized this as you had irritably shoved leftovers into containers to bring to his office that evening. There had been no com contact for apologies or explanations, not that you could reasonably expect one from him while he was working.

“Good evening, boys,” you muttered as a group of troopers prepared to switch patrols, they all responded with “evening's” or with quick nods in your direction. You managed to make it to the elevators that would take you to Fox’s office before a guard member called out to you.

“I need to see some form of identification before you can continue any further.”

Forcing a smile, you spun around to face him. It was clear by his recently painted armor that he was fresh from Kamino. He briskly made his way towards you as fished in your coat for anything you could use to identify yourself. It occurred to you that this was precisely the reason Fox had given you a copy of his own credentials. Of course it was not in your coat and instead it was lying uselessly on your apartment kitchen counter.

“It’s fine. Let em’ through.”

You glanced over your shoulder at Sergeant Hound as he approached the two of you. He handed the rookie his own credentials and looked over at you, his sly grin matching your own.

“Loosen up a lil wont’ ya, Buzz,” he joked, taking his ID back from the trooper. He laughed as the man saluted him rigidly before resuming his post. A comfortable silence overtook the two of you as he followed you into the elevator, pressing a few buttons as the door closed. You quickly studied the man as he occupied himself with the elevator buttons.

Hound’s dark hair had grown longer and was unrulier than ever. His usually bright eyes had dulled, and you just now had noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes. He was tired. They all were. You stared down at your feet as he stepped back. If he had noticed your silent speculation, he said nothing.

“Buzz, huh? Is he new?”

Hound looked over at you. “Yeah, he’s too uptight for me. Although, that is how he earned his name, ya know,” he laughed to himself, “he’s a buzzkill.”

“How fitting,” you commented,”I am sure he’ll shape up though.”

“He has no other choice.” Hound’s words, while harmless and even jesting, veiled a darker meaning that you immediately understood.

The once comfortable silence between two friends had grown tense and you could not have been more relieved by the opening of the elevator doors. As if recovering from some kind of spell, Hound grinned.

“I don’t have to ask why you’re here so late, because I already have an idea.” You smiled.

“Is that so,” you quipped, happy to see Hound’s chipper attitude return. Hound raised an eyebrow suggestively in response. Rolling your eyes, you shoved past him on your way out.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing ya around,” Hound called out as you walked away down the hall. You smiled to yourself. These men really had become your family.

The halls were a dark gray, and while they were wide enough to fit large patrols, they gave the impression that they were closing in. Fox always described them to you as suffocating. You quickly decided he was right. On an ordinary night you would come into contact with at least a couple of troopers working late or the occasional disgruntled senator storming around, but tonight it seemed to be only you.

Fox’s office was at the end of the hall, and you abruptly knocked against the cool metal door that was sealed closed before you. It slid open with a groan, and you made a mental note to not say anything about it to Fox. You were well aware of the meticulousness of the already high-strung commander in almost everything he did, and you knew any imperfection present in his own office would likely cause nothing but moodiness and irrational irritability in your commander.

“Fox?” Your call fell in the heavy silence of the room. It appeared that the only light in the room came from the harsh bluelight cast from the holopad Fox held in his grip. It was as if the man was completely oblivious to the presence of another. Your footsteps were silent as you cautiously approached his desk, taking care not to startle him.

“Commander?” You were louder this time, and he slowly raised his head in subconscious acknowledgment. It took all you had to bite back a gasp. His condition was much worse than you could have imagined. His eyes, usually darkened with a hint of mischief, were nothing but hollow pits set into his pale face. His neatly trimmed hair had become an unruly mess, the gray more prominent than ever. He seemed to stare you down, scrutinizing you and the reason as to why you had interrupted his work. It seemed like an eternity had passed before he spoke.

“What do you want?” His voice cracked at first, and his tone was cool and clipped as if talking to a shiny who had irritated him. It was, in the least, unsettling.

“By the Force, Fox, you look like shit,” you said, trying your best to not stare.

“I feel like it.” He fell silent again before turning back to his holopad as if in a stupor. The blue light washed him out further, giving you the impression that you were speaking with a ghost.

Another quick glance around his office gave you a better understanding of the dire state your commander was in. Coffee mugs and travel cups littered the desk and surrounding floor. Some were empty and others contained what you could only imagine was day old coffee. The overhead fluorescent light bulbs had gone out, as had the few lamps Fox had put in his office to bring some form of warmth to the desolate hole it now was. Even as dim and depressing it was in the small quarters, it could not compare to the shroud of darkness that surrounded your commander.

You felt disconcerted as you stood in the middle of the office. How long had things been like this? Was this the reason he had been coming home less? What had happened?

“Fox, what the hell is going on here?”

“I’m working,” he exhaled an exasperated sigh, not even bothering to look up at you,” Just go home.” You paused, unsure of what to make of it all.

“No.”

He stopped typing on the holopad before glaring up at you, clearly not used to the tone you were taking with him. You refused to shrink back from his harsh gaze. When he spoke again, he did not sound angry, just tired.

“No?”

“No, I will not leave knowing you’re overworking yourself like this. This is ridiculous, Fox!” He shrugged absently.

“I’m working,” he repeated apathetically.

“You’re NOT working, you’re killing yourself! Look around for kriff’s sake!”

He threw a quick glance up at you as your voice raised, before looking back down. It was hopeless. Chewing the inside of your lip, you grew silent. It clearly did not faze the broken commander in front of you.

It was an impulsive move, and you almost thought against risking the commander’s anger. In one swift motion, you snatched the holopad out of his loose grip, holding it close to you and out of his reach. The response was immediate.

With a speed you did not think possible in his state, Fox stood up, his desk chair clashing loudly against the cool ground. “I’m not playing games with you, ____, give it here,” he demanded, his voice rid of the earlier raspiness.

“Take a break.”

The man in front of you slowly began walking around the desk toward you, and you were quick to step back.

“Give me the kriffing holopad, ____!”

You shook your head, glancing down at what was completely capturing the attention of the Commander. It was a report of some sort, a serious one no doubt. Words such as “intel”,

“Chancellor”, “resisted”, and “shot” stuck out as you quickly skimmed through the report. But it was a single name that chilled your very core.

“Fives?”

“GIVE IT HERE, NOW!”

Fox was beyond asking, his voice akin to that of a roar. His eyes flashed with a raw emotion you had never seen before. Regret? Exhaustion? Anger? No, you had seen all of those reflected in the depths of his gaze, this was new. This was raw and unbridled despair.

His constant onslaught of anguish and torment had caused him to lose himself. Now he stood over you, his voice a menacing growl, his eyes beyond recognition. It terrified you.

“Fox, talk to me, please,” you begged, your voice cracking with emotion, “What happened?”

He said nothing as he gripped your upper arm, harshly shoving you against the wall. Still you refused to loosen the grip you had on the holopad. He would have to let you into his world first.

The air had been knocked out of your lungs, and he must have noticed because he was quick to drop his hold on you and step back. He shook his head, carding his hands roughly through his hair that was well past overgrown.

You stood still, watching as the plethora of emotions swirled around his mind. There was regret etched into every line on his face. And you could see his hands shake as he brought them down to his sides. He was exhausted.

All of this you could handle, and in some way, you had seen this side of Fox before. The anger towards his circumstances, the fear and uncertainty of the future of the war and of his seemingly worthless life, the remorse for his lost brothers. You knew he wished he could fight alongside his brothers, and even die by their sides if the time came, but instead he dealt with the senate scum and dealt with the scrutiny of the public. His frontlines were so different from his brothers across the galaxy, and it killed something within him every day. All of this you could handle. But the tears were new.

They formed trails as they flowed, leaving nothing and everything unsaid all at once. This was what broke you the most.

Fox did not turn away to hide. He made no apology. He was hurting, and you now realized he had been hurting for longer than this. He was no longer asking for help. He was begging, pleading for it, the desperation clearly reflected in his eyes.

“Fox I –” you kept your tone quiet, already forgiving the man in front of you, “Let me in. Let me help you.”

His gaze was distant, but he lowered his head as if in silent agreement. You hesitated for only a moment before stepping to his side, raising a hand to gingerly rest on his back. As if triggered by a switch, the commander tensed beneath your touch, not moving away but not moving closer.

“Please, for my sake, take a break.”

He slowly lowered his shoulders, softly exhaling a final shaky breath, “Okay.”

You gently guided him to sit back in his desk chair, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head on top of his. It was silent once again, but it was no longer the suffocating silence that had previously loomed over the two of you.

“You need to slow down, my love,” you said, breaking the silence,” You are doing fine alright?”

He hummed in response, choosing instead to reach up and take your hand in his. He ran his thumb over your knuckles as if he was consoling you. However, you were aware of the consolation the motion provided him. Knowing you were there with him brought him more comfort than any amount of words could ever give.

“I’ve made a mistake, I– I–, _____,” Fox’s voice cracked and for a moment you were afraid you had lost him again, but he seemed to somewhat compose himself before speaking again, “He was so much younger than me, he had the end of the war, a future, to look forward to, he– I ruined that.”

You were confused as to what had happened, but you had an inkling that it was attached to the name you had brought up from the report. You hugged him a little tighter, trying to keep him from falling to pieces.

“You don’t have to tell me now, Foxy.”

A sly smile played on his lips at the mention of the nickname you had given him so long ago. He liked to act as though he hated it, but it was one of the only things he really had to call his own. He loved it solely because it was you.

“But what you need to do is start taking care of yourself a little more. You get so ahead of yourself with work and all the chaos surrounding you that you forget what you need.”

“Maybe I do,” he spoke quietly, a small laugh following his words. He had been eased of it all, even if only for a moment. It was all ok as he sat in the dark office with you. Your warmth shrouded him like a mantle surrounding him in a way he he’d learned to adore, and the comfort he felt was immeasurable.

He slowly tilted his head up to you, trying to catch your eye.

“I love you.”

You pressed your lips to his with a grin, and you felt his body relax against yours.

Time would pass and he would learn to bear the weight without crumbling or faltering. He would move on, and he would heal. He just needed time. And time was something you were willinging to give to him.

[dinjrex]

Hi! Could you please put your fics under a readmore?

Yeah! Sorry about that I just found out how to do that lol

[dinjrex]

reblog to water his bald head

[dinjrex]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐄𝐫𝐚

Clones

- Far Too Young To Die ~ ARC Trooper Fives

- Close Call ~ Commander Wolffe

- The Other Side ~ Captain Rex

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 𝐄𝐫𝐚

𝐒𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐄𝐫𝐚

[dinjrex]

Inspired by a sound on TikTok

Warnings: Major character death

     Rex sighed as he scrolled through the reports on his holopad. General ___ had been friends with the 501st from the very start, but the two of you had shared an unbreakable bond.

     It seemed you had spent an eternity together, and he knew you were the only one for him. Oh, what wouldn't he give to get back the golden days!

      "You really shouldn't be up this late, ner alor'ad," a soft voice called from the doorway. Rex looked over his shoulder at the only woman he had ever loved.

     "You aren't real," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

     "No, I am not."

      Rex put his face in his hands as you gently placed a hand atop his shoulder. There was a heavy silence before Rex turned to you, his cheeks stained with tears.

     "Is it terrifying?"

     "No, I don't think so," you answered, brushing your hand against his cheek,"It's the way it is, you know? Everything must come to an end. The drip finally stops." Rex took a moment to dwell on your words. It irritated him you were so close yet so far from him, but your tender touches and kind words comforted and soothed his aching soul.

     "I'll see you on the other side," he assured you as well as himself.

     "Oh, Rex. No. There is no other side. This is it." Your voice began to fade as he desperately called out for you.

     Jolting up in his bed, he glanced around at the barracks where he had resorted to sleeping after your death.

     The soft snores and noises from the distant hangar usually calmed him and eased him to sleep, but not tonight. Everything was too loud. Everything was closing in.

     "Cyar'ika," he cried softly,"Why have you left me here alone?" His tears were silent as he laid there in the dark. You were right. This was it.

[dinjrex]

Prompt: "Look, I know you're a hardass, but can you play with my hair? It will help."

     The transports were finishing the fueling process as you stood at your former master's side. Plo Koon had been discussing battle strategies with his commander while you helped the rest of the Wolfpack. You had joined him when you had finished.

     "We're all set," you told him, your eyes focused on the datapad in your hands. Master Plo nodded, raising an eyebrow as he nudged your shoulder with his as he left to make final preparations.

     You rolled your eyes as you smiled to yourself. Of course Plo knew about your relationship with his commander.

     "I can tell you don't agree with the mission," you remarked as Wolffe crossed his arms, a frown plastered across his features. He only huffed in response.

     Placing the datapad on one of the crates, you gestured for him to follow you. Throwing a glance over your shoulder at the rest of the Wolfpack, you slid behind the transport, Wolffe on your heels.

     The ship cast a dark shadow, making it hard to see the commander's face clearly. You slid against the wall, and Wolffe did the same. Resting your head on his shoulder, you sighed.

      "I don't like it either," you offered," but, someone still needs to do it, and let's be honest, Master Plo doesn't fit the requirements." You felt Wolffe exhale harshly.

     "I understand, I do, but it's always you volunteering to throw yourself into reckless situations and coming back injured and half head."

     You could feel your temper rise and you tried your best to keep your head.

      "We both promised we would always put the mission first," you countered, sitting up to face him," That's what I intend to do!"

     Wolffe's impression in the force was irritated, and he was growing frustrated.

     "But why can't you let others make the rash decisions for once!" You stood up, balling your fists.

     "Because I don't have time to wait for other people to do the job I can do just as well, unlike some people!" Your voice was rising and Wolffe gritted his teeth.

     "I don't like what you're implying," he hissed, his voice dangerously low.

     "You never do!" You stormed off, leaving Wolffe behind the transport.

     The Wolfpack seemed to sense your decline in mood and watched as you growled to yourself, trying desperately to clear your head. Sinker was the only one brave enough to approach you.

     "General?" You threw a glance over your shoulder as you grumbled to yourself.

     "What is it Sinker?"

     He sensed your irritation and swallowed nervously.

      "We...er...are ready for takeoff. We just need the Commander and General Plo," he explained, scratching the back of his neck.

     "Good luck finding them," you growled harsher than you had meant to. He nodded vigorously before retreating back to the rest of the men. They had never seen you so angry.

     Wolffe stalked towards his men who were standing together, unsure of what to do.

     "What are you all just standing here for?!" Boost looked at him, shrugging his shoulders.

     "General __ had to go find General Plo, and we didn't know where you were," he filled Wolffe in.

     "We're always waiting on her," he muttered to himself.

      "Sir?" Wolffe waved off Boost, and gestured for them to board the transport when he saw his two generals making their way across the hangar.

     ___ had a frown across her lips and he shook his head. It was her fault, he convinced himself.  As he boarded the ship, he picked up on their conversation.

     "I'm going to kill him," __ groaned.

     "You're not murdering anyone on my watch, __," General Plo mused.

     "Then look away!" They both chuckled, but __ soon grew serious.

     "I don't know what more he expects," she complained. There was a moments silence while Plo Koon though of his response.

      "He has got a point," the Kel dor admitted. Wolffe smirked, of course he was right!

      "See! I knew you would side with him!"

     Wolffe strode to the other side of the transport as the two Jedi boarded. The doors closed behind them, and the rumble of the engines rang in his ears.

      Plo Koon turned on the datapad, and cleared his throat. You glued your eyes to a fixed point behind Comet's head, refusing to look anywhere in Commander Wolffe's direction.

     "Lothal is in dire need of a relief mission." The men groaned at Plo's words.

     Wolffe had told you of the Wolfpack's frustrations with being unable to get back on the frontlines. You sneered. Serves him right, you thought to yourself.

     "We've been sent to Lothal to supply relief supplies, as well as to  to gather intel on the rumored separatist forces gathered on the planet," Plo continued," Commander Wolffe and I will be standing by as General __ goes undercover as Senator Cyra Nym." You could feel Wolffe's aggravation growing through the force.

     The Wolfpack all exchanged looks and nods as Plo Koon fell silent, glancing between you and Wolffe with a shake of his head.

The sun beat down on Wolffe's neck as he walked alongside General Plo. The crackling of the grass was the only thing to break the silence.

Wolffe could picture you dressed as the senator, ready to make decisions based solely on impulse and rash thinking.

He could also see your body lain across the ground, bloody and bruised. He could hear your groans of pain and could see the tears rolling down your face as you clenched your teeth.

He didn't have to imagine it. He had seen it all before.

General Plo seemed to have sensed Wolffe's thoughts, because he lightly gripped the commander's shoulder as they walked.

"She'll be ok, son," Plo assured him," She's quick and smart, she'll find a way." Wolffe nodded, feeling a little relief at Plo's words.

"I'm in position, Master," ___'s voice crackled through Plo Koon's comlink as if on cue.

"We're following your lead, ____." There was silence once more and Wolffe was trying his best to keep a level and clear head.

He was trained for every battle scenario, but he was unequipped for the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw you. He was also unequipped to handle the heavy silence that came with so many of the missions with you.

Would his words in the hangar be the last you ever heard? If something went wrong, would he make it to you in time? Questions swirled around his brain, making it impossible to focus on the task at hand.

Wolffe began to pace, anxious to find something to occupy him for the time being.

"Sir, the relief supplies have been properly administered to the locals," Sinker informed him, his voice cutting in and out over the communicator.

"That's good," Wolffe responded, grateful for the distraction," See if there is anything else you can assist with, and be ready if I call for reinforcements."

"Yes Sir!"

It seemed like hours had passed since the last status update from ___ and Wolffe was growing distressed. He was aware of every small noise around him.

The wind rustling through the grass, the mocking calls of the birds hidden in the trees, Plo Koon drumming his fingers against a rock. He was on the edge, ready to snap at any time.

"Master Plo, there are separatist droids—kriff! They've seen me!" Wolffe jumped up at your cry. He had to do something. Plo raised a hand.

"___, you need to get out of there. You're greatly outnumbered, and you need to regroup with the squad," Plo ordered.

"Master Plo, they have the intel that the Republic needs! I'm going in." Your voice cut out leaving only static.

"___! Can you hear me? ___! Do you copy?" General ___'s silence pierced through Wolffe.

"Gather your men, Commander," Plo shouted over his shoulder as he ran toward the senatorial building.

Wolffe didn't hesitate.

The bullet hadn't killed you. That you were sure of, but you were certain the amount of blood you had lost was unhealthy. You hissed, pressing your hands against your abdomen, attempting to slow down the bleeding.

"Wolffe was right," you growled to yourself, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Your vision was blurring and the room began to tilt. Was this how you would go out?

      A gunshot over your head made you flinch. Had the droids gained reinforcements? Was the Wolfpack desperately fighting due to your miscalculations? The heavy thud of a battle droid gave you a little satisfaction. You hadn't noticed it wasn't completely destroyed.

     "___, you better kriffing stay alive!"

     Your eyes darted to the armored man above you.

    "Yessir," You slurred, reaching out to him feebly. He grasped your hand in his and knelt down beside you, taking notice of the bullet wounds.

     "We need medical attention," Wolffe ordered into his comlink," The General is down." He gently placed his hands against your abdomen.

     "I told you this would happen," he growled, throwing a pointed glance at you.

     "Is this really when you want to discuss this?!"

      He scoffed.

     "Sir?" Commander Wolffe looked over his shoulder at Comet.

     "Don't just stand there," Wolffe shouted as he stepped back to give Comet room to work. Comet harshly plunged a syringe into the wound causing you to yelp in pain.

     "Easy," Wolffe growled.

     "Sorry Commander. I've never done this,"Comet apologized. Wolffe muttered under his breath.

     "The stim injection will keep you stable for right now," Comet addressed you," but I need to get the rest of the medical supplies from General Plo."

     You nodded as he stood, leaving you alone with the moody Commander once again.

     With a sigh, Wolffe knelt down beside you, observing Comet's work.

     "I'm glad I offered to teach him basic medical procedures," you laughed. Wolffe rolled his eyes.

     "So, what if we wouldn't have made it here in time? What if you had died? When is it finally going to be enough for you?"

     You made an attempt to sit up, only to be be overcome with stabbing pains and a throbbing in your head.

     "For Kriffs sake, ___! Lay still!"

     "But my head hurts," you complained wincing as Wolffe slid his legs under your head.

     "Better?"

     "Not really, but it's a sweet gesture coming from you," you offered, the cool plastoid armor causing your headache to only worsen.

     Wolffe seemed deep in thought as you glanced up at him.

     "Look, I know your a hardass," you uttered softly," but could you play with my hair? It will help."

     Wolffe cracked a rare grin as he gently ran his fingers through your hair.

     "I don't want to lose you," he admitted, not meeting your eye.

     You closed your eyes with a small grin.

     "I don't plan on going anywhere, al'verde."

Al'verde: Mando'a for Commander

     The transports were finishing the fueling process as you stood at your former master's side. Plo Koon had been discussing battle strategies with his commander while you helped the rest of the Wolfpack. You had joined him when you had finished.

     "We're all set," you told him, your eyes focused on the datapad in your hands. Master Plo nodded, raising an eyebrow as he nudged your shoulder with his as he left to make final preparations.

     You rolled your eyes as you smiled to yourself. Of course Plo knew about your relationship with his commander.

     "I can tell you don't agree with the mission," you remarked as Wolffe crossed his arms, a frown plastered across his features. He only huffed in response.

     Placing the datapad on one of the crates, you gestured for him to follow you. Throwing a glance over your shoulder at the rest of the Wolfpack, you slid behind the transport, Wolffe on your heels.

     The ship cast a dark shadow, making it hard to see the commander's face clearly. You slid against the wall, and Wolffe did the same. Resting your head on his shoulder, you sighed.

      "I don't like it either," you offered," but, someone still needs to do it, and let's be honest, Master Plo doesn't fit the requirements." You felt Wolffe exhale harshly.

     "I understand, I do, but it's always you volunteering to throw yourself into reckless situations and coming back injured and half head."

     You could feel your temper rise and you tried your best to keep your head.

      "We both promised we would always put the mission first," you countered, sitting up to face him," That's what I intend to do!"

     Wolffe's impression in the force was irritated, and he was growing frustrated.

     "But why can't you let others make the rash decisions for once!" You stood up, balling your fists.

     "Because I don't have time to wait for other people to do the job I can do just as well, unlike some people!" Your voice was rising and Wolffe gritted his teeth.

     "I don't like what you're implying," he hissed, his voice dangerously low.

     "You never do!" You stormed off, leaving Wolffe behind the transport.

     The Wolfpack seemed to sense your decline in mood and watched as you growled to yourself, trying desperately to clear your head. Sinker was the only one brave enough to approach you.

     "General?" You threw a glance over your shoulder as you grumbled to yourself.

     "What is it Sinker?"

     He sensed your irritation and swallowed nervously.

      "We...er...are ready for takeoff. We just need the Commander and General Plo," he explained, scratching the back of his neck.

     "Good luck finding them," you growled harsher than you had meant to. He nodded vigorously before retreating back to the rest of the men. They had never seen you so angry.

     Wolffe stalked towards his men who were standing together, unsure of what to do.

     "What are you all just standing here for?!" Boost looked at him, shrugging his shoulders.

     "General __ had to go find General Plo, and we didn't know where you were," he filled Wolffe in.

     "We're always waiting on her," he muttered to himself.

      "Sir?" Wolffe waved off Boost, and gestured for them to board the transport when he saw his two generals making their way across the hangar.

     ___ had a frown across her lips and he shook his head. It was her fault, he convinced himself.  As he boarded the ship, he picked up on their conversation.

     "I'm going to kill him," __ groaned.

     "You're not murdering anyone on my watch, __," General Plo mused.

     "Then look away!" They both chuckled, but __ soon grew serious.

     "I don't know what more he expects," she complained. There was a moments silence while Plo Koon though of his response.

      "He has got a point," the Kel dor admitted. Wolffe smirked, of course he was right!

      "See! I knew you would side with him!"

     Wolffe strode to the other side of the transport as the two Jedi boarded. The doors closed behind them, and the rumble of the engines rang in his ears.

      Plo Koon turned on the datapad, and cleared his throat. You glued your eyes to a fixed point behind Comet's head, refusing to look anywhere in Commander Wolffe's direction.

     "Lothal is in dire need of a relief mission." The men groaned at Plo's words.

     Wolffe had told you of the Wolfpack's frustrations with being unable to get back on the frontlines. You sneered. Serves him right, you thought to yourself.

     "We've been sent to Lothal to supply relief supplies, as well as to  to gather intel on the rumored separatist forces gathered on the planet," Plo continued," Commander Wolffe and I will be standing by as General __ goes undercover as Senator Cyra Nym." You could feel Wolffe's aggravation growing through the force.

     The Wolfpack all exchanged looks and nods as Plo Koon fell silent, glancing between you and Wolffe with a shake of his head.

The sun beat down on Wolffe's neck as he walked alongside General Plo. The crackling of the grass was the only thing to break the silence.

Wolffe could picture you dressed as the senator, ready to make decisions based solely on impulse and rash thinking.

He could also see your body lain across the ground, bloody and bruised. He could hear your groans of pain and could see the tears rolling down your face as you clenched your teeth.

He didn't have to imagine it. He had seen it all before.

General Plo seemed to have sensed Wolffe's thoughts, because he lightly gripped the commander's shoulder as they walked.

"She'll be ok, son," Plo assured him," She's quick and smart, she'll find a way." Wolffe nodded, feeling a little relief at Plo's words.

"I'm in position, Master," ___'s voice crackled through Plo Koon's comlink as if on cue.

"We're following your lead, ____." There was silence once more and Wolffe was trying his best to keep a level and clear head.

He was trained for every battle scenario, but he was unequipped for the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw you. He was also unequipped to handle the heavy silence that came with so many of the missions with you.

Would his words in the hangar be the last you ever heard? If something went wrong, would he make it to you in time? Questions swirled around his brain, making it impossible to focus on the task at hand.

Wolffe began to pace, anxious to find something to occupy him for the time being.

"Sir, the relief supplies have been properly administered to the locals," Sinker informed him, his voice cutting in and out over the communicator.

"That's good," Wolffe responded, grateful for the distraction," See if there is anything else you can assist with, and be ready if I call for reinforcements."

"Yes Sir!"

It seemed like hours had passed since the last status update from ___ and Wolffe was growing distressed. He was aware of every small noise around him.

The wind rustling through the grass, the mocking calls of the birds hidden in the trees, Plo Koon drumming his fingers against a rock. He was on the edge, ready to snap at any time.

"Master Plo, there are separatist droids—kriff! They've seen me!" Wolffe jumped up at your cry. He had to do something. Plo raised a hand.

"___, you need to get out of there. You're greatly outnumbered, and you need to regroup with the squad," Plo ordered.

"Master Plo, they have the intel that the Republic needs! I'm going in." Your voice cut out leaving only static.

"___! Can you hear me? ___! Do you copy?" General ___'s silence pierced through Wolffe.

"Gather your men, Commander," Plo shouted over his shoulder as he ran toward the senatorial building.

Wolffe didn't hesitate.

The bullet hadn't killed you. That you were sure of, but you were certain the amount of blood you had lost was unhealthy. You hissed, pressing your hands against your abdomen, attempting to slow down the bleeding.

"Wolffe was right," you growled to yourself, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Your vision was blurring and the room began to tilt. Was this how you would go out?

      A gunshot over your head made you flinch. Had the droids gained reinforcements? Was the Wolfpack desperately fighting due to your miscalculations? The heavy thud of a battle droid gave you a little satisfaction. You hadn't noticed it wasn't completely destroyed.

     "___, you better kriffing stay alive!"

     Your eyes darted to the armored man above you.

    "Yessir," You slurred, reaching out to him feebly. He grasped your hand in his and knelt down beside you, taking notice of the bullet wounds.

     "We need medical attention," Wolffe ordered into his comlink," The General is down." He gently placed his hands against your abdomen.

     "I told you this would happen," he growled, throwing a pointed glance at you.

     "Is this really when you want to discuss this?!"

      He scoffed.

     "Sir?" Commander Wolffe looked over his shoulder at Comet.

     "Don't just stand there," Wolffe shouted as he stepped back to give Comet room to work. Comet harshly plunged a syringe into the wound causing you to yelp in pain.

     "Easy," Wolffe growled.

     "Sorry Commander. I've never done this,"Comet apologized. Wolffe muttered under his breath.

     "The stim injection will keep you stable for right now," Comet addressed you," but I need to get the rest of the medical supplies from General Plo."

     You nodded as he stood, leaving you alone with the moody Commander once again.

     With a sigh, Wolffe knelt down beside you, observing Comet's work.

     "I'm glad I offered to teach him basic medical procedures," you laughed. Wolffe rolled his eyes.

     "So, what if we wouldn't have made it here in time? What if you had died? When is it finally going to be enough for you?"

     You made an attempt to sit up, only to be be overcome with stabbing pains and a throbbing in your head.

     "For Kriffs sake, ___! Lay still!"

     "But my head hurts," you complained wincing as Wolffe slid his legs under your head.

     "Better?"

     "Not really, but it's a sweet gesture coming from you," you offered, the cool plastoid armor causing your headache to only worsen.

     Wolffe seemed deep in thought as you glanced up at him.

     "Look, I know your a hardass," you uttered softly," but could you play with my hair? It will help."

     Wolffe cracked a rare grin as he gently ran his fingers through your hair.

     "I don't want to lose you," he admitted, not meeting your eye.

     You closed your eyes with a small grin.

     "I don't plan on going anywhere, al'verde."

Al'verde: Mando'a for Commander

[dinjrex]

𝐇𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞! 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬!

I. About Me

- Marie Knights

- she/her; cancer

- hobbies: writing, watching anime and Star Wars, music, skateboarding, thrifting, and never shutting up

- ao3 ; twitter ; tiktok ; instagram; spotify

II. Events/Specials and Information

Found here; keep updated with my special writing events and my writing status

III. Important Pages

- masterlist ; taglist ; rules

[dinjrex]

Warnings: None

- Inspired by Panic! At the Disco’s “Far Too Young To Die”

The same songs played on repeat in 79's as you watched the 501st doing things they wouldn't do sober. It seemed you and Fives were the only sober ones, which struck you as odd.

    

     I've never so adored you. I'm twisting allegories now. I want to complicate you, don't let me do this to myself.

 

     You had made the decision to limit yourself to only two drinks, but the man glancing over at you every so often made it difficult.

     After ten minutes of silence, you cocked your head towards Fives.

     "Ya know," you pointed out," Jesse is really going to need to see Kix after that eighth shot." Fives chuckled beside you, resting his hands behind his head.

     "You're right, of course." His smile sent butterflies to your stomach, and made you feel guilty for having those feelings.

     He was one of the men under you and Skywalker's command, nothing could ever happen between the two of you, but was it possible you both felt the same?

     Unable to deal with the current situation sober, you reached for the untouched bottle in front of you. You could feel Fives's eyes glued to you and you held out the bottle. He shook his head.

     "You sure?" Fives smirked.

     "General." It was funny how he could make even your title sound seductive. "I am the only member of the 501st who isn't wasted, or on their way."

     I'm chasing roller coasters. I've got to have you closer now. Endless romantic stories, you never could control me.

     The drink was beginning to work, as your mind grew fuzzy and your nerves seemed to buzz with electricity. You watched as the strobe lights of the diner made shadows and shapes on Fives's face, and you smirked.

     He sensed you watching him and turned to you, raising an eyebrow. You giggled and grabbed his hand.

     "General __?" You dragged him from his seat, grinning the entire time.

     "How many times do I have to tell you? Just call me __!" Fives's was trying hard to suppress a smile as you dragged him into the sea of bodies, dancing to the music.

     "Should we be doing this," Fives questioned, a crooked grin on his face.

     "Who cares?" You swayed your hips to the rhythm with your chest pressed against him.

     He knew this was wrong, but it felt so right and his muscular arms wrapped around your small frame. You were so drunk you wouldn't remember this right?

     Well, I never really thought that you'd come tonight, while the crown hangs heavy on either side.

     You rested your head against him and he laid his head atop your head, praying you couldn't hear his heart beating at an abnormal pace.

     The music vibrated through the soles of your feet and made you feel some type of way. You had never been happier that you had followed Anakin's advice to let loose a little.

     Give me one last kiss, while we're far too young to die. Far too young to die.

     You hadn't realized how close the two of you were as you raised your head to meet his eye, and the inches turned to centimeters before there was no space between the two of you.

    The two of you had the least amount of drinks, but it seemed you both were the most drunk. It was to soon that you pulled apart for air, and he grinned.

     "What was that?" You laughed and pulled him closer again.

     "Something I've wanted to do for so long," you responded.

     "Do it again.”