#and the others from the wolfpack sinker comet and boost

[luminalightsverse]

Me not so long ago: I have way to many accounts and this is getting too much for me. I really have to reduce my accounts...

Also Me: *planing new rp accounts because why not*

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 11

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

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC), Comet, Sinker, Boost, Warthog, Plo Koon

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

Author's Note: PLEASE READ! I have made the decision to change this series from a reader fic to an OC fic. I've spent a lot of time thinking about this and it's not something I decided on overnight. I don't believe I can do the narrative justice by staying in the constraints of a reader fic, and my first duty is always to the narrative. I'm sorry if this upsets anyone, but trust me, having to go back and re-write everything into third-person past-tense was not on my to-do list. I realize I do not have an OC option on my taglist sign up form. This has been fixed. If you would no longer like to be tagged in this series, please let me know. All of the parts will be updated along with the corrected tags before the next part is posted in two weeks. I apologize for the inconvenience. As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @beating-a-dead-plot

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Series Masterlist

After the long trek up the Jedi Temple steps, Wolffe placed Cara down onto the ground and let her walk beside him, but he securely held her hand. The Temple still made him feel uneasy, but with a little gentle prodding from Plo, and after passing by several clone troopers, he decided to release Cara's hand and let her walk on her own. He kept one eye on where he was going and the other on her to make sure she didn't wander off on him. She had always been a curious child.

As Plo guided the group through the Temple halls to their new quarters he told Cara a little story that made her giggle and laugh. It warmed Wolffe's heart to hear her laugh and he soaked up as much of it as he could. She had been through so much already, and the funeral was going to ruin any chance of him hearing her laugh in the near future. It wasn't like he laughed much either. His wife was the one who laughed the most, but it was contagious and he always caught it from her.

Along their journey, Wolffe had to stop Cara from touching things that didn't belong to her. She wanted to touch everything within reach and most of it belonged to the Jedi or someone else. The rest of the Wolfpack found it amusing and snickered every time Wolffe veered off from the group to grab his wandering child. He'd never been on babysitting duty before, but his wife made it look easy when they went out together so he thought it wouldn't be an issue for him. He was dead wrong.

"Cara," Wolffe sighed as he sprinted over to her once again. This time it was a cube-shaped shiny-looking object sitting on a table. "If you don't stop walking away from me, I'm gonna have to carry you."

"Look! It's pretty," Cara said as she picked up the cube and admired it.

"It's not yours," Wolffe said. He took the cube from her and placed it back down where she found it.

Cara pouted, turned away from Wolffe, and crossed her arms. "But it was pretty…"

Wolffe's eyes softened and he crouched down to her level. "I know, but just because something is pretty doesn't mean you can take it. That's called stealing."

Cara turned back to face Wolffe, still pouting. "Is stealing bad?"

"Yes, it is," Wolffe said. "The Coruscant Guard can put you in jail for that."

"I don't want to go to jail!" Cara gasped and put her hands behind her back. "I don't like Fox."

Wolffe tried to hide a snort, but failed miserably. "Don't worry, baby, you won't. As long as you stop touching things that don't belong to you."

"Okay," Cara said. She reached her arms up for Wolffe to pick her up and he obliged.

Wolffe fell back into step with the rest of the group as Plo continued to direct them through the Temple. With so many twists, turns, and hallways it wouldn't be easy for Cara to leave the temple, even by accident, which was one of Wolffe's major concerns about getting deployed. Actually, he had a whole list of concerns, but he could only focus on one at a time. He never used to be such a worrier, not with his wife around, but now, so many things could go wrong if he wasn't there with her.

"We have arrived," Plo said as he stopped and turned to face a plain door in the hallway.

Wolffe was pulled away from his thoughts when he heard his general's voice and realized that he'd been walking on autopilot for the last stretch of the journey. He'd have to access the Temple maps later to make sure he knew where all of the entrance and exit routes to and from the room were. He'd memorize the entire Temple layout if he had to. He refused to leave any of this up to chance. There was too much at stake. He couldn't stay focused on a mission if he was thinking about Cara's welfare.

Wolffe placed Cara down and took a hold of her hand. This was new for the both of them, but they'd do it together, even if it was scary. Plo opened the door and Wolffe did an immediate visual scan for threats and initial observations. It was spacious compared to any living quarters the GAR had ever given him, but it looked rather restricting for Cara, who had lived her whole life in a multi-room apartment. It was a simple layout with a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, a window, and, thankfully, no enemies.

Cara grabbed Wolffe's leg and stepped behind him to hide. He could tell she was nervous, but so was he.

"Daddy," her voice trembled. "I want to go home."

Wolffe twisted his neck around to look down at her and sighed. He gave her an encouraging pat on the back and walked forward into the room with her following behind. "This…" he began, but hesitated. "This is home now." The words tasted bitter even for him, but if he was going to convince Cara, he needed to convince himself first. It definitely wasn't home. Not by a longshot. Home was their apartment. Home was pretty curtains and smelly flowers. Home was a warm meal. Home was his wife.

"Out of the way!" Sinker shouted as he barreled past Wolffe and Cara. "Man with a box coming through!"

Cara giggled and Wolffe shook his head as the rest of the Wolfpack filed into the small room.

Boost plopped down onto the bed and bounced on it with exaggerated motions. "This bed is super soft. Softer than any bed I've ever slept on. You should feel it!"

Cara let go of Wolffe's leg and ran over to the bed to try it out for herself.

"Look at this!" Warthog exclaimed over his shoulder. "There's a window too. You can see all of Coruscant from up here!"

Cara hopped off of the bed and ran over to look out the window. She was just a tad bit too short, so Warthog picked her up so she could see.

Comet walked into the room last and pulled open the doors of the wardrobe. "Wow," he said with a big smile. "Lots of space in here, too. You're really staying in luxury, ad'ika."

Wolffe crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head as a small smile crept onto his face. What was once a terrifying situation was now an exciting adventure thanks to the Wolfpack. They knew he was scared just as much as Cara was, even if he'd never admit it, and their exaggerated display had not only eased her fears, but some of his own as well. She was smiling, giggling, laughing, exploring, and seemed fine right now. They saw her fear and shot it point blank like the good soldiers they were.

"Commander," Plo said, interrupting Wolffe's thoughts. "If you will excuse me, I have a briefing to attend."

Wolffe's small smile turned into a grimace. "Understood," he said. "I'll grab my kit."

"No need," Plo dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I will take the sergeant with me. You are much more needed here."

Wolffe looked at Sinker, who nodded in agreement. "I'll report back when the briefing is over."

"And I will meet you all on the terrace in a couple hours," Plo said, a sadness invading his voice.

Wolffe nodded in response and watched as the two left. He worried his lip and wondered what the briefing was about. Normally a briefing meant they were about to deploy, but he hoped that this time it was the slim case where it wasn't a deployment order, because the thought of leaving Cara so soon burned a hole straight through his gut. They still had the funeral to deal with, and he couldn't abandon her after that. It would make him a deplorable father and human being, but a very good soldier.

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[clu-ven]

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.

[veny-many]

I was thinking about au where hermit or undercover Jedis and clone boys hanging around in the Sith Empire.

Sith had won the war with Jedis, and Jedi were living in shadow to hide from Empire. Empire really wants to get rid of all Jedis, but many people dislike Empire, so it was not a surprise that still many Jedis managed to survive.

Plo was living in outer rim, communicating with other Jedis with comm,(or his telepathic ability) and quietly seeking in small town's outside hideout.

Quite and honest working(well, bounty hunting, in Plo's case, because many Kel-Dor were hunters) living, until new boys appeared in town.

Wolffe was one of the clone, who was a experiment of Kamino. He had escaped from Kamino with his brothers, when there was a rebel in facility. Wolffe and Boost, Sinker, and Comet were together when they arrived in unknown place by smuggling.

Wolffe was almost fourteen year old, and twin Boost and Sinker were twelve, and youngest Comet was ten years old. (There was no accelerated aging for clones.)

Wolffe needed to protect his brothers, but he was still boy in dangerous and harassing outer rim. All he knew was how to fight and kill, or endure the pains during the trainings.

Little Comet unfortunately got critical fever when they barely made their hideout in corner of the town. Comet coughed hard and couldn't even sleep because of headache, and Wolffe needed medication and food for him.

Wolffe wandered around the dark alley, desperately, despite he knew that was too dangerous for him, but he needed to find anything for his brothers.

And when some odd hooded scary alien approached to him, Wolffe snared and pulled our his knife to stranger.

And of course, Plo has bleeding heart for children, especially for the hurting ones.

After their not so smooth first meeting, Plo made contact with Wolffe for several times, secretary in shadowed alley. He gave Wolffe some of few cash, and food or water, even the medication and treats.

Wolffe and his brothers were scared of Kel-Dor stranger at first, but as the time passed, they began to relax when they saw Plo in alley, gently holding gifts to them.

Maybe they got too relaxed. The world outside was still cruel for the children. Especially for the lost ones.

When Boost and Sinker noticed Wolffe didn't come back, they panicked, and wandered around the town to find Wolffe.

While Sinker taking care of still sick Comet, Boost found Plo at market, and desperately clung to his robe, asking him for help.

Of course Plo promised that he will help, after gathering crying Boost in his strong arm. Hug.

When Plo found Wolffe in the cage of the slavery, he Electric Judgmented the slavers, and rescued Wolffe.

Unfortunately Wolffe got hurt his eye from abuse, but he was still alive.

Boost almost lost himself when he saw barely breathing Wolffe in Plo's arm, he wanted his old brother to live!

And Plo carefully laid his hand on Wolffe's head, and focused his Force to heal the boy.

Boost "Oh my Stars, he is Jedi"

Boost "Oh Kark, I asked help to JEDI"

Poor brothers, of course, got scared because they were now with Jedi, the one priority wanted from Empire, while they were also runaway from Empire's experience.

But their oldest and youngest brother were dying, and when Plo carefully offered them his hideout and food and treatment, they needed to receive them for their brother's sake.

Plo "(comms on) Little 'soka, now I have four new children under my forster care."

Ahsoka "I knew it. By the way I also have found some kids while I was traveling the outer rim!(shows blond clone boy)"

"Wait, why do they all have same face??"

+) Protective Wolfpack(+one Jedi)

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Midnight Masquerade - Wolffe

Chapter Summary: The bottle chooses Wolffe, and you get more than you bargained for. Not that you're complaining.

Chapter Warnings: wraith!Wolffe x gn!reader; kinks: exhibitionism + humiliation; reader is called some derogatory names (mostly 'whore'), please do heed the 'humiliation' warning, slight praise kink, Dom/sub dynamics, consent implied but not explicitly discussed beyond establishing safewords, begging, orgasm denial, temperature play sort of, masturbation (m & gn), reader is called derogatory names (mostly 'whore') but is not outright insulted, light slapping (once and it's not hard), ghost? sex?, gaping (if you squint), unprotected penetrative sex (can be read PiV or PiA), aftercare with some soft!Wolffe

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: idk where this was going to go when I planned it in September, but here we are. enjoy, you heathens (affectionate).

...Wolffe. 

As the rest of the table cheers, Cody and Fox banging on the table and making glasses rattle, you draw a steadying breath. Turning to the commander in question to your left, you fight to suppress a shudder at the sight of him. 

Atop his head rests a black iron crown, glistening in the strobing lights. His face—his entire body—has discorporated into roiling gray vapors; his facial features, shoulders and chest seem nearly solid, but the rest of him is partially translucent, ephemeral. When he meets your gaze, his eyes are pinpricks of light, one milky white, the other near-black obsidian. A shiver breaks through your self-composure. Wolffe’s eyes drift to peruse your seated form, one gaseous eyebrow lifting to convey interest.

Whatever he sees, it seems to amuse him, as his lips quirk up in a knowing smirk. Leaning into your personal space, he tilts his head so his lips rest next to your ear. You shiver again, but this time it’s from the immediate way the temperature drops when he crowds against you. His new form is frigid; you realize that the vapors drifting off of him aren’t just part of the aesthetic. He’s practically sublimating.

“Don’t think I forgot your little stunt with the olive, cyar’ika,” he husks into your ear. His voice has an echoic quality, like it’s coming from the end of a long metallic tunnel. “It was quite the show you put on. Because it was a show, wasn’t it. You like being watched.” 

Despite his coldness, your body flushes with intense heat at his words. You draw back enough to meet his eyes, those cold flints of steel, and bite your lip almost without conscious thought. A single nod dips your head. 

Wolffe withdraws with a knowing smirk, then rises to—well, not his feet exactly, but rises to his full height. You trip over the legs of your chair in your haste to follow suit. Wolffe reaches out to steady you; his hands, to your surprise, are solid enough to catch you, though you feel like you’ve been doused in ice.

“Thanks,” you mumble. 

He merely grunts in acknowledgement, then gestures for you to lead the way. You acquiesce, winding through the packed dance floor, muttering sorrys and excuse mes that get lost amidst the chest-rattling bass of the music. Anticipation, anxiety, and arousal all bubble in your body, aware of Wolffe’s burning gaze on your back as you walk. Anticipation because you’re curious: is he going to be able to touch you? Really touch you? Anxiety because it’s Wolffe, for kriff’s sake; he’s one of the most intense, focused men you’ve ever met. And arousal because, well, it’s Wolffe. Even before tonight, he could set your blood alight with just a hardened glance.

After what feels like an eternity struggling to get through the crowd, you emerge, breathless, on the other side. Stepping through the door that leads to the rest of the building, you glance over your shoulder to make sure Wolffe is still there. 

And damn near trip over your own feet as shock jolts through you.

Wolffe is, indeed, still behind you—and behind him float three more figures. The Wolfpack. Comet, Sinker, and Boost, all in similar states of incorporeality, but only Wolffe bears a crown on his head. The Wraith King, your brain whispers. For some reason, that idea only intensifies the arousal pulsing through you. 

Your knees threaten to give out. “W-Wolffe?” 

“Problem?” he says with a dangerous smirk. 

“I- I—” You swallow around the sudden dryness in your throat. Gaze darting between the other three men, you shake your head. “No.” 

“Good,” he says. “Open the next door on the left.” 

Doing as you’re told, you reach for the doorknob, a plain thing made of brass, and twist. The door swings open silently. Inside, your eyebrows raise in surprise at the plain, cozy bedchamber furnishings. It doesn’t escape your notice that there are multiple places to sit in this room. Electricity buzzes beneath your skin as you hold the door open for the Wolfpack, only allowing it to swing shut once the last of them has crossed the threshold. 

Comet, Sinker, and Boost drift toward the bed, leaving you to have a semi-private moment with Wolffe. Every inch the commander, even in this form, Wolffe dominates the space, his cumulous figure drawing your attention as he hovers before you. He reaches one hand up to cup your face. Goosebumps prickle across your skin as you again feel like you’ve been plunged into ice. But the sensation of his smoky form against your skin is nevertheless soothing. Intoxicating. Alluring. Kriff, what have you gotten yourself into? 

Wolffe ducks his head to catch your gaze. “Safeword, cyar'ika?” 

“Meiloorun,” you supply without hesitation. “Yours?” 

He chuckles. “Ours will be ‘Republic’.” 

You nod in understanding. Ignoring the spectral forms of the other three in your peripheral, you reach with tentative hands towards Wolffe. One of your hands connects with something semi-solid where his shoulder is, and you smooth your thumb over the muscled swell of the joint. Your other hand cradles his face, the most solid part of him. He leans into your touch for just a moment, eyes sliding shut. His lips press into your palm where he turns his head. You shudder in delight. 

“Surprised you’re willing to share,” you say. 

A short laugh rises from one of the others. Comet, you think, shakes his head. “We aren’t here to share.” 

“Oh.” A frown creases your forehead. Wolffe’s mismatched eyes are faintly amused when you glance back at him. “Then why—” 

“They’re here to watch,” Wolffe says, voice low and rumbly. “Since that is what you like, isn’t it, you filthy little thing?” 

Wolffe’s words pulse heat directly to your core. Breath hitching, you blink at him. “Y-Yes.” 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes—” You swallow thickly, body nearly singing with anticipation. “—Commander.”

With a rakish smile, he yanks you towards him and crashes his freezing lips against yours. You groan against his mouth, hands flying to find purchase, to stabilize yourself. One hand bracing against his chest, the fingers of your other hand curl around one of the points of his iron crown. The metal is colder than cold—but you don’t pull away, don’t dare move an inch. Wolffe’s arms, half-corporeal, encircle you in a tight embrace. 

You’re surrounded by cold, yet all you feel is the blazing inferno of desire raging within you. Core throbbing with need, it’s all you can do to stand there and let Wolffe kiss you. His lips are insistent against yours, demanding and needy at the same time. When he pulls away, you gasp for breath, head spinning. 

“Get on the bed,” he orders. 

Walking on wobbly knees, you manage to make it to the soft, plush surface of the bed in one piece. Four sets of eyes burrow into your back as you move. You wonder if you shouldn’t feel more embarrassed by the three additional clones watching you fall to pieces for their commander. But when you turn, Comet, Sinker, and Boost each have intense expressions on their faces, their eyes burning with a dark fire. They’ve apparently shed whatever clothing they’d had, because you can see the faint, shifting outlines of their toned bodies and, at the apex of their thighs, the shadowy lengths of their cocks. 

A moan drags from deep in your chest. 

“Hear that, boys?” Wolffe says, stepping close to you once again. “I think our little whore likes having an audience.” 

A chorus of chuckles echoes in the room. Your attention, so focused on the way that Boost grips the base of his cock, is brought rudely back to Wolffe. His hand clamps around your jaw, forcibly turning your face to look at him.

“Eyes on me, cyar’ika,” he commands, voice stern and gruff. “They’re here to watch you, not the other way around.” 

“Yes, Commander,” you whimper. His grip on your face, squishing your cheeks, muffles your words a little. Judging by the way his lips twitch into a sultry smirk, he likes it. So you continue, “Sorry, Commander.” 

“Such a polite little whore,” he purrs. 

Kissing your puffed lips once, he releases you with a small, harmless shove. You plop heavily onto the bed, bouncing on the mattress. Wolffe hooks his hands into the waistband of your pants and tugs them down around your legs. The fabric pools at your ankles, trapped by your shoes, but he doesn’t seem to care as he taps the underside of your thigh so you shift higher on the bed. 

Knees falling open, you rearrange yourself to lay half-supported by the nest of pillows on the bed. Your chest heaves, though Wolffe has barely touched you. In the corner of your vision, you’re aware of the rest of the Wolfpack taking a step closer, each of them lazily stroking their hard lengths. 

But you keep your eyes on Wolffe, as instructed. He quickly sheds whatever ghostly clothing he’d had on, yet remains standing at the edge of the bed, just out of reach. Even as a wraith, his body sets your mouth watering. Toned abs, a prominent Adonis belt, and flexing, powerful thighs, you wish you could have it all under your tongue. And maybe you will, when this is all said and done. 

For right now, though, you draw deep breaths to keep yourself grounded. Your eyes lock on where Wolffe’s large, scarred hand cups his balls, a moan chafing from your throat. 

“Wolffe,” you gasp. 

“Touch yourself,” he orders. “Show us how filthy you really are. How fucking dirty your mind is.”

Whimpering pathetically, you trail your fingertips over your exposed skin toward the juncture of your thighs. Your core, aching and ignored, throbs in anticipation of receiving stimulation. A gasp tears from you as your fingers dance over the heated skin of your core. You set a lazy pace, easing into the pleasure the same way you’d lower into a hot bath, inch by inch, bit by bit. Sweat already begins to dew along your body. 

“Fuck, look at that,” Boost mutters from somewhere near your feet. 

“So kriffin’ hot,” Sinker agrees. His voice sounds strained—blissed out. “Such a good little pet, following directions so well for the Commander.” 

You whine through your teeth, the praise shooting straight to your core. Brow furrowed in concentration, you force yourself to keep your eyes on Wolffe. He smirks like he knows how much you’re struggling, how desperately you want to look at the others and watch them come apart at the sight of you. Kriff, Wolffe had read you for filth with such ease, and here you are, whimpering and whining and writhing before him when all he’s done is kiss you. 

“Wolffe,” you plead again. 

He ignores what you’re silently asking for. Instead, he cocks one eyebrow. “Faster.”

Your body obeys before your mind fully registers what he demanded of you. Hand playing against your skin faster, you tense, pleasure surging within you. Your toes curl in your shoes as your back arches off the bed, hips jerking up against your hand to meet your ministrations at the source. Moaning loudly, you screw your eyes shut to stave off the impending orgasm that builds in your lower belly. 

A light, freezing slap to your face has your eyes snapping open. 

“Eyes. On. Me,” Wolffe grits out. “I won’t say it again.” 

“Yes, Command-errrrr.” You whine as you continue working your body up to the cliff’s edge. Pleasure presses against you from the inside, building steadily in temperature and volume until it pushes against your brain in the most shattering way. You’re hanging on by a thread, body ready to hurtle over the edge—but Wolffe hasn’t given the go-ahead yet. 

“Please!” you keen. “Please, can I cum? Please, please, please!” 

“What d’you think, boys?” Wolffe says. “Think that’s allowed yet?” 

Three matching voices answer: “Not yet.” 

“Not yet,” Wolffe repeats, voice thick with the smirk on his face. When you whine, frustrated tears blurring your vision, Wolffe tuts. “Oh, poor thing. Don’t be silly now, cyar’ika. The only place you’re cumming tonight is on my cock.” 

His words nearly shove you over the edge. You rip your hand away from your center, chest heaving with gasping, ragged breaths. Forcing your body to relax, you grit your teeth against the near-blinding pleasure that threatens to shove you into orgasm. After a few long moments, your heart begins to beat slower, your legs cease their quivering, and you sigh, slumping against the bed. 

“Sit up,” Wolffe orders. 

With shaking limbs, you manage to push yourself into a sitting position, legs still awkwardly stuck in your pants and splayed at odd angles. Wolffe settles into the bed behind you, but the only way you can tell is the cold, biting air that brushes over your heated skin as he moves. The bed doesn’t dip under his weight like you would normally expect. 

“Here,” he says, gripping your hips with frigid fingers. You hiss at the contact, his spectral form an unwanted balm to the blazing fire of desire coursing through you. But he ignores the sound you make and instead helps hoist you up and back, into his lap. Bracing yourself on the bed—your hands go right through his thighs—you hesitate before reaching down. 

“Are you—” Your voice cracks. “Do you want me to— Can I—?” 

Wolffe chuckle rumbles against your back pleasantly. “Aw, poor baby, can’t even talk right. Take your time, cyar’ika.” 

Embarrassment flushes through you, the stinging heat of self-consciousness clashing with the cozy warmth of arousal and mixing with it until your chest feels tight with need. Licking your lips, you take a deep breath and try again. 

“Can I ride you?” you finally say, enunciating every syllable. 

Instead of answering, Wolffe releases one of your hips and reaches between your bodies to line his thick length up with your entrance. Dimly, you wonder how this is going to work. But then he’s pushing into you, and your mind is wiped. 

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. He doesn’t prep you at all—doesn’t need to, because his cock is only sort of there. Even so, you’re being stretched open by something, something simultaneously glacial and volcanic, but when you look down there’s just barely the outline of his cock pressing into you. Your mind swirls with dizzying lust.

When Wolffe returns both hands to your hips, his fingers dig into your skin, likely to leave bruises. But you don’t care. Eyes screwed shut from pleasure, you roll your hips experimentally. Five separate moans bounce around the chamber; you can only imagine the view that the Wolfpack has right now as you seemingly fuck yourself on nothing. Wolffe grunts behind you, his hips rocking up to meet your movements halfway. 

“F-Fuck, Commander,” you moan. 

“Such a good fucktoy,” Wolffe grits out. “Take my cock so well.”

Your core clenches at the way he simultaneously praises and demeans you. In response, he punches his hips up, stealing your breath as the phantom tip of his cock presses right against the spot deep inside you that has you seeing stars. 

“Need you to cum, cyar’ika,” he mutters. He sounds absolutely wrecked, voice hard but cracking, starting to show just how much this is affecting him. 

You reach down to play with yourself once again, sighing as your fingers find purchase at your heated core. With rough, jerky movements, you bring yourself right back to the edge of shattered bliss as Wolffe continues to fuck into you. Pleasure pulses through you, hot and slick and desperate, and you barely have enough time to moan, “I’m cumming!” before your core clenches impossibly tight around his length. Every nerve in your body screams with ecstasy, your orgasm ripping through you so violently that you’re only held up by Wolffe’s strong embrace. 

“Oh fuck,” one of the others groans. Your eyes flutter open in time to watch as Sinker’s face contorts in pleasure and a white, gossamer substance spurts out of his cock, shining like ectoplasm. In the next instant, his body resolidifies into his human form, and he stumbles back into a chair, chest heaving. 

Wolffe snaps his hips up against yours once more and goes absolutely still, his grip on your hips painful, as his phantom dick swells and pulsates inside you. A choked moan claws out of your chest as you feel the cold ectoplasm convert mid-way into hot ropes of cum. Wolffe’s body reverts, coalescing into something solid, warm, and human. You slump back against his sweaty body, his cock still buried in you, filling you to the brim. 

Dimly, you’re aware of Comet and Boost both cumming with strangled shouts before they, too, return to normal. Your entire attention is devoted to Wolffe, whose breath heaves below you. His hands wrap around your middle to squeeze you to him. Lolling your head back, you press your nose against the crook of his neck and inhale his warm scent, pine and blaster residue. 

“You okay?” you murmur. 

His embrace tightens minutely. “Yeah. Yeah, just need a minute.” 

“Take your time,” you reassure, mouthing gently at his skin. “You did so good.” 

He snorts. “Pretty sure I’m supposed to say that to you.” 

You hum noncommittally. “Scenes can be rough on all parties.” Raising your head, you glance at the other three where they sprawl over various plush chairs, their own bodies slick with sweat. “Boys? You good?” 

Boost merely raises a thumb in your direction, his eyes closed. Comet calls, “All good,” while Sinker lets out a breathless laugh in response. 

Dropping your head back, you nestle into Wolffe’s warmth. “Commander?” 

“You don’t have to call me that now,” he says, thumbs stroking over your skin. “Just Wolffe is okay.” 

“Wolffe,” you say with a smile. “This was perfect.” 

He hums, tucking his chin down to press a chaste kiss to your shoulder. “I’m glad. Now, be quiet and let me hold you.” 

With a small chuckle, you readjust yourself so your spine isn’t bent at an awkward angle, then burrow down within his embrace. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Ragu: @the-hexfiles @thorsterstrudle @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @dreamie411 @bobaprint @imarvelatthestars @originalcollectionartistry @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl @jedi-hawkins if your name has a strikethrough, I can't tag you so check your settings! (if you'd like to be added or removed, click here!)

[loverboy-havocboy]

9 people you want to know better

i've been getting tagged in this for months i'm sorry 😭 but i'm doing it now!! it looks like there were 2 different versions, so i'm just combining them here 🤷

thank you for the most recent tag @cacodaemonia

and thank you for the other tags @hastalavistabyebye @whiskygoldwings @brokenightlight @aerjnn @theproblemwithstardust

and @hawthornsword who tagged me while i was doing it 😂💖

three ships: i'm going to leave all wolfpack ships out because i feel like they're obvious 😂 so - echo/fives, quinlan/fox, and dogma/pretty much anyone (because he's just crunchy!), but i'd say especially torrent

first ship: bbc johnlock 😔 i don't remember my very first url, but i'm sure it was johnlock related. my first star wars ship was codywan, and my first cloneship was echo/crosshair because i got here from tbb.

last song: right now it's babydoll by dominic fike! i heard his song mama's boy a few months ago and i fear i've been stuck here since then. oop - the song changed while i was typing that and i Really Like this one so i'm cheating. out of control by she wants revenge is also so choice

last movie: my cousin vinny !! lisa my beloved

currently reading: nothing, i'm afraid 😔 i've read a lot less since i started writing, which is a little heartbreaking

currently watching: house of the dragon (i see you prev 👀), and rewatching once upon a time, but we're getting up to where it grates on my nerves, so i think we'll be done soon 😂

currently eating: nothing 🥺😔

currently craving: raising canes chicken (and, appropriately, sweet tea)

favorite color: blue! 4/5 rooms of my house are painted blue, which was an accident 😅 i like all shades, but my favorite is a dusty sort of blue

hobby you would like to try: i'm pretty content with writing, actually

coffee or tea: tea! i don't dislike coffee, but it makes me jittery no matter how i drink it - so maybe it dislikes me, actually. chai lattes hold a special place in my heart, but i'm us-midwestern, so good sweet tea is a food group to me.

an au you've been plotting for: so many you would not believe the first few off the top of my head are slaat'cyar'ika which is a gffa au where comet and wolffe are ftm; the beast of concordia which is a fantasy (? ish?) au where boost, comet, and sinker's village is terrorized by a monster and they're chosen as sacrifices; a modern au currently dubbed meetscary, in which boost & sinker and comet & wolffe survive the sinking of the triumphant and don't meet until boost and comet end up on the same bridge one night by chance. they are not sight seeing.

no pressure @the-starry-seas @insertmeaningfulusername @mamuzzy @catbuir @adhd-coyote @nooneherebutusghosts 👉👈

[lamaenthel]

Tivaevae | Chapter One: Ripped At The Seams

Still struggling to emotionally recover from Master Obi-Wan's deception, Ahsoka discovers in the aftermath that twelve-year-old Boba Fett has been locked up among adults in the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center. After convincing Chancellor Palpatine to grant him a pardon, she manages to secure his release on the condition that she serve as his legal guardian. Now, with the help of Master Plo and the Wolfpack, she vows to help him track down what family he has left.

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Fandom: Star Wars Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Boba Fett, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Kanan Jarrus, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CC-1119 | Appo, Dexter Jettster, FLO | WA-7 (Star Wars), Shaak Ti, ARC Commander Blitz (Star Wars), CT-6922 | Dogma, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), CC-3636 | Wolffe, Clone Trooper Sinker (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Comet (Star Wars), CC-2224 | Cody, CT-5597 | Jesse, CT-4860 | Boost, Aurra Sing, Tobias Beckett, Null-11 | Ordo Skirata, Kal Skirata, Original Mandalorian Characters (Star Wars), Original Droid Characters (Star Wars), Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars) Total Word Count: 123,000 Chapter Word Count: 6,751

"And then Grey was like skoosh skoosh skoosh–" Caleb held up an imaginary carbine and let loose a series of blasts, so enthusiastic about his reenactment that he nearly fell off of the courtyard bench. " –and the SBD just exploded! He got him right in the power core! And then-and then-and then I did a backflip off of his shoulder, and I cut three B1's in half! It was so wizard."

"You did?" Mace gasped, theatrically placing a hand on his chest in feigned shock. He had a reputation for being overly stoic, cold even, but there was nothing that defrosted the Master like his Padawans. Depa had dropped off young Caleb to have lunch with his Grand-Master with a weary gratitude that Obi-Wan remembered well; ironically, it had usually been Mace that would give him a break from Anakin more often than not, back then.

"Sure did," Caleb raised his chin proudly. "Have you ever done that with your commander, Master Obi-Wan?" he asked eagerly, looking at him from the other side of Mace with bright turquoise eyes.

Obi-Wan swallowed his mouthful of salad. "Unfortunately, no," he said with a smile. "I think I might squash poor Cody if I tried, though, I weigh a bit more than you."

"Is that why you're watching your figure?" Mace asked wryly, looking at Obi-Wan's bowl of fresh greens.

"I don't care if they're nutritionally complete, human beings were not intended to survive off of ration bars alone," Obi-Wan grumbled into his salad.

"I didn't jump off Grey, I jumped off the battle droid!" Caleb giggled.

"Ah," Obi-Wan said. "Well, the answer is still no, but I'll make sure to bring it up to him before our next strategy meeting."

"Good idea!" Caleb said with a grin, then shoved a handful of fried tatos in his mouth. His nerfburger had been inhaled two meandering stories ago.

"Well, I'm impressed. That sounds like a very successful first mission." Mace gave him a pat on the back then added an unholy amount of orbakradish paste to his bowl of red turu rice, green peppers and bantha strips.

"Can I have some?" Caleb asked curiously, staring at the bright green bottle his grand-master had pulled from his pocket curiously.

"It's very spicy," Mace warned before leaving a tiny smudge on the boy's plate, then took a stoic bite of his rice bowl.

Caleb carefully dipped a corner of his fried tato in the orbakradish and took a bite. His eyes went wide. "Ow," he said faintly, and held his mouth open. "Aow. Aow."

Mace chuckled, dipped a tato in the cup of vinegar on the other side of Caleb's plate, then popped it in his open mouth. "I did warn you," he said as Caleb furiously chewed. "Orbakradish isn't like capsaicin. For that, you need some sort of cream. To cure this, you need vinegar."

Caleb sighed with relief. "Thanks, Master." He hurriedly popped another vinegar-soaked tato in his mouth, then finished off the rest of the plate with the speed that only eleven-year-old boys could manage without making themselves sick. Mace and Obi-Wan exchanged amused looks while they ate their own meals at a less tornadic pace.

"Go on, Padawan. Time to meditate, then practice your forms at the training salle." Mace patted Caleb on the back and took his empty plate once he'd licked it clean.

"Will you come and– I mean, I would be honored if you would spar with me after your Council meeting is done, Master." Caleb said bashfully. "If you want to. I, um, I know you're busy."

"I'm not sure how long I'll be, but I'll head down to the salles as soon as we're done. I'd be happy to spar with you, Padawan." Mace patted his cheek fondly and winked.

"Okay!" Caleb bowed hurriedly to Mace and then Obi-Wan. "Bye, Masters!" He took off at a run, almost tripping on his robes twice before disappearing around the corner.

"I miss that age," Obi-Wan said forlornly. "They're still so enthusiastic about everything. Once they hit puberty…"

"The attitude, I know," Mace said knowingly. He took a final bite from his rice bowl and reached a hand out for Obi-Wan's dish. "I'm grateful for Depa and Devan. Echuu was a handful. Girls are easier."

"Girls are not easier," Obi-Wan snorted, then rubbed his bald head, textured with a thousand offended bumps. The whole thing was so damn itchy, he'd had to meditate three times that morning just to keep his sanity. Perhaps Lace had some procaine cream in the medbay that he could borrow until all of the hairs had poked through the skin.

"Mine were," Mace shrugged.

"Yours aren't vindictive," Obi-Wan sighed.

"Why would they be?" Mace asked blithely. "I trained them well. They are above pettiness."

Obi-Wan glared at the sky instead of Mace. "Lucky you," he said to the speeder traffic above the Temple.

"I warned you about the consequences of leaving Anakin and Ahsoka out of the loop," Mace reminded him. "You insisted."

"I know." They both stood and began the long walk to the Council chambers elevator.

Mace passed their bamboo dishes onto a waste droid when they passed one then fished around for something in his pocket. "And you are the one who suggested that they go on the mission that 'killed' you," he pointed out, then popped a mint candy into his mouth.

"I know," Obi-Wan huffed. "I understand that my actions have consequences, Mace, I'm not a child."

"Then why are you so upset?" Mace asked.

"I'm not upset," Obi-Wan said automatically.

Mace rolled his eyes. "You aren't at peace, that's for certain."

"I–" Obi-Wan raised his hands and let them fall. "Ahsoka's never been one to hold a grudge at all, let alone at me. I expected the cold shoulder from Anakin, but not her."

"Ah. She's still hurt, then."

"She's got no reason to be hurt," Obi-Wan insisted.

"She discovered your 'corpse,' my old friend," Mace said.

"Please, p-please Bobi, open your eyes, open your… no, no, no, please no, Bobi please–"

"Would you really be so unmoved if you'd discovered hers?"

She fell to the ground like a ragdoll, dead from a single touch. Her limbs were twisted and her yellow eyes stayed open, filmy and veined with black like the rest of the Dark Side corruption that covered her.

He banished the memories. "That's different," Obi-Wan insisted. "We are not meant to outlive our Padawans."

"Yet we do." Mace called the elevator. "More and more often, it seems. And I do not see that changing until this war is over."

That reminded him. "Have you discussed your idea with Master Yoda?" Obi-Wan asked quietly.

"It's difficult to find a good time to propose an assassination," Mace answered. "Especially the assassination of his old Padawan."

The elevator arrived. The two Masters stepped on and began the journey up.

"You've discussed it with Quinlan?" Mace asked.

"I have. He's not unwilling."

"Good to know."

The two fell silent, and Obi-Wan commanded the mental image of Ahsoka's corpse lying at the feet of her killer to stop popping into his thoughts. The encounter on Mortis felt like a dream. He still wasn't sure what had actually happened, what was real and what was a vision, but the memory of Anakin's yellow eyes and his little girl lying dead and corrupted by the Dark side haunted him at the most inopportune moments.

May he become one with the Force before ever seeing such horrors again.

The elevator opened. The two walked down the hall to the inside of the Council chambers and took their seats in companionable silence. They were still a bit early, and no one else had yet arrived.

"Caleb was not supposed to be in active combat yet," Mace said after a few moments. "In case you were wondering. The mission he was assigned was a scouting mission. The droids were a surprise."

"Do you think I'm judging you, old friend?" Obi-Wan asked with a raised brow.

"No, but I thought you may want to know." Mace leaned back with an unreadable expression on his face. "He is very skilled, but I personally would prefer he not be on the front lines until he gains more experience."

Obi-Wan remembered Ahsoka eagerly bouncing off of the transport and straight onto the front lines of one of the most gruesome campaigns of the early war. "I understand," he said gently. "Unfortunately, there's only one way to get experience."

"I'm aware." The muscle in Mace's jaw worked a bit before he settled into his usual serenity.

"Greetings, Master Windu. Master Kenobi." Shaak-Ti's hologram flickered into view and she bowed her head.

The two men bowed theirs in return. "How fares Kamino?" Obi-Wan asked lightly.

"Sunny, for a change," Shaak-Ti said with a small smile. "The cadets have been training outside all day on the landing pads."

Mace smiled at her. "I'm happy to hear it."

"As am I," Plo said pleasantly. He and Depa bowed from the entrance, Yoda hobbling beside them. Depa spared a fond smile for her old Master as she took her seat, which Mace returned.

More holograms popped up; Kit Fisto, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Saesee Tiin, Agen Kolar, Coleman Kcaj, Luminara Unduli, Oppo Rancisis, and Stass Allie were all still on the front lines. Kit's hologram was cross-legged and floating subtly, broadcasting underwater from the ocean world of Klarn.

"Begin, we shall," Yoda said after clearing his throat. "May the Force guide us as we proceed."

Murmurs of agreement followed him.

"May I be the first to compliment Master Kenobi's haircut," Kit's hologram grinned at him.

"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan deadpanned, resisting the urge to scratch his blasted scalp again.

"We are all very glad to see you alive and well," Shaak-Ti added with a twinkle in her eye. "You should stay close-shaven. You look twenty years younger."

Obi-Wan sighed. He was very aware; it was half the reason he had grown the beard in the first place. Shaak-Ti's tinkling giggle rang like a bell at his reaction.

A round of chuckles echoed her and Mace held up a hand to quiet them. "Our first order of business," he began with a smile, reading off a datapad, "is– oh." His smile disappeared and his eyebrows went up as he glanced over at Obi-Wan. "Padawan Ahsoka Tano has requested to speak with us."

Obi-Wan sat at attention. "She has?" he asked, surprised.

"Go ahead and send her in," Mace said into the comlink in his chair. "Do you know what this is about?" he asked Obi-Wan curiously.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I've no idea," he answered.

The chamber doors opened and Obi-Wan watched Ahsoka step primly inside, pointedly not looking at him despite his centrality in her line of sight. He crossed his legs and frowned.

"Koh-to-yah, little 'Soka," Plo said. "Why have you come before us today?"

"Koh-to-yah, Master Plo. And thank you for allowing me to speak with you on such short notice, Masters," Ahsoka said politely. She made a deep bow and stood with perfect posture, her hands clasped in front of her. "I wish that this was not necessary, but as a Jedi I am a mandated reporter of abuse. If I witness the mistreatment of a child, I must speak up."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, his ire easing. "What did you witness, dear?" he asked, the epithet slipping out automatically.

Her eyes slid onto him and he was immediately taken aback by how cold they were. "I need to report that there is a twelve-year-old human child being held in a maximum security prison facility alongside murderers, rapists, and violent criminals of all sorts right here on Coruscant," she said icily.

Obi-Wan's stomach dropped. He already knew who she was referring to, and cac, it should have been him reporting it. He'd completely forgotten about his encounter with Boba Fett. He had been so consumed with not just keeping his cover and managing Bane, but blocking the Force bond he shared with his Padawans in order to sell his death that Boba had simply slipped his mind. Force, the shock of seeing a twelve-year-old clone in the middle of supermax dissipated almost as soon as it had struck and Obi-Wan had just… left him there. He felt an alkaline knot of guilt twist around his belly.

There was a smattering of surprised gasps among the Councilors.

"Who is this child?" Depa demanded.

"What could he have possibly done to be imprisoned?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asked, bewildered.

Master Luminara shook her head. "We must contact the Guard at once, surely there was an error–"

Ahsoka held up a hand. "The boy is Boba Fett, Masters. After his failed attempt on Master Windu's life, he was sent to the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center."

Looks of grim understanding passed between the Council members. Mace leaned forward. "He's in an adult prison?" he asked, anger coloring the edges of his voice. "Has he been there since he was taken into custody?"

"It would appear so, Master, yes."

Mace sank back, frowning severely. "I recommended leniency," he murmured, almost to himself. "The Chancellor assured me his age and his trauma would be taken into account. I believed he'd be sent to a juvenile facility at worst."

"As did I," Plo said heatedly. "Adult prison, for a child. This is not justice."

"Padawan Tano, find out this information, how did you?" Yoda asked, frowning.

"Well, Master," she said, turning, and Obi-Wan was slightly mollified to hear her address Yoda with the same frostbitten tone. She still hadn't forgiven him for Dogma. The clone was thankfully still alive, as Shaak-Ti had made enough of a fuss on Kamino to have gotten him imprisoned instead of immediately euthanized, but Ahsoka wouldn't be satisfied until he was back in the 501st. "I was viewing the helmet-cam footage from the prison riot that Master Kenobi participated in, and–"

"Is that footage not classified?" Ki-Adi-Mundi interrupted, frowning.

"The report is, but the footage was not, no," she said. "I watched it multiple times, and after I saw Master Kenobi fighting Boba I checked his report." Her eyes flicked onto him and then back to Ki-Adi-Mundi. "There's no mention of Boba in the non-redacted portions."

There was no mention of Boba in it at all, because Obi-Wan had forgotten about him like an idiot. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. A dozen heads turned and stared at him, and he'd never missed his beard more than he did at that moment.

"You fought Boba Fett?" Plo asked him sharply.

"Moralo Eval paid him to start a brawl with me in order to provide a distraction for his and Bane's escape," Obi-Wan said, staring at Ahsoka. She was very carefully studying her boots. He'd bought her those boots. "After I inserted myself into the escape party I… lost track of him."

"He is very small for his age," Ahsoka said with false sympathy. "I know you had bigger concerns at the time, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan's skin crawled like it was covered in ants. All of the extra blood rushing to his face was making his stubble itchier than ever.

"We will contact the Chancellor regarding Boba immediately, Ahsoka," Plo insisted, on the edge of his seat and visibly displeased. "We will ensure the boy is placed into a foster home and receives mind healing. Thank you for your diligence, and for bringing this injustice to our attention."

"Thank you, Master," Ahsoka said with a smile, then bowed to him. Obi-Wan felt irrationally jealous of the warmth in her tone. "But I am not sure that a foster home would be the best fit for Boba. He's young, but skilled at both combat and subterfuge. I'm concerned that he would escape and be at just as much risk on his own." She frowned. "He would likely seek out his father's old compatriots again."

"A fair concern," Kit conceded, his smile long gone.

"Do you have a suggestion?" Depa asked mildly.

Ahsoka clicked her heels together. "I would like to volunteer to serve as Boba's temporary legal guardian until I can reunite him with his family," she said solemnly.

The Council chamber went silent in surprise.

"You're only sixteen," Obi-Wan said faintly. "You can't–"

"Actually, as sixteen is the age of responsibility on Shili, I can," she said frostily. "I am a legal adult."

"It's seventeen on Coruscant," he argued. "You–"

"I believe that if I am trusted to lead a battalion of clone troopers into combat, I should be trusted to safeguard the well-being of a single child," she said, speaking over him. "And according to the most recent immigration statutes passed in the Senate, as a full, dual citizen of both worlds, I am actually considered a legal adult on Coruscant." She smiled at him, all teeth.

"Does he have a family?" Saesee Tiin asked. "I was under the impression that Jango Fett was a loner."

"I spoke with the older clones before coming to the Council, Master," Ahsoka said with perfect poise, and Force did it irritate Obi-Wan to see her use her manners for once. "They informed me that there were members of the Cuy'val Dar – that is, the Mandalorian trainers that Jango Fett recruited to train the clones for war – several of them were very close to him. Under the Mandalorian tradition, some could be considered family."

"What an excellent idea, Padawan," Plo said. "I would be grateful if you would come with me to meet with the Chancellor. I'm certain that you will be able to help me persuade him of the right course of action. We will seek out these Cuy'val Dar together, and reunite young Boba with what family remains to him."

Ahsoka bowed again. "It would be my honor, Master," she said sweetly.

Obi-Wan continued to silently seethe.

"Thank you again, Masters, for taking the time to speak with me," she said warmly, then her eyes flickered over to Obi-Wan. "I do hope that Master Kenobi is not censured too severely for failing to report such egregious abuse of a child. I'm certain he was simply preoccupied with his mission."

That was it. Ahsoka did not get to march into the Council chambers wearing boots that he had bought for her and humiliate him in front of his peers out of childish spite. Obi-Wan's hand slammed down onto the arm of his chair, startling everyone. "A word, Padawan," he said through gritted teeth.

"Of course, Master Kenobi," she said serenely.

He stood and led her brusquely from the Council chamber by her right bicep, ignoring the whispers of his fellow Council members behind them.

"An deach thu às mo chiall?" he hissed once the doors had closed and they had a spot of privacy. He released her arm and glared down at her. "Carson a tha thu a’ toirt eas-urram dhomh?"

"Apologies, Master Kenobi," Ahsoka said politely. "I didn't intend to publicly disrespect you."

He stared down at her. Her refusal to speak Maor-Grásta back to him hurt more than the silent treatment. That was their language. No one else at the Temple spoke the indigenous language of the planet crudely known as Stewjon, not even Anakin, though he had tried to teach him. "So this is how you're going to be, then?" he asked finally.

She blinked at him. "I'm not sure what you mean, Master."

"You damn well do," he snapped, and finally gave in to the urge to scratch his damn scalp. "This is childish of you, Ahsoka. You're better than this."

"Better than what?" she asked, cocking her head. "I've been nothing but polite, Master, but if you find my conduct unbecoming then I apologize. I will meditate on our interaction until Master Plo calls me to meet with the Chancellor." She bowed and turned to leave.

Obi-Wan caught her by the left arm and spun her back around. She hissed in pain and ripped her arm away.

"Please refrain from putting your hands on me, Master Kenobi," she said frostily.

Obi-Wan stared at her, knowing that if he asked what was wrong with her arm he'd get no answer. "I'm not putting my… Ahsoka, please, stop this."

"I'm not sure what you wish me to stop, Master."

"Stop acting like you've never met me before!" Obi-Wan said, raising his voice in frustration.

For just a second, her placid mask crumbled and he saw the devastation she was hiding underneath. The mask reappeared and she looked away, pursed her lips and shrugged. "Recent events have shown that I haven't, Master," she said quietly. "Not really."

Obi-Wan sagged and this time, he didn't stop her from walking away.

Ahsoka went through her mental checklist again. She couldn't muck this up. If she somehow pissed off Chancellor Palpatine or failed to convince him that Boba didn't belong in supermax, the kid was screwed.

"Do not be nervous, little 'Soka," Plo whispered, squeezing Ahsoka's right shoulder reassuringly. They sat together on a plush bench in a waiting area right outside the Chancellor's office.

"I can't help it, Master," she whispered back. "What if I make it even worse, somehow?"

"I would advise you, respectfully of course, to think of what your Master would not do and try that."

Ahsoka snorted. His aura was a little too gold with humor for the seriousness of the situation.

"Trust in the Force. We are in the right, here, and we know this."

She nodded. "Yes, Master."

"You may enter," one of Chancellor Palpatine's secretaries called from the doorway; a short, plump Human woman with black hair shorn down to the scalp and the pale skin of someone who worked and lived exclusively indoors.

Ahsoka took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then followed Master Plo to the Chancellor's office. He was still sitting at his desk, writing something with an electric pen that showed up as a language she didn't recognize on the left side of his desk.

"Master Koon," the Chancellor smiled, and bowed his head. "And Padawan Ahsoka. My, how you've grown since I last saw you! I must say, Anakin raves about you every time we meet. He is very proud of you."

"Thank you, Chancellor," Ahsoka said sheepishly, ducking her head. There was nothing specific about the Chancellor himself that put her on edge, it was the office. There was just something unnerving about it. The statues of the Four Sages seemed to watch her from their posts bordering the room, and some of the art vibrated weirdly in the Force. Nothing she could pin down, just off.

She peered down at the unfamiliar writing on the Chancellor's desk. "That's a beautiful script," she said, projecting her aura out over the room with green serenity-amiability. It helped block out the weird vibrations of his artwork. "I don't recognize it."

"It's the poet's script," the Chancellor said, his naturally violet aura gone blue with appreciation. "It's an old traditional practice on Naboo. It's never been a spoken language, but one used solely for the arts."

"That's fascinating," Ahsoka said, returning his smile. "Do you write poetry, Chancellor?"

He chuckled and looked down, darkening with humility. "Oh, I dabble," he confessed with a smile. "It's a bit self-indulgent, of course, but it calms my mind."

"Nonsense, Chancellor," Plo assured him. "It is good to know that even in this period of war and violence, our leader makes time to create something beautiful for the galaxy."

Ahsoka was impressed. Plo could give Ob– Master Kenobi a run for his credits when it came to schmoozing.

"Ah, well," the Chancellor shrugged, his smile widening. "I doubt you called for an emergency meeting to discuss my poetry, dear. What can I do for you?"

Ahsoka sat up straight. "There has been a grave miscarriage of justice, Chancellor," she said solemnly. "Boba Fett has been placed into supermax alongside adults instead of a juvenile facility. He is a Fett clone, yes, but totally unaltered. He ages at a normal rate, not the accelerated rate of the troopers." She adjusted her projection to include a yellow ribbon of pity. "He's only twelve, Sir. Every second he spends in that place his life, his- his bodily sanctity is at risk."

Chancellor Palpatine went gray with surprise. "Oh, goodness," he said, immediately swiping away his poetry and summoning Boba's file up to the holoscreen of his desk. "Let me see here– ah." His holoscreen filled up with copies of legal documents, medical records, and crime scene holopics. "It seems that the judge presiding over his case determined that he was too dangerous to be kept in a juvenile facility." He glanced at her. "I cannot say that I disagree. He is unnaturally skilled for a boy his age, from what I have heard. He killed a Marshall Commander."

"Respectfully, Chancellor, Commander Ponds was murdered by Aurra Sing. Boba could not pull the trigger," Master Plo gently corrected.

"I understand the risks, Chancellor," Ahsoka said. "I would like to volunteer to serve as his legal guardian until I can reunite him with his father's Mandalorian family."

The Chancellor's eyebrows almost hit his hairline. "Jango Fett had family?" he asked, going a lighter gray with shock.

"In the Mandalorian tradition of found family, yes," Ahsoka nodded.

"So young Boba would escape punishment for his crimes against the Republic?" the Chancellor asked after a moment of curt silence.

"Boba Fett is but a child, Chancellor," Plo said peacefully. "He was manipulated by individuals that were once acquainted with his father and they used his grief to their advantage. They abandoned him at the first opportunity."

The Chancellor nodded, thinking. "That may be so, Master Koon, but he did kill hundreds of his fellow clones through his actions."

"He did, Chancellor, that can't be disputed," Ahsoka said softly, projecting strong amber amenability at him. "But he's an orphan, and he's twelve. He's exceptionally vulnerable to manipulation by adults that knew his father. They're the only connection he has left to him."

"The cadets that he infiltrated reported that he seemed reluctant to leave them to their fate," Plo piped up. "While his quest was misguided from the start, his target was Master Windu. The loss of clone life and the destruction of The Endurance was wholly unintentional."

"While sabotaging the hyperdrive of The Endurance, he had an opportunity to end the life of clone trooper Rivers," Ahsoka added. "He spared his life and stunned him instead. We truly believe that if not for the presence of Aurra Sing, Castas, and Bossk, he never would have taken that step."

"So you propose instead that I pardon the one who killed hundreds of clone troopers, naval officers, and support staff on account of his age?" Chancellor Palpatine steepled his hands underneath his chin and looked at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I cannot in good conscience do such a thing. Aside from the morality of it, the boy could wreak untold damage if he escaped your custody."

"I promise he won't!" Ahsoka exclaimed, leaning forward. "Please, Chancellor. I know he made a terrible error in judgment that cost many lives, but he's twelve."

"So you've said," the Chancellor said dryly, lowering his hands. "Ahsoka–"

Ahsoka impulsively reached across his desk and clasped his hands. "He needs rehabilitation, not a life sentence before it's even began," she said earnestly. She wouldn't go so far as to try and mind trick him, not with Plo right there, but her Empathy was stronger with physical touch. She let burnt-orange supplication roll down her arms and flow from her hands onto his. "Please, Chancellor," she said, popping her porg eyes. "Just give him a chance."

The Chancellor's aura flushed copper with affection-agreement. "You do make a compelling argument," he said fondly, withdrawing his hands after giving hers a squeeze. "The Great Negotiator has taught you well."

Ahsoka ducked her head with a small smile, trying not to let him feel the cold shock of hurt that Master Kenobi's nickname triggered.

"Very well." He raised his chin to look over Ahsoka's shoulder at his secretary. "Go fetch Commander Fox, please."

"Right away, Sir." The secretary scurried off and the Chancellor drew up a document.

"I shall grant Boba Fett a full pardon, effective immediately," he said, then glanced up at Ahsoka with a smile. He transferred something onto a datapad and handed it to her. It was a legal certificate declaring her the legal guardian of one Boba Fett.

Oh, kriff, she hadn't actually let herself believe that she'd get this far. She had a kid. She had a shabla kid. A shabla clone kid.

"Congratulations, my dear, it's a boy," he said with a small chuckle and a wink. "I do hope Anakin isn't too cross with you. I can't imagine that he expected to become a grandfather quite this early."

Ahsoka's stripes went hot. Her Master… was not going to be pleased with her, to put it lightly, but she just couldn't leave Boba in there a second longer than necessary if she could put a stop to it.

"Please, 'Soka, you have to get him out of there," Rex pleaded, staring at the screen with an aura gone stark white with shock-horror-outrage. "He's so little. They'll kill him, they'll– osik, what have they already done to him–"

She would have done it anyway, but Force if Rex's begging wasn't compelling. She'd break Boba out if she had to.

But really, Anakin was going to kill her once he got back from Toydaria with that Force-sensitive toddler.

"Commander!" Chancellor Palpatine said brightly over Ahsoka's shoulder. "Please escort Master Koon and Padawan Tano down to the detention center. Boba Fett is being released into her custody, effective immediately."

"Oh. Interesting. As you say, Sir," Fox said, then turned to Ahsoka and Plo. "Ready whenever you both are," he nodded.

"Take care, Ahsoka," Chancellor Palpatine said warmly, standing along with them. "And do be on guard with young Boba. From what I understand, the boy is quite crafty, despite his tender age."

"Oh I will, Chancellor, don't worry. I remember how much of a handful he was." Ahsoka bowed and tried to ignore the way the statues of the sages stared at her. "Thank you again. You've saved a life today."

"And my thanks as well, Chancellor," Plo added, bowing after her. "We appreciate your expediency."

"I wish you luck in your endeavor, my dear." Palpatine winked at her. "And don't be afraid to visit more often. I've got some stories about Anakin as a youth that you might enjoy."

Ahsoka's stripes flushed again and she picked at her thumb's cuticle.

"Alright, General, Commander. Let's get you over to the prison before sundown." Fox slung his carbine over his shoulder and led the way out.

Boba curled up tighter on his side, willing the pain in his sides to go away. After he'd jumped Hardeen it had been chaos. He wasn't sure if it was the guards or the other bastards he was locked in here with that had broken his ribs, but it didn't really matter. He needed to get better. He couldn't afford to look weak. Prison was worse than a jungle, at least an animal just killed you and was done with it. The predators here liked to play with their food, first.

"Come on, little man, come bunk with me. I know it gets cold at night, you must be shivering with only a lizard to keep you warm–"

At least in solitary Boba could focus all of his energy on healing instead of defending himself. He chewed on his split lip and readjusted his face against the wall so that his black eye was pressed directly against the cold surface.

"Time to go, Fett."

Boba was sitting upright and ready to respond in under a second. Nobody would know by looking at him that he was holding his breath so as not to scream from the pain. One meiloorun, two meiloorun, three meiloorun–

"Go where?" he asked after a few seconds, cool as a caniphant. Fox, on the other side of the bars, had two DC-17 sidearms, a DC-15A carbine, and two vibroblade hits sticking out from his gauntlets. Two pairs of cuffs hung from his belt next to a small canister of capsaicin spray.

Boba could get to the spray the easiest, kick the back of Fox's knee, twist his arm and grab the blaster–

"It's your lucky day, cyar'solus," Fox said, undoing the biometric locks on his cell.

"Don't call me that," he snapped. Damn it, Boba didn't want to go back to genpop yet, he was still too injured. The guards tried to watch out for him; some of them did, anyway, the ones who didn't hiss vod'kyramud when he passed them in the halls. Bossk usually stuck up for him but he was just one man. Boba already had a size disadvantage, but with his ribs fucked his speed suffered. He eyed the capsaicin spray at Fox's belt again. He'd get his ass kicked if he went for it, but they'd keep him in solitary longer. Fox had the frame of a gundark but he wasn't a shabuir, he would just give him another lump or two before locking his cell again instead of rebreaking things on purpose.

Fox snickered. "I'll call you whatever I want. Now face down on the floor, you know how this works."

Yeah, he did. Boba swallowed hard and carefully got on his belly, watching the canister of spray swing closer. The floor was hard but the cold felt good. He took a deep breath and prepared to make his move.

As if Fox knew what he'd been thinking, he walked around him in a wide circle and approached from behind before cuffing him. He pulled Boba to his feet, gentler than he expected. "You're being given a second chance, kid," he said quietly. "Don't kark it up."

"The fuck does that mean?" Boba asked faintly; even with Fox's careful grip, he wasn't able to draw in air properly with the way his ribs were screaming.

"You're getting out."

"What?" Boba tried to spin around and look at Fox, but he kept a firm hold of his cuffed hands and kept him from turning.

"Walk, squirt," Fox said in a bored voice.

Where was he going? Where were they sending him? It hit him then, what had to have happened; Aurra. He knew she wouldn't abandon him. She'd had to make a tactical retreat, that was all. Somehow she'd pulled in a favor or used her connections in the guild, or maybe even kidnapped a judge. He fought down a smirk as they walked past the other inmates, all howling and hissing and complaining about his special treatment.

He was foolish to have given up on Aurra. She really did care about him.

"Stand here." Fox started undoing the locks to the hall that led to the private interview rooms, the ones that prisoners used to meet with their attorneys.

Boba never had an attorney. He had gone through sentencing on his own.

"Alright, walk." Fox took him by the cuffs and shoved him forward through the door. "And be respectful."

"Respectful to who?" Boba grouched.

"Your new mum," Fox snickered, stopping in front of a door halfway down the hall. "Congratulations. You've been adopted."

Boba whipped his head up so fast that black spots appeared in his eyes. "I've been fucking what?" he squeaked.

Fox pushed him inside of the interview room while he was still reeling. Instead of Aurra, the two Jedi who had arrested him were waiting inside; a Kel Dor who towered over everyone, even Fox, and a scrawny orange Togruta with big blue bug eyes and two sabers on her belt. She was taller than he remembered.

"Koh-to-yah, Boba Fett," the Kel Dor said, bowing to him. "I am Jedi Master Plo Koon, and this is Padawan Ahsoka Tano."

"The fuck do you cunts want?" Boba spat, furious at himself for being so stupid that he thought Aurra would come for him. He was such a gullible di'kut. Of course she didn't really care. He was never anything but clout to her, just something of Jango's that she could show off.

The Tog blinked at him, obviously shocked. The little princess obviously wasn't used to bad language. "I, um, I…"

"Go ahead, Ahsoka," the Kel Dor said with a little pat on her back.

She took a deep breath, stepped forward, and then smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. He felt the tension in his back muscles ease a little, weirdly enough. "I want to get you out of here, if that's alright with you."

"Why the fuck should I go anywhere with you?" Boba asked suspiciously, then backed up so he could keep the both of them in plain view. "You're the cunts who put me in here. Why do you care?"

"We never meant for you to be placed in a place such as this, young man," the Kel Dor said apologetically.

"We want to help you find your family, Boba," the Tog said earnestly.

"Are you both fucking stupid?" Boba snapped. "I don't have any family. The Jedi killed the only family I had."

The Tog and Kel Dor exchanged looks. "I know, Boba," the Tog said. "And I'm sorry for your loss."

Boba looked at his feet.

"Why don't we be on our way?" the Kel Dor suggested. "We have much to discuss, but there's no need to do so on an empty stomach. I find myself craving a milkshake."

"Oooh, I could go for a milkshake," the Tog said with her brow markings raised. "How about you, Boba?"

"I don't want a fucking milkshake, I want to know what's going on!" Boba said, backing up into Fox. He… he needed to get away from these people. They had some sort of weird plan for him, he was sure of it. What if they wanted to send him back to Kamino? Maybe they wanted to string him up in a lab and use him to make more of their precious troopers. Without Dad the longnecks couldn't make them like they used to, and Boba was a perfect copy. "What did Fox mean? He said I was going to meet my new mum, what did he mean by that?"

The Tog bit her lip and looked at him. "That, um, that would be me," she said sheepishly. "I… I'm your legal guardian."

"You're my legal guardian?" Boba stared at her. She looked barely older than him, though she was a lot taller than he remembered.

"Yep," she said happily, rocking back on her heels. "So, what do you say? Ready to go?"

Boba glanced up at Fox, who gave him a reassuring nod. "Not like I have a fucking choice, do I?" he asked sullenly.

"No, you don't," the Kel Dor – Koon, Boba remembered he said his name was – said gently. "But I imagine that you would choose to leave the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center."

"Obviously," Boba said, frowning.

"So." Koon shrugged. "Shall we?"

The Tog smiled brightly at him. He realized that she was nervous, and for some reason that made him feel better.

"Fine." Boba rubbed his wrists after Fox unlocked his cuffs. Whatever. Fox didn't need to help him, he could do this on his own. He just had to stick with them long enough to get out of prison. The second the idiots turned their backs, he'd be out of there. Boba glanced up and met the Tog's nervous gaze. "But I'm not calling you fucking Mum."

Author's Notes:

MAOR-GRÁSTA TRANSLATIONS An deach thu às mo chiall?: Have you gone insane? Carson a tha thu a’ toirt eas-urram dhomh?: Why are you disrespecting me? MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS cyar'solus: beloved one, the clones' nickname for Boba since he was a special snowflake chosen baby (Thank you Squid_Ink 😘) shabuir: motherfucker vod'kyramud: brother-killer osik: shit OTHER NOTES Mace has a picture of all of his padawans and grand-padawans in his wallet and he shows everyone constantly. It's canon, George Lucas actually told me himself. Palpatine was pretty easy to convince, wasn't he? It's almost like he likes sowing discord between Anakin and his loved ones hmm odd yes very odd indeed Ponds was promoted for plot related purposes ✌️

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork @soliloquy-of-nemo Dividers: @saradika-graphics

[dukeoftheblackstar]

For some reason I thought “DANCE PARTY WITH PLO!” Plo just likes to dance around for fun in his quarters. Sometimes the other Jedi masters come and join him for a dance

Babe. You made a grave mistake of sending Plo-related asks in my inbox because now you have to suffer from me rambling like the smitten idiot that I am for my gorgeous Kel Dor King ♥

So I love dancing as much as I love music. Do I think Plo dances in his quarters?

But babe, they can't join him in his private quarters because (1) Plo is quite the private-type. As much as he trusts and would have no qualms allowing friends in his quarters, it's a bit too personal. Maybe only a few and not all. Plus, I imagine his room is (2) constantly pumping Dorin gas so he can just plop down on his bed when he's tired ♥.

Your favorite old man takes naps. Trust me on this.

This would also (3) help him not require to acclimate. Given that he should be able to just pull his mask off and take a deep breath, unclipping his mask would entail a few seconds of the filter mechanism would release oxygen in mid-conversion or something similar of acclimation, really. Please don't let me go through the Science of this, it's 5 AM from where I'm from and I just wanna cuddle this Kel Dor God of mine ♥

SO....

The Wolves Den is what I HC as the 104th's main hub where the Wolfpack hangs, resides, has their own designated 'barracks', sleeps, — like a 104th dedicated wing. This is also where Plo's sealed quarters would be.

In line with your ask, this is also part-time dance floor.

Plo would most likely dance to the tune of old songs. Maybe do a waltz, a tango or two with anyone (EXCEPT SHAAK TI BECAUSE I HAVE TRAUMA ON THIS, OKAY?)

I also HC that the 104th dance on a daily basis.

I can't find my post now so I'm copy pasting my conversation with my bestie @saengak ♥

So I'm a fan of the basement gang and idk why but i always, when this specific reel comes up i feel like these be the boys: Sinker, Boost, Comet and Warthog (providing the tunes) reaction upon discovering some Kel Dor native songs and Wolffe just bobbing his head somewhere

And Wolffe gets the biggest headache of his life on a daily basis ♥

BUT JEDIS DANCING?!

So Plo and Qui-Gon are besties ♥ Bet you they turn shit up dancing. Qui-Gon with some trance-like music that Plo just squints at him but goes along.

Seeing as most of the Jedis are old, I bet you they do the twist. Do the fucking twist, man. Like I can't. 🤣🤣🤣

SO YES. PLEASE IMAGINE PLO AND YODA ALONG WITH ALL THE OLD MOOT LIKE KI-ADI MUNDI DOING THE TWIST BECAUSE I CAN'T BE IN THIS MESS ALONE.

Mother Shaak Ti as (Cher), Luminara and Aayla as Winona and Christina ♥

And for the hilarity of it all, Kit Fisto really working himself with Right Said Fred.

And yes, Plo supporting this foolishness by pulling Kit's shirt because Kit had been pestering him to be in this foolishness of his dance number ♥ Mace just shaking his head and bopping ♥

[reader6898]

OC: SFW ABCs

Talia

Medic to the wolfpack

A: Affection

(How affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

not the most affectionate unless it's with someone she knows and loves. She will show it through hugs and if it's someone she loves then kisses, hugs, and even hand holding

B: Best Friend

(How would they be as a best friend? How would the relationship start?)

kind and caring. it takes Talia a long time to make friends and she is very shy so you would have to go up to her first and gain her trust along the way. if you want to invite her somewhere it might take a few tries before she agrees

once you are best friends with Talia you will find that she is kind and caring and the sweetest person in the galaxy. she will also try to hold onto her friendships as long as possible because she will be devastated if you leave the friendship. it gives her severe anxiety and she also has abandoment issues that she's had since she was eleven years old

C: Cuddles

(Do they like cuddles? how do they cuddle?)

if it's with someone she loves then she loves cuddling with a passion. she will trap you in a death grip and you will literally have to pry her off of you. That's why she enjoys cuddle piles with the Wolfpack so much

D: Domestic

(Do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Talia is very skilled and cooking so she actually prefers homecooked meals that she learned to make from her mother. as for cleaning she isn't a big fan of it but she understands that it has to get done.

settling down isn't something she has never thought about or didn't think she could do but with the right person she wouldn't be apposed to it

E: Ending

(If they had to break up, how would they do it?)

the other person would have to do it because Talia isn't strong enough to break up with you. she would be devastated and cry a lot. it would take her a long time to move on or she might not move on at all if she was with you for a very long time

the pack would have to get involved because they hate seeing her so sad and Wolffe would definitely have to be held back from breaking someone's knee caps because seeing his cyar'ika upset makes him see red

F: Fiancee

(How do they feel about commitment? How quick do they want to get married?)

remembering from her childhood how happy her parents were she would enjoy being committed to someone but if it's not meant to be then she doesn't see a future with the person.

Talia isn't in a hurry to find someone and get married right away. she likes to take her time and get to know the person. if the discussion of marriage comes up she will definitely talk about her dreams but again if it's not meant to be and the topic doesn't come up then she doesn't see any type of future. she also wouldn't know what she would want if there was a wedding but it would most likely be a simple one

G: Gentle

(How gentle are they? physically, emotionally)

she is very gentle emotionally and her feelings get hurt easily. she would never say anything bad about you

Talia is gentle when it comes to treating the clones and pretty much anyone. the clones very much enjoy being treated by her. the only time she isn't gentle is if someone lays a hand on her and she will freak out. she will definitely punch you in the throat or kick you where the sun don't shine if she feels threatened

H: Hugs

(How often do they hug? Do they like hugs? what are their hugs like?)

as long as she is comfortable with you then she doesn't mind a hug. she enjoys getting hugs from the wolfpack, especially from Comet, Boost, Sinker, and Jax. she doesn't normally give hugs unless she sees you upset about something. Talia's hugs are warm and comforting

I: I love you

(How fast do they say that?)

you will definitely be waiting for a while until she is very certain of her feelings for you. once she says it she will enjoy telling you how much she loves you every time she gets a chance

J: Jealousy

(How jealous do they get? What do they do when they are?)

she doesn't get jealous. she gets more upset than anything because if she sees the person she likes with another person then she will feel unworthy and unloved. she will feel like she doesn't deserve to be with anyone and will sit by as the person she cares for be with someone that isn't her. Comet, Boost, and Sinker will try to cheer up their little sister when she is feeling this way

if she did get jealous she won't do anything as she doesn't like confrontation

K: Kisses

(What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss? where do they like to be kissed?)

her kisses are soft and sweet but if she loves you very much they will be rough and demanding. she will give you a kiss if you have a moment together but other than that she won't kiss much. she also enjoys the casual makeout session and won't mind if it will eventually lead to more

she definitely loves giving and getting kisses especially if it's with a significant other. Talia enjoys kissing you on the lips, face, and neck. she won't mind marking your body with hickies. she loves being kissed on the lips, face, shoulder, and neck. she won't mind if you give her a hickie as long as she can cover it up easily afterwards

L: Little ones

(How are they around children?)

Talia adores children. she loves their little smiles, laughs, and hugs. she enjoys playing with them and giving them sweets after she treats them. if they get hurt or upset she will do anything to make them feel better and to see them smile again

M: Mornings

(How are mornings with them?)

is neutral about them. she doesn't mind waking up early if she has to be somewhere but if she has a day off or is planet side she will definitely try to take advantage of sleeping in. if she's had a rough night then she will be very crabby and you don't want to get on her bad side. on the bad mornings she isn't a morning person and is a monster without her caf

N: Night

(How is the night spent with them?)

Talia enjoys quiet nights in but if she has a huge work load then she won't go to sleep until everything is done or you stun her and put her to bed yourself. if she is having a nightmare then good luck trying to sleep because she will be tossing and turning all night. she will eventually give up trying to sleep so it will take someone very special to have to put up with it and to tell her that the dreams aren't real

O: Open

(When do they start revealing about themselves? do they say it all at once or reveal slowly?)

Talia hates talking about her past as most of it is painful memories but when she does you will get little snippets at a time. she will reveal everything slowly and in her own time so until then she is a closed book that is very hard to pry open. only those that she trusts get to know the truth about her

P: Patience

(How quick to anger are they)

Talia doesn't get angry that easily but if she is having a very bad day or woke up on the wrong side of the bed and hasn't had caf yet then you better watch out because she will snap at you. Wolffe is pretty much the only one that can calm her down just like she does with him

Q: Quizzes

(How much do they remember about you? do they remember every detail or forget everything?)

if you are someone very important then she will remember every single thing about you but if you are someone she just met or aren't as important as everyone else she will completely forget everything you told her

R: Remember

(Favorite moment in the relationship)

blank as hell

S: Security

(How protective are they? How would they like to protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

she is very protective especially of young children. she also gets very protective of clones that end up in the medbay even though they can protect themselves. she is skilled in knife fighting so she is always carrying her vibroblade around and will go down fighting if she deems you a threat.

she doesn't mind being protected but it makes her seem weak so the concept makes her feel sick to the stomach. she will thank you later though for keeping her safe

T: Try

(How much effort is put into dates/anniversary/gifts/everyday?)

it will just be something simple because to her as long as you make her happy she doesn't care about gifts or dates and anniversaries and even everyday. she will appreciate you got her something though or even went to planning something special

U: Ugly

(Bad habit of theirs)

being a medic she has irregular sleeping schedules and hates being vulnerable. she also doesn't like that her past has gotten in the way of her trying new experiences and making friends

V: Vanity

(How concerned are they with their looks?)

being a medic for the GAR she doesn't have time to care about what she looks like. she is very self conscious of the scars on her back though and when she is intimate with someone she doesn't like them being touched unless it's someone she loves

W: Whole

(would they feel incomplete without you?)

Very. she has abandonment issues so if you broke up with her, left a friendship, or even died she wouldn't feel the same without you. while she had gotten used to being alone the thought of being by herself for the rest of her life scares her very much

X: Xtra

(Extra headcanon)

she is very tiny for a human, at least to the clones. she is 4'9 and the wolfpack finds it very cute that she is so small compared to them

she has a tattoo on her back near her left shoulder that she keeps covered. she didn't have a choice in getting it and is saving up every credit she's earned from working for the republic to get it removed

Hates talking about her past. will shut down if anything triggers her or if you try to talk to her about it

Has PTSD

Has trust issues, especially when it comes to men. is very wary of being intimate

loves singing

also enjoys dancing. she got caught once by Jax and she got embarassed. instead of him laughing he told to shake her ass and she dropped it low as he encouraged her 😂

enjoys gardening. Plo has helped her set up a little garden on the ship even though they are in space and get no sun

has tried making tea once the way that Plo showed her and ended up getting everyone, including herself, sick. hasn't tried it since

Is force sensitive but can't be a jedi. Plo helps her control her powers

Y: Yuck

(What are some things they wouldn't like in general or in partner)

she hates when you keep an injury from her. if you have one and don't tell her she will give you a serious look until you tell her

she also doesn't like when you lie to her in general or if you are her partner. she hates when people lie to her about anything

Z: Zzz

(Sleep habits)

will curl up in her blankets and is usually good about keeping to her side of the bed. if you are her partner she will snuggle up to you as close as possible. tosses and turns a lot if she is having a nightmare which happens quite often

Tagging: @anxiouspineapple99 @techs-stitches @starrylothcat @cloneloverrrrr @the-rain-on-kamino @the-bad-batch-baroness @wings-and-beskar @wizardofrozz @eternal-transcience @rexxdjarin @moonlightwarriorqueen @cw80831 @523rdrebel @spicy-clones @deejadabbles @sunshinesdaydream @iwannaclonetrooper @clonethirstingisreal @sev-on-kamino @multi-fan-dom-madness

[cloneloverrrrr]

𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗜𝘃𝗲 𝗡𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗛𝗮𝗱 ⠀

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮 ⠀

⠀

⠀

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗪𝗼𝗹𝗳𝗳𝗲 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ⠀

⠀

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 : ⠀4076

⠀

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗷𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀𝘆 , 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗙𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗠𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝗙𝗼𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆, 𝗣 𝗶𝗻 𝗩 , 𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 , 𝗗𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗸 ⠀

⠀

𝘂𝟭𝟴 𝗗𝗢 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗧 🔞⠀

⠀

𝗔𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝘆 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗳𝗶𝗰, 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗖𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻𝘁 , 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝗴. 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗯𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 🥰⠀

⠀

Its been a good couple of weeks since the incident in Commander Wolffe's private office quarters and yet it still bothers you, there have been a couple more times when you have both flirted so bad all you wanted to do was rip each others clothes off and other times where he treats you like a stupid young girl, unworthy of being aboard a Jedi Cruiser around the men of the GAR and the time you and him where the only ones left in meeting room after a transmission from Master Plo Koon and Master Yoda , he had stood behind you letting his thick gloved hands run all over your small curvy body, his touch so gentle but sent shivers through you, he was pressed so close upto you it was like you could feel how hard his manhood was, desperate to escape from his blacks and codpiece, feeling his hand move up towards your neck pulling you back so your gaze was meeting his, the other free hand rubbed his fingers across your pouty lips which inturn you let out a soft moan, you could see it made him tense and with that he hurried out of the room. 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗦 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗕𝗟𝗘𝗠 You lay awake in your hard bed in the room of your private quarters staring at nothing but the grey four walls thinking about everything and why does he act the way he does? Did he do it on purpose? Is he always this way? The shrill of the alarm pulls you back to reality. ⠀

It did not take you long to get dressed in your grey tight pants, your grey blazer and thigh high boots with a few squirts of your favourite floral perfume the one your mother loved, hair slicked back into a bun with a silver and blue embellished headband on, layer of gloss your done, holopad in hand you make your way to the Mess Hall you are without a doubt in desperate need of some caf! ⠀

⠀

"good morning Senator" a soft voice behind you calls out , you turn and see Boost with a big old smile on his face "Hi Boost, nice to see you! Long day today eh?" you say as you place your mug under the caf machine ⠀

"Yes Senator thats right but hey you get to spend some more time with me " with a cheeky wink he leaves the mess hall and you standing there with a little smirk 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗗 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 ⠀

After some food you make your way to the Bridge praying you will not run into the Commander, once you get to the elevator there he is 𝗡𝗢𝗢𝗢𝗢 𝗜 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗹 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘄 you think as you step closer to him head down. Of course Wolffe being Wolffe he steps in first with you following this ride up seems so much longer than usual and you can feel his stare burning into the back of your head, you finally reach the Bridge, Boost , Sinker and Comet are already there waiting each one of them gives you a kind smile but Boost being Boost he touches your hand as you walk past and gives his usual cheeky wink a small girly giggle finds its way out of your mouth and you just know Wolffe seen and heard this as his head turned around so fast to glare daggers into both you and Boost "Whoops" Boost says in a low tone with a hint of sarcasm. ⠀

The day drags on its just meeting after meeting discussing with the Troops how they feel they are being treated , what their thoughts are when the war finishes ... but the more time you spend with the Wolfpack and the boys from the 104th the more you realise you love them all like brothers every single one is kind, treats you with respect and admires you... yes you get the odd few who flirt badly you have to add but it is only banter and nothing you cant handle. ⠀

With that the day is over so you head to the Mess Hall and sit at your usual table with Boost, Sinker , Comet and Worthog⠀

"hey boys what are you looking all cheerful about?" you say with a raised eyebrow as you take a seat between Boost and Sinker ⠀

"Well Senator we are on shore leave for the next 3 days once we get back to Coruscant so you know what that means!" ⠀

" you lost me Warthog" you say taking a spoonful of soup⠀

"79's!! " they all say in sync which makes you chuckle⠀

"your coming out with us right?" Sinker asks whilst dipping his bread roll into the soup⠀

"Of course she is , shes my date for tomorrow night , aint that right Mesh'la?" Boost pipes up looking directly at you with that oh so cheeky grin⠀

" ermmm Ive never actually been to 79's , who else is going?" you say in shy tone⠀

"All of the 104th even Commander Wolffe" says Comet⠀

..... 𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗛𝗬 𝗜𝗦 𝗛𝗘 𝗚𝗢𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗥𝗚𝗛𝗛𝗛 ⠀

"Dont worry he's not that bad anyway we got your back Senator" says Boost they must of noticed the drop in your face⠀

"ok then we seeing as we are on shore leave it means I can go back to my apartment so I guess I could meet you all there?" you must of sounded like a scared child because looking at those faces they looked like they wanted to burst out in a fit of laughter ⠀

"thats our girl" they again all say in sync⠀

The ride back seemed quick... you were glad you had packed everything up leaving without evening saying goodbye to the boys and flagged down the nearest speeder cab you could see 𝗢𝗸 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁? 𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴... 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝗻𝗼!⠀

You head straight to see your best friend Tiva-sa a beautiful female Twi'lek who owns a beauty spa and hair salon on the high upper levels of Coruscant as soon as you step through the doors she runs over to you wrapping her arms around you tight "I have missed you Crystal" "Ive missed you too my best friend" and with that she ushers you over to the nail section where you enjoy a fresh mani- pedi then over to the hair section where you have a hair treatment followed by wash and blow dry, the driod then styles your hair with crimps, unsure at first you take a second look and actually love it! ⠀

"all done doll, like it?" "oh Tiva-sa I loveeeeee it, thank you!! How much?" you gush⠀

"Erm my best friend does not pay plus go out there and get your man!" she says giggling of course Tiva-sa is aware of whats gone on between you and Wolffe well lack of ⠀

"Also I took the liberty of leaving a little something in your apartment for tonight, Holo me before you I am DYINGGG to see!!" she says with the biggest smile on her face which makes you blush a little " of course" as you leave the salon you stop off at your favourite noodle place for a quick bite. Hours later your back at your appointment after a long hot soak in a lavender and jogan fruit bath you finally look at the gift left by your best friend which is a beautiful grey very short dress it was cut out in a sort of diamond shape at the stomach with a high neck but it was cut out showing your collar bones and shoulders, completely cut out at the back, the arms long sleeve. It had a beautiful silvery white encrust to it across the bottom of the dress you notice also left you a very high pair of grey open toe sandals which tied half way up your calves.⠀

This dress fit you perfect hugged all your curves nicely, barely covered your juicy ass but you felt incredible. After your makeup is finished and perfume on, you take a few more sips of your sweet Alderaan wine one of your mothers favourite, double check yourself out in the mirror and off you go into a speeder cab⠀

"79's please" you say to the driver ⠀

"whats a pretty young thing like you going to a dump like that for eh?" he grins at you which cringes you out ⠀

"That dump is where I am meeting my work colleagues, I am part of the Senate within the GAR so if could kindly take me to my destination please" the harshness in your tone made for a very quite ride over ⠀

Finally as the cab drops you off you stop outside for a few moments feeling those nerves again but nevertheless you strut in, you can feel the looks you are getting from the other troopers and civvies. Stopping at the bar scanning the room you see a few tables with the 104th boys, then you spy Boost, Sinker, Comet, Warthog and Commander Wolffe at the last table in the corner... music booming the place was very busy you walk over to the table and all of a sudden you see their mouths drop not one of them can take their eyes off you, even Wolffe but he quickly regains his composure and straightens up, his hand gripping his whiskey glass the only thing that stops him looking directly at you is when Boost runs over to you and picks you up off your feet so lightly and gives you a hug "well hello cyar’ika" he says cheekily you laugh "Boost you know I am not your cyar’ika but nice try eh" you say with a flirty grin as you both walk over to the table everyone says hello expect Wolffe who just nods his head at you, his eyes they looked very different tonight like they were burning with lust, this just made the heat in your core rise and a little tingle between your legs. You sit between Boost and Wolffe as you get comfortable you cross your legs the dressing raising up more barley covering you, your thighs on show Wolffe almost chokes on his whiskey for a second you look directly at him eyes scanning him up and down gently biting on your glossy lower lip you turn away and continue your shots and conversation with Boost. As the night goes on your all in good spirits laughing drinking having a good time then Boost leans into your neck one of his hands on your knee cupping it softly then you both leave the table and take to the dance floor knowing full well Wolffe was watching you both 𝗪𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹! ⠀

With Boost standing behind you pushed up against you, you grind into him in time with the music swaying back and forth his hands on your waist but not holding you firm just softly. With what feels like a long while you make your way to the fresher along the dark hallway you can make out a few people groping and kissing each other just as your about to enter the fresher a strong hand grips your wrist you let out a startled noise and your pulled around and there he is Wolffe , his broad shoulders blocking your view he had taken you into the fresher and locked the door, with that he pushed you up against the cold door, giving a little bit of relief on your hot skin "what do you want Wolffe??" you hiss at him he leans in so close you can feel the heat from his breathe, the smell of whiskey, his strong delicious aftershave overtaking your nostrils ⠀

"You just dont realise it do you Mesh'la?" he says softly his hands running up the sides of your perfect body "realise what Wolffe?" you hiss again trying to push him off you but he is just too strong with that he pushes his thigh between your legs holding you up firm one hand on your waist and the other pressing your shoulder against the door 𝗙𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗼 𝗯𝗮𝗱!! ⠀

"What you do to me" he says as his lips ghost your neck to your exposed shoulders "What I want to do to you" his voice⠀

quivering so full of lust "uhh Wolffe" you moan as he pulls you harder onto his thigh the tingling between your legs intensifying ⠀

"Why are y..you uh doing this to me?" you can barely get the sentence out of your mouth and before you know it Wolffe sinks his teeth into your open flesh biting down hard "uhh Wolffe.... plea.. se " "Use your words Mesh'la, please what?" ⠀

you almost whimper as Wolffe begins to push his thigh into you and with that you loose all sense and begin riding his thigh gently at first , his moves match yours soft moans fill the air but stop as Wolffe crashes his lips against yours running his tongue over your full swollen lips as to ask for permission with that you open your mouth, your tongues rubbing all over each other kisses growing more passionate more forceful as you moan into Wolffe's mouth grinding even faster on his thigh for a moment you stop kissing him and lean your head back onto the cool fresher door , Wolffe wraps his hand around your throat "Look at me Mesh"la" your eyes fixated on him the warm wetness growing and growing as you reach your peak, just before you feel your orgasm hit Wolffe removes his thigh and gently moves his hands down your body you let out the most bratty whine.... "I want to you to scream my name Mesh"la.... now lets go somewhere more private" ⠀

"We can go back to my apartment?" you say quietly shaking against the door from pure white hot heat. ⠀

Wolffe takes you by the hand unlocking the fresher door walking you out from the crowd, your pretty sure out of the corner of your eye you can see Boost, Sinker, Comet and Warthog smirking... ⠀

Wolffe tightens his arm around your waist leading you into the speeder cab, as your giving your address to the driver Wolffe's long thick fingers slowly start creeping up your soft thighs you can feel his calloused finger tips moving further and further up your short dress until he reaches the lace of your already soaked panties you let out a small gasp as you feel him pull your panties to the side running two fingers up and down your slit, you bite down on your lip so hard to stop any lewd noises leave you ... suddenly he plunges a finger in to your tight wet hole , you pull him into you and aggressively kissing him little moans into his mouth each time he moves his finger, just before the cab comes to a halt outside your apartment Wolffe removes his finger from you takes it to his mouth and licks off your juices "mmm just as sweet as I thought you would taste" those gruff softly spoken words send another wave of pleasure running through you.⠀

You all but practically drag Wolffe upto your apartment on the 21st floor as your keying in your door code you feel his big hands rubbing into your ass as you step in you turn around and notice Wolffe hesitating for a moment... " is everything ok?" you ask disappointed "everything is fine I eh just have not been to any woman's private residence before" he says sheepishly "its ok I want you here please come in Wolffe" holding out your hand he takes it and you walk him into your bedroom. You cant help but notice Wolffe studying everything in your room, your silk bed sheets, your holophotos with your parents, a few with your friends, the celebration one with you and several members of the Republic Senate, the candles placed across your dresser... it brought a smile to your face maybe this man isn't the asshole he makes out to be.⠀

"So Commander are you not going to kiss me then?" you say filled with lust ⠀

Wolffe walks over to you places a firm kiss on your lips as you feel him unzip the dress until your just in your grey lace panties and heels , your breasts fully bear nipples hardening you fall back onto your kingsize bed and Wolffe climbs ontop he removes your heels with little effort and holds on leg above his shoulder small soft kisses down your calves down your the inside of your thighs then he stops and does the same all down your other leg leaving no part without a kiss his eyes never leaving yours, in dark Coruscant skies filled with bright lights his cyber twinkled yet his brown eye almost black filled with lust and during this time you don't even remember him removing your panties completely

“Will you let me taste you Mesh’la?” He asks in such a soft tone not his usual harsh rudeness “mmm yes I want that” as you lay back and gently open your legs more for him you feel his tongue run up and down the full length of your slit teasing your clit with his wet tongue , as he pushes it flat against you your back arches off the bed as he continues to circle your clit , your insides are fluttering as you start to grind your self against his face holding onto his hair to keep yourself steady

“Uhhh Wolffe mmmm don’t stop “ your pussy clenching so hard right now until you feel him push two of his fingers deep inside of you “uhhhhhh yes uhh don’t stop” you moan more as Wolffe digs his two fingers around inside of you as he suck’s hard on your clit , your body is writhing enjoying every single second of this , his other hand holding you down with a strong grip the heat inside you grew and grew “ are you going to cum for your Commander?” He rasps your juices glistening his mouth and chin “ y-yes mmmm I am please don’t .. uhh stop “

With that Wolffe circled your clit again as you pushed up grinding against his face his two fingers never slowing down only speeding up reaching your g-spot continuously until you reach your peak your heart raced in your chest panting breathes your legs shaking moaning Wolffes name incoherently , a guttural moan came from the handsome Commander between your legs as he lapped up all of sweet tangy juices licking every last bit , Wolffe leaned up towards you and kissed you passionately you clung onto him loosing yourself to his touch as you tasted yourself on his lips and tongue.

As Wolffe undressed and neatly placed his officers uniform on your bedroom floor you stared at him in awe finally your eyes made their way down to his manhood , you were a little bit scared the pure size of him so thick so long you weren’t sure if you could take him but damn did you want too “Fuck me Commander, I want you” you say your eyes not leaving him “keep calling me that and I will ruin you Mesh’la “ he says “so what are you waitin…” without even allowing you to finish your sentence Wolffe grabs you and flips you in your stomach your juicy ass in the air smacking you so hard you let out a yelp and another and another the last one was the hardest Wolffe just loves to watch your ass jiggle as he slaps it “mmmm fuck, there’s a good girl you like that don’t you?” He rasps his tone more harsher than before “yes mmm” he slaps you again harder than before “yes what?” Each time he spoke the authority in his voice showed “uhh yes Commander” you let out between whimpering “good” 𝗦𝗠𝗔𝗖𝗞 “girl” with that Wolffe bends you over and spits down onto your swollen pink pussy before sliding two fingers in and pulling back out to coat his hard thick cock in your arousal, the tip of his thick cock stretching your tight wet cunt both hands firmly gripped onto your ass he starts off slow allowing you to adjust to his size your breath stuttering with each thrust he gives his moans igniting the fire in you once more and with that he begins to pound away possessively inside you of you deep long strokes of his cock inside your tight walls the room filled with breathless pants and wet lewd noises “uhh fuck your taking your Commander so good urhh my dirty girl” you feel his calloused finger tips skim up your back then back down to grab your ass “ I love the way you feel Mesh’la so good around my cock “ his words barely audible “mmm uh uh uh Commander your going to make me cum again” before you even knew what had happened Wolffe flipped you over his face buried into the crook of your neck as he continued his merciless pounding into you , your nails dug into his shoulders , your legs wrapped desperately round his waist while his hands kept a firm grip on your thighs , you could feel yourself on the edge so you rock your hips in time with the thrusts of his well endowed manhood one of his hands moved to cup your breast rolling your sensitive nipple between his fingers you were both so close to that euphoric feeling as his thrusts became more erratic your cunt tightened around him back arched so high up toes curled moaning and panting down his ear you feel his warm cum fill you up spilling inside you.

His jerky thrusts came with a long guttural moan “fuckkk” “Mesh’la I can’t get enough of you” he sighs deep you feel him slightly soften inside of you.

You both lay there arms snaked around each other slowly coming down from your amazing highs you being to stroke Wolffe’s hair as he plants tiny lazy kisses across your chest and collarbones “Will you stay the night with me? “ you ask quietly voice barely above a whisper , Wolffe looks up at you eyes soft and warm his lips curl ever so slightly “Do you want me too?” “ of course I do I wouldn’t have asked if not” you say lightly kissing his forehead.

Hours have gone by while you you both cuddle and talk about everything and anything , Wolffe learns about your Mando and Aldeeran roots , why you got into the job your in and you hear more about life as a solider until you both fall into a peaceful sleep….

Day breaks and the sun shining in through your blinds wakes you up and you look across the bed and see the handsome Commander fast asleep

𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗲𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝘀𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘅𝗲𝗱

𝗔𝗺 𝗜 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗵𝗶𝗺? 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗻⠀

Trying to push the thoughts out of your mind you gently and quietly get up out of bed trying not to wake him, you put on an oversized shirt and take yourself off the kitchen to put on a freshly brewed pot of caf, you leave the caf to brew then go into freshers and carry out your morning skincare routine before heading back to the kitchen to make some breakfast.

As you rumble around the kitchen grabbing the ingredients you get the shock of your life to see Commander Wolffe stood there watching you “MAKER! Wolffe you scared me!” You say rather annoyed

A small deep chuckle leaves his lips “I’m sorry Mesh’la I was just intrigued watching you”

“It’s ok I made you some breakfast and a fresh mug of Caf, hungry?” You day finally letting out a smile

“Errr ahem yes I am” he seemed slightly shy as he said this , you usher him to sit at the kitchen table and you plate up breakfast

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁... 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹?

@wolffegirlsunite

@wolffe-simp

Hope you like 🥰

[ariadnes-red-thread]

The Last Word: Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO: THE WOLVES

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fives/OFC

Chapter Summary: Flashback to a week before, Mal is faced with a big decision that could alter her life drastically. But is she ready to leave the safety of the Wolfpack and face the hard questions that she’s been hiding from?

Chapter Warnings: Some swearing and mentions of Umbara/past trauma

Chapter Word Count: 5.4k

Recommended Listening: The Wolves by Ben Howard

A/N: No Fives this time, but lots of our other favorites, I promise :) Thank you so much for all of the support on Chapter One! I never could have imagined how loving and positive the response would be. Excited to share more of this story with you all! As always, comments, likes, feedback, and reblogs are always so appreciated!

Ao3

Taglist

The transfer talk had started a week earlier. Four Venator-class Star Destroyers lingered as a fleet in the Expanse Region, the armies recollecting while their generals strategized and regrouped. Mal kept busy organizing the medbay. She and the 104th’s clone medic, Crux, worked in silence as they tried hard not to think about why they were all gathered in the depths of space and not on their scheduled leave.

The first sign that something was wrong had been Plo Koon. The General, normally extremely patient and even-tempered, even by Jedi standards, stormed onto the bridge with a thunderous call to attention. He pulled Wolffe away for a meeting that lasted hours. The first anyone heard from them was a crackling summons for Sinker and Comet. The venom in Wolffe’s voice, clear even over the comm, sent a chill down Mal’s spine. She’d never heard him like that, not even after Abregado. The officers disappeared, and the meeting dragged on for even longer. Mal waited with Crux, Wildfire, and Boost. They crouched around a communicator listening to the rumors that began to trickle in from other ships over private lines; stories of brothers killing brothers under orders, horrors that the clones couldn’t imagine. 

Mal, on the other hand, felt her heart begin to race as they listened. She knew horrors like these. They were the ones that haunted her nightmares and sometimes her waking moments, like ghosts that hung over her shoulders, their weight ladened with guilt. She never imagined terrors like this could reach her - or her friends - here, in the Republic army, far from the Separatists and surrounded by an army of brothers. She gripped the edge of the seat to stop her hands from shaking. When the comms finally went silent, no one spoke. 

Before anyone could find the words, the meeting adjourned, and the officers were back on the deck. It seemed whatever fury had been burning before had subsided. They all looked heavy now, older. It was the oddest on Wolffe. Though he usually chose his words carefully, the stoic quietness that had overtaken the usually grumbling Commander was new and darker. Sinker barked the orders instead. The Jedi cruiser immediately made its jump to the Expanse region to gather with other Republic ships. 

Three days passed before Mal saw Wolffe again. He locked himself in his office and didn’t respond to comms. Mal checked on him through Sinker, who made sure that he was eating for her. Satisfied that Sinker was doing his best to pester the Commander into taking care of himself, Mal found boredom creeping up on her without anyone to patch up. She and Crux did their best to stay distracted. The medbay had never looked cleaner. When Mal wasn’t restocking med packs or refilling bacta containers, she was organizing games of sabacc. Sabacc had always been a source of comfort for Mal, and it had been a downtime staple of the 104th since she joined. With the minimal stipends the clones got, Mal never let them play for real credits. Usually, they used ration bars or scraps of flimsi. It made it more fun anyway. There was more laughter and teasing, with nothing really on the line. Nothing on the line was a nice change of pace.

This afternoon’s game came about during a lull in after-lunch chores. Mal, Comet, Wildfire, Sinker, Crux, and Boost were huddled in a circle in the men’s barracks. Mal was in the middle of a roll when Wolffe called. The dice tumbled from her hand just as the comm on her wrist beeped, its final notes drowned out by a collective groan at the numbers she rolled. When Mal answered, Wolffe’s voice met her ears and brought a smile to her face. It was back to being its recognizable gruff timbre.

“Mal, get in here.” He snapped before he cut the call.

The message was short and to the point, as his comms always were. Mal knew she’d find him in his office, and before she could wonder why she was being summoned, the other clones began to make low whistles.

“Someone’s in trouble!” Comet chuckled.

“What the fuck did you do this time?” Boost shook his head at her with a paternal smile.

“Don’t worry, ad’ika. We’ll have Crux ready the medbay for after your chewing out.” Sinker elbowed the medic next to him, who quickly shuffled his cards away from the trooper and glared.

“The Jedi are probably finally giving me a medal for putting up with you all.” Mal sighed as she threw down her own cards.

Sinker leaned over the table, abandoning any pretense of subtlety, to stare at her hand before his gaze snapped back up to Mal. His jaw hung open, and betrayal was written all over his face.

“You’re a liar!” Sinker called out.

“It’s called bluffing. I know you’re not familiar with it.” She winked at him before she turned, leaving the rest of the soldiers to tease their brother about his bad sabacc face.

Mal wound the dark halls of the Venator until she reached Wolffe’s office. As the blast door slid open, she knew she’d find the Commander bent over a desk covered in flimsi, holos, and datapads. Mal had offered to clean it for him time and time again. Still, Wolffe always rolled his eyes at her and said it was organized to him, usually throwing in some colorful adjectives along the way. Mal wasn’t expecting an unfamiliar clone to be waiting with him. 

The new clone, a captain according to the rank on his chest, sat in one of the two chairs across from Wolffe, his left hand resting on the chair arm and the right laid on the helmet that was perched atop his knee. Mal quickly saluted the familiar yet unfamiliar man. She wasn’t officially military, not like the clones. Civilian medics were a subset of the GAR, but she held no rank, and the field training had been practically shameful. The role was created so there would be extra hands to help the clone medics and the medical droids in the medbay and the medbay only. 

Though she might not be officially GAR, Mal didn’t mind the military aspects of the job. The structure and the order of everything had seeped into her blood quickly. A part of Mal loved it. Craved it even. It felt safe. She just couldn’t stand being told what to do, not since Takodana. Luckily, Wolffe never minded if Mal took a little creative license with her scope. From the beginning, he had encouraged Crux to take her with him into the field. He respected her experience, and she also suspected that Wolffe knew she liked the intensity and distraction of it all, even if they never talked about it. It was one of the ways they were similar.

The captain smiled as Mal paused in the doorway. He had close-cropped blonde hair and brown eyes that twinkled even in the cabin’s dim light. She found that she liked the man right away. He radiated kindness, not a meek, differential kindness, but the warm kindness that comes from a confident, caring heart.

“Yes, sir?” Mal lingered at the entrance in case she had misunderstood the summons. 

“You’re suddenly all polite in front of company?” Wolffe winked his cybernetic eye at her, his brown one bright with glee. Mal instantly relaxed. “Have a seat. Captain Rex and I were talking about you.”

“You must be the Captain Rex talking about me.” She flashed a smile at the man as she settled into the third chair. “Nice to meet you.”

“My vod always had a talent for introductions.” He grinned at his brother, bringing a familiar scowl to Wolffe’s face. “I promise it was only good things.”

Mal glanced back and forth between the officers. When neither of them spoke again, her curiosity got the better of her.

“So, what’s going on?”

Rex’s eyes flicked to Wolffe. When the Commander didn’t speak, his brow seemed to set in determination. He turned back to Mal, facing her fully.

“I was asking the Commander if you might be open to a transfer.”

A black hole could have opened up and swallowed her at that moment, and she wouldn’t have been more surprised. Mal’s eyes flitted to Wolffe, hoping to see some sort of anger or shock that another battalion was trying to steal her away, but she saw nothing. That stung. She always knew Wolffe was less openly emotional about his attachment to her than the rest of the 104th, but Mal still thought their relationship meant something to him. She certainly never thought he’d push her out.

“I’m sorry to ask.” Rex quickly added, reading the shock on her face. “I wouldn’t like the idea of leaving my men either. Truth is, my troop is short on medics. I promoted my man Coric to CMO, leaving my Torrent Company with only one primary medic. And uh, frankly, we’re a little too reckless for that.”

Mal pulled her attention from the cool commander and back to the captain with the soft eyes. She could deal with Wolffe later.

“Wolffe brags about you all the time to the other COs. Figured if I was gonna go searching for a civilian medic, I might as well try to get the best.” Rex drummed his fingers on his helmet as he spoke.

Mal blushed at the statement before she quickly searched the Captain’s face. She was looking for flattery, but his smile was unwaveringly genuine.

“I promise you I’ll think about it,” she assured Rex. It was a lie, and Mal felt a pang of guilt after seeing how earnest he was.

“All I can ask.” Rex stood, tucking his helmet into his hip. “I need to get back to my ship. Can’t leave those di’kute unsupervised for too long.”

He let out a half-exasperated chuckle to himself before he nodded to her and then saluted the Commander. Rex turned on his heel without another word and marched from the room. Mal waited until the door was sealed shut behind him.

“What the hell, Wolffe?” She snapped as she spun back to him. “You’re trying to get rid of me?”

Wolffe leaned back in his chair as he raised an amused eyebrow at her, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. It was the look he always gave Mal when she got feisty with him. He enjoyed her hot-headed nature and entertained it the same way a loth wolf would tolerate the play-fighting of a pup. His lackadaisical response to her fury often made her laugh and soothed her, but sometimes, it irritated Mal, especially when she was really pissed off. This was one of those times.

“After everything, you’re just gonna ship me out?” Mal felt her voice start to rise as fear bubbled in her chest. She shifted to the edge of her seat, the world suddenly a little unsteady. “You’ve got to be kidding. This is bantha shit.”

“Settle down, ad’ika. I’m not kicking you out.” Wolffe crossed his arms, his voice even. “I’ve already found that you’re impossible to get rid of.”

“Fuck you.” Mal fired right back at him before she paused. His little quip helped temper the panic, but frustration still seethed from her. “Then what the hell?”

“Look,” He leaned forward, his voice dropping a half an octave. “Rex is with the 501st.”

Mal gasped, despite herself. Everyone in the GAR had heard of the 501st, the famously brave and infamously bold legion that fought under the command of General Anakin Skywalker. Stories of their more creative battle plans were told over shots of spotchka. In the last week, however, their name had been uttered in hushed tones and horrified whispers as the stories of what had happened on Umbara last week spread throughout the GAR.

“He was so…” She thought about Captain Rex’s smile. “... kind.”

“Always has been. Rex is the best of us.” He spoke without affection as though it were a fact. “The bravest, the most creative, the boldest. Even while he’s hurting right now, he’s only thinking of his men. For better or for worse. I think you can relate to him. In more ways than one.”

Wolffe settled back into his chair as he let the inference in his words sink in. The already small durasteel office seemed to shrink, closing in on Mal as she shifted in her seat.

“From the stories, they were tricked on Umbara.” Her heart began to pound at the implication.  “Not controlled.” 

“Didn’t say it was the same, ad’ika. Just said you might be able to relate.”

Mal’s frown deepened. Finally, when she didn’t speak, Wolffe rolled his eyes and sighed. She knew it was at her refusal to admit he might be on to something, but when he started again, his voice was softer than she had heard in a long time.

“Look, I know I don’t say it a lot, but I don’t know what we would have done without after….” Wolffe trailed off. Mal knew what he meant. He coughed. “You rescued Sinker, Boost, and me way back then.”

A silence filled the room for a moment as memories overwhelmed them both. The war had felt like years, but the weight of those early days never felt less heavy, especially if they looked directly at them.

“You rescued me first,” she quickly replied, giving him a small smile.

“Us finding you was luck, Mal.” He said firmly. “You came back, and you brought mirjahaal with you.”

Mal knew what he was implying. She had worked hard in the days and months after Grevious’ attack to make sure that the remnants of the 104th healed or at least knew that they would eventually heal, inside and out. It was the least that she could do. They had done the same for her not long before. And it seemed like Wolffe thought she could do the same for the 501st.

“I don’t know them.” She frowned.

“But I know you, and I think you can help them.”

“How can you ask me to leave you? To leave Sinker and Boost? After everything?” Her voice was starting to rise again.

“Because I owe Rex that. We all do.”

Mal didn’t say anything. What Wolffe was asking her - to leave the only family she had left- was impossible, and he should know it.

“It’s not just about the 501st, though. There’s another reason I think you should at least consider it.”  Wolffe’s eyes narrowed, the white and amber iris each focused on her. Suddenly, the air was tense, and Mal felt bare before her old friend. “I didn’t say anything to Rex, but this is also your chance for answers… if you still want them.”

Answers. She hadn’t thought about answers in a long time. Defense bubbled up in her chest. Of course, she still wanted them. Wolffe had to know that. She looked at him, half-pleading. His scar. Before Khorm. That was the last time they had talked about this. Before Khorm. Mal’s heart began to sink as she realized that it had been almost a year since she had looked into any of her leads. She didn’t realize it had been so long. What had happened to her family was easier to push down and push aside while she busied herself with making war. She pretended that fighting the Separatists was enough. She had ignored her oath to find out why everyone was dead, and she was ignoring the debt she owed them. She’d gotten comfortable. The oxygen was suddenly scarce as Mal tried to inhale. Cadex and Tynan’s faces flashed before her, their green eyes staring blankly into hers. 

Wolffe cleared his throat again, pulling her back to the present. Breath flooded her lungs as Wolffe waited. She mustered up the courage to respond. 

“I do.” Mal finally answered.

“Then take the transfer,” Wolffe repeated. “I will follow General Plo until I die, but his methods are slower… more precise. Skywalker will get you where you want to be.”

She didn’t say anything, the flame of defensiveness wetted by her guilt. It had been over two years, and she hadn’t gotten any closer to finding out what had happened or why. Mal had brought her story to General Plo Koon after she had first been rescued. The Kel Dor listened with interest and promised he would help. She knew he meant it, but the war raged on, and nothing had come of it. Wolffe was right. It was time for answers, and she needed to find a Jedi ready to help. She needed a Jedi who would be a little reckless.

“The decision is up to you.” Wolffe shook his head, finally breaking eye contact for a moment, just enough to let her breathe again. He brought his hands down to the desk, a tell-tale sign that he was closing the subject. “But you should know I wouldn’t give up my favorite medic unless I had a reason.”

“I’ll think about it,” Mal said as she stood.

This time, she meant it. 

Mal tried to think about it as she made her way to the mess hall, but the annoyance that had dissipated under Wolffe’s gaze was beginning to bubble up again. How dare he try to talk her into leaving? This was her family, the only one she had anymore, and she belonged here. A feeling of betrayal settled like a rock into the pit of her stomach as she collected whatever slop the GAR was serving. She sought out her friends quickly.

Mal spotted Crux first. The clone medic stood out with his shaved head, the practical choice he once told her, and the GAR medical sigil tattooed on the back of his neck. Sitting with him were two other unmistakable heads, one of silver and the other decorated with two long, maroon strips.

“Why the long face?” Boost asked as Mal set her tray on the table and plopped down on the bench across from him.

She told them about the transfer. She gave them Rex’s offer and Wolffe’s logic, and then she told them all the reasons she was furious. This was her home. Her family. She waited for them to be mad for her. She waited for the cries of outrage. They never came.

“‘S not a bad idea.” Boost rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced over at Sinker.

 Mal followed his gaze to see Sinker nodding. She snapped her head to her fellow medic, looking for support, but next to her, Crux shrugged in agreement.

“What is this?” She threw her arms up in the air. “Is everyone trying to get rid of me?”

“No one’s trying to get rid of you, ad’ika.” Boost quickly tried to assure her.

“Yeah, that’s impossible. We already tried.” Sinker snickered.

“That’s what Wolffe said, too,” Mal grumbled, shooting a glare at Sinker as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Neither of you are funny.”

“Look, be mad all you want.” Boost answered as he dove back into his meal, the shock of the news immediately wearing off in the face of a rapidly cooling dinner. “But Wolffe is right. If you want to be in the middle of the action, if you want answers, and you want ‘em quickly, the 501st is the place to be. And a spot with them isn’t going to open up every week.”

“You never know with their casualty numbers.” 

Sinker chuckled again as Boost shot him the glare this time. Boost shook his head at his brother before he turned his attention back to his meal. He sliced a piece of his protein cube off and found it with his fork before he turned back to Mal, waving his skewered food like a lightsaber.

“It’s your call to make, but the fact that Captain Rex asked for you is a compliment. You’re a damn good medic, and you’ve worked hard to get here. Done a lot for us clones in the 104th along the way. Now it’s time to get what you want. Don’t you think you deserve that?” 

You deserve to be happy.

“Tye would have told you to do it,” Sinker added, his joking tone suddenly gone.

Mal didn’t respond to that. She didn’t even look at Sinker. Instead, she turned to Crux, trying to ignore how her skin was starting to crawl.

“What do you think?”

The 104th’s medic was quiet, momentarily assessing as he always did.

“It makes sense.” Crux finally spoke. “Will we be short a medic for the time being? Yes, but the 501st has far higher mortality numbers than we do. Strategically, they need you more.”

“Aw shucks, just saw you’ll miss me.” Mal elbowed the stiff medic.

He grinned back.

“Well, that goes without saying.”

The conversation quickly turned to other subjects, but food quickly disappeared, and the meal wound down. As they gathered their trays and empty cups, She and Crux said their goodbyes to the other two before they started to wander back to the medbay.  Mal waited until they were in the empty halls to broach the subject again

She and Crux hadn’t always seen eye to eye. Their first few months together had been particularly rough. He didn’t trust her as a civilian, and she resented him for… well, for not being Tye. But it had been a long time since then. His even temper and logic in the face of blaster fire and carnage were a perfect balance to her emotionally charged reactions. He was the only one besides Wolffe who would know what the right answer was.

“Really, what do you think?” She slid her hands into the pockets of the grey jumpsuit as she prodded the stoic medic again.

“You really want to know?”

“I asked.” She shrugged, her long gently red braid bouncing on her shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I’ve fallen into that trap before, Mal.” Crux chuckled, and Mal knew that one of any number of memories of heated arguments was on his mind. “You don’t usually like being told what to do.”

“I just want your advice,” She said, “as a friend, not as my medic CO.”

“Alright.” Crux sighed before he spoke. “I think that, despite what it feels like right now, this war isn’t going to go on forever. You have to take the opportunities you’re given. Take it from a clone.”

Mal stopped in her tracks. Crux continued a few steps, not realizing he was leaving his companion before he looked to his side and found the space empty. He paused and turned back to where his words had stopped her in her tracks. Shame burned her cheeks. Here she was, oscillating over choices that gave her a power in her future that the clones rarely saw.

“I’m sorry, Crux, I-” 

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Mal.” He shook his head as he quickly cut her off. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just offering a different perspective. I don’t want to see you miss your chance to change your path.”

Mal bit her lip as she nodded, digging her hands further into her pockets. Crux gave her a small smile.

“Go get some rest, Mal. I’ll finish up in the medbay.”

Mal didn’t realize how exhausted she felt until she stripped off the jumpsuit, let her hair loose, and pulled on sweatpants and a sweater. It had sunk into her bones and laid heavy there. Still, neither rest nor clarity found Mal when she crawled into bed. As the lights flickered off on the living quarters of the Star Destroyer, Mal lay in a lonely lower bunk in the small and otherwise empty civilian barracks. The idea of a transfer had taken root in her head, and it was sprouting. She wished she was back on Coruscant, something that she rarely felt. Still, Mal missed the dingy local pool that she and Tye had found on the 576th level the week after she had moved into her off-base apartment. She wanted to swim. The future was always clearer in the water.

Instead, Mal stared up at the dim metal of the top bunk. The thought of leaving the 104th still made her pulse quicken and her breath rise. Leaving this battalion would be more than a transfer. It would be losing her family again. She owed her life to Sinker, Boost, and Wolffe. She had been with them when they had to rebuild. The idea of not having their back or them not having hers was devastating. Who would patch them up? Who would make sure that Wolffe ate something or that Comet slept?

Mal turned on her side, eyes looking out into the impenetrable dark. It was overwhelming. She was usually grateful that she didn’t have to share the bunk with anyone. She didn’t have to worry about upsetting them when the nightmares came, and she had always appreciated solitude. Tonight, Mal would have liked someone to talk to, though. She thought about comm-ing Wolffe or Crux, but a growing part of her realized that the one person she really wanted to talk to was Tye.

Tye. In the span of a lifetime, she’d only known him for a fraction of it, but he had a clarity and purpose that she’d never seen in anyone. She could use that clarity right now. The last time she remembered having it was when she made the decision to join the GAR as a medic so she could help the 104th. She had needed to give something back to all of the Wolfpack, but her debt to Tye weighed heaviest on her, and it was one she couldn’t repay. Not anymore. He was a corpse floating somewhere out in the Abregado system. All she could do was look after his brothers and hope it was enough. Now Wolffe was telling her his brothers needed help. Maybe this was what she needed to do to keep repaying that debt. 

And then there was the promise of answers. Wolffe was right. Mal had pushed that quest aside for a long time, focusing on the day-to-day battle instead of the questions always in the back of her mind. If this was the chance to finally find out what happened to her family, she had to take it. She owed it to herself and them, another debt to the dead. A hand wandered up to her temple and traced a familiar path into her hairline until it found the raised skin that lay beneath her auburn roots. Mal ran her fingertips over the small incision, long since healed and hidden. It had been hidden long enough. It was time for answers.

Sleep crept up on Mal like a nexu, springing out at her from the darkness and wrestling her mind into the abyss. She didn’t have any nightmares that night.

Mal woke up the next morning feeling rested in a way she couldn't remember being since before the war when rainy nights on Takodana would turn into bright mornings where the sun-kissed dew would fall from the overgrown canopy. Those mornings when she would take her boat to the lake and patrol the waterways were the last time she remembered having this kind of purpose. Despite the uncertainty ahead, it was fortifying.

Mal took a quick sonic shower in her private fresher before she braided her hair and pulled on her gray jumpsuit. She glanced in the long mirror as she ran her fingers over the 104th's emblem on her chest. She traced the aurebesh numbers and the small wolf emblem. With deft fingers, Mal took the pin from the fabric and pocketed it.

She stepped out of the fresher, and immediately went to see Wolffe. The hallways were filled with familiar faces and greetings, and she savored every one of them. Wildfire met her with her morning caf. They took it the same - one sugar, one cream - and after continuously switching cups in briefings, he finally just started to bring Mal her own, with an M on the lid. She surprised him with a hug as she took it and promised she would meet him at breakfast in a little bit.  There was something she had to do.

The caf tasted even sweeter today, and Mal smiled as she sipped on on the warm drink. She clasped her hands around the cup as she found herself stopping before Wolffe's office again. The blast door loomed before her for a moment. She knew that there were things on the other side that she might not like. There were no answers that would save her from her sins. One hand left its grip on the cup so she could run her fingers over the cool durasteel, tracing the fine lines until she found the control panel. Mal typed in the code she knew by heart, and the door slid open.  An affectionate smile crossed her lips when she spotted Wolffe. He was sitting behind his desk as he always did, behind a mound of flimsi and nose buried in a datapad. She realized she would miss his messy desk.

“I’ll do it,” Mal quickly spoke, not giving herself even a second to change her mind.

Wolffe kept typing.

“Our leave next week overlaps with the 501st. We’ll make the transition then.”

“You already talked to Rex.” She huffed. It wasn’t a question. 

He finally looked up from the datapad with a sly grin.

“I knew you’d say yes.”

Mal shook her head at the Commander as she rolled her eyes and sighed at his arrogance. The annoyance didn’t reach her eyes, though. With nothing else to discuss, Mal turned to go. Before she could make it to the door, Wolffe spoke again.

“You made the hard choice, Mal,” Wolffe called. “He’d be proud.”

Mal stopped in her tracks. She could ignore Sinker when he brought up Tye, but she couldn’t ignore Wolffe. Mal turned to him with an attempt at a smile, even though she knew it likely looked like a grimace.

“I know.”

“They all would be. Your father, Cadex, and Tynan too.”

Mal’s eyes widened as the names left her friend’s mouth. Wolffe never mentioned her family directly. Even though he knew more about her than anyone else alive, he’d always respected her privacy. Bile began to rise in Mal’s throat. Could she still make them proud? She tried to nod to Wolffe. She stiffly lowered her chin just a little before she spun on her heel and double-timed her way back to her barrack. All along the way, a voice chased her.

You deserve to be happy.

It wasn't until she reached the mess hall that her ears stopped ringing, the noise of the hungry clones a reprieve from the thunderous voices in her head. Wildfire waved her over to a table, and Mal pushed aside Wolffe's final words. No one knew what she deserved, but she was ready to find out.

When Mal finally stepped onto the hangar of the 501st battalion, the morning’s distress had evaporated along with any remnants of a hangover. She had closed the book on her mistake. The clone, Fives, was a mirage now. He was nothing more than a memory at this point, a reaffirmation of her rules, and eventually, once the shame wore off, an embarrassing story for her to tell Sinker and Boost the next time she saw them. Mal had real things to worry about now.

Though the hangover may have been gone, the headache seemed to come right back as she stepped into the sea of blue and white troopers. Her new blue jumpsuit, swapped for her old grey one, matched the armor of the men who marched by her, but there were no signs of recognition. They swarmed around her, looking at their datapads, at each other, looking anywhere but at the nat-born who had just entered their realm. There were no greetings or hugs. There was no Boost to slap her on the back, no Sinker launching an airborne assault of loving insults in salute, no Wildfire with her morning caf. She shifted, all alone amid the Grand Army of the Republic. For the first time in a long time, the machine of the GAR ground on around Mal.

“Mal!” A friendly voice called out from behind her.

She spun immediately, thirsting for anything familiar. A vague feeling of disappointment settled in her gut as she realized the voice was attached to a pair of rapidly approaching jaig eyes.

Stop it. She chastised herself. You agreed to this. Time to make the most of it.

So Mal tucked away the ache and waved at the approaching man. He pulled his helmet from his head, revealing a sideways smile. Captain Rex held his hand out to her before he chirped over the din of the GAR’s machinations.

“Welcome to the 501st.”

Taglist: @twistedstitcher27 @sleepingsun501 @kaminocasey @baba-fett @wild-karrde @rexxdjarin @hugtherocks @lunaastars @clonecyaree @thefact0rygirl @wizardofrozz @jesjestraverse @fordo-kixed-rex @padmeromanoffs​ @xopancakeox @shellshooked​ @writingbylee​ @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamonds

[veny-many]

If you want to understand drawings under, please read this previous post:

And if you don't mind other my alive!Plo AU too. (They have order 66 au tag)

Commander! Comet

He was promoted when Wolffe gone to MIA, due to his works he had in position of the right hand for Commander.

He didn't have Wolfpack symbol in his armor before, but when he became new officer for battalion, he marked wolf in his shoulder. To mark his his new place and responsibility in his mind.

Actually, Comet was one of the 104th that didn't want to paint wolf in his armor because of preventing from losing his individual(for his mad love for the stars and comets). But he had more important things in his new life than his own thought.

Comet think Wolffe betrayed them. So he tries to be angry to him. But when he got so much stress, all he could think was the protective and warm affection from his former Commander and big brother.

Other original Wolfpack members worries about him. They call him puppy or little brother despite the fact he is now their superior. They don't care, for their precious brother's sake.

When Wolffe knew about Wolfpack is now chasing them, the first thing he said was "That's my boi" And other people just got confused.

"They are dangerous hunters, Wolffe." "Of course they are. I taught them better than anyone."

When Comet finally dechipped, Comet glued to Wolffe's body and cries a lot. He knows is was embarrassing, but he couldn't help it. Thankfully his big brother said nothing and just hugged him back till he got tired from crying and fell in sleep.

Rebellion! Wildfire

Yes, rebels Wildfire is Canon.

When he first saw Wolffe he thought he was dangerous with his chips.

And Wolffe though him dangerous too.

Chaos ensures.

Until Plo back to place with meal and says "WTK is happening here boys"

And Wildfire and Wolffe finally believe they are safe and enjoy the meal together.

Warthog

I hope you like this @dukeoftheblackstar

Warthog first thought Jedis are traitor like other clones.

But by the time passed, and the world under Empire got more cruel everyday, Warthog started to doubt about the betrayal.

He thinks about the Tracer, his dear friend, who died under command of Jedi.

But Warthog was saved his life for multiple times by General Plo Koon. It was truth. When he shouted for help, his General always helped.

He thinks, if he feels bad for kind hearted Jedi's death, would it be betrayal to his marched away friend?

And the answer was, no. When he got dechipped, he finally able to think about the truth freely with his mind.

That karking Sith Lord made this stupid war and forced his friend and brothers and Jedis to death trap.

Warthog runs to rebels gunship for revenge.

Sinker and Boost stops him and finally managed to calm him down with promises of vengeance for Empire.

And Wolffe witnesses his brothers chaotic actions again, after the very long time.

[plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows]

random headcanons for the wolfpack picking up the kel dor language to varying degrees, which i was going to write in fic form but i have so many fics, so little time:

WOLFFE

picked up a learning module the moment he realised he was going to be assigned to a kel dor General. Was not told or taught to do so, but did it anyway because he likes learning languages and also what if his general ever said something he couldn't understand?? That would be a shame, Wolffe thought.

is basically fluent now, because Plo found out about it a couple months in and was delighted to have a conversational partner. Wolffe learned quickly, which he credits to Plo being an excellent teacher, to which Plo is like, easy to be a good teacher with such an excellent student! <3333

SINKER

mostly knows a surprising number of swearwords. Is somewhat retroactively disappointed that Basic does not have the judgy mood particle or the shit noun class system, by which literally any sentence can be turned into a vicious insult.

when off-duty, makes fun of Wolffe for being such a nerd abt languages. Wolffe threatens not to teach him any more swearwords, which is effective bc only Wolffe is brave enough to ask their general for swearing tips lmao

BOOST

has conversational fluency but could not wrap his head around the noun class system for the life of him, and still mixes up a bunch of the more specific particles. Likes judgy mood a lot, and frequently uses it on Sinker.

from time to time will attempt to practice on Plo, who is always very gracious and helpful with his mistakes.

COMET

like most of his fellow 104th, started with swearwords and insults. Lost most of the rest when he was transferred away from the 104th; was the source of a handful of other battalions starting to swear in keldeorinyaa when the natborns might be lurking.

[loverboy-havocboy]

something about GWBSK order 66 fic pls? 👀

*cracks knuckles* OKAY SO-

wolffe & gregor are together romantic (& sexual 🤭) style from the time they're cadets on kamino. they're each other's people, basically. soulmates, if you will.

they're obviously separated once the war starts - they stay together, though. wolffe has his wolfpack (boost, comet, sinker) to warm his bed & gregor has.. idk, someone, probably. but their hearts belong to each other. UNTIL.

order 66 happens.

wolffe & the pack escape it somehow, but gregor follows the order and remains in the gar as it transitions to the empire. wolffe is devastated but eventually moves on, letting things with the pack become romantic.

THEN, gregor defects.

he finds them (they're probably running with rex's rebellion), and.. growing pains ensue. gregor has chip guilt, wolffe has moving on guilt, the pack probably have taking gregor's cyare guilt - there's plenty of guilt to go around, basically.

but in the end, they all fall for each other and become a big happy (traumatized) polycule.

[lamaenthel]

Tivaevae | Chapter Fifteen: Epilogue

Still struggling to emotionally recover from Master Obi-Wan's deception, Ahsoka discovers in the aftermath that twelve-year-old Boba Fett has been locked up among adults in the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center. After convincing Chancellor Palpatine to grant him a pardon, she manages to secure his release on the condition that she serve as his legal guardian. Now, with the help of Master Plo and the Wolfpack, she vows to help him track down what family he has left.

| AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 |

Fandom: Star Wars Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Boba Fett, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Kanan Jarrus, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CC-1119 | Appo, Dexter Jettster, FLO | WA-7 (Star Wars), Shaak Ti, ARC Commander Blitz (Star Wars), CT-6922 | Dogma, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), CC-3636 | Wolffe, Clone Trooper Sinker (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Comet (Star Wars), CC-2224 | Cody, CT-5597 | Jesse, CT-4860 | Boost, Aurra Sing, Tobias Beckett, Null-11 | Ordo Skirata, Kal Skirata, Original Mandalorian Characters (Star Wars), Original Droid Characters (Star Wars), Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars) Total Word Count: 123,000 Chapter Word Count: 2,938 Chapter Summary: Ahsoka finally meets Taarak.

The crèche still smelled the same as it had as far back as Ahsoka could remember; chalky aquarelle paint and sweet craft paste, sharp calligraphy ink and sun-warmed tatami mats, all overlaid with the minty dalas wood incense that Crèchemaster Vereixem always claimed was calming to a child's disposition. He'd lit a stick ten minutes ago, probably sensing her irritation.

Kento—the ancient dras lizard that Ahsoka had once liberated from the Halls of Learning and hid under her bed for a week—lay sleeping on a java wood branch in his transparasteel enclosure in the quiet corner. The bone masks that her Kaleesh Crèchemaster wore were displayed high on the bamboo wall, out of reach of his curious wards and magnetized to avoid being pulled down with the Force. Each youngling he helped raise decorated a mask for him. They were made from mumuu bones that he harvested himself then carved to resemble the faces of various animals across the galaxy.

Hers hung three spots over from the floor-to-ceiling window that looked east; she still remembered painting the mask with careful fingers, sure that she would make the best mask ever for the nicest Crèchemaster in the galaxy. She had chosen the one that resembled a borgle bat and covered it with green, pink, and purple splotches–attempting a sort of patchwork look that she had really thought that she'd nailed at the time—and glued an obnoxious spray of white feathers in the center.

At the time she'd thought it a masterpiece, but now that she looked at it with fresh eyes the best she could say was that it wasn't quite as ugly as some of the others. The patchwork effect she had been going for made the skull look diseased and the feather crest was doing the same thing Anakin's hair did when he fell asleep flat on his face. Not that Vereixem cared, of course; as far as he was concerned, every single mask that one of his younglings made was perfect, no matter how ugly it was.

Taarak made a happy chirp that was muffled by Anakin's thumb. She glanced up from her coloring page just long enough to see that the little usurper was still dreamily munching away on her Master's ruined glove instead of coloring, distracted by the taste and feel of leather in his mouth and the toys levitating in front of him.

She knew she was being irrational. There was nothing to be mad or jealous or territorial over. Taarak was a kriffing toddler, he wasn't about to steal her Master out from under her. His constant scent marking was done from instinct, not as a challenge to her.

"Ndi mtundu wanji?" Anakin asked Taarak, bouncing him on his knee. His aura was a radiant cloud of coppery-blue pride-affection that made Ahsoka fight down the possessive urge to lean across the craft table and scent mark him into oblivion. "Pano, look. Ndi mtundu wanji, do you know?"

Taarak cooed and reached for the yellow block Anakin was pointing to. "Dzuwa," he sang softly.

"Inde, inde, very good." Vereixem had put out a bowl of raw bantha meat cut into cubes for them to share. Anakin popped one into his mouth, chewed it, then fed it to the toddler as a reward. "In Basic it's yellow, can you say yellow? Nena yellow?"

"El-low," Taarak said, blinking up at him.

"Yellow, inde, good boy." Anakin fed him another cube of chewed bantha meat, practically glowing with blue pride.

"Are you treat training him?" Ahsoka asked, trying not to scowl.

Anakin smirked and shrugged. "Worked for you, didn't it?" he asked, his aura going deep, brassy gold with affection-humor. He popped another cube in his mouth.

"You didn't—" Ahsoka began heatedly. A familiar tutting noise cut her off.

"Big feelings, my little kit, what do we do with our big feelings?" Crèchemaster Vereixem cooed at her over her shoulder. The mask he wore today was a ronto, decorated with rainbow-colored Sriluurian butterflies. Hundreds of small yarn chains the color of ruddy turu grass clicking with glass beads hung down his back.

"I don't have big feelings, Master," she grumbled.

"Really?" Vereixem chuckled. "How odd. My Empathy may not be visual like yours, but I could have sworn I sensed some very big feelings coming from this table."

"Perhaps they were Taarak's," she replied, coloring in her bantha forcefully.

Vereixem squeezed her shoulders. "Shall we sing the big feelings song together?" he asked.

"Master, I don't think that's necessary," she said faintly, cringing. She felt her stripes heat to black.

"I do," Anakin said in a serious voice, his aura gone molten gold with hilarity. "In fact, I'd like to learn it so that I can help you with your big feelings out in the field, Padawan."

"Oh, what a good idea!" Vereixem beamed at Ahsoka. "Ready, dear? We'll sing it together."

Ahsoka glared at her Master, who smiled back like a tooka with a mithoo in its mouth. "Go on," Anakin encouraged her.

Ahsoka took a deep breath. "I have big feelings, very big feelings. They make me yell and, they make me cry. But I'm bigger than, all my big feelings, so to the Force, all my big feelings fly."

Anakin helped Taarak clap his little red-orange hands with a face-splitting grin.

"Force, Force–" Vereixem paused with his hands above his head. "Come now, Ahsoka, don't forget the next part."

Ahsoka sighed and raised her hands. "Force, Force, like the rain, wash my big feelings away." They trailed their fingers down in tandem. "Force, Force, like the breeze, blow away my big feelings." They made their hands swim through the air. "Force, Force, like the sky, help make my big feelings fly." They painted a rainbow above their heads in an arc.

Vereixem clapped cheerily. "Well done, Ahsoka. See, don't you feel better?"

"Yes, Master," she said tonelessly, wishing she was dead.

"Can you do that again?" Anakin asked innocently, opening up the holocam on his wrist-mounted commlink.

Ahsoka growled at him. Taarak's eyes went wide, round, and nearly black, and his yellow aura brightened with milky fear and teal protection. He bared his little baby fangs at her and let out a returning high-pitched growl. Across the room, Kento's rainbow-colored frill popped up around his neck and he made a high shriek that Ahsoka had never heard before. He threw himself at the transparasteel wall of his enclosure and slid down, leaving a wet trail of venomous drool behind.

"Ayi, Taarak, ayi," Vereixem said sternly, striding over to the enclosure with his hand out. His pink aura reached out to Kento with minty serenity and calmed the creature, who sulkily crawled into his hide. "We do not use animals to hurt people. Knight Skywalker, translate for me please."

"Calm down, you two, there's plenty of me to go around," Anakin said, his aura gone a very smug shade of red. "Palibe nyama, Taarak."

"Inde," Taarak sang sweetly, pulling Anakin's head down so he could rub his lek all over his cheek again. He made steady eye contact with Ahsoka as he did, his aura glowing bright metallic green with victory-possession.

Ahsoka closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and centered herself. She was sixteen. Taarak was two. She was not going to snap at a baby. She focused on empathizing with the toddler instead of dreaming about biting him. Coming to the Temple was scary. He was possessive of Anakin because he was lonely and he was the one who had brought him to the Temple. It made her Master feel more familiar to him than he really was, so he was clinging to him like… like a little tick.

She opened her eyes and met Anakin's. He was biting down the urge to laugh and his aura was still bright gold, but he pulled a chewed cube out of his mouth and offered it to her. She accepted it, slightly mollified; she remembered what he'd said about treat training her a second too late.

His wide smirk said that he remembered too. "Good girl," he said with a pat on her head.

Taarak stuck his lip out and turned red with offense-disappointment at seeing her be fed one of his bantha cubes. He sniffed and looked away from them both.

"Why don't the three of you go for a walk?" Vereixem suggested. "Wear out Taarak for me so he's good and ready for a nap when you return."

Anakin seated him on his hip and Ahsoka accepted a farewell kiss on her cheek from Vereixem. "If you run into Parna, please tell her that I need Grogu's updated nutrition plan by tomorrow."

"Grogu?" Ahsoka asked, trying and failing to place the name.

"Have you not met him? He's a youngling assigned to Master Beq. For this decade, at least." Vereixem chuckled. "I believe they're in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, if you're headed that way."

"We're going to the meadow meditation room, but we'll keep an eye out for Parna." Anakin tickled Taarak's deeply clefted chin.

"And don't be afraid to come back and visit me once in a while, my little kit." Vereixem gently stroked her cheek with his dry, reptilian fingers that smelled like red clay. "You are all so precious to me, and this war has taken too many of you." His aura thickened with violet grief.

Ahsoka's heart sank. She took his fingers and kissed them. "I will, Master," she promised guiltily.

"So what did he mean by Grogu was assigned Master Beq for this decade?" Anakin asked once they were back out in the hall.

"He must have a long infancy," Ahsoka said with a shrug. "Some species need longer individual care before they can join a clan." She plucked a cube of meat from the bowl Anakin carried, chewed it, then held it out to Taarak along with a tendril of amber amenability.

Taarak darted narrowed eyes between her face and the offering. Ahsoka watched the little wheels turn in his head as he weighed his options, his aura switching back and forth between yellow suspicion and green trust, before he cautiously took it from her fingers. He held the meat in his mouth, swallowed it with a loud gulp, blinked a few times, then chirped and held his arms out to Ahsoka.

"I knew he'd warm up to you," Anakin said warmly as he handed him over, his aura awash with solid blue happiness.

Taarak nuzzled up against her neck, then pulled the tip of her lek into his mouth and started to suckle. One hand snuck around the back of her neck and started absently stroking along the seam between her rear lek and the base of her skull, sending a warm tingle down her spine. "We should learn to get along now. I have a feeling we'll have a Master in common one day." Ahsoka tried not to let her knees buckle from the endorphin rush.

Fierfek, and to think that she'd been labeled as a master manipulator as a kit. Taarak put her to shame.

"Are you trying to choose my next Padawan for me?" Anakin asked teasingly.

"Pretty sure he chose you, Master," Ahsoka said, then grinned. "But maybe I'll do what you did to Master Kenobi and steal him out from under you once he's old enough to be a Padawan."

"Hey, I didn't steal you, that was all Master Yoda!" Anakin protested, his aura still glowing gentle gold with humor.

Ahsoka purred and rubbed at the crook of Taarak's lekku buds. He purred back and her heart melted a little. "Kriff," she mumbled under her breath.

"So you never actually told me what the big deal was with his clan name," Anakin said, trying not to laugh at them.

Ahsoka caught Taarak's other hand before it weaseled down the front of her robes. If he thought she was going to nurse him just because she had the equipment for it, he was sorely mistaken. "Na'Hane is what we call people who were exiled after…" she tapped on her teeth and raised her brow markings meaningfully.

"They have their own clan?" Anakin asked, surprised.

Ahsoka shrugged. "Some of them end up sticking together for survival's sake. They can't chew, right? But a baby born to the Na'Hane would never be forced to bear that name after they were taken. I can't imagine why his adoptive parents would have kept it."

"Well, they were Toydarian. They must not have known." Anakin looked away and his aura briefly flickered with a purple line of guilt. "They probably thought they were honoring his heritage."

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "It would have taken them five minutes on the holonet to find out what it meant, but you're probably right. Is it too late to change it in his records?"

Anakin held the turbo-lift door open for her. "I'll find out. So when you say taken…" He trailed off and looked at her sideways.

Ahsoka shifted Taarak's weight. "A Na'Hane can't be trusted with a child," she said firmly.

"So you just… take them?" Anakin asked, frowning.

"It's not like we go out hunting for them," Ahsoka said. "Usually, they're left on the edge of the village in the middle of the night by the Na'Hane."

"But if you ran into one out… doing whatever your people do, you'd just take them home?"

"A Na'Hane is a Togruta exiled from their clan for doing something horrible, Master," Ahsoka snapped, trying not to get annoyed with him. She pulled Taarak's hand out of her robes again. "It's to protect the child, we don't–"

"Easy, little one, easy." Anakin patted her between her montrals and fed her a bantha cube. "Don't get defensive, I was just curious."

Ahsoka swallowed her treat and tried not to sulk. Taarak's purr sped up and he suckled harder, running a fat little hand up and down her lek comfortingly as he did. She hugged him closer. "Anyway," she said, "I'm not saying that it would be a big deal here at the Temple, but if Taarak ever goes back to Shili it'll be pretty awkward. Imagine having to introduce yourself as Starkiller for the rest of your life because of something your mother did before you were even born."

Anakin's eyes widened and his aura went pale yellow with surprise-amusement. "Wait, Starkiller? His name means Starkiller?"

She didn't like how pleased he looked. "Na'Hane means killer," she said sourly. "Taarak—well, Tara—means star."

Anakin threw his head back and laughed. "Snips, there's no way I'm changing that. That is way too cool of a name to change."

Ahsoka scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Master…"

"Aww, who's my little Starkiller?" Anakin cooed, tickling Taarak's stumpy little rear lek. It twitched happily at the stimulation. "You are, yes, you're my little Starkiller…"

"Master, don't call him that!" Ahsoka said, exasperated. Taarak giggled around her lek.

"I'm absolutely calling him that and you can't stop me." Anakin pulled Taarak off of her lek with a loud pop! and blew a snozzberry into his neck. "Alright, Starkiller–"

Ahsoka groaned. "Master!"

" –Go get tired." Anakin set him down on the grass of the meditation room and released him. The kit squealed and took off for the koi pond, diving into a forward slide on his belly until he was peeking over the edge. His little red feet kicked in the air and he cooed at the fish in broken, babyish Toydarian.

Anakin put an arm around her shoulders. "So, did you and Obi-Wan make up? If I have to listen to him whine about his hurt feelings one more time I'll puke."

Ahsoka felt something go quiet in her chest. "Yeah. We're fine."

Anakin glanced down at her, his aura darkening with dark green unease. "Why do I sense that's not exactly the truth?"

She shrugged. "It's never going to be the same. It can't be. But I've forgiven him and I'm moving on."

Anakin sighed. "Ahsoka–"

"We can't stop change, Master," she reminded him. "I had to let him go. It's the Jedi way."

She rested her head against him and subtly rubbed her lek on his cheek while Taarak was distracted. "We'll have to let each other go one day too, Master," she said softly.

Anakin's aura brightened to staticky white with anxiety. "Yeah," he muttered. "One day." His hand twitched on her shoulder.

Ahsoka watched Taarak's aura lighten to burning orange with anticipation-excitement and his stubby little rear lek wag back and forth. She elbowed Anakin. "Just so you know, you've got about five seconds before Starkiller goes fishing."

"Before he–" Anakin's eyes went wide and he bolted for the toddler. "Ayi, Taarak, ayi! Osasambira!" He missed Taarak's ankle by inches, tumbling ass over elbows into the koi pond after him. He surfaced with a gasp a few seconds later, holding a giggling Taarak above his head while struggling to not let his long brown robe drag him back down. He looked like a sad, wet cat with his hair plastered to his forehead, but Taarak was delighted.

Ahsoka burst into hysterical laughter, falling to one knee and wheezing like she'd gotten the wind knocked out of her. Anakin's aura turned a menacing shade of orange with mischief. "Keep laughing, Snips!"

Ahsoka's laughs morphed into screams as Anakin lifted her up into the air with the Force and dropped her into the pond with them.

Notes:

TOYDARIAN TRANSLATIONS Ndi mtundu wanji?: What color is it? Pano: Here Dzuwa: Yellow Inde: Yes Ayi: No Osasambira: No swimming

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @soliloquy-of-nemo Dividers: @saradika-graphics

[touchstarvedasclones]

104th Updated GAR Gala Uniform

The Wolfpack! They are gray, so I decided to make their drapes a little more exciting. It can be interpreted as using their previous color OR including their general.

From left to right is Standard, Special Ops, and Commander variants.

I feel like the Wolfpack (Sinker, Boost, Comet, Warthog) would all have the special ops one, or at least some insignia to separate them from the others. Like the wolf stamped on their shoulder drape?

Wolffe gets the fancy gold.

Yes, the silver and gold embellishments are actual metallic fabric. I don't know how to draw it, but it's *shiny*.

Nothing but the best for the Wolfpack, since Wolffe is their commander. (Iykyk)