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nahoney22 · 1 year

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OMG HI! 🤩 Are you taking writing commissions?! Can I be added to a commission waiting list if you have one for a soft-pining between Plo-Koon and a Jedi!Reader? I’m talking like fluffiest fluff you can muster! Maybe them being like parents to their battalions! The forbidden attraction because of old Jedi rules 🥺

P.S: You are so right! None of this bs wouldn’t have happed if he didn’t bite the dust 😭

Forbidden

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Plo Koon X GN!JediReader

word count: 2.6k

Both being the greatest Jedi they can be to their Battalion, it’s no surprise that the kindness shared between you both brings you closer and maybe just maybe, makes things a little risky.

warnings: none, fluff! Minor mention of injury & death to Clones, forbidden romance trope, mutual pining. Ngl, not overly proud of this as I feel it’s a little rushed and messy. It was better in my head. I’m losing my touch.

Masterlist

The Medbay was often a horrible place for any person or sentient to visit and no matter how many visits General Plo attends, it is never any easier.

The last mission was a success but with so many casualties. His respect for his Battalion grows each passing second and has come to care about each man individually but at what cost? Another win yet it seemed like they were no step closer to beating the Separatist threat.

“I am here for CC-3636.” Plo speaks to one of the droids that maintained care for those who were taken in, hating using his Commander's designated number rather than his preferred name.

“Right this way. His condition is stable.”

Plo stays silent, walking down the painfully white halls of the Kaminoan facility towards one of the bays. Though deep in his thoughts, something stops him.

As if something had shoved on his chest and commanded him to stop, his head turned to look into an empty room. Well, aside from two beings in the right hand corner.

There’s a clone on the bed, no colour to their armor aside from the stark white and shiny new armor and a presence beside them. Their back was to him but he was certain that they were Jedi. That Jedi being you, someone who he still has not been formally introduced to though he had heard things. Many great things in fact.

Slowly, he turns and looks into a room opposite, busier than the others but still no other Jedi present. If he were to hazard a guess, he would confirm that the only two Jedi here were just the pair of you. All these men injured, yet it seemed that only you two had cared.

He sighs to himself, knowing he should not think ill of the other Jedi as he was well aware that most have care for their troops but clearly, maybe just not as much as him and yourself.

“Just this way Master Jedi.” The AZI droid speaks up, snapping Plo out of his doubting thoughts and proceeds to move on along. But as he leaves, you look over your shoulder and feel a shift in the Force. A Jedi was present and although curious to who it could be, you focus on your trooper and wait for him to wake up.

———-

“Anakin is growing stronger and courageous each day though I fear there is conflict within him.” Obi-Wan speaks softly as he walks alongside Plo.

The Kel Dor sensed his friend and colleagues troubles and opted to walk with him and try to clear his mind. “Your padawan is headstrong and a fine Jedi. Little Soka is becoming the ideal Jedi too because of him. Trust in him Obi-Wan and soon you will see everything will play out smoothly.”

Walking out into the courtyard, conversation changing to something more cheerful rather than Obi-Wan’s worrying woes, the two of them took in the calming air.

“Ah, look who is over there.” Kenobi points to the center of the courtyard, over by The Great Tree.

Plo looks in the direction and as if by an instant, he recognised you to be the Jedi on Kamino a few rotations ago. Your robes were breezing around your body, a content expression on your face.

“You haven’t met them yet, have you?” Kenobi asks, already getting ready to walk on over but like before, something pushed against him and his feet find their way walking over to you.

“No.” He answered him.

“Well, let me introduce you.”

Kenobi says your name aloud, catching your attention and as you turn, there’s a strange feeling in the Kel Dor’s stomach. He had not expected you to appear so youthful as you appeared wise beyond your years.

“General, what do I owe the pleasure?” You smile warmly to your friend, eyes flickering between the human male and then to Kel Dor beside him.

“Nothing at all, just thought I would introduce you to Master Plo Koon. I don’t think you two have worked together.”

When you look at him your eyes are full of intrigue and interest as you bore into the mask on his face. “No, I don’t believe we have.” You take a step closer and extend a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

His hands or talons so to speak, reach out to you and gently clutches at the softness of your skin. His touch is surprisingly warm and enough to send chills down your arms but luckily, your robes hid the bumps. When he says your name you feel an odd sensation. A sensation as if you would want him to repeat it over and over again.

“And you. I see you find calmness in The Great Tree?” He pulls his arm back, digits leaving yours and you try to ignore how cold you suddenly felt. What was happening? Were you feeling unwell? You push the thoughts back for the time being and focus back on his question.

“Yes, I find it beautiful.” You say softly, turning to look at the leaves that bristled in the soft wind. “We’re definitely lucky to have one in our midst due to its rarity.”

There was something about you that Plo was fascinated by. Your voice was a soft and calming presence and there seemed to be no heavy grief on your shoulders. He was internally thankful that Kenobi had parted ways with you both and took the opportunity to get to know you more.

Respectfully, he had asked of your homeworld and family and listened with great interest at whatever you had to say. You also made sure to include him too and would ask questions about how the war is fairing for him and if he had any worries which reminded him:

“If you recall, I remember seeing you on Kamino though I didn’t make myself known.” He begins to walk alongside you and as you take small and slow steps, his large ones go down to a minimum.

At least the question in your mind of which Jedi had seen you that day was answered and a small smile crept onto your lips. “I thought I felt a spectre close by. You have a very warm presence in the Force.” Although you spoke calmly, there was no denying that there was a small hesitance in your mind and sincerely hoped you had not said anything too outrageous after just meeting him.

“That is kind of you to say.” He nods, genuinely appreciating your gentle words. “I hope that trooper you were seeing made a full recovery?”

“Oh yes,” you smile softly “Jammy, as I so named him, has made a speedy recovery. He got badly wounded on our last mission and I really thought he wouldn’t make it out this time.”

“This time?”

You roll your eyes a little playfully. “Hence the name. He’s been in that Medbay more times than I can count. He’s a lucky one.”

Plo smiles, noticing how affectionate you are when it comes to talking about the Clones. It was a nice relief to see one having respect for them after all they do for the GAR. It was rather refreshing.

“Who were you going to see?” You turn your head to look up at him. He chuckles softly and tells you about Wolffe, a trust Commander and the name just so happens to ring a bell.

“Wolffe,” you repeat his name, pausing, “I don’t suppose he is the Commander of the 104th? Making you their General?”

“Yes, why do you ask?” He stops with you and you find yourself blushing as you notice just how close he stood beside you, slowly moving to stand in front.

“I believe that I am joining you and your entourage in the next following days, on Aleen?” You ask hopefully and that strange sudden hope that you had was a little dangerous.

He hums a small chuckle but shakes his head. “Not me, but I’m sure my men will be a great addition in my absence.”

You tried to not look disappointed but the way he tilts his head at you makes you think that maybe he knew. “I’ll be happy to work with them, General.”

“Please,” he says softly and with enough grace places a hand to your shoulder, “call me Plo.”

————-

The relationship you had with Plo only grew from then on. Coincidentally (or not) the two of you would often find yourselves walking the halls of the Temple together but there was something not quite right.

Just now, your conversation with Plo was innocent and had you both laughing but as you passed a small group of maybe three members of the order, they were eyeing you both up suspiciously. At first you thought nothing of it but the stares lingered and then whispers would begin. You wondered if Plo had seen it too but for now, he said nothing.

When he walked you to your room, there was a small moment just outside your door. You were wishing him a restful sleep but the Kel Dor, almost unnaturally reached out and gently pushed a strand of hair away from your face. Your eyes widen, a blush creeping up your neck and you thank him quietly. He smiles a little and nods his head. “Sleep well, little one.”

The nickname was new and Maker it made you feel airy and light.

A week or two had passed and your heart that had been so full was heavy. You were back on Kamino and your chest tightened as you watched the AZI droids cover not one, not two but at least seven of your men with white sheets. The mission, although successful, left a sour taste in your mouth as you stayed in the Medbay, overlooking your fallen troops.

When the door behind you hissed open however, just by the thought of being with someone who you knew to be Plo, your emotions took over. You raised a hand to your face and quickly swept away a stray tear, turning to face your friend.

“Afternoon Plo.”

Although you could not see it, there is grief behind the mask as he crosses the threshold to you. “Come, little one… let us find somewhere else to talk.”

The nickname would have been lovely if not for the environment but alas you listened and followed after him with your head bowed. For the first time in a while, you both walked in silence until he found a quiet room for you both to sit in.

He gestures to a spot beside him and as you sit, you let out a heavy sigh.

“Your thoughts are wild and understandably so. Is there anything I can do to give you comfort?” His modulated voice was soft and gentle, just like the man he was. You knew that he knows just how hard losing men can be and it never gets any easier. For you, you make bonds with your men. Attachments so to speak, something forbidden within the Order. The thought of being careless to them made you angry and you knew some Jedi would not bat an eyelid. So as your fists tighten by your sides, there is no surprise that Plo had gently taken one of your hands and whispered, “At ease, they wouldn’t want to see you upset.”

That afternoon, you didn’t say much but you didn’t need to. Plo stayed by your side and as you felt yourself getting weary, he had let you rest upon his shoulder, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

Another week passed and another week of your feelings being a mangled mess. It was clear now that feelings had started to bloom between yourself and Plo. On your part, anyway. There is conflict within you and something tells you to back away and get a hold of yourself but that was a little impossible to do when your men had made jokey passing comments to you.

“What was that Trooper?” You turn to him with an amused gleam in your eyes, glad to see how at ease they were with you when he replies if you’re thinking about going to see the ‘Wolfpacks dad’. You snorted, dismissing him playfully but there was something in the back of your mind that was tickling your senses. Was it obvious to them that there was something there? Is that why the Jedi had been keeping a watchful eye on you both. Surely if they knew, Plo would know. This piques your curiosity even more.

That evening, you had decided to stay away from Plo purely because you did not understand these feelings yourself yet. Though, naturally, you both found yourselves in each other’s company.

You’re along one of the balconies back in the Temple when Plo had arrived.

“I didn’t think you would be here.” His voice made you jump a little, your mind so deep in force you didn’t even sense his overpowering presence.

“And why is that?” You poke at his thoughts as he stands beside you, overlooking the city below.

“This is where I often come to ponder my thoughts - something I find myself doing a lot more lately.”

Your body gets tingly at his words, heart racing a little faster. This could either be a good thing, a bad thing, or both. “Something on your mind?”

He stays silent for a few moments, his thoughts conflicted for the first time in a while. He was often quick, wise and brave but he felt the opposite now. Especially with you by his side.

“It is more someone than it is something.”

There it was. You just knew it was about you, or so you certainly had hoped unless he has someone else in his life he has kept quiet about. Words can not even string together but luckily, he does the talking. “My men, they like to talk shall we say about our relationship.”

You freeze. Relationship? Was there even one aside from friendship? “I see.”

Plo looks down at the railing, seeing your hands nervously strum along it and hoping he had read the last few rotations correctly, he quietly placed his hand over yours, talons very gently caressing into your warm skin. “Is this okay little one?” He whispers in your ear and you shudder a small gasp before nodding.

“Plo, what if someone sees us?”

“I must admit I am point the past of caring. I can not help who I admire, and that is you little one.” Plo is watching you carefully but when a small smile flicks onto your lips and your turn to face him, you carefully rest your hand upon his.

“Me too,” you sigh softly, “but I fear this may impact our place in the Order.”

Gently, his other hand comes down to your waist and turns you to face him fully. His hand leaves yours and places it to the side of your face as he looks adoringly into your eyes. “Like I said, I am past the point of caring. I can not stand to believe that we are to shut ourselves out of anything and not be deemed as a Jedi. I trust you feel the same?”

Without hesitation, you fall into his chest. Arms wrapping around his lean and tall frame, Plo wastes no time in reciprocating the gesture. “Of course I feel the same Plo… ever since I met you I could not help but-.”

“Fall for one another.” He finishes off for the both of you.

You’re both elated, glad that the mutual feelings were out in the open but for what is to happen next is uncertain. But what you both did know is that you would both pick one another over any stupid rule. Together, you will treat your own men with the love and dignity they deserve and if yours has to be a secret, so be it.

As long as you’re with him.

Masterlist

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#plo koon #plo koon x reader #Plo koon x you #the bad batch #star wars #clone wars #nahoney22 writes

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samspenandsword · 2 years

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NSFW Alphabet: Plo Koon

Summary: NSFW Alphabet for everyone’s favorite Jedi dad, Plo Koon. Pairing: Plo Koon/reader; gender-neutral, humanoid reader with no mentions of their appearance. Rating: Explicit, 18+ (Younglings, foundlings, and cadets BEGONE!) Warnings: Explicit sexual content, smut; mentions of penetrative sex, creampies, oral sex (m!receiving), toy use, praise kink, daddy kink, roleplay, voice kink, corruption, Kel Dor anatomy headcanons, established relationships, secret relationships, language. Word Count: 2.5k

I know this took a while to get out, but I hope you all enjoy my Plo Koon alphabets!

You can find the template I used here

SFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The aftercare is almost as amazing as the sex itself. This man will take such good care of you it sometimes feels like a dream. You literally cannot imagine — massages, sweet nothings, warm baths, snacks, snuggles. You are pampered and well-taken care of every single time. You will want for nothing.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Plo’s favorite part of his body is his hands. For a long time he wasn’t really partial to them, but after meeting you, he came to appreciate them. You so clearly adore his hands and practically melt into goo each time he gives you a scalp massage. But Plo’s favorite feature of yours is your eyes — because despite the fact that his own eyes are usually hidden behind his antiox mask, he always feels you can see straight through the mask and into his own eyes, locking your gazes and being able to convey everything you feel in a single glance. Subtly is the name of the game for your relationship, and meaningful eye contact is one of his favorite ways to show affection. Not to mention he loves how wide your eyes get when you’re turned on.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Plo cums a lot. So much so that if he cums inside you, you are pooching and leaking. And if he cums on your chest, it is everywhere. You guys have to change the sheets of your bed every time you’re intimate because of how much Plo cums. And his preferred place to cum is inside you. He loves being buried inside you, and staying inside you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Plo loves the idea of you not wearing underwear after you’ve been intimate. The image of you with his cum leaking down your thighs, especially if you’re in a meeting or in a public place, is an idea that literally plagues him, and by Force, he is not mad about it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Plo’s a Jedi, so he’s not the most experienced guy on the block. Not physically. Especially because his physiological needs are so different from most other species. His experience is emotional — Plo is not a model Jedi when it comes to attachments and emotions — he is openly caring and kind, in a way many Jedi aren’t. And he has no qualms about whispering romantic words to you, or giving you caring, gentle embraces. To the point where, even in the beginning, you never doubted that he cared deeply for you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves when he’s reclined back against a mountain of pillows, you laying against his chest. From there, he can rock his hips into you, one hand stroking over your hair, or leaving light red lines down your chest (his version of hickies and love bites), the other hand resting firmly on the bulge in your stomach. And from this position, he can murmur the sweetest, dirtiest praises in your ears. “You’re doing so well, little one.” “I can feel you pulsing around me, you feel so good.” “Are you going to cum, little one?” Bonus points if there’s a mirror across the room, and Plo makes you watch as he fucks up into you, pinning your hips against his and simply holding you in place as he alternates between pistoning his hips in and out, and rocking so slowly you’re squirming for more. Extra bonus points if you’re cockwarming him in this position too, it’s a good way for him to plug his cum inside you after a long session.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Plo isn’t above teasing, amusement riddling his tone, his talons tickling up and down your skin, but he tends to be more serious in the moment. Being intimate with you is kind of rare with the war going on, so he wants to savor the moment for as long as he can, making sure you never doubt how much he loves you, how much he desires you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Kel Dors don’t really have hair, not anywhere, so there’s nothing for him to groom. However, Plo does take pride in keeping other aspects of his appearance neat — his robes, the painted symbol of the Wolfpack on his vambraces. And he melts each and every single time you notice and appreciate this.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Plo can be so romantic it aches. Gentle praises, deep, thorough thrusts, gentle caresses. Even when he’s rougher, even when he’s teasing you, it’s never without a blatant undertone of care and affection.

J = Jack off (masterbation headcanon)

Not much, if ever. As a Jedi, it’s part of his training and lifestyle to ignore physical stimuli and needs. He can control his urges better than anyone you’ve ever met before. But that’s not to say when he gets back from a several-months-long campaign he’s not going to be inside you the first chance he gets. And when the two of you first start becoming intimate, before you can fully take him because of his sheer size, he’ll often masturbate during your sessions together.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hoh, boy. Where to start (daddy kink daddy kink). I’m inclined to think that Plo has a bit of a corruption kink — turning his sweet love into a mewling, horny, cockdumb mess. Through dirty talk, through edging, through teaching even. He also has a praise kink. In fact, there are times when you’re together that he never seems to shut up. He’ll babble about how good you feel, how warm and soft and pretty you are speared on his cock. He’ll pet and shush you as he stretches you open, massaging your thighs as they tremble with the force of your orgasm. He gets off from giving praise as much as you get off receiving it. Plo is also into roleplay. Not fully-blown, with costumes and props, but using titles instead of names, pretending it’s your first time together, him narrating a scenario as he’s fully sheathed inside you, causing you to squirm and whine.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In private. No doubt. As a Jedi, his relationship with you is in direct violation of the Code, and since he sits on the Jedi Council, he ensures he’s even more careful to keep your relationship private. Especially if you are a Jedi as well. In public, the both of you will appear as nothing more than good friends and comrades, keeping your true feelings locked in the Force until you’re able to be alone. And by alone, I mean you will be away from the Jedi Temple most of the time — always a chance someone could walk by your quarters and get a hint of what’s happening. You both won’t risk it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Domesticity. Plo is a total sucker for seeing you do regular, everyday chores. Domestic intimacy and trust absolutely gets him going. You could literally be folding laundry, a holoseries playing in the background, and Plo will suddenly be all over you. Being surrounded by the ins and outs of domestic, civilian life is something he rarely gets to experience, and he loves that you trust him enough to share that side of your life with him. He might even someday admit that he wonders, while deep in hyperspace between campaigns, what it would be like to live such a calm, monotonous life. He also gets lowkey turned on with direct eye contact. All you have to do is lock eyes with him and you’ll suddenly be on your back in bed.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Exhibitionism is something that Plo sometimes fantasizes about, but would never actually participate in. Between his station as a Jedi (and maybe yours as well) he won’t risk the both of you being discovered. Another really big turn off for him is an open or casual relationship. The man is all-in, as the relationship is forbidden for him, and he doesn’t at all like the idea of you not being similarly dedicated.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Due to his anatomy, he can’t really perform oral on you. Even if you put on a breathing mask, his face and mouth shape doesn’t really allow for him to go down on you. He makes up for it with his fingering and handjob games however. And while he’ll never say no to a blowjob, he knows he’s a lot to handle. So he never wants you to feel like you’re obligated to pleasure him this way, especially because he can’t return it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Plo can go either way. He leans towards more slow and sensual, especially at first when you aren’t used to his size and shape, but as the two of you become more and more familiar with each other, he’s happy to up the pace. Plo will pound you until you literally cannot walk if you truly want that, and he’s going to enjoy seeing you go dumb and drooly as he does so.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not really a fan of quickies for a couple of reasons. One of the main reasons is that Plo simply wants to be able to fall into you and every sensation you both get to feel with the other, and quickies don’t really allow for that. Another reason is that he is HUGE. Like, there needs to be some serious foreplay and preparation, huge. His size and quickies do not mix. Third reason is because he cums a ridiculous amount, and quickies don’t allow for the cleanup time often needed after a session with him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Overall, Plo doesn’t get terribly wild in bed. He’s absolutely willing to discuss possible scenarios with you, or things the both of you may be interested in trying, but overall I don’t see Plo being the most adventurous in bed. Sex isn’t just sex to him, it’s definitely a physical expression of his devotion and love for you, and he values that aspect more than any other.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go? how long do they last?)

Plo has stamina like you wouldn’t believe. He can go for a round, usually two, but he’s going to make those rounds last. His self-control is absurd. His Jedi stamina and endurance is seriously crazy.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Plo doesn’t own toys at first, but when the two of you first start becoming physically intimate, they become one of the first things he buys, along with lube. Due to his size and different anatomy, you need to train before you can take him. He buys a series of plugs and dildos, ones that go up in size until you can eventually take one almost identical to his size and shape (yes, there are Kel Dor dildos out there for the millions and millions of alien fuckers in the galaxy, don’t deny it. He nearly pissed himself laughing while he was researching because he came across a Space-Etsy shop for alien dildos. One of them was a huge orange butt plug called Master Plug Koon. He just barely resisted the urge to buy it. He did not, however, resist the urge to send the shop to Kit Fisto, who also pissed himself laughing. The shop has other Jedi-themed toys, including a green, fist-shaped toy called Master Kit Fister, and Kit immediately bought one and he keeps it as a decoration in his apartments. He fist-bumps it on the regular. Only Plo knows what it really is, though Obi-Wan has his suspicions.). After that, the toys don’t get used as much, but Plo’s happy to leave them with you for when he’s deployed on long missions.

U = Unfair (do they like to tease)

He will tease, when the mood hits. But he’s not cruel. He’ll edge you, he’ll ask you, sounding more than a little cheeky, if you want to cum, he’ll ask you how much you’ve missed him and his cock. But every tease and edge has an undertone of care and affection, because that’s just how Plo is.

V = Volume (how loud are they, what sounds they make, etc.)

Plo’s not terribly loud in the sense of moans, or groans, but he can be quite vocal if he knows you’re into it. And with a voice like his, who isn’t into it? He can get quite vocal in the moment, endlessly praising you, whispering dirty things into your skin, humming smugly in that deep voice of his as you whimper and writhe around him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Plo sleeps with an absolute mountain of pillows, and loves to create nests around the two of you during intimacy. When he’s rougher, however, pillows tend to fall to the ground in piles or get torn to shreds due to his claws.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Holy hell Plo is HUGE. Bulbous, ridged, girthy, AND stupidly long. This man is just enormous. Foreplay is the name of the game with you guys, and oftentimes, he’ll need to make you cum at least once, preferably twice before he can slide into you. And even then, the stretch is incredible. Plo fills you and stretches you in ways no other partner has been able to before. When you first started becoming intimate, you needed to train before you could take him completely.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I headcanon Plo as having a Goldilocks-esque sex drive. Just right. Right in the middle of the scale. As a Jedi (and a Kel Dor one), physical intimacy is something he didn’t really grow up with. His Jedi training also lends itself to him being able to go long periods without getting desperately, desperately horny. However, with that said, as soon as your relationship turns physical, he is happy to be with you at every chance he gets, and it helps that he can sense when you’re in the mood. But Plo also appreciates and looks forward to each non-sexual moment you two have together. Every moment of your relationship is something precious to him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Plo will always, and I mean always, make sure you fall asleep first. That’s just who he is. He will never fall asleep before ensuring that you are 100% sated, comfortable, and cleaned up. So as soon as you fall asleep, he’ll settle beside you and allow himself to sleep as well. But only after you’ve fallen asleep first.

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#star wars #star wars the clone wars #sw tcw #tcw #star wars: the clone wars #star wars character alphabet #plo koon x reader #plo koon #jedi master plo koon #master plo koon #plo koon x you #plo koon x y/n #jedi/reader #plo koon/reader #plo koon/you #gender-neutral reader #gn!reader #gn reader

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oceansssblue · 6 days

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SW REQUESTS:

"Would love to see a Wolffe x reader fic where the AFAB reader is injured in battle, Comms him and then their Comms get jammed and he's just freaking the hell out. Love some angst of him carrying her back to a ship and losing his mind over it"

Some minor alterations but I'm SO HAPPY with how this one came out! I love wolffe and there aren't that many fics about him. Do recommend your favourites! Xx, sky.

"RADIO SILENT" –WOLFFE/F READER

WARNINGS: BATTLE, WOUNDS&BLOOD, ANGST AND FLUFF. 📩💔💖

Halsakaa is a nightmare. The Republic hasn't been able to redirect more forces to the Outer Rim planet to help you; and your troops are struggling to keep the droids battalions at bay. It honestly feels as though the Republic –and the Jedi– have abandoned you to your wrath; no-one coming to this remote location in the galaxy to save you. The destine of your own life, and the lifes of your soldiers, are solely in your hands. And you'd give everything for them, even sacrifice yourself if you have to. After so many experiences together, for almost three years straight now, they have becomed such an important part of you it feels as if you have ingrained every single one of them in your soul. You know you should'nt be so attached to them; Master Ploo quietly reminds you from time to time –though you know he's not exactly indifferent either–. The wolfpack is his own just as they are yours. Yours. Growing up as Jedi you haven't had this kind of... ownership over anything but your saber. Obviously, you don't see the clones as something you can posses, use; but they do belong to you in some sense, and in that way, it's your responsability to command them, to take care of them. And you... love them. It's a dangerous word for a Jedi. But it's the truth. It is the reason why, right now, your soul aches. Each death is a strike right to your heart. But how can you see them any different, when they are such loyal friends? Such fierce soldiers, who fight and die selflessly for the freedom of other citizens in the galaxy, a freedom that hadn't been given to themselves?

Your dark emerald green lightsaber flies in your hands, deflecting one bolt after the other one. Sweat makes your usually comfortable jedi robes stick to your body; minor scratches and wounds tingling painfully at the friction of the fabric. It doesn't make you move any slower, though; you feel unstopable jumping from a cluster of droids to another, the hum of your saber following you around while you slash through your enemies with persistent focus and skill. General Ploo is doing his own thing on the other side of the battlefield; your clone troops split in half to defend both sides of Halsakaa's capital.

You don't know how much longer you can hold this off. All of you have been trained for this, and you're used to drawing strength from the Force, increasing your usual endurance; but even you are feeling exhausted, muscles straining like painful cords, and the thing about the droids is that they never tire out. You know this has to end eventually. Right now, Master Ploo's orders are to hold on til some other battalion can come to your rescue –the other option abandoning Halsakaa to the separatists, which would cause a disastrous impact on the Republic–; though you don't know when that will be. It may be days, or weeks. A month, maybe two. Even with the system of rest-and-takeover you've got established with the clones you're afraid you're going to lose.

The night falls, and some troopers fall back into the delicate safety of the makeshift camp, a decent distant away from the battlefield; they'll try to shut the eye for some hours before replacing other brothers positions again. You keep fighting, completely exhausted but knowing perfectly well that your presence in the battlefield equals the force of ten clones; pushing through your energy limits and fiercely holding your own.

Hours pass, and the two suns of Halsaaka rises again; your tired eyes getting used to the new light while you keep slashing droids with your saber.

"We're pushing them further away from the South Door" Master Ploo's calm voice picks up through your coms. "I have been informed that the 442th have been dispatched in our way. They will join us in two sunrises".

You can't help but give a relieved sigh. The 104th have worked with the 442th more than once in the past. They are heavy infantry; and you wouldn't say no to some of that now. Any fresh soldier would be a welcomed addition. You can see the strain on your troopers; though none of them would dare say a word out loud.

"Copy that" you answer through your channel with your Master and the 104th's commander and sergeant. "I'll feel as happy as a kid with a popsicle when I see that green stripped armour along our light gray one".

You dodge a shot and use the Force to push a wave of droids to the side; your troopers quickly using the oportunity to blast them down.

Wolffe's deep husky voice pipes up in a tiny, well-humoured comment.

"Still a kid yourself, General" he teases you, voice still firm and contradictionally serious.

Your lips pull up on a tiny smirk.

"We can't all age in a blink of an eye, my dear Commander" you chirp back.

The coms pick up his raspy chuckle before the frequency goes back to silence.

The droids make way for something bigger and you groan under your breath. The first bolts make the earth beneath your feet shake slightly; orders and screams shouted all around you.

"Bad news, boys" you open the general coms this time so everyone gets updated in this very unwelcomed surprise. "We've got some spiders".

You focus yourself on them; flying through the battlefield and jumping on one droid after the other one, sinking your saber into their red sensors or cutting off their laser canions. Then, when you're in the middle of jumping off of one, a surprisingly well aimed bolt crosses the air and hits you; and you fall down with blood quickly soaking your side, staining the fabric of your Jedi clothes.

"Fuck" you mutter out loud, jaw clenching til your teeth hurt while you stand up quickly and deflect another bold with your saber, trying to cope with the pain. You open your private frequency with Sinker and quickly inform of your state.

"Sinker, I've been hit" you grit between your teeth while you kill the droid responsible for your wound and step back between your troopers to cover yourself momentarily.

You pull your clothes up and quickly glance down at the wound. Usually the bolts inmediately cauterizes the wounds; but this hadn't been a normal droid, but a combat-J1, with it's weapon specifically designed to make the most damage to human's skin without it's predecessors side-efects. The apparently less dangerous bolts are quite the opposite; dividing into smalller ones that diverts into different directions when hitting a surface with enough resistance. Right now, there's only one entrance wound on your right side; but you know they may have carved more than one path inside of you, making it a life or death situation depending on how lucky you are.

"How bad is it?" He asks, slowly but effectively advancing through the droid lines towards you, an easy person to locate with the shine of your emerald saber.

You grunt in pain, hand soaked in dark scarlet blood, and take a deep breath in, knowing what you need to do for now.

"Bad" you just answer, carefully lowering your own saber towards the wound "It's a shot from a J1. I'm going to cauterise the wound for now, but I might go into shock in the next hour. Just a heads up."

You chuckle weakly, and then carefully graze your lightsaber against the wound. The skin quickly hardens and clots; the smell of the burn quickly reaching your nose. Your knees buckle while you swallow your scream of pain; legs shaking weakly and tears springing to your eyes while you finish putting a momentarily solution to your wound. At least you won't die from blood loss for now.

"Maker, General" Sinker is suddenly there, taking a strong hold of your opposite hip to stabilize you. "That really doesn't look good. You should go back to camp, Sir".

You find solace in his strength for a minute before rightening yourself again and getting ready to move. You close your eyes and center yourself with the Force. You're hurt, but you're still in the middle of open fire; you need to swallow the pain and dizziness down and hold on.

You give Sinker a firm nod.

"I'm letting this side of the battlefield on your hands, then" you tell him, his own back inmediately straightening too under such responsability. "Just one more night and we'll have reinforcements with us tomorrow".

Sinker nods in understanding, appreciating your words of encouragement. He quickly orders Comet to help you get safely back to camp; while he inmediately takes the role of leader and commands your part of the 104th clone troops. You need to protect the North Door of Halsaaka while Master Ploo and Wolffe take care of the South.

One arm around Comet's shoulders and finding strength in the Force, you quickly start your dangerous way back to safety. Even though Comet's alert with his own blaster and you're still deflecting bolts with your saber, you're vulnerable now. You just hope you're both able to make it.

You open your coms to inform of the new situation.

"I've been hit with a J1" you warn Master Ploo and Wolffe. You don't like how weak your voice sounds. "Wolffe, I..."

There's a small explosion right beside you; and the force of it pushes both you and Comet to the ground. You whimper in pain, but quickly grab him and push the two of you back up, resume walking –more like stumbling forward–. You try the coms again, wanting to tell Wolffe you've left Sinker with command before retiring for the night; you grumble in irritation when you see your com device has detached from your forearm and has been left abandoned behind.

"Do you have your com?" You ask Comet.

His voice is barely audible under the protection of his helmet.

"My audio appears to be broken after that last fall, General."

You sigh, tired. There's nothing you can do about it now. Sinker will communicate with them sooner or later.

"Let's just make it back to safety then" you say, and Comet nods diligently.

You'll just focus on not collapsing to the ground before reaching camp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe's heart stutters inside his chest when he hears your voice in the coms. You're always strong, always fierce; something he had admired from the very first time he had had the chance to work under your command. He had been cold towards you back then; not purposedly harsh against you, but not friendly either. You hadn't cared. When one of his men had pointed out to you it wasn't personal, but just Wolffe's reserved, unpolished personality, you had answered unbothered and completely understanding. He could still hear those words in his head; "I get it. I'm a stranger that holds the lifes of his brothers in her hands. None of you know me yet; trust is earned. I hope I will with time. I'd like us all to be comfortable with each othef. But if not, it doesn't matter. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to fight. I'm here to protect people; and I'm here to direct my assigned troops as best as I can in order to achieve the best results with the minor number of casualties. If Commander Wolffe opens up to me I'd be honored. If not, I'm sure we could still be good comrades in this war". He still remembers the way you had tilted your chin upwards; staring defiantly at the clones in front of her, completely unaware of him standing not so far away at her back. "Now, I believe there's still some preparations needed for Jaal; and we're taking off in an hour". With that not-so-subtle signal that the conversation had ended, the troopers around you had quickly fell back to place; and Wolffe had silently followed Master Ploo Koo towards you. "Look at you, little warrior" the older Jedi had told you, a pleasant smile wrinkling the corner of his covered eyes. "Already displaying such good lidership traits". You had turned around in surprise; so many life presences around you, and experiencing a rush of your own emotions, you hadn't been aware of both of their presence. Your cheeks had flushed slightly; though that same defiant glint hadn't left your eyes. "Master" you had slightly bowed towards him. "You see me with good eyes" you had smiled softly at him, in a clearly opened affectionate way Wolffe wasn't used to seing in other Jedi. "Just having a chat with the troops". Master Ploo had chuckled quietly and pointed at him with a hand gesture; Wolffe quickly taking a step forwards towards them. "I have just had a quick meeting with the Council. Commander Wolffe will update you on my behalf, as I need to go have a word with the pilots" Master Ploo had glanced back at him pointedly. "If he'd be kind enough...". Wolffe had inmediately nodded, firmly. He had high respect towards that specifical Jedi; and he didn't usually hold others in such high regards. "Of course, sir" he had then turned towards you. "General, if you can follow me to the strategy room...". You had firmly hold his stare for a few seconds; and the quiet inquisitive gaze had felt as if the young Jedi Warrior had scanned his own very soul. Wolffe had had his first tingle of that uncomfortable but curious feeling back then; a feeling that had only increased with the following years. Nowadays, he...

Wolffe cleared his thoughts and focused on battle. Your voice had sound weak and tired, but you were perfectly capable of holding yourself, and this wasn't the first time you had been hurt before. He had actually patched you more than once in the past and... And then you mentioned a J1, and whispered his name, and there was a loud ringing sound through the coms that sounded too close to an explosion for his comfort and... And the sounds died, leaving nothing more than radio silence. And Wolffe, going against everything he had learnt and was trained for, pannicked.

"General?" His frantic, afraid voice was enough for Master Ploo to focus his attention on him, a graze at his Force life enough to make him understand his commander's feelings. "General. Come on. Com in, kid..."

There was only static.

Wolffe's heart pumped faster, adrenaline shooting through his veins. His hands trembled. A knot formed in his throat, slowly chocking his voice. He never broke down. He never broke down, but...

"Cyar'ika" he begged in a whisper. "Please, please answer and tell me you're okay".

He still got no answer back from you, and he felt his soul hurt.

Master Plo's hand suddenly renched him back into reality; a comforting wave of what could only be his Force washing over him. Wolffe turned his face towards him. The Jedi watched him in understanding.

"I can feel your turmoil. It is such it's difficult for me to focus on anything else. You are in no state to stay in the battlefield" he told him, cautiously gentle. "If my padawan has been gravely injured someone has probably helped her return to camp. You must go and make sure she's okay".

Even if Wolffe wanted nothing more than to start of a run and find her, he still hesitated in front of his General. He was a soldier. A commander. He couldn't leave his place just because he had stupidly, oh so fucking stupidly, fallen in love with her...

Master Plo squeezed his shoulders once. He knew him so well.

"Go" he insisted. "That's an order".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe quickly wrenched the flimsi excuse of a door of the tent open. He had gone to the makeshift infirmary first; his doctor quickly informing him of the state of his Jedi, and where he could find her resting at the moment. "A dangerous wound, but surprisingly stable" he had told him while he took care of the wound of a fellow brother. "She's a tough one, our General. It was a good idea to use her own lightsaber as a cauterizer. She wouldn't have probably made it all the way back here otherwise". That probability had made Wolffe tremble.

His own eyes quickly scanned the Jedi's state now. She was laying down on a rucksack, unusually clad in just a sport top and his Jedi pant's; outer robes discarded and clean bandages effectively wrapping around her lower torso, with just a small amout of blood transpairing on her side. Her lightsaber had been carefully placed at her side. Her hair was untied and a mess; some sticking to her dirtied face and some falling around freely behind her. Despite her evident exhaustion, Wolffe hand't ever been so happy to see her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Commander?" You asked in a surprised voice, slowly and carefully propelling some of your weight in your elbows in order to see him better. "Shouldn't you be back on the battlefield?"

Your face quickly changes into a deep, worried frown as you scan him up and down quickly.

"Are you hurt too, Wolffe?"

His heart clenches again. He steps inside the tent, slowly falling down on his knees besides you, and closes the door.

"No" he simply answers, observing you quietly.

You're completely lost. He's looking at you in a different way. He... Feels different, in the Force. Usually he feels much more reserved, almost as if he had learnt how to shield his emotions from a Jedi; however this... This felt raw.

"I'm afraid I don't understand" you chuckle and then wince at the way the movement tugs at your wound, a bit nervously now. You pointedly look at him. "You wouldn't be here just because you got worried, right?"

Wolffe's expression doesn't change.

"You went radio silent" he answers, quietly.

You arch an eyebrow.

"Our coms died" you explain, still confused about his attitude.

Wolffe can't help himself. He reaches forward and carefully grasps your chin in his right hand; eyes boring into yours. You gasp in surprise and can't do anything else but stare at his breathetaking mismatched eyes in response; emotions inside of you swirling dangerously with his move.

"You were hurt" he enfasises, almost as if he's trying to tell you something else, something you're not quite understanding. "You were hurt, and you went radio silent".

Oh. Oh. He thought you might be... You might have...

"Oh, Wolffe" his name is an understanding, affectionate sigh on your tempting lips. "I'm okay".

He doesn't want empathy. Doesn't want that almost condescending type of comfort. He needs to make sure you're still here; with him. He needs to exteriorize all this raw, painful emotions he has been keeping hidden for so fucking long, and he wants you so fucking bad it makes his mind and soul burn...

He bends down over you, holding himself against one hand proped against the floor while the other one tugs your neck forward, and then he's kissing you –fiercely, dominantly, real–; he kisses the same way he fights and a surprised but delighted whimper of a moan can't help but escape from your lips, hands quickly clinging onto his shoulders desperately.

You... You hadn't thought you'd end up having this. With you being a Jedi and him being such a perfect, respected clone Commander, you had always brushed your wants aside and...

"Wolffe" you whisper, trembling inevitably when his plush warm mouth moves from your lips to the side of your neck, biting gently. "Wolffe, I...".

He breathes and looks up at your face again; cupping your cheek with his right hand and observing your reaction with his eyes shimmering in needs and desire.

His Force signature blasts. He loves you. He loves you, and you...

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" you whisper, risking it all and giving your heart to him.

Tears blur your sight. They're not sad tears; they're not happy either. They're a mix of emotions that make you feel like a mess and...

Wolffe sighs. You love him. You love him, and the fact that you've told him in Mando'a...

He closes his eyes and gently presses his forehead against yours; finding solace and peace in your embrace, in this Keldabe. His eyes then flutter open, and he holds your face in both of his hands, slowly joining your lips in a kiss much more sweet and unhurried than those from before. You hum, surrendering in complete bliss.

He caresses your smuged cheek with his thumb, taking some of the dirt and exhaustion of the battlefield away.

His voice is a secret whisper as well.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyare".

Your fingers tug at the hair at the back of his neck, and you crash your lips onto his.

You imprint those five mandalorian words in your soul.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one was a blast to write! Felt the emotions so raw myself tooo bfbfbsfb this two are so cute. I hope I get to write more of Wolffe in the future, I really like the guy.

Did some minor alterations –like him not been the one to actually carry you back to safety– but it kinda wrote itself and I'm happy with how it came out. Hope you liked it as well!

Also, dear friends, if you ever want to request something longer than a one-shot, you're able to do so as well (if the plot goes accordingly or I find it expandable). I'm not writing whole stories, but a short one of maybe 2-5 chapters max would be okay.

Stay tunned for the next one yall. It will be a little angsty one with Echo, and then we'll have a flirty fun one with Crosshair.

Xx,

Sky.

Back to main masterlist here!

75 notes · View notes

arctrooper69 · 1 year

Note

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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Poets and Painters (Midday) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over… 2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss, and Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes the more the fic progresses (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet.

Word count: 4,665

The trick to keeping Commander Wolffe from prowling the edge of the clearing like a caged animal had been surprising. To everyone.

Allowing him to watch you work keeps him seated on the hill beside you, where he does not worry his brothers or Master Plo Koon by continuing to make lap after lap. He had left your side once, to take a look at something the Clone pilot Warthog had to show him, and then did a little shiny-wrangling (namely Soapsuds) because they were too close to the forest for his comfort, but he was quick to return.

He's not much of a conversational partner, whether that's out of respect for you to let you concentrate, or simply a product of his personality. When he has something to say, Wolffe keeps it brief.

"I'm not that pale."

"But your scar is." you reply with a gentle smile and a soft laugh, carefully adding traces of a lighter flesh-tone to the vertical stripe of scar tissue in your sketching of the Commander. You keep your pressure light on the page, and make your best efforts to keep the strokes in roughly the same orientation. The smile gives way to a frown the longer you fill in the length of his scar on the page. Your heart hurts for what happened to him at the hands of a dark Force-wielder. What her blade did to him. "I imagine it was quite painful, to lose your eye…"

"Yes." Wolffe replies in a clipped voice, suggesting to you that while he does not want to dismiss your sympathies, he clearly must not want to talk about this with someone he does not know, either. You feel a tug on the lapel of your uniform, and the gloved pad of his thumb brushes over something. Oh. You'd forgotten about that. "You added a wolf's head into your uniform, Arcadia?" He's changing the subject. And that's okay.

That's more than okay.

Glancing down best you can, you see the sloppy replication the flint-gray Commander refers to. The thread used for the head is a steely gray, the stitches are almost invisible and camouflaged in the color of the uniform, save for the eyes in your favorite color. It was meant to be practice for repairing holes in your clothing, you explain. "For emergency situations. I wanted to see if my stitches would hold up after being washed. I completely forgot it was there." You don't explain why you went with the image of a wolf. You won't need to, in his presence.

It's easy enough to guess why this would be the animal, of all possible choices available to you in this galaxy, you would stitch into your lapel. The name surrounds you. Wolfpack. General Plo's callsign is Wolf Leader when they engage in battle by starfighter.

It is the name of the man next to you - granted it bears an additional forn and an esk.

Wesk-osk-leth-forn-forn-esk.

Wolffe.

"It held up well." he compliments you, releasing the fold of the lapel and assuming his silence once more. Degree by degree, you are seeing he is not eternally gruff or cold with you, or anyone: merely a man made stoic and far more vigilant than before by war. In his vigilance, he continues to visually sweep the field for signs of trouble or mischief.

Maybe, while he's distracted…

You stealthily swap out the current coloring pencil in your hand - a deeper skin tone - and pluck out the Lamp Black pencil in the mix, drifting your hand lower down the page until the end of the pencil was now lined up with the loosely defined crotch and codpiece of his armor.

Maker alive let's just get this over with.

The body glove is going to be innocent enough to fill in, but defining the shadows around the pubic bulge in his kit will be faster. Just keep it quick and be discreet. Work fast. Hope no one sees. Hope no one asks.

Your pulse screams in your veins when he clears his throat - loudly - next to you, and you are so certain he is now trained on you, and acutely aware of where your pencil is. "Hm-mm…" Oh kriff me sideways. "Excuse me," he apologizes, clearing his throat again softer this time, "didn't mean to startle you, but I was trying to catch Suds' attention." Thank the Maker he didn't look when he apologized. Just a few more marks to finish shading in the codpiece, and then you can start on the body suit. "O-oh. Is he wandering off again?"

"Looked like he was about to."

Still breathing down their necks even from here? "Y'know-"

"As their Commander I am going to look out for my brothers, Arcadia." He sounds neither happy or unhappy with what he assumed you would say. And it's fair of him to assume that, in a sense. You only wish he didn't have to feel so defensive.

"I understand that," you promise him, and for the moment, you set down the pencil in your hand so you are not dividing your attention between the artwork and Wolffe. "and I wasn't telling you to stop, either. I only wanted to warn you that, I think, General Plo Koon seems worried about you, that something is keeping you from enjoying yourself."

To his credit, he gives your words a moment of quiet contemplation. Whether that's to consider the truth behind the words you said, or to come up with an explanation of sorts, Wolffe remains silent and still like the forest that surrounds you on all sides. What secrets does that forest hold? What lives within?

What will you find other than sap and blood on your palms when you pull back the thorny branches?

"I don't believe we're here just to relax for a day." Commander Wolffe admits with a heavy look of guilt and uncertainty. "I think the General has other reasons for bringing us to Little Archossi, and he won't tell us."

"Reasons? Like what?" You pick the pencil back up, and return to the slow, gradual task of adding color to the page. You're going to give him time to think. Time to answer, if he even wants to. He may not. Warning him that he's possibly made his General concerned about him seems to shake him down, somewhat. "I'm sorry."

It's reflexive, apologizing for upsetting him. That seems to pull him out of his silence, for the moment. "Don't be, Arcadia. I'm not going to fault you for having good intentions. Or a good eye."

The kri-?

In dawning horror, you see and fully realize where your pencil lead is. And looking over at him, you see that he does too. "I-I'm so sorry, sir…" You admit that you hoped he wouldn't notice, and that adding the necessary shading and color around areas that carry their shares of suggestive and sexual imagery and connotations would have been completed with as little attention drawn to it as possible. While you're not exactly ashamed to have drawn those parts of him, you feel a bit awkward to have him take notice of your work when you add the color.

Half of his mouth quirks in a smile, an expression of his respect, understanding that took guts to admit. "That's nothing to apologize for. It's just part of the art, Arcadia. A little "awkward" would only be understandable. Would you feel better if I purposely didn't watch?"

Well, seeing as how you're almost done with the inner thigh, you don't see much of a point to the gesture in this part of the progress. But, he did offer. And this seems to be what's keeping him seated in the grass. And what's keeping Plo Koon freer to spend less time being concerned about his diligent commander, and more time in showing his troops more aspects of Kel Dor culture and history, it seems. (Orchid keeps asking questions that Tack could easily answer about Dorin, and it serves as a neat little lesson for some of their newer shinnies. Plo is certainly grateful for the curiosity that allows him to be a teacher, rather than a fighter, today.)

You shrug lazily, laughing softly under your breath. "I'll leave that up to you, sir. At this point…"

Wolffe chooses to keep an eye on his brothers, so you make the process of shading the inner thighs quick, while being careful not to get sloppy. You're not trying to recreate a master painter's work here in the first page of your sketchbook, but you don't want to look at this one day and become filled with the urge to tear it out because all you can see are glaring imperfections, either. That's nothing but a fanciful daydream of making so much progress in your artistic prowess that you would ever be struck with such a thought, of course.

You are preoccupied with a war against the Separatists: when would you ever have the chance to make regular progress and impressive strides without backsliding and the natural degradation of your skills when you do not use them? You're a small part of the busy crew that keeps the Triumphant running smoothly.

People constantly need you. And that's all well and good, but sometimes you find yourself running into the same problem over and over again that crews of this size inevitably face: when you, who provides the help, needs someone, who is there for you? Do you turn to another crewmate who is already up to their neck in all the problems they juggle? Turning to one of the Clone troopers is ill-advised, no matter how much they swear they don't mind lending a hand or an arm (or two) to assist.

You've been doing fine aboard the Triumphant; better than fine, in fact. But that worry claws at you, sometimes. I'm here to help everyone. But if I needed help, who would I go to?

Who does the Commander go to when he needs help, come to think of it… General Plo? Or maybe Sergeants Sinker and Boost, if the matter was a little closer to the heart, something he believed was best kept between brothers?

Who does Wolffe turn to in his hours of need, you wonder.

You need to rest your wrist, and soon. You have just a little more of this tree's canopy to color in though, and then you're calling it good. You've been working on this "sketch" for more than three hours with the Commander at your side. You want to have this done soon. You want to go check out some of these things other crewmates have been laughing themselves silly over for the last hour that leave them gasping and wheezing for breath, clutching their sides and drying their faces. You're burning to know what's so funny, why they keep calling your name to come see.

Curiously guessing over and over what General Plo's reaction will be when you show him this amateurish endeavor in outdoor art drives you to continue, however. Just a few more tiny, feather-shaped leaves… Wolffe notices the sharp twinge in your face, and the uncomfortable spasm in your fingers as you adjust your grip around the Sunflower coloring pencil.

"Getting painful?"

"Just a little." you admit, knowing if you pause now, you will delay when you pick the pencil back. "I'll manage."

"Making art shouldn't bring you pain, Arcadia."

You scoff, just slightly. "Physical pain? Agreed. But emotional pain, that's another matter. Don't worry, I'll be done soon, Wolffe."

He asked you to call him Wolffe a short time ago. It wasn't exactly necessary to call him Commander or Sir all the time if you had him sketched out on your page quite like… that. His legs parted and bent at the knee - flat in the grass out in front of him. Wrist of the left hand resting just on the surface of his thigh, with his hand hanging limp just inches from his groin. You were generous enough to draw his fingers in a more neutral position than how they had looked in reality… Otherwise, if his soldiers and brothers got a hold of the sketchbook, there's no telling how many jokes you'd have to hear about making it look like their Commander was jerkin' it in front of you.

Calling him "Wolffe" would do just fine when it was just the two of you alone on this hill. Perhaps he felt it was only fair if he was calling you by your name. You had no title or rank, like him. You are just a humble part of the crew, but he assured you no less important than one of the soldiers.

It takes all of us, he said. That's how we win this war.

You've come to the home stretch, feeling the ache in your fingers deepen with every tiny skritch and shwoop! as you methodically color in your work leaf by leaf. "Just one last, little leaf," you promise, "and then I'm done."

"Not going to sign your magnum opus, Arcadia?" Wolffe prods a little teasingly. He's smiling at you now, even. Hours ago, he was somber and battle-ready, no smiles, no nonsense. Now, he's beginning to make small jokes. "Should add a signature so future museums know who to accredit this to."

"A leaf and then a signature." you chuckle warmly. "Future museum… Honestly." He only offers a shrug in response to that, and you take it to mean well, you never know. "What, you're trying to tell me you think this would honestly end up in a museum gallery one day?"

He shrugs again, gazing off into the distance, into the forest. "Overheard one of the boys in the mess say something about the notion once. Something they read. Some kind of commemorative effort made by one planet to make sure they never forgot their bloody history by way of art and song and poetry inspired by that time. Evidence of a time best not repeated, but not forgotten either."

Such an insightful and wise thing to be said so casually, poetically, and yet, there's a weighty truth to every syllable and enunciation.

We doom ourselves to repeat the past when we do not remember it and do not teach it anymore. When we allow ourselves to forget, the shades of rouge we sop the bristles of our brushes in will not be in the rich scarlets of Dathomir, or the forever-burning rubies of Mustafar, it will instead be with blood.

When we have enough evidence, it silences the naysayers and the fools. It validates the choking and trembling voices that say I have tasted the bitter blade of war. I have stood before the yawning maw of nothingness it leaves in its wake. I will never be the same. You do not have the right to tell me that I am some kind of paid actor.

If they were conspiracies, do you not think I would be among the loudest of your prophets who tout these twisted claims in the hopes of converting another?

"Fascinating. Thinking something like that will come of the Clone Wars, Wolffe?" You've finished the drawing, now. Taking an ink pen, you jot down your signature in the tidiest handwriting you can manage in the lower right corner, making note of the date for good measure. You'll think up a creative title for this later.

There's a third rising and falling of the shoulders from the man sitting beside you. "It's too soon to tell."

"That's fair." you reply, gathering up your supplies to put them back into the bag for safekeeping. "But you just know, if it does happen, the Separatists aren't gonna like the art." You have faith that the Republic will prevail. How could it not when the soldiers who fight for the Republic are some of the most courageous, persevering people you know? (What will come of them after?)

You're likely right about that, he agrees with a throaty chuckle. The Separatists will not like losing this war, and they'll like the art even less. "I can only hope… that it will not just be the Jedi who are…" Wolffe grows silent next to you. He's not certain what word he wants to use to best explain his thoughts, he admits plainly. There are too many. Too many answers that are right, but he struggles to find the one thing that is most correct out of all of them.

Given what Tack has told you, the answer is obvious. "You're hoping that the galaxy will remember the Clones were a part of this conflict too. That the galaxy won't forget the sacrifices made by your brothers, and they won't forget how many lost their lives. You probably hope that when the free peoples of the galaxy remember the Jedi, they remember you, too. Both must be appreciated together."

"You're probably right," Wolffe concedes firstly, "And you're too wise beyond your years, Arcadia." Strangely philosophical, he tells you, for how old he guesses you to be. Maybe he's the right one this time, thinking to yourself on his words.

Maybe he's not the only one hoping that when this war ends, no matter the outcome, those who served as a part of the Grand Army of the Republic will not be a forgotten topic ten, twenty… even forty or fifty years down the line.

Tack has made a breakthrough in his mysterious flower just before Master Plo is free to come take a look at the sketch and color work you've completed, and concern for his men takes precedence. You would not blame him in the slightest if he forgot he expressed interest in seeing what you accomplished with art materials given to you as gifts. Because of your station with the crew of the Triumphant with a secondary speciality for risk assessment, you're involved in this discussion with the researcher and his commander and general.

Right now determining the risks posed to the men of the 104th matters more. Art and philosophical pondering will have to come later.

Tack explains to both Commander Wolffe and Master Plo that he thinks the smatterings of blue flowers that dot this clearing here on Little Archossi are known as Dinocaeruleus anthos. By their common-name, you know that these flowers are a warning. A silent, unassuming danger for all their beauty and silky blue petals.

Terrible blue flower.

"You can make toxic honey with these flowers?" Wolffe asks more to himself than Tack, as he reads ahead in the compiled information. Plo is taking his time to read the information on the screen of the datapad in his hands. To make sense of this, the Jedi is being thorough.

"Poisonous, Sir, more accurately." Tack makes the correction habitually, and Wolffe does not take it personally. He knows that Tack knows what he meant, and given his aptitude for analytics and other such sciences, his researcher is not correcting him to be a smartass. "But, yes, you can make bad honey with these flowers depending on what pollinators you harvest from. They are not wholly dangerous on their own. Eat it, it might make you feel nauseated due to natural bitterants. Touch it to more sensitive dermal surfaces and it will prove a powerful irritant."

From a short distance away, you hear the voices of Orchid and Soapsuds, Tack's batchmates (you assume), commenting on what the four of you are discussing in the shade of the tree you spent the morning sketching. "So what Tack's saying is don't stick your d-" The speaker finds himself with the other's hand anxiously plastered against his mouth to shut him up in a hurry. "Maker alive, shut up!" Soapsuds warns him, "Orchid, why are you so vulgar?!"

There is a pointed sigh from Commander Wolffe that is aimed at the two of them. Don't make me come over there. Behave yourselves in front of the General.

Plo makes no indication that he's noticed the situation occurring just out of reach. You have to imagine he hears Suds and Orchid wrestling with each other in the grass, now, though, and is ignoring it. "Arcadia and Tack, in your opinion, will these be enough cause for concern to consider returning back to the ship?" Plo wonders aloud. The Kel Dor returns the device to the researcher, and folds his hands together in an act of deliberate contemplation, resting them against his stomach.

Tack looks at you, and you at him, then the Commander. There is a look in his eyes, both the stark silver and the warm vandyke brown, that reads to you as a surrender of control.

I will carry out your judgment.

Tack scoffs and shrugs, his arms thrown wide. "Honestly, General? I don't know enough. I'd need more time to determine through more analysis and comparison. This is only one search result for one flower it could possibly be. But it was enough of a match to make me get the Commander while he was talking with Arcadia." Enough of a match to send him into a tizzy over it. Tack had tripped coming up the hill in his haste, trying to ask if - from where he was sitting - the Commander noticed anyone messing with the blue flowers.

We have a potential problem! had Wolffe on his feet faster than engaging a hyperdrive. And then there was a flurry of questions. Was it contact from the planet's inhabitants? Has someone gotten hurt? Are they needed to assist another battalion? Where's the General?

He has the look again, now. Worry. The inner anxiety is eating him alive. Tack doesn't know. So what about you?

"I see…" Master Plo hums. "And what are your feelings, Arcadia? What do you think about the situation?"

You think. What do you think about this situation? Is it worth double checking the matches for the flower, to make sure that it really is Dinocaeruleus anthos? Are the men really going to be so flippant as to disregard any kind of warning put out about these flowers if they are the Dinocaeruleus, or worse yet, a far more harmful flower? (Not necessarily, but you have to consider that warning the troops that this flower can have detrimental potential invites the opportunity to inflict it.)

There is one thing that is already clear to you, at least. "Tack should first make sure these flowers are what he thinks they are before we make any kind of advisory, General. That is my opinion."

Another thoughtful hum. "Interesting. And why is this your opinion, little one?"

"We should avoid unnecessary panic. Until we know for sure what these flowers are, I say we don't say anything. We invite unnecessary risks by making the men paranoid." you suggest, glancing first at the Jedi, and then the flint-gray Commander to his left. They had every right to accept or disregard your counseling as the commanding forces of this battalion at the day's end; you hope they will consider it at the very least.

"I'm in agreement."

"Then we will do as Arcadia advised, and we will let young Tack take more time to confirm his findings. Until then…" Plo trails off, nodding decidedly. Thank the Maker. Tack dismisses himself in a hushed, hurried tone. If he's going to spend more time pouring over information on the Dinocaeruleus anthos, he shouldn't dawdle. The Jedi kindly wills the benefits of the Force to guide the researcher before he turns to address you once again. "Have you made use of the gifts given to you since we last spoke?"

Blinking with a mild start, you realize that Plo has changed the topic. "Oh, yes, I have. Let me go get my sketchbook from my bag, sir." You scoop the entire bag from the grass, re-tucking your datapad among your things as you extract the book and turn it to the necessary page for his convenience. "Here."

Taking it carefully in his hands, the book is cradled like a priceless relic as his eyes must trace over the page. Once more your property is treated with such care and respect by the Force-wielder. "My… Arcadia, you have quite a gift."

The action is perhaps more childish than professional, but you cannot help but duck your head at such praise, fearing to meet his gaze should he see how flushed your face is. It is not the heat of the sun above you, denoting that it is now high noon, that makes your face burn. You're never quite sure how to accept a compliment.

You opt for humility. "Oh, it's hardly that great, General Plo… I wouldn't say I have a gift… just… a-an attention for detail." And that much is true; dedication to detail is why you spent hours on a simple "sketch" to begin with; why you took so much care and effort to get everything done the best you could. The form of Commander Wolffe's armor. The curve of his jaw and the roundness of the ala of his nose. The correct texture of his hair within the typical haircut many of the Clones have.

But though gentle insistence, the General repeats his sentiment. "Attention for detail is no less of a gift, Arcadia. In war it is a mark of wisdom, in art, it is a skill." A skill that has made for a very fine portrait of the Commander. "Have you seen Arcadia's work yet, Commander Wolffe?" He offers the sketchpad with an invitation to have a closer look, though it isn't necessary.

"I watched Arcadia add the colors, yes." Wolffe confirms. "Quite the process."

Not to mention a strain on your wrist, but one well worth it for the praise given to you from the Jedi, and now many of the men who have congregated to come and suss out what's going on. "I can only imagine… Even gone through the trouble of adding proper shadows to such… rich color."

Sinker and Boost smile softly, not quite sadly (but certainly somber), when they take note of the color of paint their commanding officer wears when you allow the book to be passed around so everyone is welcome to have a closer look. They hold it longest out of everyone, looking at this artistic replication a little more closely than most.

"The ol' maroon, eh? Think it's meant to depict another time, before Abregado?"

"But he's drawn with the scar, Boost."

"Ah, yeah, good eye. Missed that bit."

You timidly clear your throat to draw their attention, and explain that of all the colors, you didn't have gray. "I didn't want to leave his armor naked, either." Not when you went through the trouble of adding the face of the wolf and the other design to each of his shoulder pads, or the unique shape of his visor when you drew the helmet next to his hip.

You would not deal him further, small cruelties by stealing the colors out of his coat completely. These markings he has chosen for himself mean something to Wolffe. The color he wears now is a mark of mourning. The color in the pages of your book will serve as an homage.

You have not forgotten your brothers. You will always carry them with you.

Hmmf. Are you a poet now too, Arcadia?

No sir. Not really.

You're uncertain where the words came from. Borrowed from something you read once? Did you perhaps hear the General say these words once upon a time? You can't recall what inspired you to say such a thing.

But you'll remember the change in his gruff exterior, the way in which he was quieter than quiet for just a moment, and he pivoted in the grass to better face you and make you his equal.

It's only the two of us here on the hill, Arcadia. Call me Wolffe, please.

Don't have a fic taglist for the time being, but I'll likely start one soon if I can figure out how to make those forms some people have since I write a variety of stuff. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (example: just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

[Masterlist]

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[Golden Dawn Part 2]

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knightprincess · 2 months

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Scars (Commander Wolffe x Jedi Reader) Part 2

Warning: Reference/Implied Injuries - Bit of backstory for the Reader Words: 1.8k (Ye bit of a short one) Pronouns Used: She/Her - Use of Y/N

A/N - Sorry for the delay.

The rescue seemed to be taking forever, or so Wolffe thought. The seemingly endless darkness made time slow down or even come to a stop completely. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours, and hours felt like days. Although Wolffe was certain it had been days, the quietness certainly wasn't helping his haunted mind keep hold of the sanity he had left nor keep his persistently yelling thoughts at bay. The only reassurance he had was (Y/N). Although she had since lost consciousness again, the call of sleep gripped her longer as she fought to keep her energy.

"Cat'ra," called Wolffe, attempting to be soft when he heard her pained gasps. However, his attempt resulted in a pained growl of his own. "Help is coming; just hold on a little longer," spoke the Commander, reaching out to pull the Jedi a little closer; he wanted to help, needed to help her. Despite the terrible start to their journey together, he found himself unable to bear losing her or anyone else for that matter. "Don't give up on me, Cat'ra," he added, attempting to will her awake or at least make her a little more comfortable than she was before.

"Commander Wolffe," Plo said in a fuzzy voice just as the dim light far above shone down on the pair. The LAAT was so far above it almost seemed like a star in the darkened sky, the high beams being the course of the dim light shining down. "Are you and (Y/N) able to use the cables?" asked Plo, his normally calm voice filled with a mixture of urgency and concern.

"(Y/N)'s barely conscious, General. I'm pretty banged up too," replied Wolffe, once again reaching over to (Y/N), this time without the previous hesitation. Gently, he pulled her closer, holding on to her as if she were the temporary gravity replacement. Trying to stem the bleeding long enough for help to reach them. Mentally, the commander scolded himself; why hadn't he done this sooner, just pushed aside his conflicted feelings and her distrust? A sudden wave of determination washed over Wolffe. He wasn't going to lose someone else. He'd lost all his brothers in the Abregado system and failed so many when the Grevious showed the power of his super weapon, the Malevolence.

"Commander," whispered (Y/N), shortly before a sharp pain rippled through Wolffe's arm, followed by the sensation as the pain wracking his body numbed and became obsolete. Quickly, Wolffe grabbed her hand as it fell, only now noticing she'd had hold of something this entire time. Stem cell injections. They were empty now, although it soon dawned on the commander why.

"No, no, no," grumbled Wolffe, examining the three vials with haste, hoping to find one with something in, "Why did you do that, Cat'ra?" almost yelled the commander, urgency flooding his voice and his actions as he attempted to keep (Y/N) awake. She seemed to enjoy defying him, making him think and wonder.

"Commander," called Comet from above, Boost and Sinker following behind on the cables. No doubt, Warthog was keeping the ship steady, and General Plo was waiting for their return. Wolffe reluctantly shifted his gaze to the three descending through the long chasm he and (Y/N) had fallen down. Once the trio had reached them, they quickly got to work. Sinker connected Wolffe to the spare line before signaling for Plo to pull him up, much to the commander's protest.

"How bad is she, Comet?" asked Sinker, suspecting it was worse than any of them liked to think, especially if Wolffe's reaction was anything to go by.

"She has internal bleeding. I can cut the pain, but we need to get her to a medical facility," answered Comet, quickly administering the painkillers before carefully maneuvering (Y/N) into the harness. Upon completing the task, Boost wasted little time attaching her to his own line before being hoisted up. Comet and Sinker retrieved (Y/N)'s lightsabers and what remained of Wolffe's smashed armor before returning to the ship themselves.

"She ... She saved me," muttered Wolffe when the ship began to make its way towards the base. His mismatched eyes locked on (Y/N) lying on a stretcher across from him. Plo was between them, with Comet, Boost, and Sinker holding onto the overhead rings. "How can I repay her?" he whispered, finally settling to sort through his muddled and complicated mixture of feelings. Of all things he felt almost afraid, his mind had settled enough to tell him he owed her a debt and one that couldn't easily be repaid.

"(Y/N) has always been defiant, Commander, even to the Council," worded Plo with fondness as he remembered the years spent training her. She was stubborn but also empathic and warm-hearted. At times, she didn't care to hold back her thoughts; instead, she voiced them regardless of such consequences. Many times, had traits from her life before the Jedi shone through—traits from her time as a Sith.

"How so?" asked Comet, allowing his curiosity to get the better of him. Even more so when Plo spoke so fondly, as a father would for their daughter, rather than how a Jedi Master would speak of their former Padawan.

"She has a way of wording things. Direct and normally sarcastic, it is not unusual for her to disguise cleverly worded insults. Nor is it out of the ordinary for her to disregard orders," replied Plo, recalling some of the times she'd completely ignored orders. She did so during her final assignment as his Padawan. The council had called her back after deeming the assignment a lost course. (Y/N) However, refused to leave the people of Lothal to fend for themselves when they clearly needed help. So she stayed and completed her original assignment, although it had come at a cost.

"What was her specialty?" voiced Wolffe, lying back on his own stretcher once he was certain (Y/N) wouldn't be going anywhere. The question gained the attention of both Plo and his brothers.

"I'm not sure one would call it a specialty," replied Plo, trying to find the best words to answer the question. There were many things his former Padawan was skilled at, from combining lightsaber forms in combat to her vast knowledge. There were many times when she fiddled with something as a padawan. "But, (Y/N) does have an unequaled knowledge of the underworld, a web of connections few others could hope for. There is little that happens there without her knowing of it."

"And she isn't in command of the Commandoes?" Boost unintentionally voiced, a combination of shock and surprise lacing his voice. The trooper was thankful for his helmet as it concealed the horror painted on his features, even more so when he hadn't intended for his thoughts to be heard.

"I thought she already was," commented Wolffe, vaguely remembering Gregor mentioning a Dathomirian Jedi leading Foxtrot's unit through a particularly grueling battle. Of course, Gregor made some jokes about it, although he didn't mention the Jedi's name. Nor did the Commando give any details about them outside of being Dathomirian.

"She took over command of the 916th Batallion after the death of Master Cove Kenari," stated Plo, recalling the sudden loss of the great Jedi Master. He'd given his life in an attempt to deliver relief aid to one of the many planets suffering from the war, and the small number of troopers with him had also fallen. All of them had perished as heroes.

"Wait, are you saying she didn't have her own battalion before?" Comet asked, putting the pieces together and finding only confusion and more questions. Plo, on the other hand, gave nothing away, instead placing a taloned hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder, gifting her with comfort and calming her racing mind—numbing her pain and suffering for a little while.

"(Y/N)'s journey has been different from that of a regular Jedi. Because of this, many within the Order distrust her; many have found it difficult to look past her heritage or her ties to the Sith. Fear often clouds the minds of those who brand her the enemy," said Plo, sadness seeming to echo through his voice, even more so as he remembered the pain and all the suffering she'd been through over the years. On several occasions, he'd found himself wondering if (Y/N)'s affliction with the underworld was by her own choice or forced upon her by those who had so heartlessly judged and claimed her the enemy.

"Where will she go from here?" asked Sinker, failing to hold back the bugging question. Although he suspect Plo would want her to stay a little longer, if the council collectively decided otherwise or the senate declared differently, then (Y/N) would be sent somewhere else entirely. Perhaps she would command the 916th again if they hadn't been assigned a more permanent Jedi General, or maybe she'd be tasked with an undercover operation more suited to her skill set, at least after she recovered.

"Shaak Ti requested her assistance on Kamino" replied Plo, recalling the orders coming through. (Y/N) had been there assisting Shaak Ti before being called to replace Cove Kenari as general of the 916th. "Rest assured, she'll be with another who cares for her. The assignment will work to her skill set," reassured Plo. Soon after he voiced his words, the LAAT landed in the shipyard. In a whirlwind of minutes blending together, the group aboard went separate ways. Comet and Boost took (Y/N) to the medbay, followed by Sinker and Warthog with Wolffe. Sinker cracks a few jokes to try to lighten the mood.

Plo, on the other hand, found himself in the communication center. He listened to the latest war effort updates from other generals and Jedi commanders scattered across the torn galaxy. He delivered his own at the same time, reporting the incident with Wolffe and (Y/N) and the known injuries, at least alerting Shaak Ti, who quickly requested regular updates as if she were a mother concerned for her child.

"If you are to remove (Y/N) from the 916th," started Plo, remaining calm despite his growing frustration and agreement with Anakin regarding the pointless move the council had collectively made. I recommend assigning her to the Commandoes; they already respect her, perhaps more than they do others," he added, recalling the Commandos' obvious dislike, almost hatred, for Mace Windu and their habit of ignoring the majority of the order and senate.

"I agree," declared Obi-Wan shortly after, followed by Anakin and Shaak Ti. After a few moments of thinking, Yoda nodded in agreement before wording the latest orders for (Y/N). Once she was ready to return to the battlefield and complete her assignment on Kamino, she was to take command of the Commando units and work closely with the other Jedi spread so thinly across the war-torn galaxy.

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marymary-diva17 · 8 months

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hello commander

commander Wolfe x Doctor reader

The republic had hired medical officials to deal with the injured republic citizens to any clone troopers. There was never a part in your life that you had thought you will be helping with the troopers after their lone battles and anything else. It had taken some time for you to get use to your new job here, to soon become easy to get to know the clone troopers and all of their divisions as well. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that you will draw the attention of clone commander.

Y/n " kid you will be okay you just need to be careful for while. but those scraps on your legs and arms will heal" you were helping some kids, they were playing and accident had happen that resulted them getting hurt.

kid " thank you ... can we all still play miss" the children were looking at you waiting for a answer from you.

y/n " yes you can still play but be careful you all will feel some pain, but you all can keep playing your game"

kid 2 " yeah"

kid 3 " well come on lets got back to our game before we have to go home"

y/n " have fun children"

kids " thank you ma'am" the group of children soon ran off leaving you alone.

y/n " ......" you were checking your medical supplies that had been used for the troopers and the citizen of this planet, that the republic was on right now.

Boost" Hey y/n we need your help" you soon looked over to see Boost coming running into the room, as stinker and comet had wolfe with them.

y/n " what happened here"

comet " the commander he had taken a nasty fall and we brought him to do"

y/n " lay him down over here"

wolfe " no need to worry about me y/n I'm good"

y/n " let me the judge of that wolfe lay down please"

wolfe " yes ma'am" wolfe was soon helped towards the bed and soon laid down, you were now looking at him.

y/n " good now tell me what happened"

wolfe " well we were out portal and I had taken a nasty fall and something might of hit my head as well"

y/n " oh what lead to this commander I thought you all were being safe"

Boost " he was help some kids and something was about to land of them, and wolfe had uses his body as shell over them he had lost his balance when he was knocked out"

y/n " oh are you feeling okay wolfe"

wolfe " feeling better then ever y/n"

y/n " well let me run some more scan so we know you are okay, and we cant have something happening to you biometric eye as well"

wolfe " whatever you say doc"

y/n " boys I'm sorry to say this but you will have to leave so I can run the test you can wait outside...."

comet " we understand ma'am we will see you later wolfe" you had walked away to get some supplies, having your back turn while three trooper leaving gave their brother a thumbs up, making wolfe shake his head.

Y/n " well you did something very heroic wolfe protecting those children"

wolfe " it was nothing ma'am it our duty to service and keep everyone safe I was just follow the rules"

y/n “ you are a good soldier Wolfe always looking out off your brothers and Jedi, making sure they are safe that makes you a wonderful man”

Wolfe “ oh you think I’m a wonderful man”

y/n “ yeah you are wonderful man Wolfe” Wolfe smirked towards you, as he was enjoying the words he was hearing you speak.

???? “ hello commander Wolfe and doctor y/n” you and Wolfe soon looked back and saw plo koon standing there.

y/n “ hello Jedi knight plo koon welcome is everything okay”

plo koon “ yes everything is alright I came to see how commander wofle, is doing I heard he had gotten hurt”

y/n “ well I have good new Wolfe will be fine but he will need to be take to ways for a couple days, after that horrible fall and something hitting him”

plo koon “ that is good new I had thought you were badly hurt commander”

Wolfe “ I’m good sir and I’m ready to get back to work”

y/n “ are you sure you can still rest here a bit longer”

Wolfe “ no I’m good y/n thank you for the offer and taking care of me”

y/n “ you welcome and if you are feeling off please come see me”

Wolfe “ yes ma'am”

plo koon “‘thank you doctor y/n”

y/n “Anytime be safe out here you two “The two men nodded their heads and soon left the medical room, Wolfe gave one last look before the door had closed.

Outside

plo koon “ commander Wolfe do you know there are simple ways to ask a women out, verse doing something dangerous”

Wolfe “ all respect general but what do you mean”

plo koon “ you and the doctor do make a perfect match a women like her is hard to find in the galaxy”

Wolfe “ …….” plo “ so act now are you might lose her to someone else, and I rather not see you lost her after doing all this for her attention” Wolfe soon scoff knowing he was caught by the general, the two of them will keep on walking, Wolfe will take the general advice soon and ask you out, and you will agree on date and relationship. He was happy and so was the whole Wolfe pack as well, now that leader of the pack had gotten the women he loves.

#star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars clone wars #star wars tcw #star wars #the clone army #the clones #clone trooper x you #clone trooper x reader #the clone wars #clone troopers #commander wolffe #plo koon #clone trooper #clone x you #clone x reader

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marierg · 3 months

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Of Light and Darkness: The Rising Darkness pt.4

Pairing: Obi Wan Kenobi X Reader

WARNINGS!: (IF YOU ARE NOT IN A GOOD PLACE MENTALLY DO NOT READ THIS PART!!!!!!!!) ANGST!!! Depictions of induced (reference Sith induced horror and mind shards) PTSD flashbacks, death, injury, near death, threatened death, battle scenes, blood, pain, regret, longing, anger, self loathing, foul language, SNAKES!.... Yeah if I missed anything let me know. Needless to say not light reading.... (Why'd it have to be snakes!)

note: if Italic indicates mental telepathy etc.

A/N: I take no credit for the movie dialogue that is all the work of the wonderful Mr. Lucas!!!! THIS IS A LOVING WORK OF FANFICTION!!! With that said I did take more than a few liberties but I tried to pull from the film and meld it into a cohesive piece. Much love to all the prequels and the folks there in!

Ok folks I will fully admit this one has been taking quite a while to cook because well... It took a hell of a lot out of me to do this one. I wanted it done just so and I didn't want to let it out to the tumblr verse otherwise. AGAIN please heed the warnings!!!!

Yes our reader is a badass (Her master is Mace frickin' Windu!) but even she ain't enough to take on a Sith. I also will reiterate that I believe that there are limitations to all force abilities.

If you have never seen Sir Christopher Lee fence in other films (actual swordsman really!) go watch some of his other works, they are amazing! I referenced the 1970's four musketeers specifically for the fight here, lot of fencing terms are used.

Picture/ GIF Credit: @92-guy, @supererick911, Lucasfilm & Pinterest

Words: 8456... (Holy moly!)

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Dooku had always favored games of strategy as a child. Dejarik, Nexu and Hounds, Weiduk were all child's play compared to his game board now. It had been a long strategy, years of moving all of his pieces into play and now... now was the time to finally begin his endgame. Every forfeit and feign leading to this point.

“Senator Amidala won't you have a seat.”

Dooku observed as the Geonosian guards brought the young Senator and her companion roughly to the table. He restrained his annoyance at their... crude method of capture. Fortunately Fett had stepped in and salvaged the situation. Viceroy Gunray may want the woman dead, but she still held value. Killing was often the simplest answer to a problem, but it may not yet be the correct one. Patience often yielding the better option in any given situation. Given the difficulty of her capture he could see why she was a useful thorn in his Master's side.

Padme stared dispassionately at the Count, “I am here to discuss the Jedi Knights in your custody. If they are released immediately I am willing to overlook the assault of myself and Jedi Skywalker.”

“I'm not.” Anakin muttered under his breath.

“I'm afraid that I cannot allow that. You see Masters Kenobi and L/n have been convicted of espionage and sentenced to execution.” Dooku watched the young woman's face turn pale, her young protector closing rank behind her. The boy held his temper, but Dooku could feel it simmer just below the surface.

How very interesting...

“They're representatives of the Republic on an investigatory mission. You of all people should recognize that.” Padme gripped into the arms of the chair to ground her emotions. The Count pursed his lips and tilted his head sympathetically, but there was no honesty to the gesture.

“We do not recognize the Republic here, but if Naboo were to join our alliance,” Dooku's lips turned up in a kind façade, “I would gladly hear your petition for clemency.”

“And sacrifice my peoples rights to your charlatan council, I think not.” Padme's voice dripped venom, well remembering the causalities of the Trade Federation Blockade. “This anarchy must end Count, release the Jedi and I will see to it that you have appropriate representation when you are brought to trial.”

“A very kind offer Senator Amidala, but not one I think that you will be able to deliver on,” Dooku laughed in his chest. The girl still thought she could win, how quaint. Ah to have that youth and the ideals that once came with it. Dooku knew the true power and way of the galaxy that only came with age, it was a shame that this young woman would not live long enough to see for herself. “I'm afraid that given your own activities here, you and your Jedi compatriot have been found guilty of the same charges. I'm so very sorry my dear.”

Jango watched as the prisoners were led away, a dark feeling settling over him. The Jedi welp wouldn't have come on his own and that meant that there would be more on the way. Starting a war was a messy business, fighting one was not in the contract. Keeping a casual air he moved to speak with Tyranus. “I've been contacted about a bounty near Concord Dawn. I should leave within the hour, if I'm finished here that is.”

Dooku glanced at the hunter, feeling the unease in him though he hid it quite well. Fett would never be foolish enough to defy him, but he was just smart enough to see the likely trouble coming. Smiling at the man he rose, walking towards the hallway. It would be easy enough to let the hunter go about his business, but if Fett was uneasy then it was all the more reason to keep him close. “Of course my friend, I would never want to interfere in your dealings. I had hoped that you would join us for the execution, after all Boba seemed very excited when the entertainment was being brought in earlier. But if you must go...”

“It would be rude not to accept,” Jango kept his tone light, uncaring. He could see the man was testing him. He was a cagey one Tyranus, but not the first that Jango had delt with. Raising an amused brow at the older man he gave a half smirk, “Wouldn't want to disappoint the boy.”

Dooku smiled back, “Of course not.”

Of all the ways that you thought that you would die a gladiator arena hadn't even made the top ten. Your personal hope had been a clean death, nice and quick. Or maybe in your sleep. But as the chariot carrying you and Obi Wan approached the columns, seeing the deep tooth and claw gashes, cold dread washed over you. Dying wasn't frightening to you, but the thought of seeing Obi Wan suffer because of your failure... it was your very worst nightmare. Grasping at straws you fell back to dark humor, “Well at least the sun's shining.”

“A better show for our hosts I imagine,” Obi Wan gazed at you, sarcastic smile quirking up.

You snorted, “Glad to see you're optimistic at least.”

Obi Wan knew that tone, the resigned look. He had long prayed to not see it again, yet he too knew the grim reality of their situation. If by some miracle Anakin had sent the message on, a rescue may not reach the two of you in time. If escape were to happen it would be on their own skill to do so. “Just remember the plan and stay close, together or not at all wee one.”

“First round at Maffa's is on me.” Shaking your head and taking a deep breath you tried to smile.

“This day is not our end Y/n, I promise.”

As the guards finished securing your hands to the post you couldn't help the bitter tone of your reply, “Don't make promises you can't keep.”

------

The ship had dropped the rescue team as close as possible without being detected. It had taken considerable patience and negotiation to keep the civilian crew from joining the Jedi, one in particular had tested Mace's will. He had finally pulled Yalvaberg to the side, explaining that if the situation turned truly south that he was relying on her and the others to get them out quickly.

The girl had argued, yelled, begged to go. In the end Mace had asked her what you would do. It was a testament really, the loyalty and care of the gathered rag tag group. Glitch had handed him a comm and then squeezed his hand around it tightly, bidding her gods to guide them. Her last words to him and the others echoed in his ears even in the catacomb halls.

“Victory or Valhalla.”

Anakin's emotions swirled about him like a raging torrent. Despair, anger, hopelessness, and disappointment kept barely contained. He had failed his mother, he had failed his Masters, and now he was about to fail the woman he loved. It wouldn't even matter that she could not love him back, but that they would die together because he couldn't follow a simple order.

He felt so kriffing useless.

Anakin tried to find the calm within as you had taught him, to make peace with himself on the walk to the staging area. As Master Obi Wan often reminded him, in failure there is opportunity and from opportunity victory can yet be achieved.

“I'm sorry Anakin, I should have listened to you.” Padme swallowed as the guilt rose. Her hubris had led to this, thinking that these demagogues could be reasoned with.

“You have nothing to be sorry for Padme.”

“Yes I do,” She pursed her lips desperately trying to find the words.

Anakin glanced at her drawn face, finding the focus that he so needed. He would get Padme to safety even if it killed him. Putting on a confident face he tried to give her a reassuring look. “Don't be afraid.”

“Oh Anakin... I'm not afraid to die.” Padme shook her head with a somber grimace. “I've been dying a little every day since you came back into my life.”

Anakin winced, “What are you saying?”

She couldn't lie any longer, not to him and not to herself. If one could not be truthful in the face of death then how could they hope to see the other side of creation. Padme looked into those blue eyes, begging forgiveness for the deceit. “I love you.”

“You love me?” It was as if the whole of the Force had calmed his turmoil at her words. Anakin wanted to whoop and crush her to himself, but the shackles not withstanding he was still hesitant. He could feel the roll of her emotions within and as badly as he wished to believe Padme, Anakin remembered the bitter sting of her words from a few nights before. “I thought we decided not to fall in love. That we would be forced to live a lie... That it would destroy us.”

“Our lives are about to be destroyed anyway.” Turning as best the restrains would allow, Padme let go of her control. Tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as her voice trembled, “I know how I feel for you. As much as my mind begs me to stop, my heart won't obey. The moment that I saw you again I felt whole, not knowing that I was incomplete.”

“Padme I...” Anakin tried to reach for her, to reassure and comfort. He cursed and struggled against the chains.

“Ani please,” pressing her shoulder to his, Padme huffed a breath out, “I cannot control this love for you and I don't wish to anymore. I truly, deeply love you Anakin Skywalker.”

Anakin moved, desperately stretching to finally kiss her. Unable to do more than give the lightest pressure, he tried to put every bit of what he felt into the gentle melding. For once he dropped his own walls, wanting to feel more than just this sweet affection. The dazzling way her signature flickered as they kissed, the heat that rose in her cheeks. If Anakin could freeze time he would have this moment last forever.

It was a bittersweet kiss of love and regret, of time squandered. Maker he wished that she had simply told him the truth before now. He wanted to be upset with her, but the salt of her tears easily swept that away. Anakin would move the orbits of the stars to never see Padme cry again. Feeling the stutter in her breathing he tried to find the words to say. “My heart has always been yours my angel. When we get out of this...”

“Anakin.”

“WHEN we get out of this I will show you just how much I love you.” He kissed her again before she could speak. He wished he could stop the wheels of the chariot, to beg the galaxy a few moments more. Their lips parting as the vehicle exited the portal, Anakin's resolve was firm. The two of them would survive this. Padme loved him and he would not lose her now.

Not today nor any other.

Obi Wan shouldn't have been surprised to see his wayward Padawan, he shouldn't be surprised to see the Senator with him. None of that kept his temper from flaring the minute the two were transferred from the chariot and chained to the posts with the two of you. “I was beginning to wonder if you gotten our message.”

“We re transmitted it just like you asked,” Anakin replied with a forced an easy tone, “Then we came to rescue you two.”

Obi Wan glanced at the shackles on all four posts then back to Anakin, “Good job.”

“Padme, what happened?” Glancing to the younger woman you saw her face fall and felt a coldness within Anakin. “She's gone isn't she.”

“Now's not the time wee one, focus.” He narrowed his eyes at the far portal. “I do believe that the executioners have arrived.”

“I have a very bad feeling about this,” Anakin's stomach dropped.

The karks had chosen well. You watched as the Acklay, Nexu and Reek started stalking towards the posts. There was also movement below the sand, something causing a wavy movement in the grains. Whatever it was headed towards your post, hidden below the surface. “Yeah no kidding.”

“Just relax, concentrate.” Obi Wan bit out, surveying the area, “Try to get yourself free.”

Closing your eyes to focus on the shackle lock the danger crept ever near. The cuffs loosened finally, just enough that you could squeeze one hand out. Glancing at Padme you saw her already climbing the post. Copying the strategy you began your ascent when the pillar shook, almost knocking you to the ground.

Glancing down you saw as the triangular head of the creature emerged from the sands. Green and orange scales shimmering as the fans and spines on its back sprang out, serpentine figure rising to a staggering height. Using the Force you pulled yourself up the pole glancing down at the beast. “What in the ever loving kark?!”

“Stay away from it!” Padme screamed as she hit the pouncing Nexu with the chain again. “A Rawl, very dangerous.”

“No kidding,” you snarked back. Free of the last cuff you searched through your robes. The dagger wasn't very large but it was better than nothing. If you made it out of this you would owe the Hunter a great favor. Taking a swing you cut at the serpents nose as it came close to strike. Laughable attempt really, the creature could have used it as a toothpick after consuming you.

Gunray and the others were distracted by the spectacle as was Boba, who practically leaned over the parapet of the box for a better view. Jango had told the boy to be on the alert, his sense of unease was building. Dooku was chatting with his council as though this were a speeder race and not four beings fighting for their lives. The prisoners were doing well actually, Jango had to give credit to them. Sparing a glance in your direction he saw the concentrated look and then a faint smile.

Obi Wan was still trying to deal with the Acklay, his attempt at spearing the creature only resulted in angering it further. Anakin was having better luck with the Reek and the Nexu was now neutralized. Two down but where were you? Then he heard it, the joyous cheering in the crowd and Anakin's pain ripping through the Force. Glancing up he saw just as your boot disappeared down the serpent's maw. “No!”

Anakin charged with the reek crushing the Acklay and retrieving Obi Wan. Then the Rawl slithered towards all of them. Padme held onto him tightly as the creature reared up readying to strike again. Anakin squeezed her arm, “Don't look angel.”

But the creature stopped. Pausing mid slither, beginning to writhe.

Hacking and sputtering unable to draw breath the beast let out a series of angry hisses. Shaking its head and straightening up before a large wound began bursting from just below it's neck. It fell dead to the ground as the wound got larger, blood and viscera spilling on the sand. Then a hand poked out.

“Uh, Obi Boy if you aren't too busy out there... A LITTLE HELP!”

“Wee One!” Jumping down, Obi Wan reached through the mess to pull you up. Hugging you to his chest in relief he wanted to yell at you for scaring five years off his life. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today, because you are absolutely resplendent.”

Glancing at the approaching destroyer droids you gave him a quick hug back. “Later sweet man, escape first.”

Dooku felt the stirring in the Force before he heard the lightsaber ignite. Turning he was not at all surprised to see the glaring Head of the Jedi Counci. “Master Windu, how pleasant of you to join us.”

Jango glowered at the Jetii. He knew he should have left when he had the chance. Waiving at his son, Jango didn't want him getting mix in this. “Udesii Boba, Pare!”

Mace narrowed his eyes at the former Jedi. An enemy who had tried to kill his Padawan and grand Padawan. The righteous need to see the man brought to justice nearly clouding his better judgment. Still the disdain rolled through him and took hold in his voice, “This party's over.”

Multiple Jedi began to emerge around the arena, moving quickly to the four prisoners aid. Dooku grinned, how very noble... and predictable. Subtle amusement showed in his tone, “Brave, but futile my old Jedi friend. You're impossibly outnumbered.”

Mace heard the clanking of the droids coming. Glaring at his former college, pure venom in his words, “We'll see about that.”

Jango set loose his flamethrower just as the droids had the Knight distracted. He fell over the parapet but landed on his feet. Another appeared trying to cut down Tyranus, a few shots took care of that one well enough. His boss nodded thanks as Jango reholstered his blaster. Turning to his son he pulled the boy into the vom, “Boba get down to the ship and get ready for take off. Stay hidden and stay away from the fight.”

“But Dad!”

“No buts son, now go.” The boy ran down the corridor, pausing to look back at him. “Go on Boba, I'll be there shortly.”

The arena blurred as the Jedi charged to meet the droid army. You lose sight of Obi Wan and Anakin. The Geonosians bring in sonic cannons blasting indiscriminately, bodies and debris flying everywhere. All around there was pain and death rippling in the Force. No time to think, only to act. Your temper rose unbridled at the suffering surrounding you. Anger boiling over for the Knights and Padawans dying and injured.

Anger at Dooku for his betrayal.

Most of all anger at yourself.

For being too weak, for getting caught...

Reaching out to lift the crumbled column pieces and you began to fling them at the droids. No where to run, no where to hide for either side. Over and over, block after block you crush your opponents. “Come on you pieces of mechanical crap!”

You loosing the rocks across the floor of the arena, bringing others up to help deflect bolts meant for you and your comrades. Shots whiz past your head and you know at some point you will be hit. But there's just no time to be afraid and you are well acquainted with pain already. A steady presence in the Force draws near, like a warm blanket in the cold of a storm, calm and anchoring.

“Young Y/n.” The familiar modulated voice of Master Plo Koon floats through the air. The old Kel Doran stood beside you, surveying at the battle and he starts to direct your shots. “Aim for those cannons.”

Giving a nod you close your eyes in concentration, willing the Force to raise the largest of the pieces to the air. You channel everything you have into rocketing the marble chunk into the weapon. It explodes in fantastic fashion and you raise another to careen into one of the portal entries, blocking it so more droids cannot enter there.

“Well done,” Plo continues to deflect bolts as you work at the stone. The older Jedi knows though that their small group is being herded to a kill zone. He has fought many wars, knows that their position is untenable. “We need to evacuate.”

“Wounded to the middle, form up!” You cried out above the din. Looking around you feel your heart clench. So many dead Jedi, so many wounded, and for what? You had all fallen into Dooku's trap.

You looked to the senior Jedi around you, “What do we do?”

The booming voice of the Count echoed through the arena, “You have fought valiantly Masters, worthy of recognition in the Historical Archives...”

This was all your fault... this was all your fault... if you hadn't been caught!

The guilt races through you like a raging river to swallow you whole. But a hand gently grips your shoulder, one that has never really left you. Glancing up to Master Windu you can see that even in the face of disaster he will never yield. No, even if it were only him left, Master Windu would never cede the field of battle to the enemy. He squeezed and a calm settled over you once more and that very first lesson ran through your mind, “Not Today.”

“...But now it is finished. Surrender and your lives will be spared.” Dooku looked down imperiously upon the rabble below. They were foolish and idealistic as he had once been, never seeing the true power at work. Still they would serve their purpose in the grander plan, for the future his Master so desired. An offered sacrifice for the grander glory of the galaxy.

Order from chaos.

“We will not be hostages for you to barter Dooku!” Mace kept his temper and emotions barely in check. Glancing to the sky he prayed that the signal had worked. Just a few minutes more.

“Then I'm sorry old friend.” Dooku raised his hand ready to give the order to fire.

“I love you Obi Wan.” Closing your eyes you reached your signature to his, holding tight. You glanced at your apprentice, “Anakin it has been my honor to be your Master.”

Obi Wan glanced to you, readying for the fight. “I love you Y/n.”

Just as you were sure that the droids would start to fire there was a rumble through the air.

Padme glanced up, “LOOK!”

“Listen you armored pain in the ass, I don't give a Kark! Just get us down there and stay outta my way!” Glitch's temper reigned. She would not lose you or the other two space wizards that had become as close as family. She'd fight and die if it was called for. “And give me that thing, you'll hurt yourself.”

Deek saw the girl take hold of the Z-6 as if it weren't twice her size and could knock her square to the ground. “Damn it Glitch our objective is the wounded! Stick to the Maker damned plan!”

“Fine!” Glitch held fast to the cannon, “Oiy bucket brigade, make sure we got all the wounded on board before we lift.”

“Maker Kriffing Damn it to Hell Glitch!” If Deek wasn't flying the bird he'd kick her ass.

The troopers were also less than pleased by the woman's antics, “Ma'am it would be better...”

“Kark better!” The ship made a sharp descent and the mad woman gave a sheik. “The gods smile and fly with us today. Now get those wounded aboard and let a Valkar fight.”

The gunships began to circle around the Jedi as the droids began their assault again. You could hear a faint familiar tune and saw the nose art on the little bird as it came around. Looking over at Master Windu your face was incredulous, “You didn't?!”

He shrugged, “They insisted.”

Shaking your head you could hear the high pitched cackle above the din, “Glitch?!”

Mace shook his head as the two of you worked in tandem to block more shots from the droids. “She was quite insistent.”

On another transport Master Yoda directed the inbound craft. He had seen many battles but this, this was murder most cruel. His own apprentice, a boy he had taught and mentored, had caused such destruction. And now it fell to this weary Master to set things to right. First by recovering his knights. “Around the survivors a perimeter create.”

The old Jedi would give these clones credit, they were fine soldiers. The gunners coordinating their fire to take out whole swathes of battle droids. Upon landing the troopers instantly took up positions so that the Jedi could quickly evacuate. Yoda's heart broke at the sight of so few left.

The troopers started to grab the wounded from the arena floor, able bodied Jedi also moving to cover them. A cry familiar and haunting rose through the air sending a chill down your spine. Glitch had let loose such cry on one other occasion, on Norte. She gave it now as you watched her blast into the droids with her rifle. A bone chilling and ancient sound, the cry to war for her people. You shook yourself and organized the wounded onto the craft. “Deek get the wounded out of here!”

“Not without you and Glitch!” The old pilot's face was anguished at the thought of not taking you back. He had made that mistake once and dank ferrik he would not do it again! His heart couldn't bear the thought.

You felt the fear within him. You'd had this conversation many many times. At the end of the day, the needs of the many outweighed anything else. Looking at him softly, knowing that you needed to be strong for your friend, you gave the slightest push with the Force. “We'll get another one. I'll meet you on the flight deck old man.”

“Good Hunting.” There were tears in the old pilot's eyes as he lifted off. He knew you were right, that the troopers and the wounded Jedi on this craft needed him to fly. Deek prayed to whoever was listening, “Please not again, please bring them back.”

There was little time left and none for hesitation. Running across the sand you grabbed Glitch by the scruff of the neck, “MOVE IT YALVABEG! ASSHOLES AND ELBOWS, WE ARE LEAVING!”

Glitch turned to you with a smirk even as she surveyed the area one last time. “Boss you never let me have any fun!”

“Kid I swear I'm gonna refer you to psych again!” Both of you dove into the last transport with Masters' Yoda and Windu. The LA-AT was no little bird, rising so quickly you could feel the fillings in your teeth being pulled by the G forces.

Glitch did a double take looking a the small green being next to her. “Oh, hello again little boss!”

You chuckled to the unamused, bewildered looks from Masters Mundi and Plo. “Glitch focus, need you on the door gun.”

"Yeah yeah yeah. So bossy!" The young woman stuck her tongue out at you even as she took up the position, “You know you're getting boring in your old age.”

“Smartass!” You gave her a playful kick as the ship made another sharp turn and began taking fire. “Shit, hold on!”

“If Dooku escapes, rally more systems to his cause he will.” Master Yoda accidentally clacked his staff on Glitch's foot startling her. “Apologies young one.”

“Not at all Sir.” Glitch couldn't help to like this little fellow, he was calm and confident in command. Wise and not arrogant, reminded her of someone very dear. “You have a mighty heart little Master, Gods be at your side.”

“My ally is the Force, but all assistance will we accept.”

“Where will Dooku go?” Glancing to your own master, “How do we hunt him to ground?”

“I have a feeling that our adversary will make his presence known in time.” Mace gazed upon the battle in progress around them, control of the ground needed to be reestablished if there was to be any hope of victory. “Pilot land at that forward assembly area. Y/n, stay with Master Yoda and track down Dooku.”

Ships were being blasted out of the sky around you and though you could feel Obi Wan and Anakin you weren't sure where they had gone. Looking at your Master, you gave a quick nod. “Yes Sir.”

“Holy Shit! The boss lady listens to somebody?” Glitch winked at Master Yoda, who gave a restrained laugh of his own.

“Pot and Kettle,” Rolling your eyes the LA-AT as it took off for the forward observation post. Upon arrival there was a static transmission from one of the other ships, Dooku had been spotted and they were in pursuit. Commandeering a speeder, you prayed the Force you were fast enough. “Glitch, stay with Master Yoda.”

“No, I'm going with you! We just saved your ass no way are you...”

“Damn it Glitch,” Glaring at the girl you clutched her shoulders in frustration, “I cannot lose any more of them or you.”

Glitch had tears in her eyes silently begging you to take her too.

“Protect them for me, please.” Pleading with the young woman, you needed her safe.

“Y/n, don't.” Glitch so rarely called you by name, always Boss. Some part of her wanted to keep you all at a distance, didn't want that pain again if she lost another friend. But that would be a disrespect to all you had done and how close you'd grown. “I can help, please!”

“You are Tyra,” tucking a stray hair behind her ear, you climbed on the speeder bike. “Listen to Master Yoda as you would me. It'll be alright.”

Yoda watched as you departed, coming to take Glitches hand, “Come my young friend, your wisdom and strength do I require.”

“I doubt there's anything that I have to offer you sir.” Glitch laughed bitterly.

Yoda hummed, “A different foe have I for you, one of greater importance. Come.”

“I don't care, land the ship!” Anakin's mind screamed at the sight of Padme laying motionless on the sand.

“Anakin I need you, come to your senses!” Obi Wan pleaded with the boy. Stars knew he understood better than anyone, seeing the woman he loved injured and thought killed. He knew the gut churning pain, but he also knew his duty. That as badly as it hurt there was a job to do. “What would Padme do were she in your place? What would Y/n do if it were us?”

Anakin searched the Force for his angel, she was alive. Maker he wanted nothing more than to go to her but as Obi Wan's questions sank in he also knew that answer. As hard as the truth was, as harsh as the situation was he would not make the same mistake twice in a day. Scrunching his face in frustration and anguish he looked to Master Obi Wan.

“They would do their duty,” Taking a deep breath Anakin tried to focus, “I'm sorry Master...”

“It's alright, calm yourself.” Obi Wan reached over to squeeze the boy's shoulder. “When this is over I owe you a long talk and a strong cup of tea.”

The craft dropped them on the landing platform, exploding almost immediately as it pulled away. Anakin's eyes went wide as yet three more lives flickered and faded into the greater Force. Why must death be so cruel, why? But there was no time to contemplate such things as he and Master Obi Wan ran into the cavern.

Malevolence enveloped them almost immediately, the air growing thicker the closer they drew. Dooku stood at the controller with his back turned, uncaring that he was trapped with the two Jedi. Anger and grief rolled through Anakin once more, his tone graveled and angry, “You're going to pay for all the Jedi you killed to day.”

Dooku turned slowly to regard the welp, scrawny and overconfident. All the arrogance to befit the grand Padawan of Windu and Dalincort. He gave the two a sickening smile, “And I presume that you have claimed the honor of bringing me to justice... youngling.”

“We'll take him together,” Obi Wan could see that Dooku was attempting to draw Anakin into the fight alone, “You go around...”

Anakin saw the sneer on the old man's face, remembered how he watched as the Jedi were slaughtered in the arena. Then the bastard started to laugh, LAUGH!

Anakin was done being patient. “I'll take him NOW!”

You could hear fighting the minute the speeder landed on the pad. The very air hung heavy; darkness, pain, anger... Hate. Running as though the hounds of perdition were upon you, stomach dropping to your boots. Obi Wan was sprawled on the floor in pain, Dooku had wounded him. Anakin was battling the old saber master, but it was obvious that the Count was toying with the young man. Blocking and parrying several over powered strikes Dooku made his move, turning and efficiently amputated Anakin's arm.

“NO!!!” you screamed.

Dooku grinned, extending his hand to fling the foolish boy across the room. The boy landed at Kenobi's feet with a pained whimper. He would have relished in the sight of his victory more if it weren't for several rocks that came flying at him. Deflecting them away with a brush of his hand, Dooku finally acknowledged your presence. “I see that Windu send his little pet after me.”

“Get. Away. From. My. FAMILY!” Biting out the words you couldn't care to cover the fury in your voice. Extending your arm you pulled the injured men closer to the entrance. The air practically crackled around you, pebbles floated and clattered from your rage.

He had injured Obi Wan....

he had cut off Anakin's arm...

he had killed so many good Jedi today...

“Young y/n, perhaps it's time for another lesson?” Dooku taunted you, tutting under his breath with a sly grin. “Then again you always were a poor student.”

There was a moment where Anakin looked up and he didn't recognize the woman striding across the room. Logically he could see that it was you, but it was as though your body had been possessed by a foreign spirit. A cold dead look of fury... it was terrifying. “Master?”

“Y/n,” Obi Wan tried to reach out to you but your walls were firmly in place. A shot of dread ran through him, bile rising. He had not been present when you had killed the Neimoidian, but he well remembered the fight against the cartel on Talenza. That same detached look, clinical almost if not for the anger in your eyes. Merciful light protect you, “Wee one...”

“I will not let you kill another Jedi today Dooku.” Without turning, moving only to raise your hand catching the saber hilt as it rocketed into your grip from the floor, you glared down the former Master. These feelings within were beyond anger or disgust or sorrow. When you looked at the man you felt nothing, seeing only the shadow of evil that was trying to destroy all around you. A cancer that needed to be excised. Raising your blade you coolly addressed the debauched soul, “Surrender old man.”

“We both know that I won't come willingly.” Dooku threw your own words at you. He couldn't help to admire the tenacity, foolish as it was, “You're outmatched girl.”

Your feet shifted to a starting position, “I have all that I require.”

“So very naïve,” Dooku gazed haughtily at you. “It appears then that this lesson is over due.”

You didn't reply, twirling the blade raising it to ready. There was no urgency in your step, nor stiffness to your body. Slowly entering the enemy's domain, closing space and circling. The air crackled around the room as Dooku extended his blade, red as the blood that stained his hands.

He feigned, beating the edge of his blade against yours trying to provoke you to action.

Tilting your head you slid the edge of the beam along causing sparks, giving a beat in return.

Force for force, blade on blade.

Dooku made the first move sweeping up then countering low. You didn't try for anything fancy simply deflecting and redirecting the move. Again, he thrust the edge of his saber, only for you to twist and block the move. He kept baiting and prodding, yet you would not do more than defend and take more ground. “Come now girl, certainly you can do better. Surely you wish to destroy me for what I've done. You'd like that wouldn't you?”

Another hard blow coming down from above as you felt him probing your mental barriers. Your walls were beginning to fray, and you could feel the cold clutches trying to wreak havoc on your mind. Blocking his saber again you gave a great push with the Force to throw the man across the floor.

“Would you not like to see me humbled before the Council for the harm done to your Padawan?” Dooku landed on his feet, less than gracefully but still in form. He watched to see if his words would add to the storm. He continued to project the most awful of things to your mind trying to break your will. Mental images of your Master dying, of Kenobi dying, of your apprentice crying for help as he too died. All of that which you feared most. A little further he thought, only a little more and the girl will crumble. Dooku shot lightning at you, laughing as he reveled in your cries of pain. “Or have you finally found that you are not what you believe yourself to be?”

“Aaaaahhhh!!!” You screamed in pain and frustration and the barrage continued.

Smirking he set the bolts loose again. Oh yes this did brighten his day to see you suffer. “You are no Knight, you are nothing but a weak little foundling! A cur allowed among the ranks of better beings because of one Council head's attachment.”

“Don't listen to him Y/n!” Obi Wan screamed from across the room, the lightning was so bright that he could barely discern your outline.

“Obi Boy...”

He took in a sharp breath feeling your signature wrap tightly to his. “Wee One?”

“Hey Slemo!”

Dooku paused the electric charge hearing your words. There you stood looking at him defiantly through the pain. How was this possible? Then he realized you hadn't fully taken the shock, channeling it to the ground through your body. Anger rose within him, not the least of which was directed at his own hubris. “So you HAVE learned something...”

“And you have forgotten,” Raising your saber again at the old man, charging forward with a swift low swing at his knees. One two three times blocked to come up for a high cross body strike. You glared over the light of the blades, “You've forgotten who you were! Whom you were supposed to defend! You were a Jedi, you were Qui Gon's Master.”

“You are not worthy to utter his name!” The old man matched your venom at the mere mention of his former apprentice.

So the old man still grieved. Good you thought, two could play at this! “Would he recognize you now? To see what you have become?”

Dooku charged and swung harder this time aiming for your shoulder and neck to silence you. “Qui Gon should still be alive, but instead you two unworthy children...”

“Qui Gon died defending the galaxy from the evil that you embraced!” You parried and kept backing him towards the edge of the cavern space. The old Sith continued to bash at your mental shields continuing his two front assault. You could feel him clawing in, feel yourself weakening with each minute and blow. The dark thoughts that you kept at bey so long rising at his bidding. You would not yield this battle though, giving a scream. “If Qui Gon had lived he would stand against you now! Since he cannot then we will!”

“You and Kenobi are nothing! That boy is nothing!” Dooku had to pivot quickly to avoid the quick footwork and precision of your thrusts and swings. Damn you using his momentary lapse to begin taking ground. Dooku wasn't out of the fight yet, using the Force to hurtle crates at rapid speed while blocking and advancing back at you. “The power of the dark side shall rise to bring order to the Galaxy.”

“Not so long as there is one Jedi left to defend her still!”

Slicing through the crates you continued to fight your way to the corner. Just a bit closer to the power conduit on the wall. Keeping your eyes on the Sith as you got within range. Tipping over a chemical container near the wall, then yanking out the high voltage cables.

“Anakin look away!” Obi Wan tried to cover his eyes as the pool of chemicals sparked off.

There was a flash and a wave of heat as the fumes ignited around the Count, driving you back. Please let this work, sweet merciful Force...

But then the world crumbled around you, nothing but swirling darkness.

You felt as though transported, floating through the coldest void of space until suddenly your body dropped to the ground.

No... this couldn't be?

You were back on Talenza... back to that day. Swirling ash and fire surrounding you, the stench of burnt flesh and death. The bodies of all the Jedi you had ever know strewn about your feet, blood raining from the sky.

Sightless eyes staring at you, mouths moving in tandem....

Why didn't you save us? Why didn't you save us?

Closest to you was Obi Wan and Anakin, again the same words.

Why didn't you save us?

“NOOOOOOO!!!!!” This wasn't real, this couldn't be real, DEAR SWEET MAKER STOP THIS PLEASE!

Pain erupted in your back and head momentarily breaking the hold Dooku had on your mind. The briefest of pauses from the horror. Thrown into the cavern wall to fall to the floor, flung into the rocky surface again and again like a ragdoll.

“Foolish child,” the Sith tutted as he strode closer, untouched by the flame. Raising his hand to continue the scourge. “Did you really think that would work? That you could defeat me so easily...”

The images kept flashing over and over in your mind, until all at once they stopped. As though the light had reached through and pulled you from the depths of the dark. Warmth slowly creeping back into you along with the pain. A familiar voice rang in the cavern as surely as a meditation bell in the Temple, steady and calm.

“Release her.” The paced clacking of a walking staff came to a pause, voice raising again. “Release my Knight!”

Dooku sneered, “Master Yoda...”

Your body crumpled to the floor, blood pounding in your head. The wise old Master looked to you, raising a hand that would stay you from acting further. Not that there was much convincing needed. You reached your signature out to Anakin and Obi Wan, injured but alive. “Obi Boy...”

“I'm here Wee One.”

“I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...” You succumbed to the pain, vision blanking into unconsciousness.

Yoda looked upon the man before him, twisted in mind and spirit.

No longer the boy he had taught...

No longer the Knight and defender...

“Count Dooku.”

“You have interfered with our affairs for the last time,” The Sith pried and flung multiple conduits from the wall to crush his foe. When that did not prove enough he brought the ceiling of the cave upon the small Jedi's head.

With an nonplussed waive of his hand Yoda deflected the debris. “Our affairs is it? Then truly fallen you have.”

“The dark side has shown me the truth of the galaxy. And my Master has taught me so much more than you ever could.” Dooku glowered at the small being that he had once held in such esteem. One who had held him back and treated him like a child, well no more. He would end his former Master once and for all, “I have become more powerful than any mere Jedi... Even you!”

Lightning arced through the air at the small Jedi but to no effect. Dooku tried again, but with each attempt Yoda deflected or absorbed the volts, appearing unimpressed by the attempt. Similar to when an initiate threw a tantrum in the creche, the old Master kept his countenance calm. Dooku knew better though, that the still waters ran deeper than the ocean worlds.

“Powerful you have become Dooku,” Yoda straightened his posture to more squarely look the man down. "but not wiser."

“How is this possible?” Dooku glared at the small being. Sidious had trained him well, Dooku should be able to defeat the old man easily. He was more powerful, smarter! Anger and fear flashed within him as Dooku continued to reassess his strategy.

“Your ambitions and plans, like leaves in the wind they are,” Yoda's ears turned up as he glared down at his opponent, “Much to learn you still have. Clouded is your mind, to your senses return.”

“It is obvious that this contest will not be decided by our knowledge of the Force, but by our skills with a saber.” He raised his blade, cool anger flashing in his eyes, “Unless you feel unequal to the challenge.”

Parting his robes Yoda drew his saber, “Do you?”

Across the floor Obi Wan was unable do much while injured, Anakin was semi conscious on his leg. They needed to get out of the cavern, there was no hope of lending assistance to Master Yoda in their condition. Concentrating on you signature Obi Wan tried to wake you, “Wee one?”

You face twitched in pain, but still not rousing to consciousness.

“Wee One I need you,” He focused harder, “Please wake up love, please.”

“Obi...” One eye blinked painfully open as you took in a deeper breath. You could hear the clash of sabers beating, glancing over you witnessed something not seen in a very long time. Master Yoda had drawn his lightsaber and was fighting the Count. The normally peaceful and patient Grand Master was beating the fallen Jedi, giving no quarter. Glancing at where Anakin and Obi Boy were you also saw the bleak look in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“We need to get the boy out of here, can you help pull us over.” Reaching out with the Force Obi Wan moved to where you lay. You were shaking and unfocused, you were scared. Raising a hand to your battered face, Obi Wan's voice shook, "I'm sorry love, I'm sorry for all of it."

"Me too," Leaning into the touch you wrapped your signature to his, at least you were together.

The tears in your eyes begged to set loose, but you refused. For all their sakes you had to hold back, as much as you wanted otherwise. Fortunately the saber had cauterized the wound, but you doubted there was any way of reattaching the arm successfully. The boy was in shock and you did your best to try to ease his pain. What little strength you had would not allow you to do much. Placing your hand to his head you tried to give him peace, projecting that day at the beach on Dantooine, a good memory instead of the fear of now. “It'll be alright Ani-man, just hold on... just hold on.”

Yoda clashed his saber with Dooku's again and again, each blow and move made to disarm his foe. Dooku was strong, but his emotions clouded his judgment. It had been one of the many reasons that he had been denied a seat on the Council. His arrogance and air of superiority over his fellow knights had also been a thorn in many of the Jedi's side. Warning signs seen too late or ignored due to rank? Blocking yet another crippling blow Yoda struggled to hold his guard, “fought well you have my old Padawan.”

“Kind of you to notice, but I think that this contest is soon to end.” Forcing the smaller Jedi away the Count raised his hand to rip the largest of the ducts on the wall away. With all of his might Dooku tried to bring it down on the injured Jedi.

“Y/n!” Obi Wan grabbed your head trying to shield both you and Anakin with his body.

Bounding back from Dooku, Yoda raised his arms in concentration. Even as the Sith laughed and ran to his ship Yoda held the large metal beam fast and with great effort flung it away. Turning just as the portal to the ship closed the old Master glowered. “Finished, this is not!”

“No,” Dooku's voice boomed, “it is just the beginning!”

Translations:

Udesii, Pare- Easy, Wait

Taglist: @meshlasolus @the-rain-on-kamino @a-rose-of-amber @aquaamethyst96 @stanny-uwu @just-dreaming-marvel @nurseytypechick @in-a-mellow-tone @acatalystrising @pickleprickle @iambored24601 @songoficecreamandfireworks @misscamptl @purplepandora666 @obiknights @moostresskenobi @the-going-merry @ginger-swag-rapunzel @iabrokengirl @lovelyxlily @annasun13 @foxperifoto @supernaturallover2002

#Holy crud this took a while!#Oh but it's here #the next one's really gonna hurt...#go read fluff after this #you'll need it #star wars #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x y/n #ol&d #obi wan x you #jango fett #count dooku #master yoda #mace windu #plo koon #attack of the clones

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bamfahsoka · 1 year

Text

Change of Fate: Chapter 2

No warnings for this chapter👍

Relationship: Wolffe x Female Reader

*Image from Google Images*

After your holocall with the 104th, you and Rex went back to the Medbay to check on Kix's progress. When you walked in, you saw Kix trying to decipher Tup's test results at his desk. You walked over to Kix, and he stood up at attention.

"General"

"At Ease Kix, you know I don't care about the formalities. How's our boy doing? Have we learned anything new?

With a heavy sigh, he says

"Unfortunately, not much. Scans are not picking anything up. I would need a much more advanced scanner to get more comprehensive results, but the scanner I would need is only on Kamino.

" I don't want him anywhere near Kamino or the long-necks. We need to learn as much as we can as quietly as we can. No report of the incident has been submitted yet, and I'm going to keep it that way as long as possible. The second the GAR or Senate finds out about this our opportunity to investigate on our own is over" you stated. It was your turn to sigh.

Rex then voiced the question, you all were asking yourselves.

"But…How do we get more detailed scans without a more advanced scanner?"

It is then that you come up with the half hazard plan of using the Force to see into Tup's brain, and hopefully find the source of his manic behavior. You've made it a personal policy to never look into people's private thoughts and space, especially the Clones. However, you were limited on time and options.

"Theoretically I could use the Force to lock on to the cause of his episode and 'scan' that specific area, in much finer detail." You said hesitantly.

You continued with an uncharacteristic small voice.

" However, that would be a huge invasion of his private space, and I would never want to take that away from any of you."

Rex and Kix look at each other. Rex was the first to speak.

" While we appreciate your concern, and are forever grateful for your ongoing support of the clones, we can pretty confidently tell you that he would rather you look into his mind, than risk hurting you or anyone else. "

You looked over to Kix. And he nodded in agreement.

"OK then…Lets get to work before the sedative wears off. Kix, you'll monitor vitals, and monitor the screens to see if anything pops up. Rex, I'll be completely defenseless while connected to Tup, I'll need you to watch my back if he wakes up and decides he wants me dead again."

" Always General."

You put your good hand on his shoulder and give him an appreciative look.

"Last piece of the puzzle is getting help from our favorite ARC troopers. "

You press the broadcast button on your comm and call Fives and Echo to the Medbay for security, to not let anyone in the medbay. You'll need as much quiet as possible in order to concentrate.

After everyone understood the plan, you took your position at Tup's head. You took your arm out of the sling and put your hands on either side of Tup's head. You drew on the surrounding Force and went into a meditative state. You released all your emotions and turbulent thoughts into the Force, so you could focus solely on mapping out Tup's brain. You tried to bring anything foreign or damaging to the surface of his mind, so you could follow it back to its source. Moving slowly so as to not agitate him unnecessarily, you scan every fiber and neural pathway. Finally, you see one strand that seems damaged. It looks as if it's corroded from long term exposure to something horrible. You decide to gently pull on the strand and let it guide you deeper into Tup's brain. You're getting close to your limit, but you have to push on to help Tup. You come to where that poor damaged strand led you, and you can't help but jump at what your mind's eye is seeing. All of a sudden, you hear a distant beeping and some commotion around you. Confident you found what you were looking for, you slowly withdrew yourself from Tup's mind. As you came back to yourself you collapsed. You struggled to open your eyes, but did manage to hear Kix say she did it, we can remove it before losing consciousness.

You have no idea how long you've been unconscious in the medbay. But when you open your eyes, you wince at the bright lights above you. As your vision clears, you are pleasantly surprised to see Wolffe sitting by your side. He's hunched over with his face in his hands. With as much sarcasm and wit you could muster, you said

"I would say 'hey handsome', but I can't see your face."

He jumped at your voice. His head shot up, and his eyes darted to yours. It's then that the fearful expression you saw on his face when you got shot came back in full force.

" C'yare! I- I mean Y/N." He desperately tried to correct himself.

You had heard the term a few times among the men, but never learned what it meant. You tried to sit up, but were instantly reminded that you were shot not too long ago. Wolffe moved to help you sit up. You had noticed that your attempt to lighten the mood had little effect, so you took a more comforting approach. You gently grabbed his hand and looked into his warm and worried amber eyes.

"Hey, not that I'm not happy about it, but what are you doing here?" You asked sweetly.

"Once Rex contacted the Triumphant, about you passing out after your journey into Tup's brain, which General Plo was not a fan of by the way, I may have suggested that I come on board to help Rex, as an additional commanding officer. At least until you were cleared for duty."

"Uh huh. Well, you don't need to worry. We'll figure out this whole Tup thing together. Once we do, we can make sure that nothing like this ever happens to any one of your brothers again, " you encouraged.

At the mention of Tup, his eyes moved to your injured shoulder, and his jaw clenched. His face went from a combination of fear and relief, to one of frustration and desperation.

" Y/N I know, but you've been pretty hell bent on dying lately which goes against the 'together' part of that plan!" Wolffe lectured

"Wolffe…" As a reflex you withdraw your hand. You're surprised by his outburst, but you know that it stems from concern.

Kix came over with a sense of authority that rivaled the Commander's own. Kix truly was in his element here in the medbay.

"Commander, I will not allow you to lecture my patients. If you can not calm down, I'll be forced to ask you to leave."

You saw Wolffe try to contain his emotions, and decided it was in everyone's best interest if you tried to diffuse the situation.

"It's not a problem Kix, Commander Wolffe is just concerned for everyone's safety. I'm ok really, If it's ok with you, I'd like him to stay."

"If he behaves, I don't have an issue with it. However, a change of scenery would do you good vod. "

Kix then turned his attention to you

"Now that you're awake, General, we can do a few final tests and hopefully get you out of here."

"Sounds great Kix, thank you" you answered gratefully.

Kix walked away, and you turned your attention back to Wolffe.

"How long have you been sitting in that chair anyways?" You ask

"Does it matter?" Wolffe mumbled, trying to hide the blush creeping up onto his face.

You giggle at his response.

"It does to me." You said gently, while looking at him lovingly. He looked back at you, and you instantly got lost in his eyes. You wanted to just tell Wolffe your feelings for him, but no words came out.

He sighed and finally relented. Though he would never admit it, he could never say no to you.

" You were only out for 2 rotations. It's no big deal".

Suddenly, you hear the medbay doors opening, and you hear a familiar voice call out

" Not a big deal, until anyone suggests you leave the medbay and take a break."

You looked over to see who the voice belonged to, and it was none other than Rex. Wolffe glared at his younger brother, as if Rex was his next meal, just as his namesake would. The milky white of his cybernetic eye only added to the intimidating scowl Wolffe was wearing at the moment. Very few people could challenge Wolffe and get out unscathed. Lucky for Rex, he was one of the lucky few that could, and he knew it. You couldn't help but laugh at the scene.

"Alright, alright boys. Wolffe you can take it out on the poor shinies later, and Rex stop literally poking the beast" you teased.

Rex looked at you in a joking manner as if he was offended, and Wolffe had a look of mischief in his eyes. At that moment Kix came over and gave you the good news that you were cleared to go, as long as you let your shoulder continue to heal, and to not do any more stunts using the Force. You agreed to his conditions, and you were about to ask about Tup when Rex's comm started to blink. He answered

" Captain Rex here".

On the other side, the bridge reported that the Supreme Chancellor was on the line and wished to speak with the commanding officer. Your blood went cold, you immediately spoke into Rex's comm.

" This is General Y/L/N, I'm on my way. Please tell the Chancellor, I will take his call. "

" Yes Sir"

The call ended, and your brain immediately went to trying to come up with a plan to keep Tup away from the Senate and Kamino while not implicating the clones or Jedi.

You called out to Kix.

"Kix, I need you to come with us. I'll try to keep you out of it, but I might need you to give some info on Tup, but I want to keep it as vague as possible. " Kix nodded.

You all made your way to the bridge. You signaled for Rex, Wolffe, and Kix to stand off to the side so they would not be seen. As you started to walk forward, Wolffe grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze as a sign of comfort.

You walked up to Chancellor Palpatine's image on the holoprojector. You bowed your head and addressed him.

"Chancellor Palpatine, I'm sorry for the delay. What do I owe the honor for your call today?"

"First, I'd like to say I'm glad to see that you are well after your ordeal."

" Thank you for your concern, I am doing well. Now how can I help you Chancellor?"

" Right. Due to your injury General Plo filed your mission reports for you, and I wanted to clarify a few things.

Your heart was thundering in your chest, but you kept your composure.

"Of course Sir. What are your questions?"

"The report said that your shoulder was injured but did not indicate how. Can you please tell me how you were injured?"

" I was hit by a piece of shrapnel Sir. It was unclear where it came from. I assume that's why General Plo's report lacks the details that are typical in his reports."

" I see. If your CMO could submit his report on the incident as well, that would help complete the report."

" Of course. Do you have any other questions I can help you answer?"

" I do, in fact."

You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat. The Chancellor continued

" An anonymous report we got did say that there was a trooper on your ship that was endangering the other clones and yourself. I believe his number is CT-5385. Do you have any knowledge of this?"

" I was unaware of the report, but I do know that trooper, his name is Tup. As far as the incident report goes, once I woke up, I was informed there was a sparring match that got out of hand. However, it was quickly resolved, and no harm came to anyone. Often, those of us fighting in the war day after day, clone and Jedi alike, have triggers or just bad days. Tup was doing fine after some simple breathing and calming techniques. After following up with him myself, I didn't see any need for medical care. "

There was a moment of silence. It was only a few seconds, but it was the most suffocating silence you had ever experienced. The Chancellor finally broke the silence.

" Well, I greatly appreciate your insight into the events of the mission, I will have the mission report updated with this information. I also wanted to inform you that I am calling the 104th and 501st back to Coruscant."

" Oh, well that's certainly a surprise. We were expecting to be deployed for another 10 rotations"

"Well even good soldiers need a break."

You already didn't trust the Chancellor, but this development made you question his motives even more. However, you had to maintain appearances to prevent any suspicion.

" I'm sure the men will appreciate the leave. Thank you, Chancellor."

"You're quite welcome. I would love to see you while you're on leave as well."

You felt a chill run up your spine, and a sense of danger in the Force.

" Of course Chancellor, it would be my pleasure. I'll make a point to stop by when you are available, " you said in your most innocent voice.

" Wonderful, well I'll see you then."

He had a wicked smile on his face that instantly made you feel small and vulnerable. You gathered yourself and replied

" See you then. Goodbye Chancellor."

The holoprojector cut out, you thanked the bridge crew, and informed them that you would be in your quarters. You then rushed out of the room, walking as fast as you could without causing a scene. You found the closest storage closet and jumped in, hoping that no one would find you, and see you on the verge of a complete meltdown.

Your 3 friends followed you out of the bridge and attempted to follow you. Rex and Kix immediately went to your quarters; however, your Commander knew you better. If you didn't want to be found, you wouldn't tell everyone where you actually were going. You didn't get overwhelmed very often, but when you did, storage closets were your hiding place of choice.

Wolffe walked down the main corridor and looked for the closest storage closet. You felt him coming, and if you're being honest, you wanted him to find you. He came across your hiding spot, and knocked on the door. Your voice was small and you were trying to catch your breath.

"Who is it?"

" C'yare open up."

You opened the door, and Wolffe stood there with worry on his face. Once the door was openyou immediately sank to the floor. Wolffe followed you to the floor, closing the door on the way down.

" You ok?" He asked gently.

" Not really, but I'll be ok…I have to be, for everyone."

"You know, you don't have to save the entire GAR by yourself. Some of us do want to help you".

"I know, but I'm trying to protect you and your brothers, not put you all in more danger. I don't want to lose you…I -I can't lose you." You confessed timidly.

Wolffe's eyes went wide, and his breath hitched. Being careful of your shoulder, he gently grabbed both of your arms, and leaned forward touching his forehead to yours and said in a softer voice

" I can't lose you either C'yare…I won't lose you."

" What does that mean..C'yare?" You asked

" Beloved…it means beloved".

You felt your heart race, your face flush, and the overwhelming feeling of love and happiness come over you. You couldn't resist him now that you knew he felt the same. You closed the space between you and kissed him slowly and gently to communicate the depth of your feelings, he responded instantly. Returning your feelings in the passion he put into the kiss. When you finally had to separate for air, he was the first one to speak.

" I love you. I don't care if I have to fight the whole galaxy to keep you safe and in my arms. I'll always love you."

The tears that you somehow managed to keep from spilling over until this point, finally ran down your cheeks. You looked at him with nothing but love in your eyes and said

" I love you too".

#star wars #the clone wars #captain rex #star wars the clone wars #commander wolffe #clone wars #swtcw #clonelove #commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe x reader #no order 66 #fuck palpatine #palpatine #clone trooper tup #medic kix #kix #plo koon #inhibitor chips #everyone lives/nobody dies

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dukeoftheblackstar · 7 months

Text

"Right Here"

Summary: It’s ‘one of those days’ when the things are just too much. Sometimes all you need is an old man and their old man-foolishness. - Depression strikes and you're at the medcenter.

Pairing: Plo Koon x Duchess/Duch (oc/reader), Plo Koon x Reader

Word Count: 4.2 K

Rating/Theme: Angst, comfort, tw-suicide, gaslighting, innuendos, tw-depression, pre-established relations, flirting, slight choking, barely smutty

Notes:

“Right Here”— Second installment of Somewhere Only We Know

The song Plo sings for oc/reader are official lyrics from from @mimimirage / @eloquentmoon's "Planet Pink" [ permission to use granted via discord DM ]

1st pic = art by my very best friend and sister at heart, @amorfista [ please do not repost ]

2nd pic = commissioned art from a local artist [ personally owned / please do not repost ]

Color thingies because I'm deranged to not use them: Orange: Plo Koon Pink: You/OC/Reader Blue: Internal thoughts Purple: Self-Inserts

Perfect divider by @idontgetanysleep with itty, bitty, cutie-patootie Plo Koon face ♥

You do so much day in day out that it has become a wonder if you exist only to appease the fury and bitterness that resides in the damned. A conundrum of a cycle wherein you have no qualms in allowing anyone of your borrowed time and yet it seems to be quite burdensome to rob others of theirs, regardless of how deep you have plunged into the great seas of woe. A quandary that leaves you doubtful if you even deserve to feel such sadness and allow it to consume you when you should be keeping your heart empty to nurse and rid others of the vicissitudes of fate. An enigma that though should have enticed you to unravel and explore, leaves you abandoned not with want, need, or wanton desires, but abandoned as the word itself defined — left alone and all its synonymous narrative; forgotten, maybe.

But it’s not that bad, right? You get to live, meet people, experience things old and new — and besides, someone out there has it far worse than you. You should be grateful.

And so you become just that; "Grateful” — in every sense of the word.

You stopped ‘complaining’ because someone else has it far worse than you; stopped trying to ‘talk about it’ because you’re afraid to tell them that even after all the unprompted and unsolicited advice, you remain buried six-feet under the vicious weight of thoughts so intrusive you couldn’t bring yourself to cry it out of your system anymore —in hopes that it depletes you enough to fall asleep.

That you stopped trying to ‘deal with it’ because it has come to the point that trepidation has now been rooted so deep within the confines of your soul, it hinders you to function. To have fear of having to be seen in such a pathetic, weakened state that even the most mundane tasks remain undone. That the mere fact that you haven’t showered or bathed in days because you were so afraid that if you’re not careful enough, you’d slip and die without having to tell someone how much they mean to you.

That if you perish, as you begin to feel so deserving of such fate, you would leave them with the same conundrum. That, they, too, would have to suffer these intrusive thoughts because no one came; because they, too, were abandoned as the word itself defined — left alone and all its synonymous narrative; forgotten.

So yet again, you sit not with your knees enclosing your chest in an embrace like in the holovids — rather you’ve taken shelter under the dining table because it felt ‘safe’ there knowing that escape is but a kitchen knife away. Yet again you do not stand before the mirror contemplating on smashing it with your head or your fist, because you couldn’t bear the thought of having someone clean up the mess you’ve made. Yet again you do not frantically tap your fingers on the floor in fear that the neighbors might hear and complain and as such, you will all that you could muster to silence even the slightest of whimpers because you know someone would come and would have to sit through your ‘dramatics’.

And so yes, here you are in all the glory of one being ‘grateful’.

Here you are under the table of your lavish living room with today’s breakfast at midnight, a pile of unwashed dishes, laundry on the ground, and your commlink buzzing incessantly that seems to stab your fingertips with each attempt of a response. So you just read them, the messages — the funny ones, the sad ones, the work-related ones, the ‘are-you-okay?’ ones, and the ones from your beloved friend and confidant who had constantly dropped by and threatened to break the door down, forcing you to reply ‘I’m not home, I’ll message you the soonest’.

But you are, as we have established.

You pray to gods your people serve, even to ones you don’t and know not of; eyes closed with fingers knotted over your chest so tight that you could feel the in-between dips of your knuckles burrow further as if ready to break if not bruise. Your lips shake begging through a plethora of ‘please don’t’, ‘go away’, and ‘not today, please’, hoping that this does not turn into some heroic stride of having you swept off your feet and be given the ‘much needed’ respite and attention because today is simply not the day — as it was yesterday and the day before, and the day before the day before yesterday.

You’ve gone this far, do you honestly wish to disappoint those who believe in you? Do you feel it wise to make them feel bad because their words of comfort and support failed? Do you feel they are deserving of your failure because you could not find it within you to handle even the simplest of things?

Exactly. They deserve better than that. And after all, someone out there has it far worse than you.

Right…?

***

“Is it the gown that’s throwing you off? Cause I can’t cut it up and make it look sexy and we can rolepla—”

You couldn’t even finish because he’s stared you down with such oppressive silence all you could think of was apologize for something you don’t even know you’ve done but whatever it is, it must have been as heinous as to exist in the same timeline as him.

“What?”

“...”

You knew exactly what — he no longer wants you around. He no longer wants to deal with your obstinacy and how you constantly pry him from more pressing matters over something so trivial, so dramatic, so unnecessary.

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’re gonna be baby about this, Plo.”

“...”

It’s exactly that. He’s supposed to be somewhere; a meeting maybe? A mission? Maybe he’s tired. Tired of you.

“Look. I’m okay. I just… I just have really nosey neighbors, okay? I’m fine. Please.”

“...”

“I’m really, really, really, okay. I promise you.”

“...”

I’m okay, baby. I am. I am now.

“Well?…. Say something.”

“...”

He’s upset, no — he’s angry. He’s… He’s…

And just as you have occasionally been exposed to the oppressive nature of his silence, you turn to him as if matching your assumptious claim of him plagued with seething abhorrence over having to ‘take care of you’ again. Your brows meet in brewing animosity, glaring vehemently at Plo — ironically in contrast to the relaxed creases of your Kel Dor Jedi.

“If you have somewhere to be, just leave. I don’t know why you’re here if you’re just gonna be like that.” You couldn’t pocket an obvious sniffle and so you opted to turn your head away towards the unsuspecting bouquet of flowers of pinks, whites, and yellow chrysanthemums. It did you no better as ragged breath fell past lips that quivered and silver-hazed eyes that threatened to become even more fuddled with tears.

“I get it, okay? They shouldn’t have called even if it was an emergen—.”

They really shouldn’t have. I’m sorry if they had to call you. I promise I’ll try harder. I’ll be more grateful for what I have. I swear. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.

“But they did.” Came Plo Koon’s abrupt response, devoid of any obviously implied emotion — neither from the tone of his voice or the subtle shift in his masked visage.

You knew better than to argue. After all, you were no stranger to how ornery he can be, that even his fallen master found him stubborn and difficult — for all the good reasons, that is.

“Sorry.” Was all you could say.

For having known Plo for centuries, you would have thought that you’d get used to the power he held over you. That even mere words carry so much weight that he could say ‘love’ and wound you so deep to this very day, that him mirroring your candor with so much nectarous affection in the form of endearments ‘little love’ or ‘my darling’ disillusions you from the illusion itself.

That just by the mere sound of his voice, that unspoken timbre reserved only for your ears and your ears alone, would have you whisked into the grandeur of a fool’s paradise. A quixotic ideal where war can go fuck itself just as Plo can go fuck himself too, but through means of using every inch of your existence leaving nothing to waste. That just by the mere serendipitous touch of his talon-clad fingers paired with his poorly crafted apology for inadvertently wrapping around your neck so deliciously tight, he could easily bring to your knees to do no more than worship him as you would a god to atone for the sins of subjecting those around you in yet another depressive episode.

It gave you a sense of grounding at the very least; a laughable means of coping you’ve developed over time. One that would put his mind at ease to know that in spite of the decline of mirth within your soul, you still had some reserve to keep yourself from the point of no return — even if it meant you were doing it for others, not so much yourself.

You turn to face the still-standing Kel Dor whose hands remained tucked behind. Expressionless was better than him pacing frantically and mouthing off a full-on lecture. Though part of you expected to use this to his advantage; to go over how your last visit went and the lingering feeling of having professed indirectly required confrontation — then again, it wasn’t exactly the first time the two of you indulged in a very elusive discourse about matters of the heart. But at least you got to say it again, right? I mean not hearing it back is nothing new.

You hear him sigh, whether it was relief or frustration it hardly mattered. He was gonna chew you off you and you knew it. He’s probably at his wit’s end having to come to your rescue for what, the third time now in a month? You’ve already quit bounty hunting because Plo pulled the ‘I would rather you indulge my father in managing the hatchery in Dorin’ card. I mean who wouldn’t? You get to spend time with Dorin’s most charming Kel Dor, who has been quite-like a father to you with little knowledge that he’s about to become your father-in-law if Plo would just stop being a Jedi Master for a hot minute. That, and the fact that you get to help Dorin rebuild their population through the hatchery — not your more preferred method of helping since you’re pretty set on the fact that Plo is quite virile.

Even wishful thinking of him has deterred you from your further decline even for the fleeting moment of his visit. As for how long it’ll last, the daunting possibility of how grave the next ‘episode’ would be, looms about.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” It was more of a statement than an inquiry. You knew he was upset just from the fact that he hadn't approached you yet or had spoken much. Not many knew how chatty Plo Koon can be or how mischievous or playful he truly is behind the ever well-behaved aristocratic demeanor. You lowered your as your teeth sank to the bottom of your lip apologetically as you continued. “I understand if you are. I’d be mad at me too.”

“Good. Then we can move forward.” Plo Koon replies, true to his no-attachment Jedi teachings that infuriated you more than anything. And he knew; he knew how to drive you so far up the wall, you sometimes wish he just would — drive you up the wall and impale you on some 13-inch goodness of Kel Dor dic— “Oof!”

“Plo, what the fu—.!”

Plo Koon had very uncharacteristically whacked you with a miniature version of himself in the form of a plushie. Yes, your beloved three-hundred and eighty-four year-old Kel Dor childhood friend who makes you feel things that the Order would frown upon, has brought you the greatest gift that he could and could not give — himself.

“Oh, you are clever. Clever, clever, clever.”

And just like that, he had completely flipped your mood in ways you had not anticipated. The ever-wise, patient, kind, and doting Jedi Master had struck again. He didn’t need to say anything to convey his unwavering presence in your life and how he’d continue to be there in ways you’d need him; be it an amicable sense of support and an ear to ramble onto or the carnal sense of allowing you to peruse his entire existence in smutty stories in your head as long as they’d keep you occupied to leave no room for thoughts that he believed shouldn’t be there. He knew — knew you like the back of his own hand.

“Though I must say I did not have the heart to have that made anatomically correct.”

With a dramatic and proud pause, Plo makes his way to sit beside you, pushing you quite forcefully to give him room on the bed. Leaning to rest his back against the same pile of fluffed pillows as his arm wandered around your waist, he made himself further comfortable by crossing his boots beside yours at the edge. A subtle clear of the throat had you leaning your temple onto his shoulder, chuckling amused as he continued his seemingly required narrative.

“I’m sure you’re quite aware of how it would be highly inappropriate to make it so.”

He made a gesture to measure the length of the Plo-plushie’s leg, extending quite a leap past it as if you didn’t know how impeccably well-endowed he is that you need a visual. “Then again, I get the feeling this little one will be subjected to being defiled in the most… intimate of ways with or without… a certain appendage.”

“Plo, you prude, old man. Just say it. Say ‘cock’. Say ‘cock’ right now and I swear on all things encompassing our centuries-old friendship I will cease all attempts of killing myself.”

Plo had never seen such sternness and determination in your eyes that you actually had him caught off-guard for once. Torn between addressing your suicidal thoughts and the fact that the proposed resolution is so ludicrous that he was actually considering it knowing how you operate. You’ve had this chase of making him purposely say filth as it gives you delight beyond comprehension to have the dignified and highly revered Jedi Master General succumb to such sinful treats. Not that he was above such things, but they weren’t exactly preferred in his vocabulary.

“These… thoughts, my dear. Are they frequent?” It was enough to melt your heart among all the things Plo Koon. You’ve loved him for so long you’d let him stab you in the gut for fun — not that he’d do it, of course. Genuine concern etched over the creases of his face and the tenderness of his free hand caressing the back of yours that held the adorable toy. “Has something happe—.”

“Plo, I swear. Just say co—”

“Duche—”

“Plo.”

“Duch.”

“Just say—”

“Little love, please let’s tal—”

“Ep! Ep! Ep! We don’t say things like that in public.”

“Yes, we surely do not say things like that in public.”

The impasse called for silence. Lucky you, you had a little Plo-plushie to play with. You folded the plushie’s arms to cross over his chest, holding it down with one hand while the other pressed down over its forehead making it look disgruntled. “There we go. Now there’s two of you.”

“Indeed.” Plo Koon replies, taking the hint of your uneasiness and unwillingness to divulge the woes of your existence just yet. “Though I do not as such, little love.” He adds, reaching to adjust the split-legged plushie, into a more self-respecting fashion.

“You do not sit like that!” You replied incredulously. “Not with your —”

“But I do, my sweet. I do not, as you young ones call ‘mansplain’ in spite of being well endowed with a very large cock…—alorum behavior, which by the way is very much unlike me. I am but a humble Jedi with humble needs.”

The excitement in your eyes bloomed with laughter, shaking your head with a well-deserved slow-clap offered to the improper-elusive Kel Dor Jedi Master. He joins in the chorus of your blissful giggle with a hearty rumble of his own and a playfully pompous nod of acknowledgement of yet again another triumph.

“By the stars, I love you.” You sigh, dreamily as you feel the light creep through the darkened veins of your soul — truly a Jedi’s work at play. “I just… I love you. I love you so much I can’t.. I can’t….”

But as quick as the light bore once more into the shadowy depths of depression, you began fanning yourself in an attempt to suppress an outpour. Your eyes welled up and you began gasping for air as you tried your very best to stifle the whimper than turned to disheartened groans of pain, until you had begun to cry so profusely, your body shook in a mix of incoherent emotions.

You mumbled in between tearful pleas of asking Plo to make “it” stop, to do something because it wasn’t what you wanted right now. You threw in painful lines in jest, innuendos and petty attempt to restart the banter, self-deprecating jokes and nostalgic references etched like core memories between the two of you in your younger years— the last thing you wanted was for your time with Plo to end on a bitter note knowing he’d have to leave soon.

He held you tighter than what your knitted frames would allow, a little more and he’d have crushed you and as much you knew within yourself you wanted nothing more than to be turned to dust by a certain Kel Dor’s embrace, your tears seem to be the undisputed victor.

You felt the weight of his head over your crown, the scent of him filling your senses as you head your drenched face onto the side of his neck while your arms latched onto the toy, squeezing it in your own embrace. You wanted it so badly to be him, but you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to bestow him guilt of being limited in the gesture as to comply with the teachings of the Order. You wouldn’t dare put him in that predicament. And so you held the toy version of him imperviously close to you as if suffocating the poor little thing.

And then it happened.

“I know it baby, i’ll be a star And then you’ll be all mine And they won’t be able to take you from me”

You have been a fan of Mimi Mirage for as long as you can remember. The day you saw a poster of her at a record shop, you were so drawn that you purchased all four of her albums and had it on repeat that at some point, you were sure Plo Koon fancied a song or two from one of the most played albums when he’d come over. He’d also taken upon this interest of yours to spoil you Mimi Mirage merch, using his connections to procure signed copies. Plo had also made it a point to frame them because it’ll wear less if unexposed — all for your benefit, of course.

“I’m gonna make this planet pink I don’t care what they think I’m gonna make this planet pink”

You started to laugh in between a now fully-developed hiccup from all the crying and hyperventilating. You sniffled, whimpered, giggled, and even sorted a little at how off-key and weird it sounded being sung by your beloved Kel Dor friend. He continued, straining to get the key right and endure the missing words with hums and guesses that had you laughing as your face remained nuzzled on the side of his neck.

“You’ll be mine”

He mouthed the words slower over the specified lyric, the spurs of his clawed hand drawing idle patterns over the small of your back while the other purchased your cheek with a thumb strumming sweetly over the corner of your lip.

“I’ll take the risk”

You turned to receive a rather affectionate gaze, his thumb in a continuous stroke over the fullness of your lips from corner to corner. The weight of him heavy over your own forehead; turning, tossing, seeking that perfect angle for you to feel the contrast of the cold, stannic mask and warmth of the little exposed skin on his face. You could feel the protective lenses over his eyes push against the bone of your brow until he found that perfect spot to nest half of his face onto half of yours.

Your lips curve into a smile, then parted to utter more serene titter as you hear that luxuriously rare, short, single-syllabled chuckle of his that made you just wanna bear ninety-nine of his babies. But unfortunately, this little space-face-press shenanigans would pardon him from depriving her auditory needs to hear more of Mimi Mirage’s Planet Pink butchered by an esteemed member of the council, General of the 104th Battalion, and Jedi Master of great tenure and importance.

“Sing, old man.”

You whined with a pout — to which you then blushed from Plo Koon’s response of pushing the tip of his thumb between your parted mouth to shut you up. After all, you asked him to sing and you best listen. With a sigh of defeat and amusement in one, he dipped his thumb further enough to feel an earnest tongue brush onto the pad of his digit.

You hear an evenly rare grunt that had you bite your lip as if to savor the fleeting touch that descended excruciatingly slow down your chin and delicately along the column of your throat.

Flustered beyond recognition, you feel the heat pool between your legs as his tone takes a chasmic turn. Spurs slithered along the expanse of your neck until he had collared his hold around you with a verily gentle and mindful squeeze. The gesture merited an sultry groan of approval and encouragement, accompanied by an elevated hissing sound from your smaller frame.

“Must I say the words, little love?”

You were too intoxicated to respond that all you could was a well-surrendered hum.

“I….”

In spite of the nearly losing all inhibition with the faintest of force applied over your neck, you draw your sight back as if to peer through the decorative holes of his protective eye-wear and gaze upon the windows of his soul. Your heart quickened further, anticipation built on the very hill you’ve silently swore to die on for this make or break turn of events.

Has the day come for him to finally say it?

You whispered the very words you’ve often given him, the endless ‘I love you’s’ that were often replied with “I knows” and “thank yous”. Days when you’d want to wring his neck or stuff him inside your pocket and whisk him away from the Order — days unlike today where he knew exactly what to say to make it all better. To make all the pain go away and allow herself to redemption to start anew. Today, he said the words… to Mimi Mirage’s Pink Planet in the perfect key and timing.

“I wanna be your dream girl I’m gonna be your dream girl”

Plo distangles himself from you, his hand cupping his antiox mask with a hearty laugh before rubbing his temples and taking a seat on the couch beside the bed.

Nothing in this world would have made you feel better and would have rid you of the storm that brewed in your apartment for weeks than to hear your favorite three-hundred and eighty-four year-old Kel Dor Jedi utter the words “I wanna be your dream girl, I’m gonna be your dream girl.”

The room was soon an echo of you laughing so hard you wept a little. Then complained that your cheeks stung and that your stomach felt knotted from having to crease up. You’ve also boldly asked him to sing more of it — of which he politely declined, responding of talks of copyright and apprehension in jest.

As you simmer down and the minutes turn to hours of light conversation, you sigh and ready yourself for a nap. It had been such an exhausting week and with sleep finally blessing her with attendance, she turned to his side and momentarily watched him in his meditative state. With a yawn and a kiss to the little one (Plo-plushie), your eyes grow heavy.

Part of you wanted to wake him up and confess what it was that had gotten you down this rabbit hole of misery, paranoia, anxiety, and immense sadness, but you weren’t his burden to bear. You weren’t anyone’s burden to bear.

Your eyes finally submit, once more enveloped in darkness as your voice fades to a whisper. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I just don’t know where home is anymore, Plo. I don’t know where you are in my life anymore either. But you don’t have to know that…”

Unbeknownst to you, Plo knew exactly what the answer was.

And just as you have drifted to the land of dreams, his hand hovers over yours, light enough to touch but never wake you.

“Right here.” He says.

“Right here.”

NPT. @saengak @amorfista @eyecandyeoz @kimiheartblade @t3mpest98 @starrrgazingbunny @exosorcery @eloquentmoon @plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows @daddycephalopod @quiglettt @mild-disorganization @reader6898 @matookahitaki @ghostperson69 @notthestarwar @sev-on-kamino @sofir-kefir @veny-many @daimyosprincess @pickleprickle @baufraus @bobaprint @storm89 @arcsimper5 @what-i-meant-to-say @keebeees @omaano

#♝#dukeoftheblackstar #plo koon #plo koon x reader #plo koon x you #plo koon fic #plokoon #plo koon/reader #plokoon/reader #plokoonfic #plokoon/you #ρℓσ∂υ¢н #plo koon ficlet #plo koon x oc #plo koon/oc #there's a very handsome hubby-material Kel Dor Jedi Master General in there bearing gifts if you look really hard ♥

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 years

Text

Moving On - Part 10

Summary: Wolffe and Jirli welcome a new member to their family.

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

Okay I haven’t had a chance to start working on The Reunion for this week, as some of you know I’m back to full time work, so instead I finished up this piece I was working on.

A while back I had mentioned that I may do a final part to Moving On and after discussing it with @darkangel4121 I realized I definitely needed to finish this story. So here is the final part.

This family was so sweet, young Boba, young Din, Wolffe, Jirli, Boost, Sinker, Plo, ahhhh. I just love this story so much. I’m glad to finally be able to give it a proper ending.

Please know I am not a medical professional, I did research on any medical situation mentioned, it may not be accurate. Please consult a physician or medical professional if you have concerns regarding your health or family’s health.

Thank you to @firstofficerwiggles and @ladykatakuri for beta reading and putting up with my nonsense. LOVE OO.

Thank you all for showing my stories so much love. LOVE OO.

Italics and Indented - Jirli’s hearing

Warning: Pregnancy, teasing, flirting, innuendo, accidentally calling someone fat without saying fat, bantering, bickering, mentions of labour, issues with labour, concerns about baby’s health, mentions of blood, mentions of surgery, caesarean section, worry, fear, crying, anger, angst and fluff, kissing, I think that’s all of it, if I miss any please let me know.

AO3 LINK (MOVING ON) | WORDS: 7,771

PREVIOUS | MOVING ON MASTER LIST

BEC’IKA

WOLFFE POV

“If Boost comms me one more time if you’ve had the baby yet, I’m going to kill him!”

“Rekr’ika” (Little Wolf/Wolfie) Jirli’s eyes looked at me with love and admiration as she rubbed her swollen belly, while she sat on the couch with her feet resting on the caf table, while Din and Boba were busy in the kitchen making her a ‘special snack’ that was supposed to help their sister grow or have special powers or something. They basically went on a ramble about Jedi powers and what not.

“Yes, love?” I placed a kiss on her temple, as I leaned over the back of the couch, my hand resting on her shoulder. She looked amazing, despite how tired and irritated she had been lately, we all were doing our best to help her in whatever way possible.

“You love the fact the Boost is comming ever second, especially since he started dating.”

I smirked at her statement, “Alright, you may have a point. May.” I held up my forefinger, “However, I should still be allowed to vent about my irritating little brother.”

“Mmhmm” she smirked as her hand held my forefinger as she shifted a little, wincing and gritting her teeth. Though she tried to hide her discomfort from me, I could read her like a book now.

“You okay? And please love, don’t try and lie to me” I smirked as I watched her.

She let out a sigh, as she eased herself into the sofa,“Yeah, she’s playing on my bladder. Feels like she’s doing tumbles in there.”

I chuckled, placing my hand on her belly, “Bec’ika (little pup), you need to stop hurting your buir” I leaned in closer, lowering my voice, “Otherwise, I’m the one who suffers.”

“Hey” she smacked my chest with the back of her hand, a playful light tap she would often use on me, “don’t tell her that, she’ll think I’m mean”

I took her hand placing a kiss on her palm, “No she won’t, plus she knows I’m kidding. Right, bec’ika?” I felt a tiny thump against my palm, “See, she knows”

“At least she listens to one of us”

“It’s my soothing, deep, rich tones riduur. She loves the sound of my voice” I leaned closer to Jirli’s lips, “Just like you do, when we’re alone.”

“Well, what can I say? My little girl is right to love your voice, after all like you said she’s not the only one” she smiled as she placed a kiss on my lips, “now” she pulled back smirking, “would you and your soothing, deep, rich tones please come over here and help me off the couch, so I can use the refresher?” She held up her hands grabbing the empty space in front of her, till I stood in front, taking her hands in mine.

“Yes, mesh’la” I chuckled, as I helped her stand. She shifted around the couch, till she was standing beside me, she was tittering on her feet, her belly was looking quite large, there was a very real and present fear that she could topple over, “Are you sure, you only got one kid in there?” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I screwed up.

Jirli turned to look at me, her hand squeezing mine, “What did you just say?” She tilted her head narrowing her eyes.

“Well … I mean …”

“Need I remind you, whose fault it is, that I am in this situation?” She quirked her eyebrow.

“Well I mean, it does take two” I held up two fingers to emphasize my point, “To dance, you know?”

“Oh, I see. So, you’re saying it’s my fault, that I’m so fat?”

“Th-those ….” I cleared my throat, “Those words never left mouth love.” I was praying to anything and everything to get me out of this situation, ‘Come on beb’icka, start jumping on your mom’s bladder so she has to leave’

“Then what are you saying?”

I took a minute to steady my nerves, “What I’m saying is you look beautiful”

“Mmhmm”

“I’m in trouble aren’t I?”

“Oh soooo much” she rolled her eyes, smirking at me “But, I have no doubt you’ll make it up to me.”

I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer to me, I lowered my voice, “Anything you’d like me to do for you?” I wiggled my eyebrows, she wrapped her arms around my neck, smirking.

“Oh definitely! I have a list of things, I need you to do for me” she rested her forefinger under my chin.

“Oh” I squeezed her waist, smirking.

“Mmhmm. First, the laundry needs to be done. Then, you need to help Din with his homework. After that, the floors need to be cleaned. The top floor needs a thorough cleaning, and once that’s all done, I may have a need for you to help me later on tonight” she flicked my chin, before she smirked as she headed to the refresher.

“Maker, I love you”

“I know you do, and if my daughter wasn’t using my bladder as a drum for her amusement, I would stand here all day explaining all the different ways you can assist me, however … nature calls, excuse me.”

I watched as she waddled towards the refresher, my poor sweet Jirli, if only I could carry this burden for you. I walked into the kitchen, going over the list she gave me after she left my side. The silence coming from the kitchen however was unnerving me, knowing those two, when silence filled between them nothing good was happening. I was determined, as I took my steps to see what Din and Boba were up to, hopefully, I wouldn’t be entering a chaotic mess from their decision to ‘prepare snacks.’

“Alright boys, what’s going on?” I asked walking in on Boba and Din and the mess covering all the kitchen counters, not to mention they both had a look that said more than their mouths ever could.

“We made mom a snack.”

Boba held up the dish of various fruits, roughly cut, and leaking juice all over the plate, a small amount dripping on to the floor, with one of the biggest smiles on his lips, Din with a matching smile on his face. I looked at the plate, watching as the juice soaked everything on the plate, the cheese that was cut haphazardly was lying in a pool of some sort of pink juice. Beside the cheese were her favourite crackers, now soggy from a weird yellowish-pink juice. Din somehow was covered in fruit juice, and for some reason which I couldn’t even begin to fathom, there were crackers in his hair. Boba on the other hand had cheese on his face and juice dripping down his chin, along with a weird paste smeared on his forehead.

I tried really hard not to laugh, as comical as they looked, the plate of food looked even more ridiculous as everything sloshed around with each movement of Boba’s hands. I cleared my throat, doing my best to swallow the smirk and laugh.

“I have no doubt she will love it, why don’t you boys serve that to her, and I’ll get dinner going. Okay.” I watched as they headed towards the common room, “Oh and why not stand there and make sure she eats it. You know your buir is going to need her strength” how I got that sentence out without bursting out laughing was beyond me, however, I couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

- - - - - - - - - -

JIRLI POV

Sitting back on the couch wasn’t as bad as getting up from it, I wonder if maybe that’s why my back was throbbing now, as comfortable and lovely as this couch has been for Wolffe, Boba, Din and I, it truly did not have the back support a pregnant woman needed.

“Buir!”

I looked to my two boys, they held out a plate of what looked like mush, “Oh! That’s … what’s that?” I tried hard not to laugh, rubbing my belly as I felt another throbbing pain, doing my best not to show my discomfort.

“We made you a plate of snacks for you.” Boba beamed proudly as he handed me the dish.

“We cut up all your favourites” Din added, “See here’s some jogan, and shuura, and muja fruit. We also cut up some cheese for you.”

“Right, this is bantha cheese, cut up in the shape of a bantha” I stifled the laugh at the shape that looked anything but a bantha, “This is also nerf cheese, cut in the shape of a nerf. There’s your favourite crackers too.” Boba pointed out every item as he described it, incredibly proud with himself and Din for what they had accomplished, which only made my heart swell to know they loved me as much as they did.

The crackers that used to have the most perfect crunch and flakiness to them, was a bunch of mush now. Regardless of how much of a mess the plate looked like, I appreciated the sentiment behind it.

I took the plate, placing it on the table in front of me, “Thank you boys, that’s so sweet of both my little itco’rkasih (dumplings), come and give me a hug” they both wrapped their arms around me, squeezing as hard as they could. “Alright, don’t squeeze too hard, you’ll pop out your little sister.”

“When is she getting here?” Din asked pressing his ear to my belly.

“Soon”

“How soon?” Boba asked resting his hand on my belly.

“Probably another week or two”

“Can’t wait. I’m gonna show her all the new stances I’m learning” Din stood demonstrating his moves, “See, she’ll be the best fighter, because I’m going to teach her. I’ll even show her how to use her blaster and knife probably.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m the best fighter” Boba went and stood beside Din, showing off his stances, it was cute and adorable, “If anyone is going to teach our vod’ika, it’ll be me.”

“Buir?” Din stopped his movements watching me carefully, “Why aren’t you eating?”

“Hmmm?” I really tried to pretend not to hear his question, as I watched Boba fight an invisible attacker, which only made him stop and turn to look at me.

“Buir said that we needed to stay here and make sure you ate. He said you need all your strength.”

“Oh he did, did he?” I should’ve know Wolffe had something up his sleeve, oh I couldn’t wait to make that man pay.

Din’s eyes widened as a puppy like expression appeared on his face, I swore they took more and more after Wolffe every day, “Do you not like it?”

“Of course, I do, love” I grabbed a piece of the soggy cheese, and put it in my mouth, doing my best not to gag as it slowly slid down my throat, the unusual texture and flavours throwing me for a loop, “Mmmm that is so good, thank you” I did my best to suppress the cough that was itching to come out.

“You need to eat more” Boba stated, now his face holding the same puppy like expression. “Especially for our vod’ika”

“Oh, I shall. It’s just …” sorry, sweetie but mom’s about to throw you under the speeder, I cleared my throat hoping that soggy cheese would just moved down my esophagus, “I think your vod’ika is needing something more substantial, especially since we’re eating soon.”

“Oh love, you don’t have to worry about that” Wolffe popped up beside me, leaning over the back of the couch, with a spoon in his hand, smirking, “It’s going to be at least an hour or two before we eat, so go on mesh’la, have some more of your snack.”

I placed a kiss on his cheek as I placed my hand on his pretending to take the spoon, taking the opportunity to whisper as quietly as I could to Wolffe, “I’m gonna make you pay for this.”

Wolffe simply smiled, “Mesh’la, I look forward to being punished by you”

I simply smirked at his little statement, grabbing the spoon, “You know” I turned from Wolffe to Boba and Din, “I feel absolutely guilty, knowing your buir is working hard in the kitchen without any sort of snack. Is it okay if I share this with him, I think it’ll be too much for the baby and me to eat. Is that okay?”

Din smiled nodding enthusiastically, “Yes, buir have some it’s really good.”

“Oh” Wolffe stammered, “I wouldn’t want to deprive our ad’ika”

“Nonsense, there’s plenty” I smirked, scooping up a pile of mushy crackers, juice, and soggy cheese. “Here you go sweetie, open up” I moved the spoon closer to his mouth, as he looked at me, narrowing his eyes. “Come on, the boys worked really hard on this, after all they cut the bantha cheese in the shape of a bantha and it tastes so good” I bit the inside of my cheek keeping me from laughing, as I gave him my best heart eyes.

“Come on Cabur” Boba chimed in, “We worked really hard on it.”

I could see Wolffe’s throat bobbing up and down, before he finally nodded, opening his mouth taking the whole spoon in without a second thought. He pulled the spoon slowly out of his mouth, chewing slowly and carefully, before he swallowed it completely. I could see him struggling to keep it down, before he smirked and smiled at the boys.

“Awesome job, boys. However, let’s let your buir rest, and come help me in the kitchen, we gotta clean and get things ready for dinner, come on.”

Boba and Din stopped their sparring and headed to the kitchen, Wolffe took the plate from my hand, smirking at me the entire time, “Cyar’ika”

“Hmmm” I tried to put on the most innocent face I could.

“You are in so much trouble”

“Hey you started it”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, smiling, “Alright, you won this round. Don’t get use to it, love.”

I nodded against his lips smiling, “The fact you think you can win is adorable”

Wolffe pulled away, clearly fighting back a laugh, “I think I’ve won plenty of times my dear” he winked before he headed back to the kitchen. Once he left there was a sharp pain in my lower back, it didn’t last long, but it was intense in that moment. There was an intense pressure at first, that slowly eased. I stood up from the couch, trying to ease the pain.

Thankfully it didn’t last long, and before I knew it Wolffe came calling me in for dinner.

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

WOLFFE POV

Jirli wasn’t feeling all afternoon, it made me concerned, maybe I shouldn’t have made her try to eat that snack the boys made. Maybe it didn’t sit right in her stomach, or maybe the baby was more sensitive to certain foods, now that she was very close to being born.

“Cabur?”

“Yeah Boba?” I looked over my shoulder as I washed the dishes after dinner, while he helped me dry them, Din was busy cleaning the table and the floor.

“Is buir okay?”

“Yeah, she’s just not feeling the greatest”

“Is it because of the snack we made?”

“No buddy” I bumped his shoulder, “Sometimes when mom’s are about ready to give birth, they tend to feel a little up and down. It’s not the snack, buddy. It’s just her body preparing.”

“Okay” Although Boba seemed to agree, he wasn’t exactly relieved.

“Do you believe me?” I handed him the dish I finished washing as I cleaned up the sink, before turning off the water.

“I do”

“Then, what’s wrong?” Boba shrugged, Din came and stood beside us with a similar expression of worry, “Alright boys, let’s sit down at the table and talk okay?” They both simply nodded as they took a seat. “What don’t you boys tell me what’s troubling you?” I asked as I pulled out my chair.

Neither of them said anything at first, Boba clenched and unclenched his fists, Din was picking on some imaginary speck of dust on the table. I learned from Jirli the best thing to do is to wait to let the boys speak, no matter how long it took. “I’m going to make some tea, your buir, ba’buir (grandfather) Plo and ba’vodu (uncle) Kenobi always says there’s nothing that can’t be resolved over a cup of tea.”

We sat there keeping focused on our teas when Boba finally spoke first, “Will buir be in a lot of pain?”

“When?”

“When our vod’ika comes?” Din added

I took a sip before I decided to answer them, “It depends, every one who goes into labour, handles it differently. You have to remember that regardless your buir is a very strong woman.”

“What if she doesn’t like us?” Din mumbled through his cup, “What if she hates us?”

“Can I ask you something?” They both nodded, “You haven’t met her yet, do you like her?”

“Yeah”

“Definitely, but we’re not from the same blood” Boba offered.

“Just as much as you two love her, she will love you just as much. She may express it differently, but she’ll love you, because you’re her vode (siblings). Always remember, aliit ori'shya tal'din (family is more than bloodline), you will be always aliit (family), and your buir and I will love you both and any new adike (little ones) we welcome to rai (our) aliit the same. To us, you are all our children, and we love you all equally. Okay?” They both nodded in agreement, I reached out holding each of their hands, “Anything else you guys want to talk about?”

“How are babies made?” Din asked turning to look at me.

I blinked a few times, having the words played over in my head, I cleared my throat, just as I was about to answer, Jirli’s voice came screaming from our room.

“WOLFFE!!!!!”

The three of us looked from one to the other before I rushed up the steps, Boba and Din following close behind, as I ran into the room, she was lying on our bed, her face was all sweaty, she was panting, her hand was bracing her lower back, “Mesh’la what’s wrong?” I rushed to her side, she gripped my hand with the strength of ten Trandoshians, it was a good thing I was sitting on the bed, she easily could have brought me to my knees.

“The baby … she’s …” She squeezed my hand again, as she let out a breath, “She’s coming”

“Coming? What do you mean she’s coming?” The grip she had on my hand tightened, nearly making me fall off the bed.

“Are you seriously asking me!”

“Oh! She’s coming! As in now?”

Jirli turned and narrowed her eyes at me, somehow her pain subsided during the moment her anger blared looking at me “No, she sent an engraved invitation announcing she’d be arriving. You don’t see it because I was instructed to burn it right after reading it.” Her jaw clenched as her hand tightened on mine.

“Right, sorry.”

“Buir?”

I looked over to Din, he looked worried, Boba had his arm wrapped around Din’s shoulder, “She’s okay boys, listen call your ba’vodu Boost and ask him to come watch you guys, I’m going to take your buir to the hospital.”

“On it” Boba grabbed Din’s hand and rushed out of the room.

“Okay babe, wrap your arms around me”

“Wolffe … are … are you sure?”

“Definitely, let’s get you to the hospital” She nodded as tears streamed down her cheek, she wrapped her arms around me, squeezing, I could feel her fear, “Babe, it’s okay, we’re going to be okay, she’s going to be okay, and so are you.” I placed a kiss on her forehead, she took in a deep breath, relaxing her grip a little, as I picked her up in my arms.

Before long, Boost was standing there with the boys, as I placed Jirli in the speeder, “Boost, I’ll comm you once she’s in a room”

“Don’t worry about us, focus on your riduur. We’ll bring her overnight bag. Just comm when you get there and let us know when you need us to head over.”

“Thank you vod, contact Plo’buir, Anakin, Sinker …”

“Wolffe, shut up and get in the speeder!”

“Okay, I’m going. I’m just saying, don’t …”

“WOLFFE!” Jirli’s voice cut over the sound of passing speeders, and our voices, I turned to look at her, “WOLFFE GET YOUR ASS IN THIS SPEEDER RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR I’M NEVER LETTING YOU NEAR ME AGAIN!!”

I didn’t need to think twice, I rushed to the driver’s side and rushed my cyar’ika to the hospital.

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

BOOST POV

If I hadn’t been on that platform, I would never have believed it. The moment Jirli raised her voice at Wolffe, he somehow became the most submissive man in the world. If he had a tail, it would have wagged left and right in a slow droopy manner. It took Boba and Din shaking my hand, to realize I had been standing there watching their speeder get smaller and smaller with a gapped mouth open.

“Ba’vodu Boost”

“Yeah, Boba?” I was busy tidying up the house a little, knowing my vod’ika she would freak if she saw the mess in the living room when she came home, “Shouldn’t we be going to the hospital?”

“We will” I stood, picking up wrappers from some sort of snack that had gotten stuck under the couch, “but it takes time for a baby to be born, so let’s do something your mom we’ll really appreciate when she comes home. It’ll be a surprise present for her, what do you guys think?”

Boba and Din nodded, “You’re sure it’ll take a while?” Din asked tilting his head.

“Definitely. We can head over to the hospital in a few hours, once we know the baby is on it’s way. However, let’s get the house cleaned, it’ll be one less thing for your mom and dad to worry about when they come back. Sounds good?”

They nodded in unison, at that moment I’d never been prouder of my nephews than seeing them roll up their sleeves, grabbing the cleaning supplies, and without so much as another word they began cleaning, and not a light clean a deep clean. Definitely, a habit they developed from Jirli, whenever she was stressed or concerned out came the cleaning supplies.

While they cleaned, I glanced at the comm message I received from Wolffe when they arrived at the hospital, ‘Keep the boys there. The baby isn’t in the right position. They’re hoping she’ll adjust herself. They’re monitoring the situation very carefully. However, if she doesn’t end up facing the right way, they may have to do surgery. I don’t want the boys to freak out, so for now keep them busy. I’ll message in an hour or two to let you know where we’re at.’

I looked from the comm to Boba and Din who were busy laughing and joking while they cleaned, excited to welcome their new vod’ika. I headed off to the kitchen sending a message to the family, letting everyone know what was happening. Hoping and praying that everything was going well for them.

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

WOLFFE POV

Dr. Natuspri examined and re-examined the scan, we had been there for nearly three hours, Jirli was having some difficulty breathing, but she was still her feisty self. At that moment, she reminded me so much of Plo’buir, keeping a calm exterior, trying her best to help keep me calm.

“Anything?” She let out exasperated by the silence filling the room.

Dr. Natuspri let out a deep sigh, she put the scan down, looking at the two of us, “I don’t think we can wait any more, her oxygen levels are beginning to dip, I don’t want to risk it. We’re going to perform a C Section. Wolffe, a C Section can be intense for some, do you think you’d be comfortable enough to sit with Jirli during the operation?”

“I can sit with her in the surgery room?”

“Yes, she’ll be awake for the C Section”

“Yes”

“Alright, the medic is going to come by in a minute to take you to get the appropriate gear and I’ll get the surgical droid to come in to wheel you in, Jirli”

Jirli squeezed my hand, “Is she in danger?”

“If we wait any longer, she could be. We’re doing this to keep her from being in danger.”

She simply nodded as she watched the Doc head out, I took her hand, placing a kiss on the back of her hand, holding it to my lips, as my other hand rubbed her womb “It’ll be okay, Jirli. She’ll be okay. You both will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you are a strong, powerful, intelligent woman who would do anything for her children, and that means both of you surviving for Din and Boba” I squeezed her hand, pressing it against my forehead, “And for me” I mumbled. “You’ll both survive for all of us. It’ll be okay.” I shifted her hand, looking at her face.

She bit her bottom lip, as her hand rested on top of mine, intertwining our fingers, “Wolffe …” I saw her lip begin to tremble, “If during the surgery” she cleared her throat, “If it comes between saving our baby or me …”

“Don’t mesh’la”

“Wolffe …”

“No. Riduur, I told you a long time ago, I’m not losing you. You’ll both be fine, trust me” I squeezed her hand, I shifted, kissing her with all my love, “You’ll be fine” I mumbled against her lips. She was about to say something more, when the door slid open, as the nurses came in ushering me out of the room as they got her ready for surgery. We shared one last look.

“I love you, Jirli”

She smiled mouthing ‘I love you,’ before a nurse took me down the hall explaining she was taking me to put on a gown, cap, mask, and shoe covers to keep the room sterile. It was a necessary process for the surgery, she went over the steps of how to wash my hands properly as well, helping me.

I hadn’t realized how nervous I was until the nurse took my gloved hands in hers, “Here let me help, your hands are shaking.” I couldn’t even answer her, I simply nodded as she took the gown from my hand and helped me put it on, my eyes were focused on Jirli’s room watching for any movement, I wanted to be ready to follow her into the room as soon as I could.

“She’ll be okay”

“Huh?” I turned to look at the nurse, she took my hand in hers again, holding it tightly. Her thumb rubbing against my knuckles back and forth. It felt strangely intimate with the way she was looking into my eyes and standing so close to me.

“Dr. Natuspri is very good, your baby will be in good hands, and I have no doubt your partner will be fine”

I didn’t know why at that moment, but something about the way she looked at me and held my hand made me uncomfortable, I pulled my hand out of her hold, and took a step back, “I have no doubt. My wife is a very strong and capable woman.” She offered a soft smile, taking a step towards me, her mouth opened as though she was getting ready to say something, however at that moment thankfully, Jirli came out of her room. I simply offered a quick word of thanks and rushed to Jirli’s side taking her hand in mine.

“Alright, dad” the head nurse setting up the surgical suite called my attention, “We’ll be putting up this curtain, trust me when I say you don’t want to look behind the curtain. Especially, if you’re squeamish.”

Jirli stifled a laugh as she laid down on the med bed, “Trust me, he isn’t squeamish, right Wolffe?”

“Nope, but I think I’ll wait till you’re not cut open to look. The idea of seeing my wife cut open isn’t exactly something I itching to see.”

“I think that’s a smart idea” the surgical nurse uttered, smirking at the two of us.

“You two okay?” Dr. Natuspri stood beside us as she came into the room, we both simply nodded, “Jirli we’re going to begin, you’re not going to feel anything, but I highly recommend you don’t look Wolffe.”

“Understood” I squeezed Jirli’s hand, placing a kiss to Jirli’s forehead, stroking her head, “It’s going to be fine. She’s going to be fine.”

Jirli smiled as she squeezed my hand, “I know. I’m just … Wolffe, we’re having our baby today. Our little girl is being born today.”

I smiled wide under my mask, “Yeah she is, rid’ika. I have no doubt she’s going to be just as beautiful as you are.”

“She’s going to look like you” Jirli closed her eyes, smiling, no doubt she was communicating with the baby, something she had been doing a lot lately. “She’s excited”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she’s sending feelings of warmth, anticipation, happiness and love. She’s going to be a very happy child.”

“Just like her mom, she’ll also no doubt be getting into a lot of trouble with two brothers who wreck havoc at any given moment.”

She had a smile on her face that went from ear to ear, “Speaking of our boys, did you message Boost?”

“Yeah, they’ll be waiting for you once your done. Not just them either. “

“You contacted everyone?”

“Nope Boost did.”

She smirked, looking into my eyes, when her eyes began drooping, her head slumped against the table, the strength in her hands weakened as it slipped out of my grip, “Jirli?”

Before she could answer me, before I could call out her name again or grab her hand, I felt a hand on my shoulder, as a baby’s cry fill the room, within moments I was being ushered from her room, outside by another nurse, and being directed to some sort of waiting room, all while my protests and calling of Jirli’s name fell on deaf ears.

“Wait! What’s going on?”

“Please wait outside”

I tried to push my way back in, but security guards appeared out of nowhere, forcing me into the room, they just directed me to “NO! Someone tell me , what’s going on!” I struggled against the two men who stood on either side of me.

“Mr. Koon,” a hand pressed against my chest, forcing me to look at the nurse in front of me, “I know this is scary and unexpected. Please take a deep breath” the nurse came to my side taking my arm, as I calmed down against the men restraining my arms. “I’ll explain everything Mr. Koon, my name is Angie, just come with me, and I’ll make sure they bring your daughter to you. However, for your wife’s sake and for the doctor who is working on her, I need you to remain as calm as possible. Do you agree?”

I simply nodded, trying my best not to think of the worst outcome possible. Angie offered a comforting smile as she directed me towards a chair, the room didn’t seem quite as full with despair as a moment ago. Before I even realized why I started to feel a comforting presence all around, there was this tiny bundle in my arms that looked exactly like Jirli. The moment my eyes met her tiny face, I had fallen in love, she had dark curly hair on the top of her head, her nose was perfect for her face, even her lips were so small and dainty, her fingers were barely able to wrap around my finger. She was barely the size of my forearm, she was so light, I could barely feel her in my arm. This moment didn’t feel real, but yet there she was in my arms, perfect and beautiful. My beautiful daughter.

“Sir?”

I felt my eyes welling up with tears, I took in a deep breath, before looking up meeting Angie’s eyes, she looked as though she was waiting for me to respond, “I’m sorry?”

“I was wondering if you are able to listen to what’s happening with your wife?

I closed my eyes focusing back on my ad’ika, “Yes” I trailed my finger over her tiny head, “What happened?”

“Your wife began bleeding heavier than the doctor would have liked one your daughter was safely delivered. The Dr. Natuspri is working hard to get the bleeding under control. I’ll come back to let you know when she’s out of the woods. Once the doctor is done, we’ll move her to recovery.”

Though I heard the words, I couldn’t quite grasp what she was saying, I simply tightened my hold on my ad’ika. “Is she going to survive?” I focused on my daughter, not wanting to look at the nurse who could possibly be changing my future, with one word.

“Dr. Natuspri is very good, she’ll do her best for your wife.”

I simply nodded, after all what was she going to say? She couldn’t provide me a guarantee on something she had no control over, as a soldier, as a the Duchess’ Head of Security I knew quite well there was no guarantees in life, and no one could guarantee anyone’s life. No matter how many precautions you took.

I heard the door slide open, when silence filled the room, it was just me and my ad’ika in whatever room they put us. I couldn’t focus on anything except her, she was keeping me calm the longer I looked at her; I felt a warm and calming presence fill me, I couldn’t help smile and place a kiss on her tiny forehead, my beautiful ad’ika, barely born a few hours and she was already trying to take care of me. Time seemed to stand still while I held her in my arms, “I promise I’ll make sure to take care of you ner ad’ika, however thank you for taking care of me. Ni kar’tyalir darasuum gar (I love you).”

“Mr. Koon?” I froze a little at hearing Dr. Natuspri’s voice, I looked up to see the doc there smiling, I hadn’t heard the door slide open or her footsteps coming closer to me, “Your wife is just fine.” I felt tears beginning to prick my eyes, as a weight lifted off my shoulders and chest. “There was a slight concern due to the excessive bleeding which sometimes does occur in caesarean . However, we got the bleeding stopped, her vitals are looking good, we’re moving her to recovery now. I’d like to keep her for an extra day or two just to make sure there are no re-bleeds or any other complications. Your daughter, as you can see, is doing well, very healthy and no complications. She’ll be able to go home with you tomorrow.”

I nodded, bitting back the tears, “Thank you, Dr. Natuspri” I cleared my throat, “What caused the excessive bleeding?”

“An old wound she had from the war, but like I said, everything looks really good. I’ll have a nurse come and bring you both to her, okay?” She placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze, “Mr. Koon, I believe there are some very impatient and very excited family members waiting for you in the waiting room” she smirked.

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

“She’s beautiful” Plo’buir took my ad’ika into his arms, “She looks so much like Jirli when she was first brought to the temple. How is my daughter doing?”

“She’s in recovery. They’re going to let me know when I can go see her” Boba and Din were peering from either side of Plo’buir trying to get a good look at their vod’ika.

“How are you?” Boost and Sinker both smacked my back as they stood beside me.

“Tired. Emotional. At one point, I was scared. Really scared.”

Sinker squeezed my shoulder, tapping his head against mine, “You gonna tell me who the father is?” He smirked as he glanced over to my face. One thing I could count on Sinker for was always trying to lighten up the mood, I gave him a quick jab into his side.

“Come on, vod” Boost added, “She’s too pretty to be your daughter. Jirli’s sure. Your’s … ehhh”

“If you two would like for me to teach you why I was Commander of the 104th, and why I’m your ori’vod just say the word. We’re in a hospital so even if you were both on the verge of death, someone would deign to save you” I gritted my teeth clenching my fists by my side.

Boost and Sinker chuckling, as they wrapped me up in their hug, “Relax vod” Sinker stated, “Yeah” Boost jeered, “We’re joking. Obviously, she’s your kid, she’s got that Wolffe scowl going” Boost motioned with his head.

We all looked at her, and sure enough there was a scowl on her tiny face, clear as day. I couldn’t love her more than I did at that moment. As much as sometimes my vode irritated me, I was glad to have them by my side, especially when my emotions were everywhere.

“Mr. Koon?”

I turned to the voice, it was the same nurse from before the one who held my hand too tightly, “Yes?” I growled at her, wanting to keep her away from my family and me.

“Your wife is in her room, if you would like to see her.”

“Thank you” my voice was stern, and my face said it all showing I wasn’t particularly impressed by that woman. She didn’t leave simply stood there looking at me, “Is there something else?” Neither Boost nor Sinker dared to interject, they knew me well enough to know that this tone was reserved for those who had crossed a line.

“Uh… no, sorry.” She quickly left, and I focused back on my little girl.

“What’s her name?” Din asked as he took her tiny hand in his.

“Well what if we wait till your buir wakes up and we can name her all together?”

Boba looked from his vod’ika to me, smiling, “Does that mean we can name her anything?”

“Within reason, Boba”

“Fine” he huffed out. I could just imagine what that boy was thinking of calling his younger sister.

- - - - - - - - - - -

JIRLI POV

My eyes felt heavy as I opened them, I felt the familiar talons of my father holding my hand, I turned my head to see Plo’buir sitting beside my bed, looking at me.

“If you needed a vacation that badly, you could’ve just commed, my dear”

I chuckled, as I squeezed his hand, “Sorry dad, but I wanted to create as much drama and attention as possible.” I winced a little as I shifted, “How’s Wolffe and my lil’ girl?”

Plo’buir let out a chuckle, “Wolffe is very much becoming wrapped around the little girl’s finger. He won’t let her down, even Boba and Din have barely had any chance to hold her. I was amazed he let me hold her for as long as I did.” I squeezed his hand, grateful that he was there by my side.

“When will I get to see her? I have even had a chance to see her …” the tears were beginning to well up, as I realized most had seen her before I had and I was her mother.

“Oh ad’ika, it’s okay” Plo’buir wrapped his arms around me, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling me into a hug, “I’ll get Wolffe to bring her here now. I apologize greatly ad’ika, you should’ve been the one to see her first.”

I’m not even sure why I was crying so heavily into my father’s shoulder, it wasn’t logical, after all I was out after the surgery. What was Wolffe suppose to do, lock himself in a room until I woke up? If I ever woke up? The thought that I might never have seen my family again, never meeting my ad’ika, never have Wolffe’s arms wrapped around me …

“Shhh, ad’ika. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

- - - - - - - - - - -

“Hey your buir is still sleeping, trying and be a little quieter” I could hear Wolffe’s voice calling to me from my half dazed sleep, my eyelids felt incredibly heavy as I opened them to see him sitting there with our ad’ika in his arms, Boba and Din looking at her, making faces and joking, while trying to irritating each other at the same time.

I couldn’t help smile at the scene in front of me, “Are you all behaving or are you driving the nurses up the wall?” I mumbled still half asleep.

Wolffe locked eyes with me, his adoration and nerves brimming at the edge of his eyes along with his tears, he took in a deep shuddering breath as a smile graced his lips, “You’re awake.” Before I could even respond Boba and Din rushed to my side throwing there arms around me, clinging for dear life. I squeezed them just as hard in return, placing a kiss on each of their heads.

“Alright boys” Wolffe stood heading over to us as the boys kept squeezing me, “Your buir and I need to talk, and she needs to feed your vod’ika. Go spend some time with our aliit that are patiently waiting outside and no doubt causing a havoc, knowing Sinker, Boost and Anakin.”

“They made it?” I smiled sleepily.

Wolffe placed a kiss on my forehead, passing me our ad’ika in my arms, “Of course, they did.” He turned to the boys motioning with his head, “On your way boys”

“We’ll be back, buir”

“Be good, vod’ika” They waved bye as the door slid close, Wolffe took the seat beside me, helping me sit up.

He sat there watching the two of us, as a tear slipped down his cheek, I reached up wiping it with my thumb, cupping his cheek with my hand, he held it against his cheek turning my hand slightly placing a kiss on my palm, breathing in my scent. “You have no idea how much I wanted to break down the door and stay with you in the operating room. They had to have two security guards try and hold me back.”

I felt tears beginning to prick my eyes, as another tear slipped down his cheek, “What do you mean try?” I chuckled fighting back the tears.

He chuckled wiping the tears from his face, and then wiping the one that had slipped through my defences. “If it wasn’t for Angie, a rather convincing nurse, I would’ve killed the two guards trying to hold me back.”

“I believe it, but who’s Angie?”

“One of the male nurses that was there during your C Section”

“Oh, I see. Thought you developed a crush on one of the nurses or something”

Wolffe simply shook his head, pressing another kiss into my palm, “How could I possibly look at anyone else, when you are my everything. Your intellect, your courage, your faith, the way you look after our kids, after me, after our family, every day I get to know you a little more, every day I fall in love with you more than the day before. How could I ever look at anyone, when you are my heart.”

I shifted my hand grabbing his shirt, and pulling him to my lips. I gave him a quick kiss, smiling as he rested his forehead against mine, “I love you, Wolffe.” Apparently, this was too much for our ad’ika as she started to fuss and cry. “I guess this little one, wants some food, huh?” I chuckled, placing a kiss on her tiny forehead, which calmed her down a little, she grabbed my medic gown, pulling herself closer.

“Guess she’s really hungry”

“How long was I out for?”

“A few hours, one of the nurses said when we’re ready we can comm for the lactation consultant, if you are having difficulties feeding her.”

“Let me try first and see, Dr. Natuspri went over in detail what I needed to do.”

“Alright” It was a bit of a balancing act at first, thankfully, Wolffe helped me a little, but soon enough she was there in my arms, feeding. “How does it feel?”

“Weird, but strangely wonderful at the same time. Although, I know for future kids I might not be able to feed them like this.”

“How come?”

“Depends on if I’m producing enough milk, if I’m producing too much milk, if I have a blocked milk duct, I could also get an infection, or if the baby is tongue tied.”

“Tongue tied?”

“There’s a strip of skin that attached the tongue to the floor of the mouth, sometimes it can be shorter then usual, making it difficult for the baby to suck.”

“The more you know” Wolffe chuckled watching us, “You know, we still need to name her and soon, before Boba and Din get some weird name they want to call her.”

“Did they already offer up suggestions?” I chuckled as I looked at her feeding without a care in the world.

“Yup”

“Do I want to know?”

“Well I mean ulle’a-ka’oa’yr (booger-eater) has a nice wonderful ring, and b'udaye- asa'yr (fart-lover ) certainly has it’s appeal, maybe for our fourth one?”

I couldn’t help laughing at their ridiculousness, “Maker how I love those two, you’re right we need to find a better name before they get a hold of the registration sheet.”

“Agreed.”

“Do you have anything in mind?”

“Diribua (Panacea - a remedy for all difficulties or disease), we could call her Diri for short”

“Diribua Koon, I like it”

“What about you?” Wolffe stroked her head, “Is there a name that you were thinking of?”

“Iu’a’a (Aurora - Dawn), a long time ago Plo’buir once told me, the dawn marks the start of a new day, a new hope, a new possibility without limitations. She marks the beginning of a new era in our lives. What do you think?”

“Iu’a’a Koon”

“Iu’a’a Diribua Koon”

“Iu’a’a Diribua Koon” Wolffe nodded, placing a kiss on her tiny hand, “Pleasure to meet you ner bec’ika (my little pup)”

Whatever faced us, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, our entire family and extended family were all there for us, and for all of our kids. However many they would be.

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fandom-friday · 4 months

Note

Hey Karrde, Happy Fandom Friday!

For this week I want to submit @frostycatblr-fandom-files Wolffe x Reader fic Poets and Painters! It's a Mature fic centred on Wolffe and Reader's interactions on a remote planet that I've been really loving! And I love their Clone OCs too ❤️!

YES I LOVE THIS CONCEPT. LET THE BOYS HAVE A DAY OFF. ALL OF THE PICNICS FOR THE WOLFPACK. And LET WOLFFE FIND LOVE! And CLONE OCS? This fic is checking a LOT of my favorite boxes, but more than anything, I just love the idea of Wolffe trying to unwind a bit. Thanks so much for sending this in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

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arctrooper69 · 1 year

Text

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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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 8 months

Text

Poets and Painters (Early Morning) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Word count: 4,390

Early Morning

It's unclear if someone perhaps made the suggestion to the General, or if he devised this idea on his own, but Master Plo has decided that the best use of the day today is to do… nothing at all. You are drifting through space in an area of the galaxy that has been seldom touched by this war. You didn't even recognize the name of the planet when you regarded the astronav aboard the bridge of the Jedi cruiser. Small, and relatively unpopulated according to what the scanners had picked up. There was hardly any record of this planet being here, in fact. It was puzzling to mostly everyone.

"Yeah, well it was the same for Big Stormy in the Jedi archives according to the General, but Kamino was still very much there…" one trooper complains to his brother in the chair beside him with an unimpressed roll of his eyes, his arms laced tightly across his broad chest. "Who's to say other planets won't show up on the kriffing maps if not a lot of people come here?" His neighbor glowers at him in warning, hissing back under his breath to shut up or he's going to distract the General.

To this, Plo Koon encourages the two young troops to settle themselves before Sergeant Sinker tells them to cut it out. "Come now, young Tack. Orchid is right, in a sense. There are perhaps even other galaxies we do not know about, or have a way to get to. This planet… Little Archossi… seems to be safe. We'll set down on the planet, away from what appears to be one of the settlements, so as not to disturb the inhabitants." Inhabitants that are assumed to be humanoid and sentient, but they have no way of making contact with them. Everyone is cautioned to not appear threatening to them should these Archossi (Archossian?) make an approach.

They would surely notice a ship of this size over their home planet.

The Triumphant looms imposingly above, just out of reach of the planet's atmosphere and gravitational pull.

Disembarking the gunships, you step into the soft, springy grass of the large clearing on this forested planet. The atmosphere is breathable, and it's welcomed after so long in the presence of oxygen recyclers.

The air is cool, and fragrant with a diverse bouquet of blooming wildflowers. Some are familiar, others are surprising and entirely unknown. Clone researchers, though they are not asked to, task themselves with determining these botanicals out of caution. "Just being preemptive, General Plo." Tack explains when the Kel Dorian Jedi comes to remind him that the Clones and crew of the Triumphant who joined him on the surface of the planet are here and meant to relax. "Just in case these flowers turn out to have irritants or strange pollen. Don't want any surprises, sir."

Plo hums thoughtfully, the sound a deep, warm rumbling. "Very good, Tack. I hope you find what you are looking for soon so you may join your brothers." One of his steady hands makes a slow, sweeping gesture out to another part of the clearing, where several other brothers of the 104th battalion have gathered around the Commander.

He appears to be laying out a few ground rules with his men, from where you sit on a small, grassy knoll here in this break in the trees. You can catch words and small fragments of what he's saying, but you don't pay him much attention. Being just one of the crew aboard the cruiser, words like emergency flares and what must be the word holster don't pertain to anything you've brought along with you. There's no expectation of danger from the native people, but they say you can never be too prepared. Well, you're not too sure about that when you hear what was definitely the words stun setting and do not stray far.

Surely the Commander was being a little overboard about all this…

But that's not your business. You turn your attention back to the small canvas bag at your feet and root through it to find the personal belongings you've taken with you for today just as the researcher named Tack assures his General once again that he's perfectly content to spend his day like this.

"Don't worry about me, General. I never mind spending a day researching things. Besides, I'm not the only one who's brought my usual gear with me. Looks like Arcadia brought their own datapad." Hearing your name, you pause just as you're pulling out the datapad since putting the spiral-bound sketchpad and graphite pencils you've thrown in the bag in your lap, meeting Tack's eye.

"Oh this is just in case I want to read later," you explain with a laugh. "My, uh, older family members gave me some serious art supplies to take with me before I joined aboard the Triumphant and I just haven't had a chance to use 'em yet. Figured while we were on Little Archossi I'd give them a try."

"Cool, cool. Have fun with that." Tack replies, smiling as he turns back to a dazzling blue flower with thin, silky petals. You've caught the interest of the Kel Dor, and he makes a request to sit beside you for the moment. You've been told by others that this Jedi Master makes a point to try to get to know as many people who serve alongside him as possible, that he's polite and seems to just radiate calm and wisdom.

"Yes of course, go right ahead." you tell him, moving the bag to the other side to make room beside you on the knoll. "Here."

"Thank you," he starts, dipping his head in a slow gesture of gratitude, "I won't take up too much of your time Arcadia."

"I don't mind if you do, General. I don't really know what I want to do with… all this." you assure him with a mild laugh, indicating the spiral-bound and the pencils resting on the thighs of your slate-gray, form-fitting uniform. You chose not to wear any of your casual-wear today, though it would be more comfortable in the long term. You were due to wash your uniforms soon enough, spending a day on a strange planet would expedite the need to do so in case of any contaminants.

You let him take one of the pencils to examine, noting how Master Plo takes such care with your personal property. "These were a gift to you, you said?"

Your head bobs in answer. "That's right. I guess they thought I'd have a lot more opportunities to get back into artwork or something while I was stationed with the one-oh-fourth on the cruiser. But maybe I'll break in the new sketchbook today, with a little, uh… oh, what do they call it? Plein air sketching." You imagine the inquisitive blink of his eyes under the anti-ox mask and eyewear worn by the General when he does not say anything at first, and can only guess there is some sort of smile before the pencil is returned to you. "Most intriguing. Perhaps I will have to come by another time when you have made some progress."

"You're certainly welcome to."

"Thank you, Arcadia. I believe I should warn young Soapsuds to remember the Commander's warning about not straying too far…" There's a shared chuckle between you. Soapsuds is a darling, and a very courageous soldier for what are nicknamed "shinnies", but he can be a little bit forgetful. Perhaps with the Force, Plo Koon can sense what you can only assume: Commander Wolffe is having some difficulty with the primary objective for today. "Until later."

You bid him farewell for the time being, too, and tuck back the cover to the sketchbook. The pages are surprisingly thick, and if you had a more serious artistic inclination, you could guess that the pages of this book could take a variety of mediums. Graphite pencil, for certain, and perhaps a number of other dry mediums like pastels or charcoal or coloring pencils. You're not certain it would do well with wet mediums at first glance. Maybe a layer or two of gouache? Looser styles of watercoloring? But probably not oils or acrylics, they would likely warp the pages and make everything tacky.

It's admittedly been some time since making any use of traditional supplies for anything other than scribbling down a note to pass to a colleague, or taking records of serious instructions on the bridge. Before putting the pencil against the page, you mentally coach and coax yourself to take the plunge.

I'll probably be a little rusty. That's okay. Just give it a shot. Maybe I'll surprise myself.

The lead within is buttery-soft, and lays down a bold line without any skipping after it sweeps over the fine, toothy hills and valleys in the texture of the page. Oh. Oh wow. That's quality. You'll have to thank the gift giver for their generosity, and you promise yourself in a moment of wishful thinking to never use this for anything but artistic endeavors in the few fleeting chances you'll get for it.

(Would you keep this promise in a standard week from now, or a month at most? Unlikely.)

There's a groan of great annoyance from Tack to your left, still studying the beautiful blue flowers. "Not having any luck, Tack?"

"No. It's not showing up on any of my catalogs."

You frown sympathetically, lifting your head to meet his eye. "I'm sorry."

"I'll figure something out…" Tack grumbles, lightly raking his nails along the back of his neck. "I just don't want to find out that this can make anyone sick, or something, before it's too late."

"That's very sweet of you, Tack." you tell him with a kind smile as you continue to sketch loose shapes and lay down lines to break in this first page. Tack was rough around the edges, and could frustrate easily, but did not back down from a challenge just because he met a little resistance. "Say, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Does the Commander seem on edge to you this morning? I have to admit I'm having trouble telling." You feel you need to tread a little cautiously with this question. If you express that you think the leader of the 104th with a silver, cybernetic eye and a prominent stripe of scar tissue down his face is being a bit overbearing or uptight in any way when you don't know him quite so well, it would not make for a great first impression should word get back to him.

Tack shrugs after a moment of thought. "Oh, Commander Wolffe? Yeah, I suppose so. He's a rather diligent man. Nothin' wrong with that of course-"

"Of course, no." you cut in hurriedly. "I was only curious."

"Don't know him so much, I'm guessing?" Tack makes a sound of understanding as you shake your head, "Ah, well, you haven't been here that long. Not many of us have been either, truthfully." He lays down a short summary of the battalion's history to you, answering questions best he can. Things changed dramatically after the Battle of Abregado; they lost so many brothers, there were only a few survivors of that encounter, and they were not always the flint gray they are now.

"Maroon? Really."

"Mhm."

"I see… And, his scar?"

Tack suppresses a deep wince, but only just. "Sith."

Your veins turn to ice momentarily in spite of the gentle warmth of the nearest star. "Maker."

You've had your fill of the questions for the time being, wishing him luck as he tries his hand once more at identifying his mysterious flower. You're going to do your best not to stare at Commander Wolffe as he paces the perimeter of the clearing, keeping a vigilant watch for trouble. The General repeatedly invites him to have a seat and clear his mind for a moment, but he is turned down time and time again, politely but curtly. "No thank you, General Plo."

The trooper you know to be Sergeant Sinker thanks to the pale, silver hair leans in closer to whisper something to the General, which only makes Jedi shake his head almost pityingly. "I was afraid of that… Thank you, Sinker."

"Don't worry, General. He'll probably only pace for so long," Boost says in an attempt at comfort, "if the people of the planet were gonna come and investigate, they'd've done it by now. But we know to show them we mean 'em no harm."

So was the Commander pacing the perimeter because he wanted to see any approachers before it was too late? Would he be keeping this up all day when they were meant to clear their heads for a change? Yes, they were advised to be aware of their surroundings, but securing a boundary might be a little much. What was driving him to be so watchful and defensive on a sparsely inhabited planet?

Paranoia? Selflessness and love and concern for his brothers? Was this perhaps a sacrificial gesture: pacing and patrolling the circumference of the clearing to ensure that his soldiers, and some of the crew of the Triumphant, could be out here largely undisturbed without any rest for himself?

If that was the case, it did not tug at your heartstrings gently.

For someone with such a gentle name, Orchid has one of the worst swearing habits in the one-oh-fourth. "Oh karking Maker, the Commander finally sat the kriff down." Tack warns him to keep his voice down in a sharp-ish manner, and to take it easy on the language.

You were glad that the man did finally decide to rest his legs and perhaps finally enjoy the day with the rest of you, but not so much where he decided to sit.

You'd been trying to draw one of these interesting trees here on Little Archossi, where the sprawling crown of the canopy cascades down in thick, full plumes of leaves in multiple shades of red and orange. You had a few pencils for coloring in the bottom of the bag, and a decent pen that you could add a little ink to the page to outline some of the details, but now Commander Wolffe has plunked himself squarely in the middle of what you have been trying to draw for the last hour and a half.

Of all the hills in this clearing, this is where he decided to sit? In front of the one tree in this entire area largely free of them? Everyone else has stayed clear of it when they realized they would be getting in the way of your artistic subject, apologizing and instead coming to sit beside you to watch for a few minutes. But he doesn't seem to notice you just across the way, just on the other hill.

Well… it's not what you had in mind, but, maybe you could make this work, still. The armor and the anatomy won't be perfect by any means, though. You're thankful you kept your pressure light on the page, making it easier to erase a large area of the trunk you'd drawn previously and fill that space with the Commander. You just had to hope he didn't get up anytime soon.

Most of his body and the basic shapes of his armor are sketched out before the ceaseless skritch of the graphite must finally catch the Commander's attention just as you're warring with yourself on the matter of the codpiece.

How much detail do I include here? Oh Maker if he sees this he'll probably realize I've been staring at his crot-

"What are you doing over there?" The voice from across the other grassy hill jolts you from your thoughts, and you are grateful you did not have your drawing implement against the page in that moment.

Oh, Maker, please do not let your face be red. "Ah, just doing a little outdoor sketching, Commander." Please do not let him ask you what you're drawing…

"What of…?" The Commander draws out his question, pausing when he probably does not remember, or know, your name. That's not super surprising, you tell yourself. You're just a crew member, and not one of his many men he interacts with on a regular basis. He not knowing your name is by no means personal.

"Call me Arcadia. And the tree, sir."

"Am I in your way, Arcadia?" he asks, one of his eyebrows lifting just slightly with the question.

"No, sir. You're not. You're included with the tree." you answer, stretching the truth. You have to hope that it doesn't come across in an unsettling or creepish fashion to the Clone Commander. Good impressions. Good impressions were important. "I, um, hope you don't mind." You don't want him to get up when he's just sat down. You don't want to feel like you're doing something unwelcome either. Something that would disrupt his enjoyment of this rare occasion in wartime; a peaceful day, among flowers and a grassy, hilly field surrounded by trees on all sides. His brothers are enjoying themselves, laying on their backs in the grass, faces warm in the golden sunlight with the day just beginning.

The General is enjoying himself, and looks to be spending a little time with some of the other troops, showing them how to calm their minds with meditation. You heard one of the shinnies ask Master Plo about it not too long ago, and he was happy to oblige.

Commander Wolffe should get to enjoy this day, too.

"I don't mind." he answers. The tonal quality of his voice does not suggest begrudging agreement, a thinning veneer of patience, or complete indifference. "How long do I need to hold still?" He asks, the same eyebrow as before lifting again.

"Not very," you reply, quickly returning your pencil to the page to begin sketching him again now that you were assured he would not be opposed to this, "the idea is to be quick when drawing outdoors, for the most part."

"And why is that?"

The graphite continues to skritter and skritch along the surface of the page, you do not stop what you are doing to answer him this time. You will get this done quickly, and you will take your work somewhere else to add color to it. "No two days will ever be the same, sir. Plein air painters and artists only have one day to complete what they work on." One day that you did not want to force being a live subject upon him. Agreeing to let you sketch his likeness into the sketchpad is one thing. Asking him to stay there as you added layers of color and ink to the page would be taking advantage of his agreement. His "day off".

Resting his head back against the scale-patterned bark of the tree, Wolffe nods slowly in contemplation, closing his eyes. "And which are you, Arcadia?" You missed the question, so absorbed in the general shape of his face, and recalling that in order to draw eyes you need to keep them an eye's distance apart.

"S-sorry, sir?"

"I asked which one you are. A painter, or a different kind of artist."

You shake your head softly, doing your best not to stammer terribly in shame for not hearing him. "Oh. I-I'm not much of a painter."

"So a different kind of artist then," he suggests, tilting his head back just slightly for a moment while adjusting his legs in front of him, "a sketcher, perhaps."

Your eyes meet with his for a fleeting moment when you glance back up from the page to finalize a few details of the position of his legs, the width of his tights, and once again do not linger on the codpiece. "Um, I suppose? It's been a long time since I…" you trail off and shrug half-heartedly, unsure how to explain. Or if he even wants to hear it and is just making conversation to be polite. A man of his position and status in this war is busy, his mind must always be occupied with stratagem and contingencies and, recalling what Tack has said… loss.

The Republic did not win that battle, and Wolffe lost so many brothers on top of it all. And an eye to a Sith. How much more would he lose? How much more would this galaxy take from him?

You frown, brow furrowing, at the thought.

"What's the matter?" the man on the other hill asks you, expression neither puzzled or concerned.

Quickly, you look back down at the page in your lap, and you choose something to lie about. "The detail on your shoulder plating. Unfortunately I think a lot of the finer details will be lost in the sketch."

"Unfortunate."

"Mhm…"

You are thankful that you got most of the details down already. What you are not expecting is that when you look up again to make sure you have what you're looking for, you are now almost eye level with the white codpiece and the belt which his kama hangs from. Your heart is now hammering madly in your throat, and the rush of blood pounds steadily against your eardrum. Much like the silhouette of the Triumphant above Little Archossi, Commander Wolffe stands above you, and you feel small and almost frightened. (Almost.)

You hadn't meant to, but you flinched to find him looming over you. He frowns. "Did I scare you?" You admit that he had, yes. You didn't even hear him move from under the tree on the other hill and come up to the top of this small knoll for all the armor he wore. "You need to pay attention to your surroundings at all times." Wolffe replies coolly, now dropping to sit next to you on your left. He removes the shoulder pad from his right upper arm, and holds it up beside your sketchpad.

It feels a little insulting to be talked to like that, like one of his soldiers, when he told you to pay more attention. How dare he? "Sorry..." you mumble as you use the sharpest side of the pencil to try to copy down the wolf icon from a side-view on the graphite likeness of the man now next to you. "I didn't think you'd be moving so soon."

More like at all.

Maybe he can sense the subtext, and he becomes slightly apologetic. "Only thought it might help you to see it closer, Arcadia." Wolffe explains. He does not watch you, or respond in any way when you give a short sort of oh sound in reply to that; instead he visually sweeps the clearing for dangers or signs of trouble. You know he's listening to you, at least. The sound of short and terse scratches and more drawn-out, fluid, sweeping marks against the page keeps the moment from completely collapsing into uncomfortable silence.

"...thanks."

You've done the best you can to capture the face of the wolf, and the crescent moon-like shapes of the pad closest to you. You could probably stand to fine-tune Wolffe's face on the page, but that seems daunting to ask him to return under the tree on the other hill now just so you could get the proportions right. It wouldn't exactly come across well, you imagine.

Thank you for showing me your shoulder pads up close and all but could you kriff off, now?

"You're welcome. Do you need anything else, Arcadia?"

"No sir." you lie to the Commander through your teeth. You're just going to have to make do. This hill is taller than the other, and from here, you can see the whole clearing. This probably makes for an excellent vantage point with his strategic inclinations. "Thank you. I think I've gotten the right amount of detail, now, before I want to add some color." you continue, praying to all manner of galactic deities that you can now excuse yourself without any issue. But no such luck: you start to gather your datapad and other things, and he puts a stop to it with a single, simple question.

He'd like to watch for a moment, if that's alright.

Shit.

"Sure."

You put aside the graphite, and root through your bag for the coloring pencils. The bag has been largely untouched since it was given to you, but through one mishap or another the package of coloring pencils has been damaged, and the contents are now scattered in the bag. You have to hunt down all the necessary colors you need before any progress gets made. Sage will have to do for the grass, and Fawn will be your closest match to the color of the bark. For the leaves of the tree, Terra Cotta, a deep Marigold and Sunflower are your best choices. Regarding the Commander's armor…

There's no gray. There is not a single gray pencil in the entire package. There's Lamp Black. But no gray.

"Oh, kriff me sideways." you swear under your breath, forgetting the man beside you for the moment in your frustration. "Are you kidding me?"

Wolffe just believes for the moment you can't find something, and takes the canvas bag from at your side without a word of permission. "Are you missing something?"

You let it go that he's taken the bag to look, it's not that big of a deal. He's only trying to help. "Yes and no. I need gray for your armor, but the package doesn't have it." Giving him the broken carton, you let him see for himself that trying to look in your bag is a kind, but ultimately fruitless effort.

An alternative is quietly pointed out. "... it does have maroon."

Your heart hangs heavily in your rib cage knowing what you do now. You can only imagine his own heart will be heavier still. You have never seen the 104th battalion in that color of paint; only ever heard the tales of their escapades and exploits when their armor must have gleamed in that handsome and deep, warm red.

But tragedy and loss has stolen the color out of their coats, and they move in shadow.

Now when the Wolves run and hunt and fight, it is only in gray.

Note from Frost: I, uh... hoo boy. I don't know how to explain where this one came from. I feel a little out of my element, here, knowing what's coming and how under-practiced I am when it comes to writing more mature themes. Any pointers and/or feedback at all would be appreciated, honestly. Appreciate anyone who took the time to read this, too!

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Scars (Commander Wolffe x Jedi Reader) Part 3

Warning: None Words: 1.9k Pronouns Used: She/Her - Use of Y/N and N/N (nickname)

"Koh-To-Ya, Master Plo," whispered (Y/N) upon waking. Looking around her quarters, she saw Plo peacefully reading over something on his datapad in the corner of the room. The room was just as quiet; no sound seemed to penetrate the durasteel walls despite the airbase being just meters away.

"Koh-To-Ya, Little (N/N)," called Plo in response, shifting to place the datapad down and move closer to her. As normal, his voice was calm and filled with wisdom. All his swift motions across the room suggested that the concerns plaguing him had finally been settled. "How are you feeling?" questioned the wise Jedi Master the moment he was at her side. The medics had done a good job patching her up; a few stitches were all that remained of the head injury she'd sustained, and in a few weeks, there would be no trace of it. The gash to her side, however, would take a little longer to heal properly; it still sent numbing twinges or a sharp shot of pain to remind her it was there.

"Like I fell down a chasm," replied (Y/N), her voice scratchy and broken from a prolonged period without use. Your Commander, is he okay?" she asked with concern, forgetting her own injuries and well-being in favor of the battle-worn commander she'd tried to save. As her fuzzy memories cleared up, she recalled catching him with the stem cells and vaguely recalled his yelled response. "Is he still pissed off?" she questioned, not bothering to sugarcoat her words, even in the face of her master.

"Wolffe made a full recovery and was cleared for active duty a few days ago," responded Plo, not speaking of the changes he noticed regarding the loyal commander, at least not yet. "He's not angry, more confused, conflicted even," he added, bringing a taloned hand to his chin as if to ponder the changes. Many times, Plo found Wolffe watching over (Y/N) while off duty. His view of Night Sister, in particular, was changing, or at least his previous opinions of (Y/N) had. She was no longer an enemy, although Wolffe was clearly trying to figure out what she was to him now.

"How long have I been out?" questioned (Y/N), at least having enough sense to realize it was far longer than a few hours, even more so if Wolffe had been cleared for duty days prior. "The 916th, what's to happen with them?" she added, her concern turning to the troopers she'd previously led rather than to her own health and healing. Rightly so, the Jedi Knight knew she'd be reassigned soon enough. The council never seemed to hesitate to send her around the galaxy.

"Calm (N/N), the 916th are well taken care of; Master Yoda has taken command for now," asserted Plo, placing a hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder as if to aid in calming her and ensure she did not overexert herself. "You've been asleep for five rotations," he informed, seeing the shock wash over her features before being replaced with a more neutral expression. After a while, (Y/N) simply nodded, although she was still collecting her scattered thoughts and senses. She'd been out that long, and no one tried to transfer her back to Coruscant or a long-term medbay. Quickly, she figured Plo had prevented it; after all, her fear, almost hatred of medbays, wasn't a secret she kept to herself. Anyone who knew her knew she refused to be near a medbay after the events that transpired as a child.

"I'm to be reassigned, aren't I?" commented (Y/N), her tone flat as she worded the question more matter-of-factly. She knew she would be reassigned, but the question was where and for how long this time.

"Indeed you are," voiced Plo in response, taking a seat at her side once again, taking on the role of a father figure rather than a Jedi Master. "Shaak Ti has requested you return to Kamino. She says there is a specific unit that will benefit from your training," spoke the Kel Dor. "While there, I'd advise you to acquaint yourself with the Commando units. You're to be assigned as their permanent commander."

"What changed the council's mind?" asked (Y/N) before she had a chance to stop the question from leaving her lips. However, she didn't regret asking it. She knew that if she didn't, it would eat away at her until she eventually found the courage to ask.

"I put the notion to the council after the Wolf Pack mentioned it. As did several council members, both the senate and the commandoes agreed," recalled Plo, hearing the quiet thank you in response. Although he was sure, she meant it for more than just her new assignments. More than likely, she referred to remaining at the base instead of waking up in a clinical medbay somewhere, surrounded by reminders of the past she tried so hard to suppress and bombarded by the memories and anxiety it would cause.

Just moments after (Y/N) fell into peaceful slumber again, a buzzing sound emanated from the door. The second it opened, Comet entered, holding on to (Y/N)'s lightsabers, the graceful weapons he'd spent hours most nights trying to mend, with little luck. The most he'd been able to do with his limited knowledge was to get the damaged one to buzz and overheat before powering off. Other than that, his only success was to add a little wolf charm to the hilt of the twin duel lightsabers. If only so (Y/N) had a reminder of them when she eventually left.

"Wolffe's pacing around the hall again," gently spoke Comet, his voice quiet so as not to wake the peaceful Jedi again. Plo nodded once more before leaving the room, placing a hand on Comet's shoulder.

Since the fall, Wolffe has been different. He's all-focused and still does his job perfectly when on duty, but he seemed confused and even conflicted when off duty. Plo had noticed and subtly told his commander he was there should he feel the need to speak of what bothered him. The wise Kel Dor could sense the conflicted feelings and confusion revolving around (Y/N) and her actions to save him and will to do so at a great cost to herself, even after his prior treatment of her.

"Runi," quietly voiced Comet, his words no louder than a whisper. His attention was on the lightsabers clutched in his gloved hands. I tried fixing your lightsaber, but it doesn't like me. It buzzes and overheats now. Kinda like Wolffe when he's off duty," he joked, stepping closer to (Y/N), seemingly peacefully sleeping. No doubt, the powerful painkillers had kicked in. "I don't know if anyone else said this, but thank you for saving our grumpy brother. He appreciates it too, even if he doesn't outwardly show it," finished Comet, as he gently placed the lightsabers on the shelf just behind where (Y/N) slept. After completing his task, he left the room once more, making sure the door slid shut properly before leaving, only glancing back upon hearing Wolffe's familiar all-be-it hesitated growls, likely warding away the civvi medic again.

"This is the most I've seen Wolffe confused in some time," stated Boost, witnessing as the commander began to pace back and forth. He was agitated, confused, and clearly conflicted, more so than he normally was. There was little doubt (Y/N) was the cause of his confusion, especially if the mumbled words in the dead of night and sleep were anything to go by.

"I don't know; he was pretty messed up after losing his eye," replied Sinker, recalling the struggle well. In Wolffe's mind, all Jedi became lightsaber-wielding maniacs, even their wise General Plo. Civvi's were still unknown territory for Wolffe; he'd yet to regain the confidence he'd once had before the Malevolence and losing his eye. After the Malevolence, the commander had begun to shut himself off and closed off his heart from caring about others for fear he'd lose them like all those at Abregardo.

Asajj Ventress, taking his eye, forced away any softness Wolffe may have had toward those outside his brothers and Wolf Pack. He became so much colder towards Civvi, always expecting judgment from them, normally harsh judgment at that. Most of the time, he didn't give civvies a chance to know him or see the softer side that had become a well-guarded secret.

"He likes her. What's to be confused about?" voiced Warthog, leaning against the wall. Normally, he'd take the chance to tease Wolffe, but he knew better than to do that at the moment. Especially when the chances of his head being bitten off were higher than normal. "You know, other than she's a Night Sister, and he swore to hate all Children of Dathomir," chuckled the pilot, knowing if Wolffe heard him now, he'd be growled at for days.

"Did you return her sabers?" came Wolffe's booming voice, startling the group of four. Warthog, in particular, paled as he turned to face his commander. He'd expected to see the normal flat unamusement painted on Wolffe's features, but instead, he was met with something else entirely. Wolffe clearly displayed his exhaustion, although that didn't stop the commander from whacking the pilot upside the head, at least confirming he'd heard his words. "I'm not confused. I just ... don't understand her."

"She'll be leaving soon. Should be easier for you to forget about her and return to your grouchy self," spoke the second civvi medic. This one was male and hardly a joy to be around. Most of the time, he'd taken delight in naming each clone insulting names, calling them by their identification numbers, or just outright being callous. "I doubt that would be much trouble for the rest of you mindless soldiers."

"Is it still against the rules to shoot civvi personnel?" asked Sinker, making sure his words were loud enough for the civvi to hear as he all but stomped away. No doubt, he was heading to (Y/N)'s quarters to check on her. Now she had woken, it would only be a matter of time before she was set to Kamino for her next assignment.

"Unfortunately, yes," voiced Boost in response, rolling his own brown eyes at the thought of having to put up with the civvi for several more months, at least until his rotation with them ended. "As much as I agree, the temptation to commit said war crime is there. It's not worth the court marshaling we'd get for it."

"General Plo's disappointment would be far worse," Wolffe said before walking away, hearing the boys following along as if they understood his silent intentions of returning to the barracks. However, the commander became suspicious of their motives. Were they following to keep out of trouble or to begin the thought-out interrogation they had been summing up the courage to commit for days?

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