Send This To The Twelve Nicest People You Know Or Seem To Have A Good Heart And If You Get One Back You

🌈💖✨Send this to the twelve nicest people you know or seem to have a good heart and if you get one back you must be pretty awesome 😎💜💚💙

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Ahh your writing is so wonderful! I have a request for Crosshair x F!Reader for “I’m not letting you out of my sight”

Like they both have a secret crush on each other but they are at a bar and Crosshair sees someone try to hit on you and he gets sexy possessive jealous?? 🫢🤌 NSFW is ok! 😈

❀ Milestone prompts list ❀

Author's Note: Ohhhh I love me some possessive tropes... Lets get it on~ I might come back and touch this one up a bit since i'm not totallyyyy happy with the way things flow, but I really wanted to write and post some naughty Crosshair; I've been doing so much fluff

Relationships: Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mild instances of a stranger being a little pushy flirty, Semi-public sex, Slightly rough sex, It's crosshair so any sort of emotional communication is awful, Unprotected sex

This bar is, shady. To put it lightly.

It could be worse, but it's very clear that this is the bar to go to when one is finished with some less than savory business, or you're persona non grata everywhere else.

But as such, it's also the only bar in this dank, dreary city that'll serve clones, so it's not as if you are all swimming in options. Of course you all finally get some shore leave, and it's on this sunken heap of a planet. The whole place smells like smog; Like some of the lowest, darkest levels of Coruscant.

The rest of the Batch is all late- held up by some repairs on the Marauder that needed immediate attention and multiple sets of hands. They encouraged you to head on without them and that they'd been done quickly, and Crosshair had decided to follow you.

You might normally have told him to stay and help them, but now that you're here, a part of you is a little bit glad that he didn't stay behind. He's a nice anchor point, as otherwise you'd be totally alone in a completely new place. A bar no less, one that doesn't seem exactly used to people like you and Crosshair inside of it.

"You look like a fish outta water, girlie."

You're not against petnames and nicknames, the Batch and most people you know rarely call you by your name anyways, but you're not a fan the way this bartender says it.

You also aren't fond of the way he's acting as if Crosshair doesn't exist, though he more than lets himself be known on the barstool right next to you as you respond.

"Just waiting for some friends," You respond. He fills someone's glass full of an unfamiliar and strong smelling liquor that burns your nose, giving it to them before looking back.

"Not more clones, I hope."

Crosshair speaks up, his eyebrows raised and shoulders firmly set. You'd say he's trying to seem intimidating and unfriendly, but that would imply it wasn't working.

"A problem?" The bartender makes a nonchalant noise in his throat and continues to serve some of the more demanding, drunker customers surrounding the two of you.

"Not if you're all payin'." Even if the answer isn't as negative as you would've expected, Crosshair is still less than pleased. The man looks at you, failing to give Crosshair even more than a wayward glance as he speaks.

"Didn't think a chick looking like you would spend time with that kinda lot."

Your face curls into a bit of a grimace, even as the shout of another patron beings the bartender's attention elsewhere. But even as he's gone off you can still feel how testy Crosshair is, as if the air around him is almost electric. You glance towards the front door for what feels like the millionth time and still, no sign of the rest- so you lean in towards him and whisper.

"Crosshair, relax. Go splash some water on your face or something."

Sure this isn't the most comfortable scenario, but you could do without him snorting fire every which way. You can shove off someone being a little bit skeevy without his help.

Instead of calming down however he snaps right back at you, his lips as tight as his brow when he spits out a response.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight. I see the way everyone's looking at you."

You don't know what part to focus on; The fact that he's noticed some less than appropriate stares happening behind you that you hadn't, or that he's openly admitted to keeping such a keen eye out for you. You tuck a chunk of hair behind your ear and look around.

Part of you is a a bit hungry, but you'll probably end up just eating some of the rations back at the Marauder, at this point. Especially if the others plan on taking even longer, glancing towards the entrance with pursed lips.

"Still waitin?" He's back, and you can feel Crosshair bristle just as you stretch a thin smile and nod.

"I'm sure one of the guys 'round here could show ya a better time than this." He's smiling, and you don't know in what way he means 'better', but innuendo or not it's not a deal you're going to take him up on. Crosshair seems to agree, beginning to hiss something from between his teeth.

"How about y-" "I'm taken. No thanks."

Crosshair stops speaking, and looks over at you. The bartender shrugs. When he looks at the sniper beside you and clearly presumes you're both together, you don't correct him.

It fits with the narrative and, you wouldn't mind roleplaying Crosshair being your lover for just a moment. It's almost hard to remember when you'd first fallen for him, but you've yet to speak anything about it to a single soul.

"Shame. Worth a shot."

He seems to at least get the hint, and turns around to go about some more of his business. Your shoulders relax a bit knowing that you don't have to deal with any of that anymore, leaning back. When you look over at Crosshair however, he's looking off in no particular direction, clearly lost in thought.

"Cross?" You're one of the few people that can get away with calling him any sort of nickname, raising your eyebrows as you look at him and raise a hand to touch his shoulder. When he turns his face is firm set, and you feel your face get hotter under his stare. His eyes have always been intense, but it feels like he's almost staring into you, instead of at you. It's making your heart beat a little faster, heat going to your neck as his eyes flicker around your face thinking things you don't even have a chance at guessing.

Suddenly out of nowhere he grabs you by the wrist and tugs you off your barstool, walking in the direction to the back of the bar. When you attempt to ask him why, he doesn't answer.

There seems to be only a storage closet and a refresher back here, alongside the backdoor into presumably With one fell swoop he opens the refresher door and pushes you in, closing and locking it behind him.

"Crosshair! What are y-"

His lips press against yours before you can say anymore, feeling the small of your back press against the countertop. They feel surprisingly cool against your own, your still open eyes having barely caught the way his are squeezed shut.

You've had a thing for Crosshair for the longest time, and while there's far better ways in the galaxy to confess to someone that you don't hate them, you aren't going to look a gift kybuck in the mouth. Not when Crosshair is so impossible to read, how he really feels is usually seven layers deep.

It takes you more than a moment to get over the overwhelming sense of surprise and actually reciprocate, instead of standing frozen like a statue. You can feel the gentle ghosting of his breath across your face, the aggressiveness he'd had at the beginning of the kiss fading away to be almost lovingly gentle. His lips move slowly with yours, catching your bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before he pulls away.

"Why'd you let him assume I was your date."

It sounds like there should be another half of that sentence, but Crosshair doesn't say it.

"I thought you wouldn't mind, as long as it got him to stop talking." He keeps stepping closer in this tiny closet of a room, and so you hop up onto the countertop and part your thighs enough to let him in. It's never exactly been a secret that you've thought about this, and finally being able to indulge in him has your hands grasping his shoulders so tight he'd have to wrench them off to get away.

"I didn't think a random bartender would make you so upset. Why’d you never tell me you were jealous?" You say, before his lips quiet you again. When he pulls them away with a soft 'pop' you can't help but trail after them, more drunk off of him that any sort of liquor you could get at the bar. He's feeling the same, judging by the fact that his pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the dark brown of his eyes.

"I told you, I didn't like how he was looking at you." It's not the first time Crosshair has pulled a stunt like that, but you normally thought it was because he found any sort of flirting in his vicinity annoying. Not that he liked you that much. It's not as if you can blame yourself- as Crosshair is just that hard to read.

“I didn’t think it mattered to you that much,” You say, illuding to the fact that he’s never given you so much as a hint that he might feel some way about you. He doesn’t formally respond, but you think you might’ve barely utter something along the lines of ‘it does’ against your skin.

Body tangled with yours the way his hands clamp around your hips is like a vice, fingers slipping into the waistband of your pants and underwear. When he pulled off his glove you don't remember, but so much has happened so fast it's almost a blur. They brush along your outer lips and instantly the sensation makes you tighten around nothing, already anticipating them slipping inside of you. The way your cunt is already wet enough to soak his fingers isn't lost on him, nor is the way make a noise loud enough that you feel the need to bite your lip and try to silence it. His fingers slip between your folds and brush against your clit, thighs tightening around him as your hips twitch towards him. The sensation already feels intense, silently begging for more.

The room is tiny and stuffy, if you stretched your foot out you could probably almost brush against the opposite wall, but every sound bounces off of it and fills your ears. The soft rustling of clothing and harsh breathing, the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt pace limited by the fabric of your bottoms. Your body warms and stretches around him, wetness slick over his hands and staining the fabric of your underwear.

He only stops when your own hands start grasping at the front of your pants and impede him, trying to finagle them off. Slick hand pulling from where it'd been cupped around your pussy, he helps pull them off in one fell swoop, pants and underwear dangling by only your left ankle.

He'd not taken a piece of armor off when you had all arrived earlier, coming here in his full kit minus helmet. As such he's peeling away the only piece that offers resistance to his goal, it coming undone and falling to the floor as the fabric of his blacks gets awkwardly torn aside. Only then can you suddenly feel the heat of his cock against your thigh, heavy and hard as he pulls you close enough to the edge that he can grind it against your cunt. There's a quiet groan he lets out through his teeth while moving against you, wanting to just sink himself in you. His hot breath fans over your face, your arms tight around his neck and thighs squeezing his hips.

You're desperate- hot and wanting not in a mood to play around in some dirty dimly lit refresher, hand slipping between your bodies and almost forcing his out, guiding his cock to press against your entrance.

Fuck, you've thought about this. Far too many times. Crosshair has too but, it's only tonight that he's finally breached the awkward air that always hung between you two. When your hand returns to his shoulder he's already sinking himself in you, burying to the hilt as your body feels almost unbelievably tight and soft around him.

"You're gonna rip holes in it," Crosshair mumbles against your skin, slyly referencing the way your nails and digging into the fabric of his bodyglove in the small spaces your managed to sneak in.

You might've considered spitting some sort of demand from him, but instead you push your hips closer to his own, listening to him groan in your ear as he drives his cock deeper into you.

It's all awkward and clumsy, an unfavorable spot that's completely spur of the moment. Then again a lot of the things you end up doing with Crosshair are spur of the moment, like midnight runs for food or running off to the middle of nowhere for some quiet, so perhaps this confession is just par for the course.

He's rough and unforgiving, frantic nose pressed against your face as he deepens your kiss. His armor keeps brushing against your bare skin as he thrusts into you, rough and unyielding against your soft meat of your thighs. It's a bit uncomfortable, but any thought of him removing it involves him having to stop fucking you- stop having his hands clench your hips so tight you think he'll leave little bruises as he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter.

"Then throw it out. I'll get you a new one if I do." Slowly his lips drift to the corner of your mouth, before down your jawline to your neck before he responds.

"I'd keep it." His kisses are rough; Not rough enough to leave a mark, but you wouldn't mind if they did.

If you ever had any concern of someone noticing your absence it's long gone, skin hot to the touch in any spot it's exposed as Crosshair pulls you harder onto him. His cock keeps brushing against every soft, sensitive nerve and muscle, making you gasp and your toes curl in your boots.

It's all so much; Your stomach turning and twisting as every single thrust of his hips and brushing of his teeth on your skin fulfils and thirst you'd had for ages.

Your legs wrap around his hips ever tighter, as you cum and bite your lip enough to leave dents. Your ankles lock and have him trapped close to you, snug deeply against and inside of you so much so that he can barely move.

Maybe it's that feeling of closeness, or maybe he's just been barely holding on this whole time and your cunt clenching tight around him is what does him in, but it isn't to long later before you can feel his nails digging into the skin of your thighs, cumming inside of you with a hiss through his teeth.

The countertop feels cold against the back of your thighs, but your body is running so hot; Skin flush and nearly boiling underneath the clothing you still have on. It's all a wreck too, bunched in odd places and wrinkled. Not that it matters, in the long run.

Your legs flop limp away from him, and he leans back enough that his cock pulls out of you, as he quietly catches his breath. The insides of your thighs are slick and feel a mess, and you can feel the way his cum leaks out of you and onto the countertop.

Your legs feel like absolute mush; There's no way you'd be able to walk at the moment. Thankfully you don't need to, as your chest gently rises and falls with each caught breath.

"Warn a girl next time you're going to take her for a ride like that, yeah?" You joke, hoping to soften him up a bit. Crosshair is alway so aloof, no matter what the situation.

"You want a next time?" You glance up at him and see his softened eyebrows and tiny crook of his lips- he's clearly teasing you. It still makes you doubt for just a moment, however.

"Do you?" His face is close enough that you could tug him in for a kiss if you wanted, your hands now more gently just laying on the crook of his neck.

"Yes."

You'll stipulate that you'll be wanting a date first, but you can barter later.

Sliding off the counter with now steady legs you clean yourself and the refresher up to a presentable state and follow him out, thankfully not bumping into any unfortunate souls along the way. The worst thing imaginable, that would be.

But once you enter the main bar area again, it's not long before you notice the rest of the Batch, all standing around waiting. Echo is the first one to turn and notice you and his brother heading towards them, tilting his head.

"Where were you two?" Echo speaks up, raising his eyebrows. Instead of answering, Crosshair instead flips the question.

"Where were you? We've been waiting."

You were doing a little more than waiting it seems, having a silent conversation with Hunter as his eyes are on you. And, they look a little surprised. Any longer and he might just get keen, so you quickly invent a reason to leave them behind.

"I think me and Cross are gonna head back to the ship. We've had our fill of this place for tonight." They look about to speak up, but Hunter cuts off any objections.

"Be careful on the walk back, you two."

The two of you take your leave, the rest of the batch getting to have their night of fun while you two head back. The air outside is brisk but not enough to shiver, adjusting your clothes as the wind blows them awkwardly. Crosshair keeps exact pace with you, walking quite close- almost shoulder to shoulder.

"How long do you think they're gonna spend drinking?" You casually look up at him, swaying a little to the side while you walk and almost bumping into him.

"A while," He says, before glancing down at you with no shortage of suspicion. "Why?" You shrug.

"No reason."

✿ Baati’gar ✿

Wordcount: ~800

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings: slightly ill!reader, Wolffe taking care of you, some mildly lewd comments and innuendos, mostly just so much fluff

I am dedicating this ficlet to my beloved @pinkiemme who deserves the world and so much more. Love you babes 🥺❤️‍🔥

.•°°•. ✿ .•°°•.✿ .•°°•.✿ .•°°•.

Wolffe’s nose nudges yours.

“You awake, pretty girl?”

“No,” you groan and pull the blanket up. “Everything hurts.”

Wolffe grunts, placing one hand on your forehead.

“You’re hot,” he states. You snort and let the blanket sink down a bit to wiggle your eyebrows.

“Aren’t I always?”

Wolffe rolls his eyes.

“No joking about you being sick, you won’t distract me. You caught something.”

You roll to your side, groaning quietly when your aching joints refuse to cooperate. Wolffe’s large hands settle on your shoulders.

“Nuh-uh, you stay right where you are,” he commands.

“Yes Sir,” you mumble, earning an exasperated sigh from Wolffe. You chuckle quietly, then suppress a hiss when your head starts pounding. Wolffe, of course, hears you anyways.

“What is it, cyar’ika?” His face is carved in stone, but the worry in his voice impossible to overhear if you know him.

“My head hurts,” you murmur. Wolffe nods matter-of-factly, and swings his legs off the bed.

“Stay right there, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of you.”

You try to protest weakly, but there is no force behind you words.

“I won’t hear it,” Wolffe calls over his shoulder as he rummages through the medkit in the fresher. “You’re sick, cyar’ika. You deserve to be taken care of.”

“‘s not your job,” you grumble, pressing your thumbs into your eye sockets to stop your head from pounding so hard you can barely breathe.

“Not my job, no,” Wolffe murmur. You flinch, you didn’t hear him come up to your side. A cold pack is placed on your forehead and you sigh in relief. Wolffe clicks his tongue. “Not my job. But my responsibility, sweetheart. And I want it to be. Let me take care of you.”

His voice is unexpectedly soft, and when you open your eyes to look up at him, you melt at the expression on his face. Instead of protesting more, you simply hum, and close your eyes again. Wolffe feeds you some bacta, and laughs at the faces you make at the stale taste. He makes tea for you, feeds you some porridge, he lets you lay on him with your head in his lap and gently massages your scalp until your headache is gone entirely.

You sigh and relax into him, falling asleep more than once. When you wake up, he is always still there, quietly holding you.

The day passes like this, quiet and content. You watch holo vids together, although you sleep through half of them. Wolffe makes broth - an excellent choice since it is the only thing he has the skills to cook - and lets you sleep and sleep and sleep. You fall asleep to his voice quietly humming a faint melody, a song you have never heard before but that bears the universal comfort of a lullaby in its tune.

When you truly wake up for the first time, it is already dark outside, Wolffe asleep beside you with a datapad on his chest. You pull yourself up to kiss his cheek, and he stirs under your touch.

“You feeling better, sweet girl?” His voice is rough with sleep. You smile softly at him.

“Mhm, all better. Thanks to you,” you kiss his cheek again. “My hero.”

Wolffe grumbles something under his breath, but you swear you can feel the flush in his cheeks against yours.

“I feel disgusting,” you complain eventually. “I’m gonna take a bath, I think.”

“Hmm,” Wolffe hums, his hand slipping around your waist and squeezing gently. “Want me to come with you?”

“What exactly are you implying, Commander?” you smirk at the insinuation. Wolffe’s hands slip down and down, pinching your thigh before settling on the swell of your ass.

“I’m implying whatever you feel up for, pretty girl. Let’s not overdo it, though. I’ll get into the tub with you if that’s… something you want.”

“Hm-hm,” you sigh. “That sounds perfect.”

“Good.” Wolffe groans when he gets up, but shushes you when you inquire concernedly. “My leg fell asleep is all. Come on, sweetheart.”

Strong arms wrap around you and lift you up bridal style. Wolffe carries you to the fresher, letting you cling to him until the tub is filled up. You moan when you slip into the warm water, and smile up at him, tugging at his hand.

“Come on in, baby.”

Wolffe snorts at the pet name, but he holds his tongue, quickly divesting himself and sliding into the tub behind you. Thick thighs wrap around you as he sighs in deep contentment.

“Thank you,” you whisper into the quiet room. Wolffe pressed his lips into your hair.

“Ba’gedet’ye, ner kar’ta.”

.•°°•. ✿ .•°°•.✿ .•°°•.✿ .•°°•.

Baati’gar - (roughly) Caring for you

Ba’gedet’ye, ner kar’ta - You are welcome, sweetheart.

Taggies for some moots 🥰

@baba-fett @cyarbika @thebitchformerlyknownaskenobi @twistedstitcher27 @rexxdjarin @rain-on-kamino @purgetrooperfox @rowansparrow @maybege @fett-djarin @ashotofspotchka @thefact0rygirl @rescuethewretched @clonecyare @tenderclio @maygalodon @spaceydragons @equalityforcats @solidago-sempervirens @rexscyarika @damerondala @shadesofshatteredblue @nahoney22 @ulchabhangorm

AHHH YOU FOLLOWED ME BACK

first mutal ever! Huggies !!

YAYY HUGGIES BACKKK

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.