Scars (Commander Wolffe x Jedi Reader)

Part 6

Wolffe had thought it would be easy to forget (Y/N) the kindness she had shown him. He thought focusing on his unyielding hatred of the Night Sisters would be easy, but the task had proved far more difficult. The quieter moments when his mind could wonder were the worst, when random thoughts of her popped through, images of her smile and echoes of her words, sometimes his skin appeared to burn where she'd once touched him. Despite the brief encounters, often with him growling at her, the bubbling feelings of need never seemed to pass; it was like (Y/N) had become a part of him, rooted under his skin, a curse of his own he could never shake or be rid of. Worst of all, Wolffe was certain (Y/N) didn't know what she was doing to him.

During one of his many rants about the Night Sister Jedi, he once again complained about how he wished for nothing more than to forget her. Cody had advised him to find someone to distract himself with, someone who could take his mind off what bothered him so much and give his mind a break. Much like other Commander did when thoughts of his Jedi General often got too much to handle, or jealousy bubbled up.

So here Wolffe was, in a tiny, cheap motel room. He was alone now; his partner had left after their intimate hook-up. She had left quickly after cleaning herself up; if the tough commander hadn't known any better, he would have said she was upset when she rushed from the tiny room. No words left her lips. Instead, she took her credits and left as if wishing to forget about the encounter and move on quickly.

Being alone again hadn't helped with the thoughts so loud as he tried to decipher what had gone wrong. Refusing to admit he'd been the one at fault. The woman of the night had been kind to him, kinder than others had been in the past, at least. She'd been excited at first, choosing the cheap motel, playing little games with him, and even offering compliments. All seemed to be going as it should until she had whispered in his ear in a certain way while gripping his length. Only one whispered word left his lips. No mewling begs as she likely expected but a name. The Night Sister's name, to be exact. (Y/N).

From there, everything went downhill. Wolffe cursed himself. Even the more intimate moments couldn't be his own. She was there too, haunting him in every moment. With a sharp huff of a sigh, Wolffe climbed from the creaky bed, pulling the thin, stained sheets from his bare body; quickly, he dressed back into his standard blacks and carefully decorated armor. Now, he'd allowed himself to think a little more clearly. He wanted to find (Y/N) the Night Sister, that seemed to be the bane of his very existence. He wanted to confront her, ask her why she had saved him that day, why she was everywhere, in his dreams, head, and now settling in his heart too.

With a heavy breath, Wolffe moved toward the discolored door, leaving the room as if his previous encounter had never taken place, leaving the evidence of crumbled sheets, the unmistakable smell of sex, and cheap flowery perfume behind. He didn't bother saying anything to anyone as he left, nor take notice of the woman he'd previously been with, talking to her next partner near the bar's entrance across from the motel, smiling once more, eyes sparkling now. She didn't take notice of him either; her back turned toward him as she played her games once more.

"Right, Night Sister, where are you," uttered Wolffe to himself, as he refused to speak the nickname he'd previously bestowed her with and allowed her name to pass his lips again and grow in power over him. Wolffe's first call was the Military Base; there, he returned to his own barracks, all but storming down the halls until he reached the little room void of life. Ignoring all those he passed, determined to find where (Y/N) was, if only so he could confront her quicker.

Yet, despite his best efforts, he found no record of her departure in the latest logs or her return in the second one. The commandoes were all over the place. Gregor and the rest of the Foxtrot unit were deployed hours ago, and the newest unit, known as the Bad Batch, had been sent out days before. Only Delta was on Coruscant now, no doubt enjoying their downtime.