#tcw wolfpack

[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.

[arctrooper69]

hiii! i just found your hurt/comfort dialog prompt list you had tagged and i'm such a sucker for that kind of stuff. could you please do prompt 34. "you're covered in blood, need to tell me something?" with wolffe? maybe even a little bit of prompts 20 and 35 from the the hurt/comfort sprinkled in there too? i absolutely adore your work and your such a fantastic writer, i look forward to everytime you post, and you do such a beautiful job on your writing that i can't wait to read this once it is done (if you decided to do it) . feel free to change it how you want, and thank you for taking time out of busy day to read this. love you <333

Hey! I'm so glad you've been enjoying my work! Sorry it took me awhile to get this out to you. I had so many ideas for it but I couldn't decide what I wanted to do. Hope you enjoy it! 😁

Prompt# 20: "How long did you think that you could hide that?"

Prompt# 34: "You're covered in blood, need to tell me anything?"

Prompt# 35: "It's just a headache, I'm fine."

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Love is a Battlefield

The new General doesn't want to ask for help. Commander Wolffe does so anyway.

Warnings: Blood. Angst. Battlefield scenes. Hurt/Comfort.

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"Okay, today officially sucks." You grumbled under your breath, cursing whatever cosmic Force led you to be in your current state. Groaning you dragged yourself back over the ledge and collapsed in the mud. Everything hurt. Your clothes were stiff with dried and drying blood and at this point, you weren't sure if it belonged to you or to those damn splox who's nest you'd fallen into. Probably both.

Ok, now to find the rest of the company. You were sure that you hadn't strayed too far from the battlefield when you'd been drug off by battle droids and thrown from a cliff in the resulting fight. But hey, at least you took them down with you. You thought, cracking a smile. Master Plo would've been proud. On the other hand, you frowned, you had gotten separated from everyone else - so maybe not so much.

You drew a sharp breath between your teeth. A burning, grating feeling radiated from your side as you stepped over a rock and nearly fell to the ground. You paused for a moment to let your tunneling vision focus again, fighting back the urge to throw up. Maybe some of the blood was actually yours. The trek back to camp was going to take much longer than you expected.

Good. Maybe that would give you time to mull over the conversation you'd had yesterday morning with the commander of you battalion.

You were sure it was the reason that Commander Wolffe was ignoring you earlier today.

***

You'd chosen to continue on with the battalion after Master Plo had received an urgent message from the Council, recalling him from the field. Wolffe disagreed.

"You're injured!" He snapped, more forcefully than intended.

You sighed rolling your eyes. "It's just a headache. I'm fine. You know I've had worse, Commander." It was more than a headache, probably a concussion due to the nausea and dizziness that currently plagued you. But he didn't need to know that.

Wolffe pinched the bridge of his nose.

"General, I saw that spider droid fling you halfway across the battlefield. Can you at least go to medical to get checked out? I need you-" He froze, then coughed quickly, trying to pass off his slip-up as though he'd been interrupted mid sentence. "We. We need you. Your men need you at your best, general."

He coughed again and quickly left the room, leaving you frozen in place.

***

Did he really say that? You replayed his words in your head over and over again.

"I need you."

You couldn't deny that it had shaken you. You couldn't deny that it had hit you in such a way that made your whole body tingle and flood with warmth. As much as you tried to suppress it and convince yourself it was nothing, you had found yourself staring at the Commander a lot recently. The way he confidently carried himself, the subtle spark in his eye, the way he cared for his men even though he hid it behind that abrasive and sarcastic front - it was all so perfect. So attractive. So him.

No, he couldn't have meant it like that. You were his superior and even more importantly, you were a Jedi. No attachment allowed. He definitely couldn't have meant it like that. It was simply a slip of the tongue. He felt nothing for you and you felt nothing for him. You told yourself that your infatuation wasn't real. Commander Wolffe was a good solider and your fondness for him was simply a professional sense of pride. That's all.

Distant voices interrupted your brooding. Several clone troopers were searching high and low, calling out for someone but you didn't quite catch the name.

"Who are we looking for?" You walked up to the trooper closest to you. His shiny white armor was streaked with mud and ash - one of the new guys. Splash, they'd christened him on account of the puddle of mud he'd landed in immediately after jumping from the gunship into the field. It was hard to believe you'd only been here for three days. It felt like three years.

"We're looking for the General!" He explained hurriedly, hardly giving you a side glance.

Your heart dropped. Surely not Master Plo. Had he not left for Coruscant after all? Your hero and former master had seemed invincible ever since he'd chosen you to be his Padawan.

"General Plo Koon?" You asked hesitantly.

Splashed grunted as he stepped over a log. "No, the other one."

A wave of relief washed over you. You could've laughed out loud if your head wasn't so cloudy. Your side screamed with every step. You took a shallow breath, trying to ground yourself.

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me.

Supplementing with the force wouldnt last long and it was draining, but it was better than the agony you'd been in. You took a deep breath, allowing the pain to become a whisper and looked back up at the clone.

"Well you found her!" You joked.

"What?" He stood up looking confused. Then he looked over at you.

Splash straightened up upon realizing that he had indeed found the General. He was glad he was wearing his bucket because he could feel his face turning red with embarrassment. He scrambled stiffly to attention. "Uhm, sorry Sir. I mean Ma'am. Uh, General." He stuttered, trying to compose himself. You chuckled, wincing as the movement pulled at your wounded side. Splash looked alarmed as if he'd just realized that his General was covered in blood. "Are you injured, Ma'am?"

You grit your teeth to hide the pain. "No, I'm fine, thank you. I believe it all belongs to the splox that I killed. Fell into a nest of em."

He looked at you, unsure if you were being serious or not, trying to recall if the regulation manuals told him what to do in a situation like this.

"We should probably make our way to medical, all the same." He concluded. "Just to be safe. Get you checked out and all." He offered his arm.

You shook your head. "No that's alright. They're much too busy right now, seeing as the battle has just ended."

"Well I'm sure..."

You put a hand up to stop him. "It's fine, Splash. I can take care of myself. Let's worry about making our way back to camp."

"Of course, General."

***

You made your way back to camp and bid Splash a farewell. Exhausted, you yawned and slowly made your way back to your tent, passing the Commander's tent on your way there.

"General!" Commander Wolffe sprang to his feet the moment he saw you. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

His eyebrows knit tightly together with a frown. If you didn't know better, you almost thought he looked concerned. Worried even. But that would be stupid. You were reading too much into it. He was simply a solider looking out for the welfare of his commanding officer. That's it. Nothing more.

"I'm good!" You grinned, hoping he didn't notice the way your teeth ground against the pain in your head and now your side.

Wolffe's face became unreadable.

"Just good!?" He growled. "General, you are covered in blood. 'Good' does not even begin to cover it. Do you need to tell me something?"

Yes. I think I'm in love with you.

"No not really." You nonchantly shrugged. "It's not mine. Fell into a nest of those giant splox beetles and had to take em out before they ate me. You know how it is."

Wolffe rolled his eyes. He didn't believe you, but what could he do? He wasn't your superior, he couldn't order you to tell him. He made a note to ask Cody and Rex to let him into the clones-with-stubborn-generals club. He could sure use some advice.

"Could you be anymore bull-headed?" he wanted to yell at you as you left the room, interpreting his silence as the end of that conversation.

Wolffe groaned in frustration. Why did he care so much? Why did the thought of you being wounded send waves of terror cascading through his core. You were acting strange, subtly walking as though every step sent agony shooting through your body thinking nobody would notice. He noticed. He wanted to pick you up in his arms and bandage your wounds. He wanted to softly kiss each scar on your skin.

You were a good leader. He understood wanting to be tough, wanting to be strong for the soldiers under your command. If he was honest with himself, he did the same.

You trudged wearily back to your tent, ignoring the pain that was slowly returning to full force with a vengeance as though it was angry at being willed into submission.

You made it a point to avoid medical. The dwindling amount of medical supplies worried you. It was only a matter of time before they would run out if they weren't sent relief. The chief medical officer had drastically downplayed the dire straits the company was in when you asked him. You'd seen the inventory. It was scarce. It wouldn't be right, going to medical right now. Not when you could most likely patch yourself up with the small medkit by your bunk. The clones made up the backbone of the GAR, it was only right that they take priority over you.

***

It was a miracle of the Force that you hadn't passed out by the time you reached the tent. Biting your lip to keep you from making too much noise, you peeled off your shirt to assess the damage, grabbing a towel from the shelf.

You bit back a pained moan and your vision swam as you gripped the edge of your cot to steady yourself. A large gash curled around the side of your chest from the bottom of your breast to your hip. The torn skin bled heavily, quickly turning the towel a crimson red.

This was...not good.

The com chirped, making you jump. You felt dazed and exhausted. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before answering the com. Sergeant Sinker's brisk voice echoed from the device.

"General, the clankers are moving in from the North. They've engaged the front and the 501st is calling for aid. What are your orders?"

Your men needed you. Who were you to ignore them? What kind of leader would you be if you sent them off while you stayed behind. "A good leader leads by example" Master Plo always said. You were tired of the animalistic way the clones were treated - as if they were only droids or worse. You would be there for your men, fighting right up front beside them. Right beside Commander Wolffe.

You lit up the com. "Proceed with the request, Sergeant. I'll be there shortly."

You looked at the medkit. Well, so much for that. You quickly taped up the wound and slapped some bacta treated gauze on it. Then you quickly changed your clothes, willing yourself to ignore the nauseating pain. You steadied yourself with a hand on the wall before wiping the cold sweat from your clammy skin. You tried to breathe, once more closing your eyes in meditation once again squashing down the pain. The show must go on. The General must lead her men into battle.

***

General Skywalker was right to call for aid. The Separatist forces were throwing everything they had at you. You jumped over the guns of a tank, slicing through the controls to disable it. Droid after droid came at you from all sides and you cut them down. If only the Commander could see you now in all your glory.

An explosion knocked you off your feet, wrenching you from your stupor. Pain surged through your body as you pushed yourself to your feet. The continuous onslaught of enemy forces wasn't so fun now. You began to realize just how tired you were. Trying to catch your breath felt as futile as swimming in honey. Your mind felt sluggish and your arms felt like lead. A B2 took aim and fired. You saw him fire and raised your saber to block but it was a fraction of a second too slow and the blast hit your shoulder. Kriff. You hit the ground hard, letting the awful, searing pain wash over you. You wanted to close your eyes. You wished you could just rest. Just for a moment.

Your eyes flew back open. No. The men need you. Get up. Shakily you forced yourself to your knees and onto your feet. One more time. You knew this was abusing the force but it was for an honorable reason. Right?

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me. Pain is temporary. Accept it simply as a signal sent by the body. Accept the pain. Respect it. Don't fight it. Ask your body to begin to heal.

You let out a feral scream, pouring every last ounce of energy and willpower into your prayers, knocking back an entire wave of droids. And then you felt nothing.

***

My head. The first thing you noticed upon regaining consciousness was the skull splitting headache that you could almost feel radiating down your entire body. It felt as though someone was spearing red hot needles through your eyeballs, twisting them through the many sections of your brain. The pain made you nauseous.

An agonized wheeze drifted from your lips as you tried to raise your hands to cup your face. When did my arms get so heavy? Pain shot through your side and shoulder as you tried to move. Panic gripped you when you couldn't.

"Ah kriff," a gruff voice cursed. "Hey! General. General, it's okay. Calm down. You're safe." You'd know that voice anywhere - it was the only clear thing that cut through the haze of pain. Commander Wolffe.

He barked a command at someone and after a few minutes the pain had loosened it's claws. It wasn't much but it was better than before.

"What do you need, General? Are you still in pain?"

"Lights," you managed to groan. Even that took too much energy and you desperately hoped that you wouldn't be sick in front of the Commander.

Wolffe immediately jumped from his chair, quickly shutting off the lights. That helped some, but not much. It still felt like your head was being lobotomized by a pickaxe. Your side and shoulder felt like they'd been broken off and trampled by a bantha. A bantha that was on fire maybe.

"You are so kriffing stubborn, you know that!?" Wolffe growled. Seeing you wince, he lowered his volume but continued with the hard and bitter tone.

"How long did you think you could hide that!? Hmm?" He motioned to your side.

"You almost died yesterday." He said, softening his voice ever so slightly.

Wolffe looked tired. His eyes were sunken and even his cybernetic one had a dark shadow beneath it. He looked like he hadn't shaved or showered since the battle. His grey armor was still scuffed up with dirt and grime. A small bacta patch adorned his right eyebrow.

You looked away, shame burning at the corners your eyes, adding to the overwhelming pressure in your head. You failed him and now he hated you. You turned your head away from him wincing at the pain but you couldn't bear to have him see the tears that rolled down your cheeks.

"Look at me." A command. He didn't have the authority to give you a command, but you felt compelled to comply all the same. Hastily wiping your eyes in a futile attempt at seeming alright, you turned towards him. Your breath caught as he wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling it from your face.

"Stop kriffing pretending that you're okay." Still a command, but this one felt softer. His voice still held the rough, bitter edge that defined him so well but as you met his eyes, they held an uncertain gaze of vulnerability.

"Your men need you alive. They care about you, General." He paused, pacing back and forth in the dark room. He came to a stand still by the foot of your bed, refusing to meet your gaze, as though he had something he wanted to say. Finally he took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Oh kriff it." He snapped. "I care about you, damnit!" He shook his head and began to pace again, the anger returning to his visage.

"General Plo said you could've died." He spat. "He said that you had spread yourself so thin, used up so much energy that you could've killed yourself. Do you..." He cut himself off and took another breath, clenching his fists tightly. "Do you know what that would've done to this company. Do you know what that would've done to me!?"

There was fire in his eyes when he looked back up at you. "It would've killed me too."

You lay there in your bed staring at him - shocked at this outburst. What was he saying? That he cared for you? That he loved you? That he thought about you as much as you thought about him?

"I.." you began softly.

"No. I'm not done."

You shut your mouth.

"General, when you came back to camp covered in blood, I had to restrain myself from throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to medical myself. I knew something was wrong but I trusted that you knew what you were doing. It was the same when I saw you collapse yesterday. It took everything in me not to race to your side."

He shook his head, disappointed in himself, and angry with you. "I should be holding the line with my men, not babysitting my General!"

You stared blankly ahead, letting his anger wash over you. So that's how he saw you. That solves one problem, you tried to convince yourself. It was good that he didn't reciprocate your feelings. That made it easier to cleanse yourself of any feeling of attachment. But then why didn't hurt so bad? Why did it feel like a part of your soul had been sawed away? Wasn't letting go of your emotions supposed to bring you peace? This crushing weight of disappointment and heartbreak was anything but peace.

The room was quiet save for the beeps and whirs of the medical equipment around you. The silence felt deafening. Then finally Wolffe let out a sigh.

"I'm....sorry..." The words dragged themselves reluctantly from his mouth.

You didn't respond.

The bed buckled slightly as Wolffe sat down on the edge. He tentatively rested a hand gently on your back, expecting you to recoil or stiffen under his touch. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as you leaned into his touch instead.

He sighed, rolling his neck. "Look," he began awkwardly. "I'm not good at this kind of thing so I'm just going to be honest with you. I..." He stopped. You turned your face towards his. He took a breathe, not daring to make eye contact. "I think I'm in love with you. Kriff. No, I know I'm in love with you."

You gasped, the dam broke and tears began to stream down your face.

Wolffe jumped up, startled and clearly embarrassed. "I...I mean... I... I didn't mean..." The normally confident Commander stumbled over his words in a shameful horror.

"No," you sobbed. You felt so relieved. Everything felt right again. "You didn't do anything wrong." He looked down at you, eybrows knitted upwards in confusion. "Then why..." He motioned to your tearful face.

"Because I love you too and I was afraid that you hated me. I was afraid that everyone would see me as a terrible General. And also my everything hurts and..." you sobbed, "...and I love you so much."

Wolffe looked down at you with amusement and a strange softness took hold of his features - a foreign look for his usually serious demeanor.

"You look nice when you smile," you whispered with a small grin. "But you can go back to frowning if that's more comfortable for you."

Wolffe rolled his eyes as he settled down in a chair beside your bed. "You should get some sleep, General." Back to his serious old self again but he kept that twinkle in his eye. Only for you. he thought.

"I'll be right here when you wake up."

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

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[kaminocasey]

25 Days of Life Day: Day 15 - Part two to Day 4 with Wolffe

A/N: Here is that promised NSFW part two to Day 4 (Decorating with Wolffe). Hope you enjoy. HERE is the lingerie I pictured 👀👀👀

Summary: You give Wolffe the matching set of holiday underwear and he's more than enthusiastic.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT; Smut!! Dominant and Submissive-ish Wolffe

“Wait!” You shout, giggling.

“Nope.” He starts pushing you toward the bed, ready to punish you.

“Please?” You give Wolffe wide doe eyes, knowing he can’t resist them.

He stops at the end of the bed, crossing his arms. “This better be good.” “Oh, trust me it is.” You smirk, getting up off the bed and striding over to your bathroom to put on the holiday lingerie you bought. 

You peel your regular sweatpants and t-shirt off and excitedly change into the skimpy red lace that has a white fluffy lining that you couldn’t turn down. As you finish putting it on, you hold the matching red boxers that you bought for Wolffe behind your back and walk back out to your husband. He’s checking his comm, probably making sure that the rest of the Wolfpack haven’t caused any problems. 

“Love?” You murmur.

When Wolffe looks up at you, his lips fall open and he immediately lets the comm go, sending it clattering to the ground. He goes next, dropping to his knees. 

“Fuck me…” He groans. 

“If you ask nicely.” You smirk, walking over toward him. “These are for you. Put them on.”

He quickly complies and stands up, peeling his shirt off, dropping it to the floor, along with his lounge pants. You glance down and see that he’s already starting to become hard for you. It takes everything in you to keep the dominant charade up. 

“Good. Put those on. I’ll be right back. Be on the bed waiting for me.” You tilt his chin slightly and then walk out to the living room to grab something for an idea that you’d been debating on for days.

Grabbing the stringed lights, you walk back to the bedroom, finding Wolffe waiting for you at the head of the bed for you. Perfect. Walking over to his side of the bed, you climb up and he glances down at the lights, clearly confused.

“Are you okay with being tied up?” You ask, softly, tracing his cheekbones down to his perfect jawline.

“With lights?” He quirks an eyebrow up at you.

You nod. “Yep.”

“Sure.” He drawls out, thoughtfully.

You lean down, kissing him and his hands automatically come to your thighs, sliding up until he reaches your bare thighs and then grips, needily at your flesh with a soft, wanting groan.

“Need you.” He murmurs. 

“Oh how quickly you change when I put on a little lace for you.” You tease him. 

“Can’t resist it.” He shrugs, rolling his eyes. 

“I think you just enjoy ripping it off of me.” You smirk.

“That too.” He grins, glancing down at your cleavage in his face. 

Grabbing Wolffe’s wrists, you pull them up to the bar of the headboard and start to loop the string lights around his wrists, making sure to connect them to the headboard so he can’t go anywhere. 

He watches you as you do so, smiling up at you, proudly. Like he’s proud of you for taking control. You had to admit, the feeling of being trusted like this is something you could get used to. Normally, you’re the one who gives over the control to Wolffe and lets him take care of you.

As you continue to string the lights around Wolffe’s arms, you know this is gonna look gorgeous when finished. You might just have to get lights permanently for the bedroom.

Getting down off the bed, you plug the lights into the wall and Wolffe lights up. He looks up at your work and you nearly melt at the sight of the lights shimmering in his eyes and dancing on his skin as they twinkle.

“Aw, my pretty little Wolffe.” You admire him a little longer. Wolffe grows surprisingly flustered under your stare and you climb back on top of him. Tracing your fingers down his chest he lets out a soft whimper. A sound you’d never heard this man make. 

“Want you, cyare…” He murmurs, full of need.

“You’ll have me, my love. Be patient.” You smile. 

“You know I’m no good with patience.” He lets out a breathless chuckle.

“I do know that.” You smirk and start traveling down his body, peppering him with kisses and soft licks until you reach the band of the red boxers that he was so eager to put on for you.

Running your finger along the inside of the band of his boxers, he squirms, lifting his head to watch you. You smirk up at him before releasing his hardened length. When you kiss the tip, he lets out a soft sigh.

Tracing your tongue along the underside of his length, you start to move his boxers down to his midthigh. His cock twitches against your tongue and you start to take him into your mouth.

“Fuck…” Wolffe groans loudly, trying to reach to grab you but getting stopped. “Ugh.”

You can’t help the soft laugh you let out, looking up at him. 

“You’re gonna ride me like this, aren’t you?” He stares down at you.

“You bet I am.” You take his length all the way down until your nose settles against dark curls, making you gag slightly and making Wolffe moan louder than the first time.

You hum and Wolffe stares down at you.

“Real pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” Wolffe complains.

You pull off of him. “You know, you’re complaining a lot for someone who’s getting his dick sucked.” 

He chuckles. “I’m sorry… you know it’s killing me to not be able to touch you.”

“It’s killing you to not be in control.” You correct him, taking his length into your mouth again and he lets out a gasp.

“A thing can be two things.” He pants, thrusting his hips slightly so that you take more of him. 

You roll your eyes as you bob your head up and down on him. 

“Not… gonna last.” He groans. “Feels so… good…” 

“Tell me what you want, Wolffe.” You encourage him.

He looks down at you, giving you the look of ‘you know what I want’. With another smirk, you pull off of him and go to straddle his lap. You still can’t get over just how pretty he looks like this. All needy for you. 

“You look good like this.” You lean down and kiss him. 

He sighs into the kiss and you see his wrists move as if he was going to try to hold you. Reaching behind you, you move your panties to the side and line him up with your already wet warmth and hover over his tip. Wolffe tries to push up into you, desperately, but you move up with him so he’s forced to stay in the same place.

“Please…” He begs, eyes wide, full of want.

Since he asked so nicely… You sink down onto him and he lets out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard him make, absolutely sure your neighbors probably heard it as well.

With Wolffe reacting like this, it's definitely making you want to try this again already. 

As you start to bounce up and down on him slightly, bracing your hands on his chest to support yourself, you can’t help the moans that fall from your lips. He always fills you so perfectly, as if you were made for each other. Like two puzzle pieces. 

“So good.” You whisper.

“So fucking good.” He grins, agreeing with you. 

Quickening your pace, your breasts in his face, he finally slips from the string lights. He yanks his wrists free and immediately grabs you, tossing you over onto your back so he can start thrusting roughly into you. You didn’t even notice him trying to get out of the lights, but you can’t be mad, with the way that he’s treating your pussy.

“Wolffe…” You gasp.

“It’s real fucking cute you thought you had control there.” He taunts you. “Thought you could handle being in control.” 

You groan and grab his curls, yanking his hair back as you lick his neck, making him moan. You fight for dominance, not wanting to go down without a fight.

“I heard your needy whimpers. I was in control.” You tell him, firmly.

“You… think so?” He closes his eyes.

“I know so.” You push him back over onto his back so that you can grind against his hips, rutting against him as your clit rubs along his skin, causing you to moan.

He notices and snakes his hand between the two of you, rubbing perfect circles against your clit, causing you to be thrown closer to your edge. Wolffe spurs you on as he continues rubbing and then grips your ass with his free hand, trying to help you grind against himself. The extra pressure throws you clear over the edge and you cum, moaning for your husband. 

“So fucking perfect.” He praises you.

“No, you.” You smirk.

He gives you a challenging look and pulls out of you. With barely any time to let out a whimper, he pushes you over onto your stomach. He slides the skimpy panties down your ass and then lines his cock up with the crack of your ass, sliding against it. You let out a moan and he slides a hand up your back into your hair, gripping and pulling. 

“Fucking tease me… thinking there wouldn’t be… any consequences.” He groans, continuing to slide his cock against your ass cheeks. 

He pushes his free hand over his cock, creating more friction as he starts thrusting faster. All you can do is moan and let him use you how he wants to. 

“You were right. I love ruining the lingerie you buy. But only because it means I get to buy you more.” He groans as you feel something warm spurt against your back, seeping through the sheer of the lingerie. 

When he stops thrusting, he sits behind you, admiring his work before sliding it off of you. You sit up on your knees, turning around to face him so you can kiss him.

“I really do like this.” He holds up the lingerie before tossing it to the floor.

“Me too. Thank you for not ripping it.” You grin.

“Sure… only because I’m making you wear it on Life Day again.” He kisses you once more before leading you to the shower. 

Now, you have even more reason to look forward to Life Day.

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[luminalightsverse]

At Night when Everyone is Asleep

Warnings: Idk there is not much I guess. Maybe short mention of death? Maybe angst and fluff? Is that a warning? I really have no clue. I'm really sorry. 😅

Words: 1.242

It was already late and Plo Koon made himself comfortable in his bed. It was a long day again, a lot of paperwork, many meetings.

Plo was tired and couldn't wait to go to sleep, when he lay down in his bed that was way to big for him. But he loved having lots of space. Usually he was in tight spaces like the cockpit of his starfighter. So it was a nice change to be able to spread out a bit. Finally in bed it didn't took Plo long to fall asleep.

And he didn't know....

Comet was the first one to to crawl beside him. He was the youngest of his brothers. He was the one who had no problem showing his affaction. He was the one having no problem calling Plo "buir". He was even the first one calling him that and starting all of this.

Second was Boost. The second youngest and the most mischievous of the four brothers. He was always up to something, He loved to wrestle with his brothers and he always called Plo "general buir". He thought it was funny. Plo was his general after all but also his buir. So general buir it was.

Sinker was the third one to come into Plo's room. He was the second oldest and one of the more mature. He was the one always trying to keep his two younger brothers in line, to keep them out of trouble. He also called Plo buir but mostly when they were alone or just with his brothers. He was a soldier and Plo his general. It was important to maintain the image otherwise they might not be taken seriously anymore and that could cause problems. Problems none of them wanted or could risk. Their job was already hard and dangerous enough.

The last one was Wolffe. The oldest of the pack. The commander. The one with the most difficult job of all of his brothers. He always had to stay strong and focused, was not allowed to show any weakness, no fear or any emotions. He had the lives of all his men in his hands, his brothers, his general, his buir. Just one mistake, one wrong decision could be fatal and lead to the death of his family. He was under constant stress under constant fear of failure. He was the only one not to call Plo buir. Not because he didn't saw him as his father but because he was to scared. To scared to show his feelings. To scared to become soft. To sacred to appear weak. To scared to show the world who was important to him otherwise it could be taken away from him. He was a soldier, he wasn't supposed to be scared.

But he was.

Wolffe was the only one not to go to Plo's room. He was the only one to stay in his own bed, tossing and turning in his sheets. Not able to fall asleep. All his thoughts were spinning, revolved around his brothers, around his general, around every single man they lost, around every single brother they were yet to lose.

Wolffe was the only one of his brothers fighting alone through his nightmare. He was the only one who always lied that he was fine.

"What are you waiting for?" suddenly a voice sounded in his head. Wolffe widened his eyes and he looked around his room. No one there, he was alone. All alone.

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. His desire deep in his chest to be more like his brothers. To be able to show his emotion like they did, to show his affection like they did. All of them looked up to him and didn't even try to hide it, showed their love for their buir without being ashamed. They didn't even try to hide their feelings for eachother, for their buir, for their older brother, who was so terrible broken.

"Kriff"

whispered Wolffe running a finger over the scar on his eye. It was already so long ago, the wound had long since healed but sometimes it still hurt.

"Kriff"

cursed Wolffe again holding back his tears. He hated the war, he hated this feeling that burned deep inside his chest. The feeling of loss and loneliness. The feeling of fear and hopelessness. He hated to fight, to fight in this war, to fight his emotions and he hated his life.

"Kriff"

he almost screamed, muffling his voice with his hand to not wake up anyone or to draw attention to himself.

"Kriff"

sobbed Wolffe quietly as he raised up from his bed and slowly trotted into Plo's room.

He had given up. This time he let his emotions win. He was a grown man feeling like a little child seeking the love and protection of his buir. He felt embarrassed. He was sure his brothers would laugh at him if they found out about this. Sure they showed their affection for Plo all the time. But they would never come crawling so pathetically into his room to sleep on his floor because they didn't wanted to be alone in their rooms. They would stay in their room and get through it like real men, like real soldiers.

Wolffe slowly opened the door and was taken by suprise.

All his brothers had made it themself comfortable beside Plo, sleeping peacefully with a smile on their faces. He couldn't see it because of Plo's mask but Wolffe was sure he was smiling under it too. Then Wolffe looked confused.

Mask?

Why was he still wearing his mask? And why could his brothers breath in here? Why could he breath in here?

Plo had a mechanism in his room to regulate the air so that he could at least take off his mask in his room. Wolffe had forgotten that himself when he made his way to Plo's room.

Wolffe noticed how he was getting too tired to think about it and made his way to lay down beside his brothers and his buir. At first he just wanted to lie down on the floor so it would be less embarrassing but now he didn't cared. Wolffe lay down right between Plo and Sinker.

"Good night brothers" Wolffe said before holding his breath while thinking about his next words.

"Good night.... buir" he finally let out, drifting slowly into a deep slumber surrounded by the people he loved the most. Surrounded by the people who loved him the most.

Maybe being a man didn't ment to be strong all the time. Maybe being a man ment to be weak sometimes and to seek for help if needed.

Maybe it ment to just let go and do what your heart tells you.

The next morning dawned and Plo was still between the pile of his pack. He didn't moved, didn't said a single word. He just lay there and listened to the peaceful breathing of his sons.

And he didn't know.

He didn't know his sons would come into his room again, sleeping beside him like they did every night since Comet called him buir the first time.

He didn't know that this time his oldest son would finally join them and stop his suffering alone in his room.

He didn't know he would hear Wolffe finally call him buir for the very first time.

He didn't know.....

Or maybe he did?

Okay this turned out to be way longer then I wanted it to be. This was supposed to be a story that only has a few sentences.... not more then 10.... Anyway thank you for reading and please let me know, if there's anything that I should put into "Warnings".

[shallowcoffin]

Them, i love them ♥️✨

This is Wolffe and my Star Wars oc, Zupi. Or as Plo and the wolf pack called her, pupi 🥺

I’ll probably post some Zupi art too, but for now this is in 10bby about 9 years after the clone wars and order 66, and about 7-8 years before Rebels if i’m remembering right. Plo might be gone, and so if the wolfpack, but Zupi is persistent if anything and found him. So give them some love. ♥️♥️

[techs-feral-wife]

Alright clone fuckers, I gotta know

[panther-os]

there is So Much going on with this oc but have a half-Kel Dor Mandalorian Padawan for the wolfpack (the other half requires in depth worldbuilding explanation and I am Tired)

[arcsimper5]

Do you think Plo Koon's mask also has a translator inside it which makes his language understandable in basic?

Because being rather reptilian/insectoid in appearance, I assume that their main method of communication is probably screeching and clicks, rumbles and vibrations.

Also because:

Plo: ... and once Wolffe, Sinker and I give the signal, we will... *mask crackles, unintelligible screeching noises*

*Plo stops talking, adjusts his mask and tries again*

Plo: *more screeching*

Shinies: *horrified whimpering*

Plo: *sad eyes at Wolffe*

Wolffe: *rolls eyes* The General is having translation issues. What he said was 'once we give to signal, you are to advance and rendezvous with us at the marked co-ordinates'. Understood?

Plo: *gentle clicking noises*

Wolffe: And... *sighs* he says he's proud of us.

Everyone else: *stunned silence*

Plo: *soft screech*

Wolffe: *glaring at him* Really, General? Do I have... Ugh, fine. And the General says he... loves us... *blushes furiously*

Plo: *delighted clicking noises*

[naboosands]

I only had one thought today and it’s Plo Koon in Mandalorian armour

A gift for @melting-houses-of-gold

[omaano]

🤍 Wolf boys 🤍

[arctrooper69]

Don't Miss Me

Part of the "If I Don't Make it Back Alive" letter series. Commander Wolffe (reluctantly) writes his lover from the front lines.

Warnings: Mentions of war and death? Typical canon stuff.

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Cyar'ika,

I feel ridiculous writing this letter when I'd rather just say it straight to your face. At least then I could kiss you. Unfortunately duty calls, finding me without you.

There are rumors that this war is almost over but I'm gonna be honest, Cyare, it's been a rough couple of weeks. The damn clankers keep on coming and we keep on fighting. The weather's been shit here too - rain, rain, and more rain. Turns the ground into mud that'll suck your boots off if you're not careful. That happened to Sinker yesterday. It was honestly the funniest thing that's happened in awhile. Well, it was funny until the idiot decided to drag half the squad down with him. Now I've got mud in places that don't even see the light of day. But enough with the complaining already. I'm probably boring you to tears.

You always say that I frown too much, but lately when I'm lying awake in my bunk at night in the dark, I think of you and it makes me smile a little. You always did bring out the best in me. (Just please don't ever tell the boys that I smile. I'd never live it down.)

I guess I'm really just writing to say that I love you, cyar'ika. I want you to know that I'm still alive and kicking and that I'm doing my damnedest to get back into your arms again. Hell, you know I'd fight all the clankers in the whole kriffing galaxy if it got me back to you any faster.

Now I know you don't want to hear this, cyar'ika, but I just need to say it. If something happens to me - if I don't make it back to you - I want you to move on. I know I'm the luckiest clone in the whole damn GAR because I have you. But I am just a clone. You deserve so much better and if I don't make it out of this war, promise me that you won't shut yourself away. You're too smart for that. How I ever ended up with a girl as smart and as beautiful as you I'll never know, but I thank my lucky stars every day for it. I love you, cyar'ika. See you soon.

Wolffe

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@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @rain-on-kamino @jiabeewrites @my-own-oracle

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

[boggsart]

Another down, two more to go 😮‍💨

Sorry if most of the people who asked to be tagged are only interested in the animations, yet still get tagged, but i just want yall to experience the whole package i guess haha. But i'm trying my hardest to deliver, but at the same time i also gotta get the posters over with as soon as possible lol. But they're coming!!!

You can check out the models from a closer look here

Clone Force 99

501st

Coruscant Guard

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taglist: @callsign-denmark@techwrecker@dahscribbler@lightspringrain@dreamsandrosies@brainless-tin-box@thecoffeelorian @luzfeather @burningfieldof-clover@99tech99 @theglitterdark @fangirl-goes-nova

[kaminocasey]

25 Days of Life Day: Day 16 - Making Mulled Wine with Sinker

A/N: I know this is late, I'm so sorry. I've gotten a little behind. But hoping to get caught up!!!

Warnings: Alcohol technically

“Maker, it smells so good.” You hear Sinker walk in your front door and then moments later, appear in the doorway of the kitchen. “What is this? Soup?”

You let out a soft chuckle, stirring the pot a bit more. “Mulled wine.” 

He tilts his head, confused. “I’m sorry, mold wine?” 

“Mulled. It’s heated wine with added sugar and spices.” You laugh, patting him on the shoulder, dipping your ladle in for him to take a taste. 

He cautiously takes a sip from the spoon and closes his eyes. “Mmm.”

“Good, right?” You grin. 

“Very.” He kisses you on the shoulder and then the neck. “Be right back.”

You take a tray of cookies out of the oven and set it on the crocheted pot holder that you made last night while Sinker worked. When he comes back in, wearing a sweater that you got him a few days ago, your heart swells with pride at the sight of the Wolfpack grey sweater that makes his white hair stand right out.

“You’re so handsome.” You kiss him on the cheek.

“And you’re so beautiful.” He wraps you in his arms. “So, go on. I know you’re dying to tell me the history of mulled wine.” 

You were. You really were. You love the history behind foods and drinks. You’re not sure why. It’s a strange interest to have, probably.

“You know me so well.” You hop up on the counter and start stirring the wine again. “So, there were these conquerors on another planet a couple thousand years ago. They made mulled wine to defend their bodies against the cold winters. As they conquered quite a bit of the galaxy for like the next century or so, their love for mulled wine spread across their empire and the regions they traded with.” 

“How are you so smart?” Sinker asks you, popping a cookie into his mouth and smiling at you proudly.

You’ll never get over the way he looks at you. Like, you’re the most special person he’s ever known.

“I call it being filled with useless knowledge.” You shrug, smirking. 

“Well, I call it incredibly sexy. Love that brain of yours.” He pulls you back into his arms. “But, I know you weren’t done telling me about mulled wine.”

It’ll never cease to make your heart clench at how much he encourages you to talk. All your life, you were told that all the things you knew weren’t important or that they didn’t matter. With Sinker… he makes you feel like everything you say matters.

“Are you sure?” You ask him.

“Positive.” He encourages you.

“Okay, so as mulled wine continued to grow throughout the middle ages, some species would mix heated wine with spices because they believed it would promote health and avoid sickness.” You tell him.

“And does it?” He smirks.

“Actually, it can be heart-friendly. If you consume wine in moderate amounts, it can prove to be a good source of antioxidants that can help reduce cardiovascular stress.” You nod. “And active spices in the mulled wine like cinnamon and ginger have been linked to improved cardiovascular health.”

“Ah. The more you know.” He takes another sip of the mulled wine and you swat at him playfully and grab a mug for him. 

“The more you know.” You nod in agreement. 

You take the mug and wet the edges, dipping it in a bowl of cinnamon sugar and he grins, watching you as you put in cranberries and cinnamon sticks and a fresh orange slice. “That’s very fancy.” He takes the mug and takes a sip. “That’s so good.” 

“Right?” You get excited that he likes it. 

“So, I assume you can tell me the history of Life Day, then?” He leans into you.

You’re gonna marry this man, for sure. 

“Oh boy, can I.” You nod, eagerly, getting your own mug of mulled wine. 

Sinker chuckles and leads you to the couch so you can teach him more useless knowledge. But if you make him happy with it, how useless can it really be?

TAGS: @grievouus @brynhildrmimi @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @misogirl828 @rexandechosandwich @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @twistedstitcher27 @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @agenteliix @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501

[luminalightsverse]

I made a Star Wars meme and I'm not sorry for that

And one with loading icon because I couldn't decide which one is better

[cloned-eyes]

Commission done for @valkeakuulas starring the grumpiest and hottest Commander of the GAR

[gamelpar]

wolffe text posts!! i am here to deliver